Consequences
by NotAContrivance
Summary: Rocks are turning to sand, hearts are changing hands... Jude's all caught up in a reality show, everyone else's business, and this thing with her and Tom, whatever that is... And then there's Travis to muck it all up. Can you handle the consequences?
1. Temporary Insanity

'Kay, let's see… I started writing this fic right after the episode before Unsweet Sixteen. I did later change it to fit the episode, but I decided, what the hey, I'm not gonna change it to fit the next one, or etcetera… It is, however, based on spoilers of future episodes (unless you're Canadian… Then they're really not spoilers). So, this is set after the finale (Episode 13), which is called Should I Stay or Should I Go, I think… Good song, by the way… But that was random… Moving on.

So there might be some little things that are off from the episodes, but I won't change it to fit… Because I'm lazy like that.

So, remember, this has some spoilers!

Anyways, I don't own Instant Star or any of its characters (Jude, Shay, Tommy, E.J., Sadie, Jude's Mom… Patricia, Jude's Dad… Stuart, Darius, Georgia, Kat, or Jamie). I don't even own the saying at the beginning. I actually think she might've said that in the first episode… Or a commercial.

This is also in Jude's POV for pretty much the whole thing. In this part, she's at home, the tour has ended, and she's been home for maybe two weeks. School's started. Oh, and if Jude made a decision during that episode concerning the tours, completely disregard that, okay? And that's about it.

Right now my life is on fire. Let it burn.

Now, see, that was my point of view before I went on tour. Yeah, I went on tour with Shay, and trust me, that is a decision I really regret. Maybe if I had gone on the tour I was supposed to go on, the one that Tommy set up for me, this whole mess never would've happened.

Well, I guess that's what happens when you ask E.J. for help. I suck at making decisions, so I sort of let her make it for me, which, at the time, seemed like a good idea. And for a while, it was. Up until the very last concert in Montreal.

Which brings me to my current predicament. Grounded and trapped in my room. Sadie HATES me, Tommy's avoiding me, Mom's pissed, Dad's following me, Darius is giving me the evil eye (which is hard, considering I don't see him much), Georgia's yelling at me, and I haven't seen hide nor hair of either Kat or Jamie since before I went on tour. Essentially, I'm screwed.

Not to mention that the tabloids are following me around twice as much (probably hoping I'll meet Tommy somewhere… Fat chance. They're liable to see him before I will), everyone's staring and gossiping about me in the hall, and my mom won't even let me out of the house! You know, being a rock star is a lot less fun than I'd thought it would be.

What did I do, you ask? Oh, that's simple, really. You would just think that it wouldn't be such a big deal. And yet, it was.

- Loren ;

Oh, poor Jude… Wonder what she did? Me too… No, well, actually, I know what she did, because it was a plot bunny that just wouldn't go away. I sorta gave you a clue in there. Some clues, I should say…

Who would've thought being a rock star means always going it alone, eh?

Okay, so, I would love it if you'd review… Because I have maybe a few more chapters… And inspiration helps… Like right now I'm in the middle of writing this Jude and Sadie fight, and I'm trying to think of something Jude would say to make Sadie hit her… Which is a lot harder than you'd think… Besides, a little encouragement always helps.


	2. I'm in Love with My Guitar

Okay, now you get some explanations…

So let's recap: Jude did something stupid. Everyone hates her for it. And it was all because she agreed to go on tour with Shay. Rats.

This chapter's set on that very day, the last day of the tour. They're in Montreal (Actually, I was wondering if they lived around there, because Tommy mentioned Montreal a lot… But they speak French there, so I figured not so much… I decided that they all live in Toronto and the suburbs of Toronto). Oh, and Shay and Jude did not hook up on tour. Jude doesn't particularly like Shay, but she tolerates him because of the music. She has some lingering regret towards him due to the whole Eden thing. And, considering how frequently she brings up her sixteenth… She's still kind of hurt by the whole thing… But it's a dull ache.

Okay, uh, I don't own Instant Star, Jude, Shay, Tommy, Sadie, Eden, Jude's Dad, Time to Be Your 21, It Could Be You, Skin, or Waste My Time. Though It Could Be You and Skin are frickin' awesome. Seriously. I heart them. I had Pick Up the Pieces and Skin stuck in my head, which was kind of weird. Speaking of which… Pick Up the Pieces is hilarious. It's so corny… But in a cool way. It even has the Boyz Attack! background vocals. Very catchy. It also helps show that Sadie really cannot sing (remember, it was that song she sung at karaoke… And she was terrible… I was like: "And Tommy's the one who's drunk?"… But I guess you would have to be drunk to sit through that rendition… Imagine what would've happened if she had done one of Jude's songs instead)… Anyways, I'm rambling.

Some would say it all started the day Shay pitched the idea of me going on tour with him. Others would say it started when I accepted his offer. Ultimately, that did start the chain of events that followed, but that wasn't the beginning.

It all began on the last day of the tour. We were in Montreal, and it was the day of our final concert. Shay and I hadn't gotten back together, but both of us were single. The concert had brought us a lot closer, I'll admit, but it was just music that kept us there together. I didn't want anything to do with Shay… Sometimes I could barely stand to look at him. So, no, I didn't sink down to Eden's level and come unto him again. After all, some things are better left alone.

The concerts usually went something like this: We started out singing Waste My Time, and then had the people vote on who got to go next. After that, the other person sang. I could sing any song I wanted to, but I generally avoided It Could Be You, Time to Be Your 21, and usually Skin. I varied the songs depending on my mood, but normally, I sang 4-5 songs (counting Waste My Time).

That night was no different. But it was. It was so different. For starters, Tommy showed up. Needless to say, I was floored by this development. After all, he was supposed to be in Italy with my sister.

"Tommy? What are you doing here?" I asked, awed, hugging him probably a bit tighter than I should have.

He smiled, I noticed, looking a bit tanner than before, and broke the hug. Naturally, when faced with Little Tommy Q., like any other girl, I could do nothing but smile and try to play it cool.

"Oh, Sadie saw you on TV. She liked your sound, and realized that she hasn't really heard any of your songs, so she thought we should come here and see you in concert," Tommy explained calmly.

I, however, highly doubted this. Sadie had never really shown interest in my music to begin with. The exception is her showing up at my very first performance, and well, supporting me on Instant Star. She wasn't even at my birthday party. Or, for that matter, at my first talk show filming (because of her stupid cheerleading crap). I had to be there, trapped in a room, in front of a live audience with a whiny talk show host, Tommy, and Dad. The last two being my absolute least favorite people in the world aside from Shay at that moment.

Be that as it may, I had a feeling it wasn't a decision Tommy had made either. However, I was on tour with Shay, who Tommy did not particularly like. In the slightest. He'd never liked Shay, actually. That might have something to do with it.

"Oh, give me a break," I chuckled, punching Tommy's arm, "You came because you could get free tickets. By the way, where's Sadie?" I began looking for her backstage.

Of course she wasn't there. Later, I learned she wasn't even at the concert, but that's really not the point. Tommy let out a nervous laugh.

"Well, that's just it, Jude… She got held back in customs in Italy… Something about her passport. She really wanted to be here, though," He says, biting his lip.

I still don't know if he was lying to me or not. It seemed more like he was justifying leaving my sister to see me or trying to make her look better to me. All I know is that it sounded awfully funny and I didn't believe it in the slightest.

"That sucks," I muttered, though I wasn't too disappointed about it.

Tommy shrugged, and I heard Shay's voice from across the stage, calling for me. I knew I'd better get a move on before he tried to find me, because I couldn't let him see Tommy. That would be a mess. And then they would have another territorial pissing contest over music careers and me, and I did not want to point out the fact that I was not currently dating either of them, so neither of them should be all possessive of me because thinking about it made me feel crappy. And both of them have given me so much crap already.

"Yo, Jude, we gotta be on stage in five!" Shay shouted, though not loud enough that the audience could hear.

Yikes, I'd better hurry up.

"Thanks, Shay! I'll be up there in a sec, I promise! Just need to fix my make-up!" I yelled back.

I could just barely see Shay nod and I exhaled in relief before shoving Tommy out of his sight. Tommy shot me an odd look.

"Stay here and stay out of Shay's sight," I hissed, moving over to the make-up table.

I hurriedly did my lipstick, bright red like my hair, sending Tommy a look. He nodded, leaning against the wall, immediately blending in with his surroundings, well, as well as a teen heartthrob could.

I hurried on stage just as the curtain rose, looking out on the audience.

- Loren ;

So, was I the only one that noticed that Sadie wasn't at Jude's party? Or was she just there and I didn't see her? Well… Let's just assume that she wasn't. Oh, and Jude's a bit… brighter in this fic. Which essentially means that on some level she realizes that Shay and Tommy weren't totally fighting about music careers (I mean, they were fine with each other before Jude came into the equation)… She does realize that some of the fighting was over her.

Oh, and I'm not sure about what exactly the Europe/Italy trip was… 'Cause I haven't seen that episode. So I have no idea about that…

Hmm… So Tommy's at Jude and Shay's concert, backstage. Shay doesn't know he's there. Wonder what could happen… You won't have to wait much longer. Jude goes stupid in the next chapter. The next chapter's also longer, by the way.

And, dearies, if you review this chapter, you'll get to read the next one sooner. Yay.


	3. It Could Be You

Okay, this chapter is a lot longer than the others… Seeing as I wrote this before Won't Be Fooled Again, here's what happened in that episode in this world (so it's a little AU, whatever)… Jude did see her dad cheating on her mom. And then she found out through Tommy that Sadie had known about this for ages, and gasp that he knew before her… Now, he was still a jerk, but he… I dunno, he was different. So Jude got really pissed at both her dad and Sadie. Speaking of which, how cute was the fashion shoot thingy? Anyways, that happened too (which made Jude more pissed after she found out Sadie knew)… But she understood sort of where Sadie was coming from… Uh, let's see… She sang Skin, it was awesome, etcetera…

Now you get to find out what stupid thing Jude did on tour. It might make her seem kinda OOC, because she's bold and sort of impulsive, but she kinda is on the show too, right?

Anyways, don't own Jude, Shay, Waste My Time, Tommy, Your Eyes, Let Me Fall, Me Out of Me, Temporary Insanity (the song order is a bit prophetic, don'tcha think?), It Could Be You, or Eden.

Let's see… Song lyrics are in italics.

But the problems came after Shay and I had finished singing Waste My Time. Naturally, they picked Shay to go first, but I didn't care. I changed backstage and then spent the rest of the time talking to Tommy about our trips. Soon, however, Shay's set was over and it was my turn to shine.

I got through Your Eyes, Let Me Fall, Me Out of Me, and Temporary Insanity. As it was my last show, I wanted to do something special, so I decided to sing another song. I suppose you could blame the events that happened afterwards on temporary insanity.

"Hey, everybody! How'd you like that last song?" I said into the microphone.

The cheers were enough of an answer for me, and a wide smile slid across my face. I remember because I haven't smiled much since.

"Good! Now, I'm gonna sing one last song for you guys, okay?" I posed to the audience.

Naturally, they cheered loudly. I was just glad that they weren't walking out on me.

"A friend of mine once told me that writing a song was like falling in love. Sometimes it hurts, pulling these feelings from deep inside, and other times, it's like the best feeling in the world. And let me tell you, I've had my share of heartbreak in the writing of this song. Now, for this song, we're gonna do something a little different, is that okay?" I said to the oddly quiet amphitheater.

To this day, I have no idea what possessed me to do that. I think the crew and the audience had a bit of the same feeling (well, more so with the crew… After all, this was definitely not in the program). Maybe that should've been a warning sign. Regardless of that, the audience applauded their approval of my crazy plan.

"Okay then… I'm going to bring a friend out to sing with me. But he might be a little shy. I mean, it is his vacation after all. So, why don't you just shout out your encouragement while I go get him?" I smiled, and the crowd roared into cheers.

If Tommy had any sense, he would've hightailed it out of there then I mentioned bringing a friend out to sing with me. But maybe he thought I meant Shay or something. Or maybe he just wanted to perform. I'll never know.

Anyways, so I signaled to the band to start playing the background music for It Could Be You (which I've only sung about once or twice all tour… And that was without any choreography), and went backstage to hunt for Tommy. As I went backstage, I heard the crowd clapping along to the beat. I found him easily enough.

"Come with me. We're on," Was all I said, snagging a spare mike and pulling him onstage.

I swear, about half of the girls there let out dreamy sighs. Tommy glared at me, and I chucked the spare microphone at him. Still glaring at me, he caught it. Then he perked up and plastered on a smile, I suppose from all the years of practice with Boyz Attack!

"Well, now that's she's dragged me onstage, I guess I have to sing. Well, there goes my vacation time!" He remarked, forcing a laugh to sound natural.

I could tell he was mad, but I didn't care. People do crazy things on tour. In retrospect, what I did wasn't that crazy. I mean, did I get married like Tommy did? No. See, that's progress!

The band played the opening chords, and I started it off, closing my eyes.

"_Mmm, ooh, ohh, yeah!_" I moaned into the microphone, signaling for Tommy to start it off. He rolled his eyes, but started to sing.

"_You and me… all alone_," He began, as I moved closer. Fortunately for me, he was a fast learner and understood what choreography I was trying to do.

I picked up my mike and sang the next line with him, gazing at him out of the corner of my eye. "_It's too late to say we didn't know…"_

"_We shouldn't be… all alone_," He sang, backing away from me.

I nodded, reaching out for him as he shot me a fake panicked look (really, quite amusing), singing the next line. "_One of us might lose control-_"

I smirked at him, interrupting and walking closer, "_Of these feelings we've been hiding._"

"_Deep down, yeah, they might start to show_," I purred, putting a hand to my heart and staring straight at him. I moved my hand away from my chest to touch him slowly.

He grabbed my wrist, pushing me away lightly, shaking his head, his mouth set in a firm line. "_Not here, not now…_" He groaned, stepping backwards.

"_Watching my frustrations grow!_" I sang loudly, running a hand through my hair as if to pull it out while simultaneously pacing like a caged tiger.

The guitar really kicked in then, and as I counted beats in my head, I took that opportunity to look out at the audience. They seemed to be entranced. That was good. They weren't freaking out. I was sort of freaking out, but then again, who wouldn't?

"_I know what I feel, and you feel it too_," Tommy proclaimed, stepping towards me. I smiled at him, nodding.

"_I dream of the first kiss…_" I intoned dreamily, throwing a hand to my head and pretending to swoon and then continuing on with the song, "_And who'll make the first move…_" Then I reached out to touch him, but stopped in midair.

I sighed into the microphone, biting my lip, glancing out as if to ask the audience, "_Who's gonna put their heart on the line?_"

Tommy stepped a bit closer to me, crooning as he pointed first to himself, and then to me, "_It could be me… It could be you… tonight._"

Again, I counted beats, concentrating on the song, before I moaned "_Ohhh…_", pushing Tommy away from me, perhaps too forcefully. "_Show me who you are!_" I demanded, remembering how it had felt the first time I'd sung these words.

He sent me a pleading look (man, is he a good actor), reaching after me, grabbing my shoulder, "_Stop me before I go too far…_"

I removed his hand from my shoulder, fixing him with my own hurt look, as I was remembering just how betrayed I'd felt that weekend, singing these very words. "_'Cause it hurts…_" I whimpered, crossing an arm over my stomach.

He sent me a pitying look, biting his lip and running a hand through his hair, glancing at me nervously, stepping hesitantly towards me. "_To hold back…_" He groaned, walking backwards.

That wasn't the original lyric. It was originally, _It hurts, so bad…_ Which I'd changed to make it less personal? Or was it the other way around?

I stared at him, wide-eyed, grabbing his lapels, getting in his face, growling, "_So hold me… Or I might CRACK!_"

Gently, he removed my hands, stepping backwards, shaking his head, gesturing at the two of us. "_I'm gasoline, you're the match…_" He paused briefly, shaking his head again, before starting to sing again, "_I'm not sure if we can handle that…_" Again, he bit his lip nervously, inching closer to me, drawling the next words, glancing around as if paranoid, "_It might explode…_"

I nodded, shrugging, but moving closer to him still as I sang the next line, "_Could be a mess…_" I licked my lips, rubbing them together, pausing for a bit longer than I should have, and finally sighing, looking Tommy straight in the eye. "_I say we take the chance…_" I chanted, offering him my hand.

"_I know what I feel, and you feel it too_," I crooned, running a hand up his chest. He looked a bit startled.

"_I dream of the first kiss…_" I exhaled, fanning my face, looking out over the audience.

"_And who'll make the first move…_" Tommy continued, grabbing my hand. Now I was startled. He walked closer to me, and I felt goose bumps rise on my arms. "_Who's gonna put their heart on the line?_" He questioned, shrugging.

"_It could be me… It could be you… tonight_," I sang softly, as he let go of my hand.

I danced alone, spinning in a circle, counting the beats before I would have to sing again. I stopped when it was time to sing. "_Ooohohh…_"

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my head. "_I'm all mixed up, confused…_" I muttered dizzily, a hand clutching my head. "_I don't know what to do…_" I lamented loudly, taking a deep breath.

"'_Cause I'd want to_," I purred, inching closer to Tommy.

"_I'd love to_," Tommy declared, bending down to kiss my hand, eyes boring deeply into mine.

I jerked my hand away from him then, feeling nervous. I was beginning to think that maybe this wasn't too good of an idea after all. "_If I knew you'd want me too…_" I sang, meaning every word.

He moved closer, and I whispered into the microphone, a hand in front of me to stop him, "_If you get any closer, then I'm gonna have to scream!_" Needless to say, Tommy backed up.

"_I know what I feel, and you feel it too!_" Tommy bellowed with an impressive amount of conviction. If I didn't know better, I'd think he meant it. But I did know better.

"_I dream of the first kiss and who'll make the first move_," I chanted, turning away from him.

"_Who's gonna put their heart on the line?_" I cried, pacing frantically.

Suddenly Tommy was at my side. "_It could be me…_" He grabbed my hand. "_It could be you…_" His hand dropped to my waist and I exhaled deeply, finishing his sentence coyly, "_Tonight…_"

I barely had time to take a breath before I had to sing again. Not that I could breathe much around Tommy anyways. "_I know what I feel…_" I sang, wrapping an arm around his neck.

"_I know what I feel_," Tommy repeated, dancing with me.

"_And you feel it too…_" I drawled, extricating my arm from his neck, smiling.

"_And you feel it too…_" He whispered, grabbing my hand and spinning me out.

I nodded brightly. "_I dream of the first kiss…_" I intoned as he spun me back in, head spinning a little.

"_I dream of the first kiss…_" Tommy stated softly, smiling.

"_And who'll make the first move…_" I murmured, being twirled under his arm.

"_And who'll make the first move…_" He hummed, pulling me closer. My breath hitched, and I prayed that he wouldn't notice.

"_Who's gonna put their heart on the line?_" I asked, really pondering over this question. I'd already done it, and it hadn't ended well at all. I think you can cite just about half of my album for proof.

"_Who's gonna put… their heart on the line?_" Tommy muttered, surprising me by picking me up.

"_It could be me…_" I sang while he spun me around. I never knew he was this strong.

"_It could be me…_" He replied, setting me down. I was, once again, rather dizzy. It's a very good thing I don't get motion sick. Really.

"_It could be you…_" I mumbled, leaning against him a little to gather my bearings. It was then that the real trouble started. I gazed offstage for a minute, seeing Shay talking to someone.

"_It could be you…_" Tommy stressed, I suppose, trying to regain my attention. But I, meanwhile, had other problems. I squinted to see who it was Shay was talking to, and he moved a little to the side, revealing the identity of the person. Naturally, it was none other than my arch-nemesis, Eden. Of course.

I don't know why, but it seems like I'm always competing with her over something. First it was the Instant Star Contest (I haven't forgotten that she was the favorite… Or that Tommy wanted her to win). Then it was over the magazine cover. Then it was over the single (Thankfully, I wrote It Could Be You just in time to cream her). And then it was Shay.

I didn't know that they were still together. Shay likes breaking up. A lot. And he went on tour. You always break up with your girlfriend before going on tour. Trust me, I know.

Tommy nudged me, and I stopped staring at my ex-boyfriend and my rival. He gave me a weird look, which I ignored.

"_Tonight_," We chorused together, effectively ending the song.

"That was _It Could Be You_…" I muttered, dazed, amidst wild cheers and claps. I even saw a few lighters in the air.

I glanced over at Shay and Eden, who were kissing. They broke apart a moment later, and I felt sick to my stomach. It was then that I made that impulsive decision I've been regretting since it happened.

I didn't care who was watching. I didn't care that we were on stage or that there were thousands of spectators below me.

I pivoted to face Tommy again, and I spun him to face me, drawing him into a long, deep kiss. I remember that one moment so clearly. I wrapped my free arm around his neck, pulling my body flush against his. He was surprised, and so my tongue was in his mouth before either of us could believe it. Tommy dropped the mike with a thud, and it rolled off stage. One of his hands tangled in my hair, and the other one slid down low around my back, finally grabbing my butt.

I couldn't believe that he was really kissing me back, no strings attached. It seemed like we kissed for ages, but I know we didn't. I don't know what it was, but something made him break away. Maybe it was the flashing clicks of the cameras. He broke away from me, and we stared at each other, dazed and breathless for a minute.

Then I brought the microphone up to my lips, noticing the looks on Shay and Eden's faces. I smirked and then finished my announcement, "Thank you all so much for coming to see us, and thanks to everyone out there who's bought a CD or some merchandise. You guys are the lifeblood of the music industry! We really are the future, you know! So, on that note, don't change for anyone, not even music execs! Love you guys!"

I waved and smiled, then flicked off the mike, still smiling as I left. Naturally, Tommy followed me, almost in a dead run, gaping at my back. I was just about to breeze past Shay and Eden when he grabbed my arm a little too tight for comfort. I scowled and turned to face him.

"What the hell was that?" He hissed, eyes wide with confusion. To be truthful, _I_ didn't even know. But it felt right at the time… A little too right. Okay, I need to shut up now before I become a fangirl. But we were right in-between Shay and Eden, and I did not like the looks either of them were giving me.

"Tommy… Can we discuss this in private?" I muttered, jerking my arm from his grasp. I avoided Eden, Shay, and Tommy's eyes. Really, at that moment, I just wanted out. I was starting to wish I'd just gone around Canada like I was supposed to. Tommy's eyes surveyed the room, and they narrowed, focusing back on me. He nodded.

"I see." That was all he said, but it stung nonetheless. He didn't move or anything, just stood there, gaze boring into me, as if he was seeing right through me. I hate that expression on his face. It was this angry, sort of smug look, like he knew everything about me. Not like he did. He hadn't even seen me for months!

"Come on, Tom…" I prodded, grabbing his hand and trying to tug him along with me to an empty backroom. I had no idea what I could, what I would, say to him. I only knew I had to say something. Eden smirked, shooting me a smug look, and a memory of her kissing Shay popped into my head, unbidden. A frown crossed my face, and I turned to Tommy, sighing raggedly. It had been a long, tiring day.

"You know, I'm exhausted. I think I'll go shower and then just crash back at the hotel," I said to Tommy, deliberately trying my hardest to ignore my two least favorite people in the world. I ran a hand through my hair, dabbing my sweaty forehead with my elbow before forcing a coy smile. "You can join me if you want…" I whispered in a disgustingly sultry tone (even to my own ears), leaning in closer to Tommy, before pressing a kiss to his cheek. I waved dully at Eden and Shay, forcing an obviously fake smile, before smiling at Tommy and blowing him a kiss.

As I was leaving, I saw the dirty look on Shay's face. It was aimed at Tommy, and Eden has a dissatisfied, somewhat disgusted look on her face. Honestly, where does she get off? I hurry up my pace, not chancing a glance backward, but their words still follow me.

"No hands, Quincy? Follow your own advice, Hypocrite!" Shay mocks, giving Tommy a disgusted look, I imagine. I wonder what Tommy would have to say to that. And then I walked into my dressing room.

-Loren ;

Yes, I realize that on a normal tour, they probably would not allow you to drag someone on stage in the middle of your act out of the blue. But this is Shay's tour, where they're sort of apathetic about such things. And, hey, it's not like the fans cared… Shay, yeah, he cared…

And Jude is kinda… OOC at the end with the hinting to Tommy… She's just doing that to piss Shay off… And she's kinda OOC by being so cool after kissing Tommy.

And when Shay says "No hands?" and calls Tommy a hypocrite, he's referring to the filming of the music video, when he put his hands on Jude's butt and Tommy freaked (which was really quality entertainment…:) ). Anyways, he does that because Tommy sort of grabbed Jude like that, and, well, you get the picture.

So, let's see… Shay's still with Eden. Jude saw him kiss Eden and snapped by making out with Tommy, onstage, in front of thousands of people and paparazzi. Sadie may or may not be still in Italy, and she's still with Tommy. And Tommy just realized why Jude kissed him, and so he's furious. Shay isn't happy that Jude kissed Tommy… Actually, he's kind of jealous. And Tommy and Jude need to talk in the worst way. Okay, so now Jude's in her dressing room… all alone.

Wonder what's gonna happen next? Review and find out! Thanks for the reviews, by the way!


	4. Criminal

Okay, so let's see… In the last chapter Jude kissed Tommy. Ahhh! Hmm, now what's gonna come of that?

And, yeah, Jude might be a little weird in this chapter too, but she's really not in a good mood and just really wants to go home… Except she doesn't get to.

Oh, and let's see… About the Jamie thing… Um, I don't know what happened with him and Kat (actually, I think they're kinda cute)… And Kat's cool. Her and Jamie are the comedic relief, you know? That and the fact that Jamie gets all the REALLY good lines… "It's like we died and woke up in a Snoop Dogg video!" Anyways, let's just assume he's not dating Jude and he broke up with Kat. Kat's kinda pissed at both of 'em. Or maybe he didn't know if he was dating Jude or not, 'cause she was real busy and had no time to call him… And, well, when he sees her on TV kissing Tommy, that kind of shattered him. Either way, Jamie is not happy about the whole thing (surprise, surprise!). Man, poor Jamie!

I don't own Jude, Shay, Eden, Sadie, Stu, Tommy, Boyz Attack, Kwest, Jamie, Portia (I spelled her name that way instead of Porshe, mainly because who would want to be named after a car?), Instant Star, It Could Be You, the booty girls thing (from the show), or the corporate pop mega-poseur line (from the website, Jude's diary).

I was extremely hot right now, in a black lace dress (scoop-necked and ridiculously short) with black leather boots. I let out another sigh, removing my jewelry and bending down to unzip one of the boots. I struggled with it for a moment before removing it and starting on the other, grunting all the way.

I had no idea why I did that. Well, I had some idea, and it had to do with Shay and Eden, quite possibly the two people I hate most in the world… Up there with Dad (sort of), my math teacher, Sadie, and Tommy (about half the time). And the other half of the time… It's like I like him… I don't get it. He's everything I hate about music. Literally. He's a corporate pop mega-poseur. And yet, I don't hate him.

A moment later, there was a knock on the door. Okay, it wasn't so much of a knock as it was a bang, but that's not the point. I was not in the mood to deal with anyone, so I rolled my eyes and called out to the offending person. "Go away! I'm **naked**!" You would really think that that would keep someone out, but I was sadly mistaken, as Tommy somehow unlocked the door and stormed in, slamming the door shut behind him.

"_Hey_! I said I was naked!" I shrieked, turning away from him in a hurry and zipping up my jeans. I was still wearing the dress, which seemed to be getting hotter by the minute. Honestly, even as a star, I can't get any privacy! I saw Tommy rolling his eyes behind me in the mirror, and was not at all surprised when he grabbed my bare shoulder and turned me around to face him. However, I wanted to squirm away from his grip with every fiber of my being. His eyes narrowed and he leaned in towards me, anger radiating from his every pore.

"Seeing as everyone thinks I'm your boyfriend now, I don't think it really matters. Besides, you _said_ I could join you if I wanted to," Tommy hissed, grip tightening on my shoulders. I could feel his breath, hot against my face. His tone was bitter and sarcastic, and the furious look in his eyes frightened me. His eyes were dark and intense like a hurricane, and I felt like that hurricane was about to run right into me.

"They actually gave you the key? Pervs. Honestly, don't they know you're like seven years older than me? That's illegal," I muttered to myself, looking away from Tommy, vexed with Shay's crew. But then again, I shouldn't have been surprised. I mean, I was on a seventeen-year-old rap star's tour. There were groupies, back-up dancers, and, well… Booty girls. Ew, booty girls. Compared to that, this was slightly tamer. I think. Well, I don't know… I mean, that, at least, was legal. Tommy rolled his eyes and released his grip on me, backing up a little (for both of our good).

"Yeah. I _know_," Tommy retorted, giving me a look. What? It's not like kissing him is illegal! It's only illegal if I have sex with him. Then it's statutory rape. Oh, god. Please tell me I did not just think that! Too late, I did. Oh, and I'm blushing. Just what I need, mental pictures of Tommy and me at a time like this! No matter how nice they may… Okay, brain, stop!

Argh. Mental note: Look up statutory rape and consent laws on the internet when I get back home… Damn it! I did it again. Okay, look at Tommy. Maintain a straight face. I know you can do it, Jude. Do it… ARGH. Okay, concentrate.

"What were you thinking?" He lectures, hands on his hips. He's lecturing me? Him, Mister-When-I-Was-On-Tour-With-Boyz-Attack!-I-Had-A-Different-Girl-In-Every-Town? Oh, that's rich! I've had one boyfriend in my entire life. I've only kissed three guys… Him (Okay, four times… But the first one didn't count, and the other two times HE kissed me! I mean, just because no one saw them and we agreed they never happened doesn't mean that they actually didn't happen! Because they did! I know, I was there!), Shay, and Jamie… And the Jamie thing was kind of weird and, well, weird… Well, not counting that guy in fourth grade and that lifeguard last summer.

As a matter of fact, the only bad thing I've done… Besides all that Jamie stuff, anyways… Is be attracted to him! I mean, I don't get why it's so bad. Okay, I do… The age thing… And they'd call him a pedophile and what not… But, I mean, the tabloids thought we were going out and nothing happened… Except me having the photos plastered all over my locker. And there wasn't really any truth to the rumors then (Okay, that's a lie. Those photographers did capture the moment I fell in love with him in their pictures), and everyone knew that.

"Well, **obviously**, Tom, I _wasn't_ thinking!" I yell back at him, waving my hands in the air. I mean, do you think I would've kissed him if I was? My brain would've been all: "**_Hell_** no, Jude. What are you thinking! He's **twenty**-**two** and you're _sixteen_! He's too old for you! And he was in a hideous boy band!" Okay, well, not hideous, but that's not the point. This was before it really sunk in… That I'd made out with him on stage in front of thousands of people. "Anyways, crazy things happen on tour, and you know it! Like you getting married, for instance!"

Uh oh. Tommy's eyes just flashed. I hit a sore spot. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans in closer. I really don't like that look in his eyes. If I didn't know that Tommy would never, ever hurt me… Oh, wait, sorry, he has hurt me! Several times! Physically, he's never hurt me physically… He's broken my heart at least three times already. And it got progressively more painful each time. I so hate fighting with him. "I was _eighteen_, and so was Portia! You were twelve, and still playing acoustic guitar and writing lyrics in your room with Jamie! I know it was stupid, but at _least_ it was **legal**!" Tommy snaps, glaring at me.

I hastened to back up a lot. He was really starting to scare me now. My stomach was full of butterflies and I bit my lip as Tommy advanced towards me.

"Hey! You got married on tour! All I did was kiss you, which, if you remember, _has_ happened before! Compared to you, I think I'm doing pretty well… I could've gotten back together with Shay, but I didn't!" I lamented, annoyed with the vein of argument already. Could I at least finish changing in peace? All I want is a shower, a snack, and a nice, warm bed. Is that too much to ask?

Apparently yes, because Tommy's face is turning sort of red… And not from blushing like me. From anger. Sheer undiluted rage. Okay, maybe that's a bit much, but this conversation is going so far from well it's not funny.

"Don't even get me started on Shay! I think it's _pathetic_ to kiss me just because you saw Shay with Eden!" Tommy belittled, naturally making me feel horrible. I really didn't think he would care all that much about it. After all, I'm always the one who winds up with the broken heart in the end… But I didn't kiss him because of Shay. I think I kissed him to prove something to myself or maybe Eden. I wanted to prove that I didn't have to compete with her for everything, and that she couldn't just try and steal everything I've worked so hard to get and establish.

Or maybe I just kissed him because Tommy is a far better catch. Sort of. And he's hotter. I did not just think that. Okay, I have to stop thinking about Tommy like that. He's my producer, and if I keep thinking about him like that… Well, like the song goes: I might lose control of these feelings I've been hiding… Damn it, I hate Eden. I hate her, I hate her, I hate her!

"I honestly didn't think you would care. Besides, do you know how _annoying_ it is to **fight** for everything you have all the time? Even _you_ thought she should have won Instant Star instead of me," I mumbled tiredly, slightly hurt and worn out to argue. I was still sweaty from the show. Stupid lack of air conditioning. It's so tiring to be constantly fighting just to maintain what you have. I mean, like fighting with Sadie for attention isn't bad enough (I don't need that much, but she's hogged the spotlight for so long!).

"And you have _no_ idea how **glad** I am that _you_ won instead, Jude," Tommy whispered softly, walking a bit closer. Whoa, what happened to all that anger? See, I love it when Tommy says things like that. He has a real gift with words sometimes. This might be dangerous though. I think we're in danger of having a moment here, which is not the goal. Not that I wouldn't mind it happening… Okay, shut up, Jude.

"Because if you hadn't, I'd be dealing with some spoiled bleach-blonde pop diva all the time. And then I never would have met you," Tommy replies, smiling a little. He's not mad anymore? Why do I think this is too good to be true? Probably because it is.

"But, Jude, how could you do that? You know I'm with Sadie. She's gonna find out about this. There's no way she won't. And what about things at the record studio?" Tommy chastises me, sounding like he's disappointed in me. Oh, great, he's disappointed in me! Does he seriously think I thought about any of those things? I don't know about any of those things. Argh, why didn't I just think for once?

"Look, I'm sorry…" I begin worriedly, sighing and running a hand through my hair, but Tommy cut me off, anger once again glinting in his eyes. I knew it was too good to be true. He's still mad. And people think I'm hormonal! He's the one with mood swings like you wouldn't believe!

"Sometimes sorry doesn't cut it." His tone's cold, and there's this frosty look in his eyes I haven't seen since… Well, I haven't seen it for a long time. "Think of all the people that kiss _hurt_, Jude. But you don't think, do you?" Tommy drawled slowly, as if this was something that he desperately needed to say. Think of all the people **that** kiss hurt? Last time I checked, he was the one who went around kissing people not caring who he hurt. Like me. Lousy hypocrite.

"How can I, Tommy, when all I can think about is how I want to kiss you again?" I yelled, frustrated at the way this conversation was headed. I should not have said that aloud. Crap. Crappity-crap-crap-crap. I might have meant it, but… This is so hard! And damn it, I think I'm gonna cry again! No, Jude, you will not cry. Tommy is a lousy ass who is not worth your tears. We've already cried over him too much. You will stay strong.

But I still want to kiss him. That obviously wasn't the right thing to say, because he looks completely stunned. He's so cute. Argh, must resist urge to kiss him. Must resist. You know, I really need to work on my self control. Like gaining some.

I lean in and kiss him again before I even know what I'm doing. And the best thing is… He's kissing me back. His lips are so soft and he's such a good kisser… I forgot how good. It's been so long since we first…

This feels so great… And so right! Like it's fated or something. There's that crackling spark of electricity wherever our bodies are in contact and the butterflies in my stomach are completely gone. I feel like I could do anything. Anything in the world because I'm kissing Tommy like I'm supposed to. He's all mine.

One of my arms is draped around his neck, and the other one's wrapped around his back. My eyes are closed, and… This is just so indescribable! One of his hands is in my hair, dully playing with it, and the other's slowly sliding up my back, pushing up my dress. Oh, good, I'm finally going to get this stupid contraption off. Tommy's so warm and he smells so great, like soap and velvet curtains and my electric guitar and the studio and pancakes and every single smell I've ever liked… That's some wonderful kind of cologne. I love the feeling of his arms around me… It makes me feel so safe and happy and loved.

I'm so breathless right now, I can barely think. Tommy wants me. He actually wants _me_! I can barely stand, I'm practically gonna melt into a puddle right here! His hair's so soft… Okay, I need to breathe. Good, now I can kiss him again.

My back feels like it's on fire, what with his hand going higher and higher and… That feels so amazing! His fingers brush over my bra and stop, slowly starting to undo it. I moan, not that I haven't been moaning and making other various noises the whole time…

And then it all ends. Tommy pulls away from me abruptly, eyes dark with lust this time, not anger. My eyes shoot open, and his hands slide off me. That doesn't fool me, though. He's staring at my bra… I never realized how far he pulled the dress up… He pulled the dress up. My dress up! Am I hyperventilating yet or am I just catching my breath? The look in his eyes, it can't mean anything good.

"I _can't_," He mutters helplessly, still breathless, his lips red from where I kissed him, cheeks flushed. He's still staring at me. Odd… I think I just had a "You are _asking_ the **wrong** guy!" moment. I want to kiss him again. Really, really bad. Kissing Tommy's like a drug, and I want more. I think I want to… But he's realizing what almost happened between us, and his eyes show it.

"But you _would_, wouldn't you, if I was twenty-one?" I pant, trying my best to catch my breath. I turn to look at myself in the mirror. My skin's flushed and damp, my lips are swollen and red from the smeared lipstick, my hair's a mess, and the dress is pushed up almost to my neck. Part of my bra is undone. And I'm okay with that. I'm happy. I'm on top of the world.

I know his answer. It's the same one he told Kwest. In a heartbeat. Hell, he would even if I was eighteen.

But then Tommy shatters the illusion of happiness with four simple words.

"But you're _not_ twenty-one."

And he's right. I'm not. And I won't be for a long time. But before I can even counter his statement, he's out the door, leaving me all alone, literally all hot and bothered. I rip off the uncomfortable dress, not bothering to refasten my bra, thinking of Tommy's hands on me… More like dreaming because it's never gonna happen again! Then I throw on a t-shirt, sinking into the dingy dressing-room sofa with a sigh.

It was then that I realized that I was totally, completely, and utterly screwed. With a capital S.

- Loren ;

Okay, so Jude made-out with Tommy. Again. Man, he really can't control himself, can he? And she can't stop thinking about him… Which could prove to be a huge problem.

And what'll happen with Sadie? Or Shay? What's the press gonna say? And what about Jamie and Kat? Or Jude's parents! Will they approve? Of course not! And what will Georgia, E.J., Kwest and all them do about it? Only time will tell!

So review and you shall receive the answers you seek. Thanks for all the reviews, by the way!


	5. Waste My Time

See, the thing to remember is that Jude is Canadian. So their consent laws may be different (Heck, they may be different from province to province for all I know). And I haven't seen the finale, so I dunno if Jude's actually gonna go on tour with Shay, but that would prolly be a better career move because of the exposure and the fact that it's this huge world tour. I've actually been reading a lot of fics where she does this, but I have no idea. Oh, and don't worry, there will be music. Jude's just kind of avoiding the studio in the beginning of the story, because Georgia's not happy about the whole thing and Tommy's avoiding her, so it's hard to work, and she's grounded, for reasons you will see later (it's for more than just kissing Tommy, really). I'm gonna say that she was tired on tour, what with keeping up with Shay, choreography, all those shows, and traveling, and so she didn't write much, but she will write some songs… Songs are really hard to write, mind you.

Shay does pop up in this chapter. And not in a very positive light, because frankly, I hate him. I mean, he's cute and all… Lol, that hat he wore in the Waste My Time video! Anyways, I never liked him 'cause I always knew he was gonna cheat on her, and, well, the way he asked her out through his posse. That was not cool.

And don't worry, you'll get to see some of the other people's reactions soon… Like Sadie's… I kinda like hers.

Anyways, I hope you like this chapter better… I tried to edit it to have more action, well, that and the fact that it had more action to begin with. Oh, and Shay is not a bad guy, he's just not a nice guy, and he's a little screwed up, but who wouldn't be if their uncle was trying to control their life? Wow… I can't believe I actually felt sympathy for that cheating weasel. Wow.

Oh, and yes, this chapter is kind of short, but the next one's pretty long. Oh, and just for later, when Jude sees her dad (not in this chapter), she doesn't completely hate him, mainly because I kind of have a relationship with my dad like Jude did with hers (before the affair), and I could never picture myself hating him that much. So Jude's still angry about that, and she'll never forgive him for it, but she still loves him. She just won't talk about Yvette… She's sort of more mad at Sadie for knowing and not telling her, but she's pretty much okay with Sadie (Now, Sadie's really not okay with her now because of the whole kiss thing, but whatever…).

Okay, don't own Instant Star. My songwriting skills scare me, but okay… (That's kind of why there's not much music… Aside from the fact that I'd rather use the songs from the show) Considering I'm as old as Jude when she won the contest, there would have to be something weird goin' down for me to own it in the first place.

After relaxing on the couch for a few moments, I got up and walked out to the limo to catch a ride to the hotel. I really wanted to go home, but I knew I couldn't do that… And home was so very far away from here.

I hurried into my room, really wanting to shower and go to sleep, but alas, the fates were once again, against me. As soon as I dropped my bag unto the chair and was about to collapse unto my bed, I noticed it was already occupied. Shay was on top of my bed, lounging casually.

Naturally, I was a bit… Okay, a lot, freaked out! I wondered if I had merely just walked in the wrong room (our rooms were pretty close in the hotel, so it wouldn't have been that odd), at least, that's what I hoped.

"Is this your room, Shay?" I asked curiously, moving to pick up my bag and leave. Shay got up from the bed and walked over towards me slowly. He reached out to grab my hand, and I didn't know what to do at all. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights only steps away from being hit.

"No," He replied smoothly and calmly, and reached a hand up to caress my cheek. I wasn't falling for it, though, and I saw just where this was going. Of course, now he wants me back. Naturally. He was trying to seduce me and all because he thought I was with Tommy! Gee, way to make a girl feel wanted… I still remembered all he had done to me, and how much it had hurt.

No flowers, no candy, no jewelry… He just expects me to fall back into his philandering arms without even trying? Way to pull out all the stops and make me feel appreciated. Was this how he got Eden or something?

"Then what are you doing here?" I asked, perhaps a bit too rudely. Okay, so I wasn't the slightest bit subtle, but I wanted him out of there. I was worn out from the concert and my fight with Tommy, and all I needed was to relax for a moment.

"They let me in," Shay answered smoothly, trying to sound mysterious. Of course they let him in… But why? What fool would let him into my room? Oh, right, the hotel staff… Mental note: Next time I go on tour with an ex-boyfriend (Heaven forbid!), insist on different hotels.

"Why?" I hissed, backing away from Shay. What did he think he was doing? He was with Eden! I saw him with Eden, for crying out loud! They were obviously still together before I kissed Tommy. Ugh. That's why he's coming unto me. Tommy. Well, they've never gotten along when it comes to me. Great, so he's just using me as a pawn to piss Tommy off. Fabulous.

"Well, I guess after your steamy make-out session with Quincy onstage, nothing really surprises them anymore," He remarks off-handedly, as if he were commenting on the weather, coming closer. Did he just imply that I'm a slut? Shay, who cheated on me with Eden… Ugh, how much of a hypocrite can you be? He has booty girls in his videos, and here he is, implying that I go around, sleeping with guys! If anything, he's the slut! I mean, Eden! Can you say trash? With those ratty bleach-blonde extensions… Ugh, gag me now.

"No one invited you, Shay," I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him. I did not invite him here. I do not want him here. I have never made any indications that I wish to get back together with him. So, why is he here! Why won't he just leave me alone! He's already dumped me two times… You'd think he'd be able to make up his mind! He _is_ a waste of my time.

"Oh, what, Little Tommy Q. gets an invite and I don't? Speaking of Tom, where is he? I don't see him around here…" Is he actually mocking me? I never said one word when he was wearing that stupid angora hat and that white sweat suit when we were doing the Waste My Time video (for the record, the garage was a much better idea than the car wash). And now he's making fun of Tommy behind his back.

"You ought to be glad that Tommy's not here yet. He would kick your ass for coming unto me," I threatened, glaring murderously at Shay. I was sort of bluffing, but that is true. Tommy hates Shay, and there's no doubt in my mind that he could take Shay in a second. That is, not if _I_ beat Shay up first…

"But he's not here… And it's just you and me, all alone, Shorty…" Shay said, leaning in closer, rubbing my arm. Shorty? He still thinks he can call me that? I'm not his girl anymore! And quoting the lyrics Tommy and I wrote together? That's low and utterly classless.

"I am _not_ your shorty, Shay! What part of this don't you get? I want you to leave me alone! And besides, you're with Eden anyways!" I shouted at him, pushing him away, hands balling up into fists, concentrating hard on not hurting him. Not that that would be a bad thing because he has it coming, but I mean, trying to cheat on Eden with me? Even I think that's low, and I used to like him. Not that she cared when she did this very thing to me…

I could exact revenge on her right now if I wanted to, but I don't want to. And I don't want Shay at all. Shay came back, leaning in towards me again. Well, at least his breath doesn't smell.

"Now, see, I don't think you do… You _know_ you want me, Jude…" Shay grinned cockily, as if he genuinely knew this. Of course, he was completely wrong. I struggled to think of a rebuttal before he won this round.

"I **want** Tommy!" I screamed loudly, so loudly, in fact, that he backed up a good amount. Okay, maybe that wasn't the wisest thing to say, but it was the first that came to mind. Probably because it's true… Augh, why can't I just shut my brain off sometimes? I can't have Tommy. He's with my big sister, for crying out loud! I should not want him… But I do…

Do I want Tommy for the same reason Shay wants me? Do I only want him because I can't have him, I can't be with him, and he's taken? Do I only want him because I see him as another thing Sadie's stolen from me? Why do I want him?

The look in Shay's eyes can mean nothing good. This flash went through them when I said Tommy's name. But why does he look even more determined?

Why do my plans always backfire on me?

"Oh, but Baby, you **know** I can satisfy you in ways Little Tommy could never even dream of…" Shay said suggestively, raising his eyebrows as he swaggered towards me, cockiness radiating off of him. Is he insinuating what I think he's insinuating? I think he is… But how am I supposed to know that? And what am I supposed to say?

"Tommy is **so** much _better_ than you!" I stated loudly, and Shay looked stunned for a while, as if my flippant remark was some sort of revelation. It wasn't. I just wanted him to leave, and badly. And, well, that is the truth. At least Tommy thinks up classy ways to break my heart. But Shay moved closer to me, putting his hands on my hips, leaning in still closer to me. Is he trying to kiss me? I sure hope not!

"Jude, you never know until you try…" Shay whispered huskily, leaning in to kiss my neck. I dodged his kiss, and his brow furrowed with irritation. Ugh, he is such a sleaze! How did I not see this when we were dating? And the worst part is that he thinks he's being smooth… No wonder he had to have his posse ask me out for him. A normal girl being treated like this would've rejected his sorry ass in an instant.

Shay was not used to being rejected. He was not used to being a pursuer. Things like this were easy for him. His arms wrapped around me tighter, not tight enough to bruise, but tight enough to mostly hold me in place.

"Trust me, Shay, I **don't** want to try!" I screeched, struggling against him. It was to no use, as Shay was taller and stronger than me. If he didn't let go soon, I would have to hurt him. Not that I minded.

"But I _do_, Jude…" He whispered, leaning in to kiss me. I panicked and did the first thing which came to mind. That thing happened to be punching him in the eye. What can I say; I've got a killer right hook… He's definitely going to have a black eye. And then I shoved him backwards, throwing open the door and tossing him into the hall (not literally, of course).

Here's what I don't get; why does what he want matter more than what I want? Shay was never like this when we were dating. He must be more messed up than I thought.

I locked the door to the room before he could even get up, and stuck a chair underneath the doorknob, so as to barricade myself in. Then I went into the bathroom and took the longest, most wonderful bubble bath of my life, vowing never to think of Shay again, before heading off to bed. It had, after all, been a very long day.

- Loren ;

Oh, just a random fact… The distance between Montreal and Toronto is 312 miles, or 503 kilometers, or 271 nautical miles, as the crow flies.

Anyways, so if you liked it, review… And, yeah. Instant Star's on tonight! Yay!


	6. Stupid Girl

This chapter's pretty long. And there's singing… Sort of.

I don't own Skin, 24 Hours, I'm in Love With My Guitar, or That Girl. Or really anything from Instant Star.

I do, however, own the tabloid tagline. And the plot…

Okay, so Sadie shows up in this chapter, and, well… It ain't pretty. Really.

Song lyrics are in italics.

Oh, and something to clarify… The last night of the tour, in Montreal, was a Tuesday. Thus, this day, when she's fighting with Sadie and going clubbing (sort of, you'll see later on), is Wednesday. And so the day after that, when Jude first goes to school and the studio again, is a Thursday. Got it? Good…

"_Oh, he's under my skin… Just give me something to get rid of him…_" I started to sing absent-mindedly, getting ready. Then it hit me who the song reminded me of and how much I had often wished I could do those things… How much better it would be if I could.

I sighed, brushing my hair, wincing at the tangles I encountered. My long, straight, shiny, bright red hair was my trademark. I love my hair… It's so… Unique. I mean, how often do you encounter a redheaded rock star? Not that I'm a rock star yet… I think.

"_I'm sick of wishing you were near… You've gone your way, you've made it clear… Why do I feel you everywhere? Why do I feel this everywhere?_" I hummed, putting my hair up in a ponytail, in a vain attempt to make myself less recognizable. Glancing at my watch, I smeared on some cheap lip-gloss, realizing I had to be downstairs to get on the limo in ten minutes. And then it'd be home, sweet home…

I swiped my things into my bag hurriedly, flinging it on my shoulder, chancing a last glance around the room before I left. Good, I didn't forget anything. That being done, I peered down the hallway, checking to see if Shay was anywhere nearby to surprise me like he had last night. Fortunately, I think I wounded his pride enough to insure that didn't happen. I smiled at this and walked down to the elevator, pressing the button, waiting nervously for it to arrive.

"_Right now I wanna get lost inside of a song, where there's no right or wrong… In my room all alone's where I belong… My life is mine once I'm behind the door!_" I hummed, shifting my weight from foot to foot, wondering how long it took to get from Montreal to Toronto. Oh well, I'd find out soon enough, I thought to myself as the door opened and I stepped inside.

"_You said you didn't need me, but you do… Said you didn't want me, but you do… It's kind of like a comedy… First you kiss me, and then you say we're through… I say you've got some issues, yeah, you do… Some things you got to work through, you really do… It's sorta like a talk show- No, wait, a freak show, and the freak is you!_" I sang contentedly, getting out of the elevator and hopping into the car in front of the hotel. They really didn't have to get me a limo…

There was no one in the car but me and my bags. I sighed and leaned back into the seat, looking around at my surroundings curiously. There were various compartments in the limo, and being curious, I decided to open one. Ooh, snacks! How did they know which ones I like?

I grabbed some snacks, and then grabbed my guitar, a pen, and a notebook, deciding to write a song. However, I soon found that I was having no luck in this endeavor, as I could not stop thinking about last night, and Tommy. I need to stop thinking about him. I can't be with him.

So I wound up falling asleep instead. And falling asleep on the backseat of a limo, half-on-top-of your guitar, is not fun or particularly safe. Or healthy. I was woken up some hours later, by the driver lightly shaking me. By then, I had already fallen off the seat, clutching my guitar, and then hastily got up, picking up my bag, the pen, and the notebook. The driver got the rest of the bags, and I opened the door for him, stepping inside. I crossed my fingers, hoping Sadie was not there.

I had just set my guitar down when my parents greeted me with a bear hug. I was only slightly surprised that Dad was there, but it had been a while. I was even more surprised that either of us were able to tolerate his presence.

"Jude! It's so good to see you again! How are you? So how was your trip? Did you have fun? See anything interesting while trotting the globe?" They asked at a rapid pace, looking excited and happy to see me. Obviously, they had not heard about me kissing Tommy. Funny, I would've thought it was in the newspaper or on TV or something… Oh well… That's good. Until they find out, that is.

"It's great to see you guys too! I'm good… The trip was good… Yeah, I had fun… Saw a lot of cool things, did a lot of cool things…" I answered quickly, looking out for Sadie. I swallowed carefully, turning to them, nervous.

"Is Sadie here? Because last night Tom-I was told that she was on her way to Montreal to see me, but she got held up in customs…" I rambled, wondering just what had happened to her, and if she had seen it. Even if she hadn't, she would know soon. Tommy would have to tell her. Or she'd see it in the tabloids or on TV…

Mom shot me a puzzled look, but nodded vaguely. "Yeah, she got in late last night. She didn't say anything about Montreal, though. She didn't look happy, so you might not want to disturb her, though…" Mom explained, frowning. Crap. That means that Sadie knows. How can she know? She was stuck in Italy. How can she…?

"_Oh_, I think she'll want to talk to me…" I muttered grimly, already frowning. My parents gave me weird looks, but I sighed, grabbing my bags and starting to carry them upstairs. I put them in my room and then walked out into the hallway. I stared down at Sadie's door for a minute, biting my lip and running a hand through my hair. And then I knew I had to talk to her, so I took a deep breath and slowly turned the doorknob, opening the door.

Sadie turned around at her desk, immediately glaring at me. Glancing behind her, I noticed what she was looking at on the computer. There was an article, with a huge picture of me kissing Tommy plastered across the top of it. It was titled "**Who's Tommy Q. Seeing: It Could Be Jude**"… Must they mock my songs? They could've picked one of Tommy's songs… I bet Boyz Attack! had tons of corny love-songs. No, wait, I know that! I sang a cover of one of their songs. I had a uh, sextet with them (that's what it's called when a person sings with a quartet, right? You know, like a duet?)… And when I was little, both Kat and Sadie played their CDs nonstop. Not that I liked them or anything.

No, I thought Boyz Attack! and similar bands were crap. Cute, but still crap. Actually, I refused to admit they were cute… I hated them. Funny, with the whole Tommy thing and all, really… As a matter of fact, if I did have a crush on one of them, it wouldn't have been Tommy. He was the oh-too-clichéd posterboy teen heartthrob…

Oh, crap. Sadie knows. Damn.

"What, you want my room too? Or maybe my computer? Let me guess, my cheerleading trophies? I'm really sorry Jude, but I can't give you my college tuition, but maybe if you come back later…" Sadie mocked angrily. Her eyes were narrowed, face caught up in a sneer, nose high in the air as always.

"Hey! My CD's paying for your tuition!" I exclaimed quickly. Needless to say, it was the first thing that came to mind. And true. My CD's selling like crazy over the internet, and, well, that money adds up… But that's not the point.

"Oh, _my_ bad… I just figured, you know, since you want my boyfriend, you might try and _steal_ some of my other belongings, **Princess** Jude!" Sadie snarled bitterly, getting up from her computer and walking towards me. She's calling me a princess? If anyone's a princess, it's her! She was always Mom and Dad's favorite! She does everything! The only thing I can do that she can't is SING and play the guitar!

"_You_ calling me a Princess? That's a load of crap, and you know it, Sadie!" I sniped, feeling my own anger rising by the second. I advanced towards her, my own eyes narrowing. I understood why she was mad… I had been mad at her for the same reason… But that didn't give her an excuse… Or maybe it did.

"Hey, you didn't see me kissing Shay, did you?" She roared, face turning slightly pinker by the moment. Well, duh. When we were going out, _I_ barely saw Shay! Actually, the only time she met Shay was when he came over for dinner… And that was a total disaster. Speaking of that, I think she must've come unto him (Tommy) in Italian or something, because he choked on his spaghetti for a second there.

"But I saw **you** kissing Tommy when you knew I liked him," I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest. Is she actually rolling her eyes at me? I think she is! "You know, just because I'm sixteen doesn't mean that my feelings aren't **real** and that they don't matter!" I yelled, feeling my eyes tearing up a little, remembering the conversation Tommy and I had on my birthday.

"First of all, you _never_ said you liked him! As a matter of fact, you denied it when the tabloids came out with those pictures of you two!" Sadie screeched, waving her hands about wildly. Uh, didn't I make that kind of obvious? I mean, even Tommy figured it out. Everyone knew that I liked him. Jamie, Kat, the tabloids… Even Shay did, on some level… Jamie told me about their fight. You'd have to be blind to not see how I feel about him.

"Well, Sadie, what was I supposed to say? I didn't even know how he felt about me when they asked me! Mom and Dad wouldn't have approved anyways… And you'd have to be totally blind to not notice how I felt about him! I saw you kiss him on the farm… And that hurt me a lot!" I hollered back, reddening myself. How could Mom and Dad approve of Tommy with Sadie and not with me? I'm the musician. I get him. I'm the coolest chick he's ever met. He even said so himself. She's only two years older than me… And barely!

"At least you didn't see your sister making out with him onstage in front of thousands of people at a concert that was televised internationally! And while I was all alone in an airport, nonetheless!" Sadie screamed, moving closer to me to drive her point home. I saw tears starting to well up in her eyes too, but ignored the pangs of guilt this brought me. It's amazing how much one guy can hurt two girls.

"Wait, why were you in the airport? Tommy said you were coming to see me in Montreal and got held up in customs…" I muttered, confused. Sadie snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, I did get held back in customs. And then when I finally got on my plane, Tommy wasn't there, and I just thought that he was in first class or something. The plane wasn't headed to Montreal. It was headed here, to Toronto. So I just wrote it off, imagining that Tommy had maybe gotten on to the wrong flight. Then, all of the sudden, as I'm walking through the airport I notice your concert on TV. And then, to my surprise, there's my boyfriend, singing with you and stranding me at the airport. Turns out Tommy had a different flight all along and he left earlier than me. He never intended to go to Toronto. Imagine my surprise when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, you lean in and _kiss_ him! On international TV. Can you say humiliation?" Sadie snapped furiously, obviously very hurt by the whole ordeal.

But if Tommy had been going to Montreal all along, how is this my fault? Oh, right… He came to see me, which he's probably not supposed to do. Technically I made out with him, but I really don't want to correct her on that. It's all Tommy's fault for coming anyways.

"What, you think I don't know what it's like to be publicly humiliated by a boyfriend? Shay hooked up with Eden and told me, in the worst way, on my birthday! And he only told me because the tabloids were gonna publish the pictures the next day! There I was, so happy to see him, and he dumped me for my worst enemy. In front of everyone… My friends, my family, the press, and my coworkers. My heart broke into a million little pieces that day, and everyone saw it. And as if that wasn't bad enough, my heart was broken again that night. Twice in one night! Then the next week, I find out that Dad's cheating on Mom… Something _you_ knew about before I did and neglected to tell me! You told **Tommy** before _me_, your own sister! I mean, I can understand why he wouldn't tell me, but you… And suddenly, my best friends are going out, and you're dating Tommy, and then Shay asks me to go on tour with him! Now, if you had gone through even **half** the _crap_ I've been through in the past year, you wouldn't be bitching over something so _stupid_ as me kissing Tommy, but hey, if you want to talk about it, go ahead… I have a feeling it's _all_ anyone will think about for days," I roared back at her, fed up with her whining. Sadly, I had no idea how right I was.

"Oh, please! Like being a star is so hard? All you do is go to parties, sing, write poetry, pose for cameras, and change in and out of various outfits," Sadie sneered, rolling her eyes. That's what she thinks I do? Being a rockstar is not easy.

"It's not like that, Sadie!" I exclaimed impassionedly, "It's gut-wrenching sometimes…" I sighed, trying to explain. "I have to compete all the time with other musicians. Singing puts a lot of strain on my vocal chords, and my finders are calloused from playing all that guitar. Concerts are really tiring, and I've spent countless hours in the studio recording because Tommy is such a freaking perfectionist! Aside from that, songwriting isn't all cake and roses, you know? It's painful, and it hurts sometimes to write or sing a song due to the feelings behind it. Posing for pictures is not fun, and neither is filming music videos. Aside from that, paparazzi follow you around and take pictures of you, and then the rumors start. Then you have to deal with obsessive fans, people who don't like you at all, critics, producers formerly in a boyband, and creepy rappers who think that they can get away with groping you!"

Sadie gave me an odd look.

"Oh, yes, and kissing my boyfriend. You have to deal with that. Sheesh, Jude… You could have had any other guy… Why'd it have to be my boyfriend?" Sadie pleaded, sounding sadder than I had ever heard her sound. She does have a reason to be pissed, but still…

"I don't know, Sadie," I retorted angrily, "Why'd it have to be _my_ producer?" Seriously… Why did it have to be my producer? I mean, just because he's hot and famous and rich…

Okay, who wouldn't be all over him?

"Well, at _least_ I'm legal!" Sadie shrieked, launching herself at me. Ouch! She tackled me! I cannot believe her. I mean, sure, she's legal, but only just. He's still like 5 years older than her.

"At least he wants **me**!" I jeered, tackling her back, trying to pin her so I could leave. I vaguely wondered how true that statement was. Tommy really confused me sometimes. He rebuffs my advances, but then he makes the first move… A regular enigma, he is.

"If he really wanted _you_ so bad, then why'd he go to Italy with **me**?" Sadie yelped, grabbing my arms and reversing our positions. I kicked at her frantically, but she kicked back. Ouch! I am so gonna have bruises from this… And how am I gonna explain them?

"He left you in Italy to come see me in Montreal. Gee, I wonder why?" I muttered sarcastically, kneeing her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She let go of my hands and I quickly rose to my feet.

"It's not like you can be with him, you know! It's **illegal**," Sadie hollered weakly, as I moved to leave. I should've just left then, but, naturally, I did no such thing. I really need to learn to look before I leap.

"It's only illegal if I sleep with him…" I mumbled defensively, turning back around to leave. Or is fooling around illegal too? Damn. I really need to look that up… Wait, why do I want to look that up? Do I actually want to hook up with Tommy? Nah, no way! I just want to know what's legal, and… what's not.

Yeah, that's it!

Oh, who am I kidding! It's Tommy. The guy I've practically been in love with since the day we met. Okay, so I hated him back then.

The pier. That's when I started liking him. A lot. He just gets me, like no one else does. In ways that no one else d… Wait, why am I thinking about Tommy? I shouldn't think about him…

"He does have a very toned body and a lot of stamina," Sadie replied nonchalantly. As if I didn't know what she meant… She's probably right too… Wait, I'm confused, does that mean that she… and Tommy… you know? I mean, how else would she know?

Unless she saw him swimming or something… I don't like this at all!

I whipped around like a bullet, my hair spinning everywhere and obscuring my vision. "What do you **mean** by that, Sadie?" I asked in a low tone, trying to force the anger from my voice. I kissed her boyfriend, remember? So I shouldn't be… Oh, screw it! I am mad!

Sadie smirked at me, as if she knew this was payback. Argh, I hate secrets! And I hate being left in the dark about everything. "Oh, Jude, a _lady_ never kisses and tells…" Sadie said slyly, giggling a little. But then she straightened up and sobered up, plastering a serious look on her face. "But Tommy **sure** knows how to make a girl happy…"

I hated the suggestiveness in her tone. I hated the face that her suggestiveness was bothering me. I hated the fact that I wanted to know. But mostly, I hated her. And the fact that I desperately wanted to talk to Tommy. And I mean desperately.

"Not that you would know," Sadie added a little while later, fighting to keep the smirk off her face. She polished her nails on her shirt, fighting amusement. The sadistic cheerleader likes to torment me… Argh!

I couldn't take any of this crap anymore. "How do you **know** that I don't, Sadie?" I rejoined icily. Typically, I'm not icy when I'm angry. I'm usually just angry. But hey, two can play at this game, right? Man, is this a weird game or what?

Most sisters play games like Bingo or Clue or Trivial Pursuit (so I haven't played a board game in a while… But I was always more of a Nintendo girl. Ooh, The Sims! I played The Sims!). Me and Sadie, however, play "Make-The-Other-One-Think-I-Slept-With-Tommy-Q." Hmm, maybe I should market that game…

"Sister dearest, that's illegal. And besides, you've been so busy as of late. When would you have even had the time?" Sadie yawned, looking completely tranquil and unaffected. Ugh, I hate her and her stupid Ice Bitch exterior! I can't piss her off unless I go kiss her boyfriend again!

Not that I wouldn't mind doing that. I just don't think he'd go for it. He's not that kind of guy. At least, that's what he told Kwest. But what do I know?

"Sadie, why do _you_ think I stay at the studio so late? After all, we **were** able to celebrate my birthday together… _first_ thing in the morning," I insinuated coolly. Technically I wasn't really lying. I was just adding a not-so-innocent twist to my words. Hehe.

Ooh, Sadie looks P-I-S-S-E-D. I've done my job! "But you were with Shay!" She pouted, stomping her foot. Honestly, how old is she? Two? Sometimes I can't believe we're related.

"So maybe I spent a little too much time with Tommy while Shay was gone," I shrugged dismissively. Now that one was true. I was sort of an emotional adulteress. But then again, I told Kat that before I kissed him again. And I think affairs, emotional or not, are generally consensual and mutual. I mean, Tommy wasn't with anyone. I was…

Tommy was just so great to me, you know? Giving me driving lessons, agreeing to get along with Shay for my birthday (Kat told me later that he didn't even beat Shay up after we broke up… Which is kinda sweet and kinda not), being the first to wish me a happy birthday, telling me I looked great, making the pancake for me, comforting me… The list goes on. He's always there with a word when I need him… Well, almost always.

"Ah, but I spent months blissfully alone with him in a beautiful Italian villa. Oh, he's such a gentleman!" Sadie bragged, obviously trying to enrage me. Sadly enough, it was working. I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest.

"If he was such a gentleman, then why'd he make out with me yesterday?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes. I have a good point. Sadie's eyes narrowed as she fixed a glare on me. Ooh, I'm quivering in my Converse! Sadie's glaring at me! Ahhh! Is that really supposed to intimidate me?

"He was making it look good for the fans," Sadie defended, looking very unhappy. Man, that's the worst excuse I've ever heard. Seriously.

"_Oh_, so he grabbed my ass to make the **fans** happy?" I retorted before I could stop myself. I had an urge to mention the make-out session in my dressing room, but I had a feeling it would only make things worse. I was stunned when Sadie's hand came out of nowhere, hard across my cheek, screaming at me, "You **bitch**!"

It stung and it burned, and not in a good way. I could only stare at her for a moment, stunned, holding my cheek and feeling horribly betrayed. I thought long and hard for something I could say to counter her. "Funny, it didn't seem like that to me…" I responded slowly, my hand sliding gently off my face.

Sadie's glare intensified, and her hands went to her hips. The sneer I was all-too-familiar with crossed her face once again, and this time she snorted. "It was just a fluke, Jude! It didn't mean anything!" Sadie bellowed furiously. Her face was bright red with anger.

I felt anger sweep over me in huge waves. It was not just a fluke. If it was a fluke, it wouldn't have already happened once and then happened again a second time. What did Sadie know anyways? She was just some twit of a mall rat with frizzy bleach-blonde hair, an orange tan, too much make-up, and a cheerleading uniform.

"Tommy didn't say that after it happened. And he sure as hell didn't say that when he dropped in on me afterwards…" I barked back snappily. Sadie rolled her eyes and looked nonplussed.

"You talk big for a little girl, Jude… But we **both** know nothing happened between you two after that. Tommy's smart… He has _taste_ and he knows you're illegal. He can resist your evil ways," Sadie drawled viciously. A triumphant, snooty expression crossed her face.

I gaped at her, open-mouthed. She did not just say that! But she did! And she, my own sister, called me evil! What am I, the devil?

"You say he **can** resist me, right, Sadie? How odd, considering his hands were _all_ over me in the dressing room," I hissed back, feeling my own eyes narrow in fury. I wasn't lying this time, and I think Sadie knew it. Somewhere deep down inside.

"Like it matters, Jude! You're young, you're naïve, you're sweet, you're cute. And sure, that's great for a fling and easily allows for manipulation, but it doesn't form a lasting relationship. I'm older…" Sadie stated bluntly, in an authoritative tone. Then my blood ran cold.

"And I can _give_ Tommy things you can't…"

I wanted to smack her, but I refrained, remembering what Tommy had told Kwest… Months ago. I swallowed, wondering what she meant. If she meant what I thought she meant. Maybe this so-called game had gone too far.

"Give Tommy _what_, Sadie? **Sex**?" I roared bitterly, moving closer to her, body fuelled by sheer, pure rage. I have never been so angry in my life. And, as I waited for her answer, I already knew what she would say, and I knew the truth in it.

"Yes." Sadie's tone was normal and extremely icy. There was a thick undercurrent of anger buried deep beneath it, and had I not been so mad, I would have been scared. She was unusually sober and unusually serious, cruelty obviously intended.

I snapped then, punching her in the nose harder than I've ever hit anything in my entire life. Crack! Her nose started gushing blood, but I felt no remorse. I hated her entirely. She was no longer my sister. She was my worst nightmare and worst enemy, and I absolutely loathed her.

She could have given Eden a lesson or two. But the insanity was not finished there.

"You _just_ don't get it, Sadie! Tommy's **perfect**! He's drop-dead gorgeous, he's intelligent, he's witty, he's attentive, he's protective, he goes _out_ of his way to be kind and considerate, he speaks Romance Languages, he can sing and play the guitar, he's traveled the world, he knows all the right words to say, and he's a **unbelievably** _amazing_ kisser… He can help pick up the pieces of a broken heart like you wouldn't _believe_ and sweep you off your feet in an **instant**. _Hell_, he's even rich and famous to boot! He's a regular Prince Charming!" I began urgently, not having a clue what I was saying. I only knew that for some odd reason, I could not stop talking and would not stop talking anytime soon. I paused briefly before continuing.

"But that's the problem, Sadie. He'll _break_ your heart in an instant too. You'll fall for him, and then you'll crash and burn just like all the others. **That's** why he's single. Tommy is _great_, but it won't last. He's had **thousands** of girls like you, Sadie! And he'll _find_ thousands more! You're so _stupid_, Sadie! When he toured with Boyz Attack, he had a different girl in **every** town. Tommy won't change, he can't change, because he doesn't know **how**! There's a reason his marriage fell apart in less than a month. He's a _wreck_, Sadie, can't you see it? You're just his Toronto girl for now… And then, you'll be **nothing** and he'll have moved on, and he'll know, somewhere inside, that he broke your heart, and he'll feel _bad_ about it, but he can't do **anything** to change it. He'll have replaced you, and there's nothing you can do about it but _wish_ you didn't fall for him in the first place," I finished breathlessly, taking a deep breath. It was odd. I never realized I'd thought all those things about Tommy. And yet I do… Or I do now, at least.

I should take my own advice, but maybe it's too late. I think it's definitely too late, now that I've punched her over Tommy's virtue and made her bleed. As if Tommy had any virtue…

Jeez, I sure run hot and cold, don't I? Ugh. I have to get out of here before I kill Sadie or something. I ran out of Sadie's room and straight into mine before I could do anything else stupid. I sighed, gazing around at my room, which now looked so different and strange. But it hadn't changed. I had.

Suddenly I couldn't stay here anymore. I shut the door, ripping off the clothes I had put on that morning, and changing into "hipper", more revealing clothes. Suddenly, I felt like going dancing or something.

- Loren ;

And you have no idea how hard I worked to make Jude punch Sadie… She had to say just the right thing… Oh, and yes, Jude did break Sadie's nose. Hehe. I don't like Sadie much, can you tell?

And yeah, I realize that Jude's warning to Sadie about Tommy was kind of weird, but I was sort of on a roll by then, and so… Yeah.

You're never actually gonna find out if Sadie slept with Tommy or not (Seriously, you think Jude's gonna ask Tommy that? I can just imagine it… Jude: "So, uh, Tommy… You been boffing my sister lately? You know, when you two were all alone in that villa in Italy? I mean, not like it matters, because everyone thinks you're sleeping with me, but hey, as your fake girlfriend, I think I deserve to know…" lol).

Anyways, night!

Oh, and a spoiler for the next chapter: Jude meets a hot guy at a bar. But there's something a bit off about him…

And I just wanted to point out one of the millions of reasons why Jude and Tommy can't be together. While some of the press would think it was adorable, others wouldn't be so nice. They'd call Tommy a cradlerobber and say that he was just taking advantage of Jude because she's an easy lay or something... And it would reflect sort of badly on Jude because she'd just be the next girl in a long line of girlfriends... Not to mention that Jude's parents are the type who would try and charge him, you know, if, yeah... And so, because of the dubious legality of a relationship between them, well, not many people would be supportive. For instance, all the Boyz Attack! fangirls would totally hate Jude, and her parents and everybody at G. Major ('cept E.J., she'd be all over it...lol... "There's no such thing as bad publicity!")... Well, and Kwest, but even he kinda thinks it's wrong. And Jamie and Kat wouldn't... Because of the whole fact that Jude broke Jamie's heart. And they'd probably insinuate that something was going on with Shay, and, well, you'll see if I do the thing with her cousins. Anyways, I'm off topic...

Hope you liked it, and review!


	7. Pick up the Pieces

I realize that this chapter is not too heavy on action, really… Or that it kind of skips over the time she spends with, well, you'll see… Her sort of date. But yeah.

Oh, and Jude didn't get the tattoo with Jamie 'cause I say so… Let's see, after this I've got the chapter where her parents get pissy and then I'm in the middle of her first day at the school (which is, predictably, a nightmare). But, yeah, I got the ideas for the guy below and Jude's teachers and what not in the shower, which is where I do all my best thinking, oddly enough. And I knew I wanted to have her answer the phone really snappily and then get really mega-embarrassed about it… But that's for another chapter.

So, remember, it's Wednesday night. And Jude has school tomorrow, on Thursday… Speaking of which, who can't wait for tomorrow's episode? Me! I wanna find out more about Boyz Attack, considering Jude mentions them so much in the story… Anyways, might as well post Jude's schedule… Poor girl. So many things go wrong on her first day of school…

Homeroom

Travis Quinn

English III

Jenny Collins

Geometry

Matthew Hilton

French III

Noelle Castelnau

Media and Pop Culture/International Relations

Harry James/Philip Charles

History

Philip Charles

Studio Level Music

Travis Quinn

Music Theory/Advanced Music Theory

Lyra Aarons

Hope that showed up right… Anyways, I'll give you some spoilers for the story, because, well, frankly, I can't shut up about these things and it's late and it gives you something to look forward to in case I don't post soon.

Anyways, in the next chapter, you get to hear part of one of Jude's new songs… That I wrote, but I've probably already mentioned this… So it might not be the best. Anyways, at least one of Jude's teachers seriously HATES her. This teacher's got a vendetta a mile wide, and they make all these cracks, which Jude handles with surprising grace (and by that I mean not crying… She'll probably say something like "Why are you out to get me?" and then get in a verbal fight with said teacher, but that's not the point).

Oh, and just in case you're wondering, Studio Level Music is basically like practice, it's sort of a class for those people who want to go in the record industry… But my school actually has all of these classes except that one, which I sorta made up. And we don't have Homeroom first or call it that, and you don't see many Juniors in Geometry… And we don't give our core classes basic names like History or English. We give them fruity names… Like Communication Arts, and History of the Western World (but I sort of avoided adding something to Jude's History class 'cause I don't know much of anything about Canadian history… And at my school you take American History when you're a junior… Which is sad, because some of them still haven't mastered the art of spelling…). And let's say Jude dropped out of Science because she was getting such bad grades and what not.

Let's see… I've finished two of Jude's new songs, one's a cover (but I'll get to that later... I might have Jude do another one), one I can't decide a chorus for (it's between two verses), and then I have to edit the other three into decent length sense-making material… Which takes a lot longer than you'd think. Because first I just randomly write whatever comes into my head, go over ALL of it… There's a lot! And then pick it out by topic, and then what's decent, and what meshes with the song, then I delete lines that don't fit, and then I have to edit the words to fit and flow better and change up and figure out the order, and it's argh! And this is all generally without a melody. And so I don't know if they suck totally. All in all, a very time consuming process, but it's 3:23 and I'm listening to old Oasis songs and I'm hot and rambling and my head is filled with Renaissance people and it's all confusing, so I'm gonna stop now… If you read that all, you seriously have the patience of Joan of Arc. Seriously. And I love you guys.

Oh, right, don't own Pick Up the Pieces, Boyz Attack, Jude, Tommy, Sadie, the bar, Humpty-Dumpty, Eden, Tim, Shay, or Jude's parents.

I do, however, own Jude's disguise (it's very important that no one knows who she is), Jude's car, Jude's dress for later, Tim's two nameless brothers, the creepy guy, the bartenders, and Jude's alias (Sorry, I just find it odd that Jude, Sadie, and Tommy all have songs with their name in them… And I bet if I looked I could find Kat and Jamie songs too… Oh, and Georgia! Don't even get me started on all the Georgia ones! Hey, Jude… Obviously, though it's about a guy… And then there's a Bob Dylan song called Little Sadie, which I looked up because Jude's dad was going on and on about him and I wanted to see some lyrics and what not… And actually, there's a Beatles song called Sexy Sadie too… Which is actually pretty fitting, looking at the lyrics… So I guess both Jude and Sadie are named after Beatles' songs… lol… Their mom must've lost a bet or something… Oh, and then Tommy Gun by The Clash… 'Cause it's on the site as like number two on Jude's Playlist, which makes me go "Hmm, coincidence I think not!", but that's entirely not the point, because the song is about war and guns. But so many of the episode titles are Clash songs and isn't Jude's guitar pick necklace Joe Strummer's guitar pick or something? I can't remember, 'cause Jamie said it in the first episode and then, yeah… Anyways, I'm rambling, so I'm gonna shut up now…). Oh, song lyrics are in italics!

* * *

I didn't leave my parents a note. As a matter of fact, I snuck out my window. Go figure. First thing I did was grab a bite to eat, and then I went shopping for a bit… I didn't buy much, but what I bought was, well, kind of hot. For me, anyways… Probably not for Sadie.

Okay, I really have to stop it with the digs at Sadie. She is my sister. Who slept with Tommy! Well, technically, I don't know that…

Oh, come on, she so did! But I don't know that! I don't! Yes, you do… It's Sadie, for crying out loud! No, I don't! This whole argument is stupid!

Then I went out dancing, but frankly, there were too many people giving me weird looks. So that's how I wound up in a karaoke bar around nine, staring at the stage. Performing always made me feel better.

There were only a few people (a lot of Japanese businessmen and some other random people) in the bar… And, right now, no one was singing. After debating the merits of going up there, I sighed, and walked over, knowing exactly which song I was going to pick. I walked up on stage, grabbing the mike and smiling.

"I know this song is old and cheesy, but, well… I guess I'll just start then," I began awkwardly, beginning to sing as the background music started to play, "_I was adrift on an ocean, all alone…_"

No one much batted an eye. And, oddly enough, this made me even happier. I smiled, continuing with the all too familiar song. "_You came and rescued me, when I was far from home…_" And then I started to launch into a bit of a dance move thing.

It wasn't really embarrassing. It would have been embarrassing if I started doing the real dance moves, à la Boyz Attack! Despite the fact that I know all of them… You know, from the charity telethon.

"_A rush of love around my heart… Just as I fell apart_," I chanted on, hitting all the right notes. Wow, this was almost even better than I'd sung it in the studio. Of course, in the studio I kept busting up into hysterical laughter… The guys were pissed… They had to do their vocals in a separate studio… Well, more like they all sung it first for back-ups (I was laughing all the way… Tommy kept scowling at me… I was very distracting), and I watched. Then I sung it later.

"_Nobody ever cared as much for me. Nobody's touched my heart and healed my pain. You picked up the pieces and put me back together again…_" I sang softly, closing my eyes and drawing on all my experience from the concerts I'd done. I wondered vaguely if anyone was looking, but I decided not to dwell on it.

"_Ooh, yeah, uh huh…_" I whispered into the microphone. This song invariably reminded me of Tommy, and no wonder. He wrote it! I don't get how he could've. Personally, I'd need a lobotomy and a sugar rush to write something like this. But he was like thirteen or something, so I'll give him a break.

"_Careful, we're fragile, and easily we break…_" That's the part where you can usually hear Tommy's vocals mixing with mine. How sweet. I love that part. "_In your arms, I'm certain, is all the love we'll make…_" I sung softly, as my eyes flashed open. Whoa, whoa, whoa… He wrote that when he was thirteen? Okay, maybe he was getting a little too much action as a thirteen-year-old, don'tcha think? Why am I surprised?

This **is** Tommy Quincy, Playboy Extraordinaire; we're talking about, after all.

"_A rush of love around my heart, just as you take my hand…_" I trailed off, noticing how interested some of the people looked. A few looked like they were trying to place me or my voice. I had an unfair advantage over them in this, after all. I was a professional singer.

Am I actually swaying to the music? Damn. "_Nobody ever cared as much for me. Nobody's touched my heart and healed my pain. You picked up the pieces, and put me back together…_" I hummed, remembering just how Tommy had picked up the pieces and put me back together again, only to have me fall apart. My heart's like Humpty-Dumpty. It can't ever be put back together again. It can only fall apart repeatedly.

And keep on shattering until there's nothing left to break.

"_I'll write_ _your name in stars across the sky. We'll drift away into each other's arms…_" I crooned, batting my eyelashes on purpose, before launching into the complex "Hey, yeah, yeah, oh, ah, yeah" sequence. I'd spent so long working on and singing this song.

"_Nobody ever cared as much for me. Nobody's touched my heart and healed my pain. You picked up the pieces and put me back together… Nobody ever cared as much for me. Nobody's touched my heart and healed my pain. You picked up the pieces, and put me back together again!_" I sang, almost done, holding out the note long and hard, the way I was supposed to, on the last note.

Well, I was in love with my guitar, after all… However gimmicky and commercial it might be, it was true.

My guitar is the only thing I'd ever loved that has always loved me back and has never broken my heart. But then again, how can it? It's an inanimate object.

"_You've put me back together again…_" I finished finally, as the music drew to a close. I was greeted by rather enthusiastic cheers as I placed the microphone in its stand. I felt a blush light my face, stomach shooting up to my throat as I was greeted by cheers of praise.

I stepped down from the stage, smiling, starting to walk to the bar to get a drink. The owner smiled at me, nodding, impressed.

"You're much better than the last girl who sang that song," He confided in me, glancing about, as if looking for the girl. The bartender nodded in agreement, shuddering at the mere remembrance of said girl.

"The blonde screechy one that could not stay on pitch to save her life, right? She was with that dork in the sweats and the baseball cap… You know, the one who was grimacing even worse than the rest of us?" He remarked, somewhat amused. I snorted, being suddenly reminded of Eden. However, even Eden could hit some notes.

And then suddenly, this weird guy with his hair all slicked back wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I jumped, turning around, but before I could push him off of me, he led me past the bar smoothly. Who does this slimy weirdo think I am? I mean, I'm not even legal yet.

"I saw you out there. You were really good," He said as we walked towards the wall. Honestly! How corny can you get? I rolled my eyes, shoving his arm off of me none-too-gently.

"Thanks," I muttered, backing away from him.

He only leaned in closer, to my chagrin. "You know, you could get a contract… I could _help_ you in that area… A lot," He hinted flirtatiously. Ew. He's coming unto me with a recording contract. And I already have one. And Tommy… Well, I don't have Tommy, but he is my producer.

"Sorry, I've already got one," I retorted a moment later, turning away from him.

He nodded briefly, moving closer. "Got a manager?"

"Yep." Georgia. I think.

He nodded again, still moving closer. Augh, pig! "Got a PR manager?"

"Yep." E.J. Ah, good old E.J.

He's frowning now. I have a feeling this isn't gonna end well. "Got a producer?"

Hell yes, I do. Wait, did I just say that out loud? Uh oh. Crap. He's moving closer. Wait, am I pinned into the wall? I am! And ew, is that what I think it is? It is! Pig! Hmm, I'd kick him in the nuts, but ew. This is the second time in two days! Argh! I could try and push him off, but he weighs more than I do, and I'm in heels.

"Get the hell off of her!" Weird. That voice sounds oddly familiar. Ooh, good, that voice just pulled Weasel Boy off of me… And that guy just threw Weasel Boy to the ground. Face-plant!

My mystery rescuer walked up to me, placing a hand on my arm. I was just kinda stunned by the whole ordeal. I mean, I guess I'm just really lucky that guy didn't try anything, you know? Bad, that is… If he'd been against me a second longer, I would've found a way to knock him down. Oh, I'd better pay attention. My savior's talking to me.

"Are you okay?" He asked, sounding very concerned. That's really a relative question. If I was, I wouldn't even be here in the first place. Meh, whatever.

"Yeah, maybe a little shaken up at most," I answered him calmly, surveying him warily. He's taller than me (but not as tall as he'd be if I were not wearing heels). He's wearing a leather jacket (honestly, who doesn't nowadays?) and some rather tight jeans… I'll have to say, he sure knows what flatters him… He looks pretty cute, but he's wearing sunglasses, a cowboy hat, and the collar of his jacket up… There's something about him…

Anyways, I suppose I should say what I look like right now, eh? Okay, uh, I'm wearing my hair in a bun (which I never do), with that hat I wore to Shay's performance, and, naturally, sunglasses. I've also ditched the ripped jeans and t-shirts for the night, so no one recognizes me. I mean, I'm wearing heels. Really tall heels. I just hope no one recognizes me. Oh, who am I kidding? It's not like Tommy's gonna show up here or anything.

You know, this guy's pretty cute. High cheekbones, strong jaw, nice facial structure, good tan, very toned, tall, dark browny-black hair (I looove guys with brown hair)… When was the last time I went out on a date? Shay. Ooh, that's bad. It's been months since him. Months. Well, why shouldn't I go out with someone else?

Maybe because the entire world thinks you're shacking up with Tommy.

I am not shacking up with Tommy!

Besides, it's just a date. I won't be me. I'll be Not-Me. Yeah.

You're assuming he'll ask you out.

Who wouldn't?

Uh, let's see, you really want me to make a list?

Okay, I see your point. Shut up.

"So, can I buy you a drink or something?" He offered politely, hands in his pockets. He's offering to buy me a drink? Wow. Except I don't drink, and it's not even legal, but whatever. It's a good offer, and he's hot, so why not?

Maybe because he's a stranger and you don't even know his name…

But he saved me from that pig!

Okay, true, but you don't even know his name.

So, he doesn't know mine!

It's just a drink. Just one drink.

But for all I know, he could have just saved me so HE could have his way with me!

As if anyone would want to…

Uh, hello, Shay! And that creepy guy from before… Ewww.

Never.

Hmm, maybe I ought to see a shrink…

"I'd love to," I replied quickly, a moment later, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the bar. He smiled in spite of himself, turning to the bartender. Now, it might sound weird, being a musician and all, but I cannot recognize people by their voices. I mean, yeah, their singing voices, but not normal voices, you know? All I knew was that my mystery guy (whoa, since when is he mine?) had a very familiar-sounding voice, but I couldn't place it.

There was another thing too. His hands. Not that they felt familiar or anything, but they were calloused. Not calloused in the I-work-with-my-hands sort of way, but calloused in the I-play-the-guitar sort of way. At least, I think so… But what are the odds?

So he ordered me a drink (I have no idea what the heck it was and I probably shouldn't have drunk it, but he ordered something similar, and it tasted pretty good, so I didn't care), and then we sat down at table, sipping our drinks and talking about random surface things… Like our families (Tim has two brothers, one younger and one older, and his parents are divorced, kind of like mine… Technically, Mom and Dad are separated), favorite things, the weather…

Just about everything except our careers. I know, because I asked, and he just abruptly changed the subject. I didn't mind too much, as I would have had to tell him what I did, and, oh, the mess that would make.

My voice was a bit deeper than usual, and it made me feel kinda slutty, because I immediately thought of Sadie doing similar things, which lead me to remembering how I'd broken her nose. I felt regret for this, and wondered if she was in the hospital now, getting treated. Probably.

"I'm Tim," He drawled finally, a slow smile spreading across his face, sticking out a hand. I felt myself smiling too. Amazing that we had been talking for hours and neither of us had given our names.

Then again, maybe that was the liquor talking.

"I'm Jud-Julia… Would you believe that my dad named me after a Beatles song?" I hesitated, tripping over my words a bit. The second part's true. Dad did name me after a Beatle song. Making me suffer some needless mocking and some rather annoying puns. Julia's really not that bad of a name, though.

Tim laughed, and I liked the sound of his laugh. It was deep, hearty, and it didn't sound like he laughed often. I couldn't help but laugh back, in a very un-me way. I think I actually giggled. Oh, the horror! He grabbed my hand then, and that shut me up completely. I bit my lip and stared shyly at our hands. Tim smiled again, that blindingly white smile I found so charming. I giggled again, blushing at my own idiocy.

I didn't care much though, because I was kinda buzzed and Tim was cute, funny, smart…

The time flew by, and before I knew it, it was one in the morning. I wasn't freaking out, oddly enough. But Tim frowned, though I could tell he was used to much later nights.

"Jules, babe, I had a great time," Tim said quietly, leaning in closer and putting his hand on my arm. I could feel the sparks. "You wanna do this again sometime?" He asked casually.

I definitely did. Spending time with Tim was great. He was great. Tim was perfect, well, aside from the mystique. But I suppose that just added to his allure.

Wait, he does mean that as a date, right? Because…

"I'd love to," I muttered, leaning across the table, smiling coyly. Man, was I flirting blatantly! Tim smiled back and pulled a pen from his jacket, writing an address, a date, and a phone number on a napkin. He pushed the napkin to me across the table, pointing at parts of it.

"Can you meet me there about a week from now, maybe at nine? If you can't come, it's cool, just call me, okay?" Tim explained coolly. I nodded back at him, smiling, as we both got up and walked out. We stood there, just outside the club, for a minute, in complete silence. We didn't even need to speak. It was like we were connected… On some bizarre, odd level. And speech was unnecessary and below us.

Then suddenly, he sighed, and I turned to face him. He felt my gaze, and turned my way. And the next thing I knew, I'd grabbed him and kissed him. And it felt great. He was an amazing kisser and just… wonderful. Completely wonderful. My knees were weak, my heart aflutter, skin forming goose bumps. I broke the kiss, eyes closed. Tim's arms were tight around me and his lips were right next to my ear.

"Wanna go back to my place?" He whispered somewhat raggedly. His tone sent a chill up my spine, but it wasn't a bad one. Normally, if it was any other guy, I would've just punched him or something, but instead, I smiled, flattered. I don't know, I just somehow knew that generally, he was used to doing this sort of thing, and, well, I was different. I shook my head slightly, and I saw him take on a penitent look.

"I'm sorry I just-" He began, starting to apologize. I interrupted him before he could finish, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, Tim, it's fine. I just have class at seven tomorrow, and my roommates will freak if I'm gone all night without calling," I clarified calmly, leaning in and kissing him briefly on the lips. I was fairly certain that we were both smiling goofily. Wait; did I just become a college student?

Tim waved, starting to leave, still smiling widely. "See you later, Jules," He exclaimed. I waved back, and he turned to leave, as we went off in opposite directions. I got in my car (bought with money from my royalties, CD, and concerts) and drove off in the direction of home. If only I had thought it through.

But all I could think about on the way home was how, in all the time I'd been with Tim that night, I had not thought of Tommy once.

- Loren ;

And if you're wondering why I chose Julia, aside from the fact that it's close to Jude, it's my dad's favorite song… :)

Anyways, if you liked it, review. I'll try and update after I finish Jude's day at school, 'kay? Anyways, love ya'll, thanks for the reviews!


	8. Illicitly Existing

Lol… Yeah, I'm kind of partial to Chapters 3-4 myself… Though I do love the Jude/Sadie bitch-athon… Oooh, and there's a conversation in the chapter where Jude goes back to school, but that's not the point. This chapter's kinda blah, and kinda filler, but you find out Jude's middle name! Lol… And she sings part of one of her new songs… Lol… And her dad's reaction's kind of hilarious.

Speaking of which… In the promo Jude caught them making out… And I dunno if they get back together or not, 'cause despite the fact that Jude's dad is a cheating hole, I kinda like his character… So let's just say that Jude's sort of made her peace with him, and in a way, her mom… Victoria, right? Her mom doesn't hate him, but she still kind of holds it against him, though they get along pretty well (Jude sort of brings them together)… Which is my way of saying Jude's dad will probably pop up more, but he's not living with them. He might stop by from time to time. And I'm just going to say that he's not with Yvette (frankly, because I hate that homewrecking tramp… Well, just with Jude's dad, anyways).

I don't own Instant Star, Jude, Stu, Sadie, Victoria, Tommy, E.J., Shay, Georgia, G. Major, Kat, Jamie, Tim, or anything you even remotely recognize.

I do, however, own the bit of the song at the end, 'cause I wrote it. Anyways, tell me what you think of the last verse she sings, 'cause that could wind up being the chorus. And it doesn't go in that order… Anyways, that reminds me… I have to think up a name for this girl who Jude befriends, but I don't have one… It's sad.

Actually, though, I really like the next chapter… Jude has some really interesting thoughts in it… Oh, and on a really random note, did it ever occur to you that at one point, Tommy was Shay's Uncle? Because Shay's Darius' nephew, and Portia is Darius' sister, so therefore, Tommy was Shay's Uncle. How creepy is that? Especially as Shay's like what, 5-6 years younger than Tommy? Last time I checked, uncles don't generally have that much hostility towards their nephews… Even former nephews. Unless they're fighting for a throne or something…

However, my happy little bubble was completely burst when I arrived at home. Stupidly, I walked in the front door, and my parents were there, waiting for me. Luckily, I had stashed everything in the car, including the napkin Tim gave me and my disguise, which I had already memorized. Why is this lucky, you ask? They frisked me… Well, more like turned out my pockets like psychotic FBI agents.

"Jude Janis Harrison!" Mom shrieked frantically, chucking the phone in her hand absentmindedly at Dad. I was kind of happy to see it hit him. "**What** did you think you were doing? Just up and _leaving_ like that! Without **asking** or _writing_ a note! It is **one** thirty in the morning, young lady!" Mom yelled louder, starting to pace, as she always did when something horrible had happened.

Dad attempted to mollify her, however, sadly, his attempt did not work. It was fun to see the peeved look on her face at his mere suggestion however. "And you just came back after three entire months of us not seeing you! And, **honestly**, after what you did to your poor sister, you have **absolutely** _no_ right!" Mom continued, voice getting progressively higher as she walked back and forth, wildly waving her hands in the air. I have never seen Mom so angry.

"We were _so_ worried, Jude! Especially when we found your window open and the car gone… We called people left and right looking for you… Georgia, E.J., G. Major, Shay, Kat, Jamie, the school… And no one knew where you were! We even went to all your hangouts…" Dad exclaimed, looking very, very sad and relieved to see me. It was as if he was afraid he had lost me. Vaguely I wondered if they knew about the whole Tommy thing… Sadie had to have told them. Hmm, why'd they call the school?

Wait, they called Shay? Hmm, odd that I didn't hear about this on the news or something. I have to give E.J. props for covering this up. She's really good at what she does.

Mom's eyes narrowed, as she stopped pacing, rising to her full height to tower above me. Her steely eyes fixed on mine with an intense stare. After a minute, an accusatory look crossed her face and she gasped.

"You were with **him**, weren't you?" She gaped, a hand to her chest. She used her other hand to fan herself and I thought she looked a bit like an actress who was overdoing it a little. She spat the word "him" with more venom than I could have ever imagined.

"You mean Shay?" I asked, confused, not quite getting who this "him" was. Mom snarled and fixed me with this really dark glare that seemed to scream "Stop playing dumb!" Only I wasn't playing at anything. Which made me feel really dumb.

Then she leaned towards me and slowly sniffed the air around me, frowning in anger. An angry fire I had never seen before shot through her eyes. She was filled with rage, and frankly, she scared both Dad and I. Abruptly she turned to Dad. "He took her drinking! That playboy **pervert** of a _producer_ of hers took **our** daughter to a bar so he could get her drunk and have his **way** with her without even breaking up with her _sister _**first**!" Mom bellowed, skin turning a bright red with fury. She was practically foaming at the mouth, but then I noticed that Dad, too, was angry.

Wait, they think that I went out with Tommy? And that he got me drunk to have his way with me? But I only had one drink with Tim! Now Dad approached me, looking only slightly less furious and less red than Mom. I'd better set them straight or I might not have a next album to produce… Or a producer to produce the next album. Did that make any sense?

"Did that son of a bit-" Dad began, seething. I had to act fast or they would kill someone.

"I wasn't with Tommy!" I blurted out quickly, glancing around nervously, in case they had negative reactions to this. "I'm not WITH Tommy, okay! We are NOT dating and he has **not** gotten me drunk!" I yelled back, trying to enforce my point.

Mom and Dad appeared only slightly less angry. Then, after a moment of silence, Dad appeared even angrier than before. "So you're what, just having some sort of _fling_ with him? Do you have any idea how **irresponsible** that is! You could get **pregnant** or contract an STD, knowing him and his rockstar ways… He could force you to go to _orgies_ with him and then you could get Gonorrhea of the Mouth and then your career would be RUINED! All because of one little _teenybopper_!" Dad hollered, quite impressively, in one breath. He was sweating massively by the end of it, looking like he would beat the stuffing out of Tommy when he saw him next.

I, naturally, was mortified. They thought I was sleeping with Tommy now? And that I was the type of girl who would go to orgies! Man, my parents have totally flipped out and gone Twilight Zone on me.

"NO, THERE **IS** _NO_ TOMMY AND JUDE! WE ARE **NOT** TOGETHER, WE ARE **NOT** DATING, WE ARE **NOT** HAVING AN _AFFAIR_, AND WE ARE **NOT** HAVING SEX!" I screamed back, fully frustrated. I blushed a bit, realizing what I had said and how loud I had said it before racing to cover my tracks. "Well, I'm not at least. Can't speak for Tommy, but you really might want to ask Sadie about that. She'd know. Oh, and you know, I've never been an orgy kind of girl, so…" I explained calmly after that.

Mom and Dad's jaws dropped. "She mentioned having **sex** with him, Victoria! _Casually_! There's something **seriously** wrong here!" Dad said, sounding weak, as if he was angry, but also about to faint. I guess I just planted the idea in his head. Now see, he completely missed my Sadie is a ho hint back there. As a matter of fact, a minute later, Dad collapsed into a chair. He looked like he was about to have a heart-attack, so Mom took over the interrogation. Well, I agreed with the last statement…

"Oh, like you cheating on Mom? That sort of thing does tend to affect the kids," I snapped at Dad, annoyed. Dad looked taken aback and ashamed and Mom just looked absolutely furious.

I felt like they were gonna burn me at the stake. Somehow then I knew that from now on, my house would be like the Spanish Inquisition.

"Explain your relationship with _Mister_ Q. then, Jude," Mom said, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to maintain her composure. I shouldn't have to… Damn, I knew this would come back to bit me in the ass.

"There _isn't_ one. We are not dating. I have not seen him since the concert, and he'll probably avoid me for a while. The paparazzi are probably more likely to see him than **I** am. It was _just_ a kiss, Mom, and it didn't mean **anything**," I said, rather annoyed, forcing the edge out of my tone. Mom gave me a skeptical look, rolling her eyes.

"If it didn't mean anything, then why were his hands all over you?" Mom stated sharply, glare intensifying. Truthfully, I had no good idea for the answer to this question.

"I don't know. That's how he kisses people?" I replied weakly, biting my lip. I had a feeling that no matter what I said they would still manage to nail me somehow. Dad moved to get up, but Mom unceremoniously shoved him back in the chair, returning to her line of questioning.

"Then where were you?" Mom snapped, frustrated.

I sighed, bored. "I went shopping, then dancing, and then I went to a karaoke bar. Have a problem with that?" I muttered apathetically, rolling my own eyes. I slowly undid my hair, trying to concentrate on anything other than Tommy. Once everybody had started mentioning him, there he was again, back in my head. Mom did something completely surprising then.

"I **forbid** you from seeing that Boy-Man! And for this _stunt_ and what you did to Sadie, you can count on being grounded until your **18th** Birthday!" Mom screeched, pointing her finger at me. Two years is a long time.

A very, very long time. And I hate waiting.

But, you know, I did punch Sadie in the nose. She was bleeding. I probably broke it. And I left. Without asking. Only seconds after arriving back. I had a drink. And I went to a bar. But that's not really that bad, is it?

And what about concerts, music videos, photo shoots, recording, brainstorming, parties, and the like, that I had to go to? But I did not ask Mom this.

Instead, I snorted. Mom glared fiercely at me, shifting her hands to her hips. "_What_ is so funny?" She asked in a hoity-toity tone. Mom looked a bit like a hen, really, flapping her wings and all.

"Nothing… It's just that, by then, I'll be legal," I stated, trying to muffle my laughter. Mom's eyes flashed, and Dad perked up in his chair. Darn. They thought there was something going on, again. Well, there sorta was. Except not in the way they thought.

That being said, without a word, they grabbed my arms and dragged me upstairs, locking me in my bedroom. Hey, I've got a computer and a guitar in my room, so I'd say I'm good… I sighed, picking up the notebook and pencil I had forgotten there this afternoon, sliding my beautiful guitar into my lap, sighing as I began to write lyrics.

Couldn't hurt to have a song ready for tomorrow, right? It was starting to look like I'd be needing it.

"_We defy the rules of dating! You and me, we just won't work! We can't ever be together! Because we don't have truth or trust and I don't know where you've been… Or whose room you woke up in_" I sang loudly, twanging the chords to a song I knew would soon become electric. Maybe this could be my next single… I jotted down the lyrics as they came to me… This whole Tommy thing was proving to be a big inspiration to me.

At least some good came out of it, right?

"_Sometimes I just wanna scream! For once, I need to be that sex goddess… Someone to finally make you stress! __So lay off those dumb blondes because it's not them you want… It's me!_" I continued edgily, though this song was not angry, experimenting with my amp.

The trick was ensuring that no one else could hear me, but I could still hear me. Which meant a lot of fiddling around with the volume control. After doing this a while, I sighed, and strummed up the next part, "_You and me, we're illegal! You're not allowed to touch me!_

_Watch out or you'll corrupt me! Desperate to hug you, just to breathe you in… This touching you, it is a sin!"_

Hmm, I think that's all for today. I'll write the chorus tomorrow… Or just make that last one the chorus.

Yawn! Ah, sleep awaits!

- Loren ;

Poor Jude. She's gonna be so tired for school tomorrow. Anyways, hmm… Wonder if I should make Portia show up again? I liked her… She was cool. Eh, maybe, maybe not… I'll probably put Darius in here at some point… And Shay might pop up again, you never know… But Jude's really got a lot on her plate… What with Tommy, Tim, her paranoid parents, Sadie hating her, a teacher being out to get her, not talking to Kat and Jamie, being pressured to come up with some new hit singles, making the CD, Tommy working on HIS CD (!), the press just stalking her and being total jerkheads, the list goes on…

In the next chapter you get to see some more consequences of her kissing Tommy (But y'know, this fic is called Consequences… And you've already seen some… Shay coming unto her, her parents' reaction, the Sadie fight)… People treat her different and judge her… Anyways, I'm rambling like a nut…

By the way, thanks for the reviews… They really do mean a lot to me. All the wonderful things you say; they make me feel so happy… Oh, song lyrics in italics, as per the usual. Oh, and reviewing is nice. I like it very much… Hint, hint! Lol…


	9. That Girl

Dang, Canadians are nice! A Toronto bylaw makes it an offense to bump into anyone on the street… Oh, and you can't publicly remove a band-aid… Oh, and it's also illegal to pretend to practice witchcraft… Oh, and it's illegal for clear/not-dark sodas to contain caffeine… Odd…

Every fifth song on Canadian radio must be by a Canadian born citizen. Well, at least that one's good for Jude!

If you are released from prison, it is required that you are given a handgun with bullets and a horse, so you can ride out of town (Alberta). A law requires jailers to bring convicted debtors a pint of beer on demand (British Columbia). Driving on the roads is not allowed (New Brunswick). Those really don't seem too smart… 'Specially the last one! I mean, where the heck ARE you supposed to drive?

Oh, and some from Ontario! The speed limit is 80 kph for cars, but bicyclists have the right of way (No wonder… So many of them must get hit or run over). Bylaw states that no more than 3.5 inches of water is allowed in a bathtub (How are you supposed to bathe?). It's illegal to climb trees (that's sad. I'm sorry, but that's just sad).

Hmm, odd… In Quebec, you cannot swear in French… Bummer. I do that all the time.

Oh, and I wanted to try and clarify why Jude and Tommy can't be together. Part of it's because they work together, and he knows it could get messy and then they'd be stuck working together… I mean, they're at each other's throats half the time and they're not even dating yet, but that's because they're not dating, so yeah… Anyways, it's not because he's afraid he's going to lose his job, because it's not like he really needs it or anything, and in the first episode he made a HUGE deal about how he was just there doing a favor for Georgia (speaking of which, how do they know each other?), and he got all pissy 'cause they called him Li'l Tommy Q. Anyways, so I'm guessing they don't pay him a lot (remember how the check bounced when they were doing Jude's music video), and that he's there because he made a commitment, but more because he likes Jude and the music industry and what not… So Georgia wouldn't fire him. I mean, she might be like: "Okay, what are you thinking, she's too young!" or something like that, but she's pretty cool…

However, Tommy isn't "that guy"… And even if he was, it's still illegal (I looked it up!). See below:

(1) Every person who is in a position of trust or authority towards a young person or is a person with whom the young person is in a relationship of dependency and who

(_a_) for a sexual purpose, touches, directly or indirectly, with a part of the body or with an object, any part of the body of the young person, or

(_b_) for a sexual purpose, invites, counsels or incites a young person to touch, directly or indirectly, with a part of the body or with an object, the body of any person, including the body of the person who so invites, counsels or incites and the body of the young person,

is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding five years or is guilty of an offence punishable on summary conviction.

Definition of young person: (2) In this section, "young person" means a person fourteen years of age or more but under the age of eighteen years.

So, with Jude being a "young person" and Tommy being in "a position of trust or authority towards a young person"… Well, you get the picture. Not that Jude would press charges, but her parents would… And then Tommy's lawyer would probably try to get him off by saying that he's not in a position of trust or authority towards Jude, since he's not her guardian or parent or teacher or anything, but he is anyways… Oh, and you can also get busted if you let a person/your kid have sex in your house (I'm assuming it's with an older person…).

**172.** (1) Every one who, in the home of a child, participates in adultery or sexual immorality or indulges in habitual drunkenness or any other form of vice, and thereby endangers the morals of the child or renders the home an unfit place for the child to be in, is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding two years.

See, that law's kinda weird, since Jude's dad did the adultery thing. That's immoral, right? He could be busted… Well, it didn't endanger her morals, but it sorta screwed with her home life…

(1) Every one who

(_a_) not being in a dwelling-house, causes a disturbance in or near a public place,

(i) by fighting, screaming, shouting, swearing, singing or using insulting or obscene language,

I had no idea that you could get busted for singing. How very sad. And very rock and roll… "What're you in for?" "Oh, me? Well, Bonecrusher, I'm in here for singing…" "You don't say…" "Yeah, my neighbors hate rock." "That sucks." "I know."

Oh, and one thing I'm gonna say about Tim… Remember, he has two brothers, one older and one younger… Oh, and aside from that, he's not in Boyz Attack, simply because I don't know the names of any of the guys in Boyz Attack!... Well, 'cept Tommy… And I think one of them's named P.J. or D.J. because there's this picture of Sadie in a Boyz Attack! t-shirt and it's signed and one of them looks like it says D.J. Lamae… Sorta like J.C. Chasez… But I don't know, because I've read fics that mention them, and they had names like Chaz and Jeremiah… So I guess I'll find out next week. Argh. Next week. As a matter of fact, when Tim and Jude are together, neither of them will sing. But that'll be awhile from now… Her second date with Tim. But Tim is, uh, special. It's no coincidence that she thinks he sounds familiar.

All I'm telling you is to watch out for Mr. Quinn, Jude's music teacher. He has some… issues.

Anyways, laws above courtesy of http/laws.justice.gc.ca/en/C-46/42339.html. Uh, the random ones I found at random sites… Let's see… Oh, yes, don't own Tommy, Jude, Sadie, Victoria, Stuart, Jude's necklace, Tommy's Viper, G. Major, Kat, Jamie, Instant Star, Boyz Attack, Kwest, Darius, E.J., Georgia, Spiderman, Mister T, "Time to Be Your 21", Portia, Shay, Britney Spears, Kurt Cobain, Canadian Idol, "That Girl" (most of these are just mentioned)… Uh, yeah, and anything else.

I do, however, own Jude's schedule, locker, teachers, etc. Hmm, let's see, Madame Castelnau is sort of based on my French teacher last year and some really nice people I stayed with in France this summer. Mr. Hilton is based on my math teacher last year (this is the fourth year in a row that I've had a math teacher whose last name begins with H)… Oh, and Ms. Collins is sort of like my homeroom teacher except not.

Anyways, you'll see why I brought up the whole-Tommy-being-Shay's-uncle-thing, because Jude realizes it in this chapter… And she's kind of like AHHH! about it… But Jude sort of overreacts a little to these sort of things, so it's okay… Anyways, this chapter is really long. The author's note alone is about two pages, actually… Anyways, on with the story!

* * *

Okay, so I have to go to the studio today. I don't want to, but it can't hurt to work on my new CD. And I'll have to face Tommy again anyways. It might as well be sooner rather than later. The longer we avoid each other, the worse it'll get.

Oh, how I've missed my torn jeans (they never let me wear any during the tour… It was always skin-tight jeans and miniskirts) and t-shirts. Ah, finally I can go back to being me! Wearing my guitar pick necklace again… I love that thing!

But before I go to the studio, I've got school. Yeah, I know, it starts fast! Luckily for me, Sadie (while I was on tour and before I screwed everything up) put most of my stuff in my locker, and Mom and Dad sent me my class schedule when we were in hmm, let's see, was it New York? So I really just need my bag and personal stuff to put up/in my locker to make it more… Me, you know? And I have that.

Somehow, I don't think this is gonna start out well, but okay, whatever. Especially as I haven't talked to Kat or Jamie since before the tour (I tried to call them loads of times over the summer, but I kept getting their answering machines). At least my teachers will be nice to me… Uh, I think?

I ought to get there early, to find my classes and so I won't have to deal with everyone. I know that they won't go easy on me. I mean, people hated me before I won Instant Star, they hated me after I won Instant Star, and they'll hate me now (especially all those girls who liked Boyz Attack!). I know that, but hey, hope springs eternal…

"Hey, Moom, I'm going to school now!" I called, walking into the kitchen, grabbing a Poptart and my keys, looking for her. Mom was sitting at the table, drinking a coffee. She looked up at me, frowning. She thought for a moment, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Okay, but take your sister!" Mom called out dismissively. I blinked. Sadie, but doesn't she completely hate me? I mean, doesn't she need a nose job or something? And is she even up yet? And besides, she's in college!

Wait, who am I kidding? Of course she's up. She gets up at five to shower and look all "pretty". Ugh. Mallrat. How can I put this to Mom?

"Somehow, Mom, I don't think Sadie wants to be anywhere _near_ me right now. We had a pretty bad fight, and some words were exchanged, and, well… You saw her nose, right?" I pointed out quickly, getting nervous.

Mom shrugged, and I took that opportunity to race out of there like a bat outta Hell, before she could force me to drive Sadie to, uh, wherever…. I jumped in my car (a shiny red convertible), and nearly sped out of my neighborhood. As the houses vanished, and I approached school, I sighed with relief. I exhaled, finally at school. I parked my car slowly, locking it and pulling up the roof. Tommy could afford to leave his without the hood, but I couldn't. Who knew what they would do to my car if it were open?

So I walked inside, glancing at my schedule. I found my locker fast enough and managed to open it. I taped up the photos of me with Jamie and Kat, a few of me with Sadie (from the photoshoot), a few of the whole family, some of me with Spiderman (Speed-er-man… They were on tour with me for a bit, when we were still in Canada), some backstage pictures of me with Shay and some techies, a few of me with Georgia, E.J., and Kwest, a (disapproving) large, signed photo of Darius (he kinda reminded me of Mister T in the picture), some photos of my beautiful guitars, a postcard from every city on the tour, about a gazillion pictures from all my performances, a few shots of the tour bus and various stages and crowds along the way, a few pictures of friends I'd made on tour, some random stickers, posters, and buttons. I also put up a picture of Eden with a huge red X across it. Naturally.

And then the there were obligatory pictures of me with Tommy. Maybe I shouldn't have put those pictures in there, maybe I was just inviting trouble by doing that, but I did it anyways. Satisfied by the way my locker looked, I peered down at my schedule.

Student Name: Jude J. Harrison

Student Number: 19767

Student Locker: 947

Locker Combination: 21-47-21

1 Homeroom Travis Quinn 221 1-2

2 English III Jenny Collins 3601-2

3 Geometry Matthew Hilton 159 1-2

4 French IIINoelle Castelnau 152 1-2

5 Media and Pop Culture Harry James 321 1-1

5 International Relations Philip Charles 345 2-2

6 History Philip Charles 345 1-2

7 Studio Level MusicTravis Quinn 221 1-2

8 Music Theory Lyra Aarons 216 1-1

8 Advanced Music Theory Lyra Aarons 216 2-2

Anyways, now normally I would have Homeroom first, but we're coming in late today, and then there's the fact that we don't even have any work to do yet. Isn't it weird, all those 21's in my schedule? My locker combination, the Media and Pop Culture room and my homeroom/Studio Music room…

How very strange and misfortunate. And damn, I'm thinking about Tommy again. Stupid "Time to Be Your 21". Stupid Un-Sweet Sixteen. Stupid kiss in the rain… Argh!

Anyways, I hate math… And I have Geometry this year, which is not a good thing, considering how badly I did in Algebra. Mr. Charles is kind of old, but he's nice enough. And Madame Castelnau, she's the best! She's only the most awesome French teacher ever! Though Mrs. Aarons is pretty cool… Very calm, very zen.

I think Miss Collins is nice. But hmm, I wonder about Mr. Quinn…

You see, the old band teacher quit last year, and, well, Mr. Quinn's the replacement. I wonder what he's like… Hmm.

Anyways, yikes! I'd better get to Ms. Collins' room. Class starts soon. I think. And it's on the third floor. I stuffed my regular binder into my bag, grabbing a pencil and a notebook before walking over to the stairs and heading to my teacher's room.

The first day of school is always pretty routine. Your teachers tell you about themselves, force you to introduce yourselves to the rest of your classmates by playing some corny little game, and then they bombard you with handouts of things you'll need to bring to class, before going over their rules and the school rules, and then they talk about the syllabus and what you'll be doing that year. And that's pretty much it… Usually.

Neither Jamie or Kat were in my first class, so I just sort of sat in the back and focused on the teacher. As I predicted, Miss Collins was really nice. She's sort of soft-spoken, but I knew that she would protect me (from the paparazzi and what not). She even said that any student can come in during lunch to see her, or after school, even if they just want help or advice. English has never been my favorite subject, but maybe this year it'll have a fighting chance.

Geometry was mind-numbingly boring, but the teacher at least had a sense of humor. I suppose that was an improvement. Mr. Hilton (despite his rather unfortunate last name) is about thirty-five, so he's not that out-of-touch and all, but Math is still really boring. However, on the plus side, I fell asleep in Math, and no one noticed. This really nice sort-of-Freshman-looking girl poked me just before the end and caught me up to speed. I swear, I so owe that girl. I'm making sure she sits next to me every time (once again, as Kat and Jamie have brains, they are not in said math class… They are in Pre-Calc, I think… Ick!).

Predictably, French was awesome (the best class of the day, with the exception of music, I think). It was nice. I finished the homework early and we (Madame Castelnau) had a nice little chat about my tour (the French-speaking places I went to… Montreal… obviously… Paris, New Orleans, Haiti, etcetera). She didn't even bring up Tommy. Which is so good… And so RELIEVING!

I have a feeling I'll be talking about him a lot today. Which means I'll be thinking about him a lot today. Which is not good. Because when I start thinking about Tommy, I start thinking about the things I want to do to Tommy… And you're starting to see why it's better not to think about Tommy at all, right?

Anyways, so I hurried to Media and Pop Culture (a class I'm sure would manage to bring up issues like Shay and Tommy and Eden and other things I preferred not to think about). I got in there, getting a seat in the back, so as to hide from the teacher. It was all going fine… Nice, routine, boring, like it was supposed to be… Until my cell phone rang.

Immediately, everyone stared at me, and I raised my hand to ask to be excused.

"Mr. James, can I be-" I started to ask, before I was interrupted. My teacher rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"No, Miss Harrison, you may not. After all, this is Media and Pop Culture… I'm sure whatever whoever's calling you has to talk about must be important. I'm certain we can learn from it, can't we, class? Now, answer it. I'm sure they'll persist in calling if you fail to answer it now," Mr. James said in a careful tone. At first I thought he was really cool for doing this, but later, I realized…

Anyways, I decided to answer it. As I flipped open my phone, Tommy's picture flashed on my screen. I groaned, trying not to stare at the picture. Mr. James shot me an interested look, and I realized suddenly how quiet it was, except for the ringing of my cell phone. I sighed and pressed the talk button.

"You know, Quincy, you have really bad timing," I muttered, annoyed, trying to avoid their probing stares. I couldn't believe it then, but I shouldn't have been surprised… Mr. James actually motioned for me to talk louder. Yikes.

"What do you mean, Jude?" Tommy asked over the line. I didn't have time for this right now. I was supposed to be learning and not thinking about Tommy and not letting anyone know I was talking to Tommy, or I would get so much crap for it…

"Look, just cut to the chase, will you? Why are you calling me now? I'm in class!" I hissed, feeling the panic rising in me. Tommy sighed over the phone and I fought the urge to jump in the phone and smack some sense into him.

"Well, why was your phone on during class?" Tommy retorted, sounding somewhat annoyed. What right does he have to… Oh, wait, yeah. I kissed him, making him look like sleazy scum to the press and quite possibly ruining his relationship with Sadie. Though, really, I think that was doomed from the start.

"Honestly, why are you being so PMS-y on me? If this is about Montreal, I'm sorry… It got a little out-of-hand there and I know it…" I argued, trying to apologize, sort of. But it sounded a lot like that apology Tommy gave me seconds before I found out Dad was cheating on Mom. Totally fake and phony, but I wasn't that angry…

I was getting so wrapped up in this conversation that I was almost forgetting about my audience.

"No, Jude… It's not that… It's just…" Tommy said slowly, struggling to find the right word. Is he having another one of his mood-swings? It's so strange! He goes from all angry to sweet and then ZING, back again!

"Did Sadie tell you about the fight?" I asked hurriedly, biting my lip. I knew from the brief silence that Tommy had no idea what I was talking about.

I heard whispers around me, but I didn't pay attention to what they were saying.

"Fight? What fight? I haven't spoken to her since the plane… I tried to call her last night but she blocked my number and left a slightly offensive message on my… Wait, why am I telling you this?" Tommy stated, a bit confused in the beginning, perhaps admitting a little too much. Hmm, I wonder what she said in that message. Must've been good. D'you think she called me a whore? She's yet to do that in reality, but I dunno…

"Tommy, why in the name of Kurt Cobain are you calling me?" I snapped, fed up with his general avoidance of the topic. And, well, I wanted to make sure he didn't find out that Sadie and I had a fight over **him**, of all things. That's just sort of embarrassing. But then again, we have fought over him before… In front of him.

I can picture it now… "Oh, Tommy, that fight? Yeah, I kinda sorta broke Sadie's nose… Why? Oh, yes… She was insinuating that she's slept with you… She hasn't, right, Tommy? _Right_?" Can you say awkward? Anyways…

Tommy chuckled over the phone and I wanted to slug him (as I have many times… Those times are only a second to all the times I want to kiss him, though), but you know, phone, class, school, studio…

"Look, girl, just calling to ask if you're still coming to the label today," Tommy drawled, sounding rather bored. That? He called me just to ask me _that_? That is pathetic! Why did he really call me? Even if that was an excuse, it sucks. If he was here, I would have hit him. But, fortunately for Tommy and I, he's not.

Man, those Boyz Attack! fangirls would totally mob him. Yet they were surprisingly sort of tame when he did come here… Hmm.

"Of _course_ I am, you idiot. I wouldn't not show up just because of Mo-what happened… I've grown up a little, just in **case** you couldn't tell already. Anyways, are you gonna be there?" I replied impatiently, wanting this to be over with as soon as possible. And, yes, I did intend for that innuendo… Wonder if he got the message. Naturally, that got me thinking about what happened in my dressing room, and I really fought down a blush at the thoughts that entered my head after that.

"**JUDE**!" I jumped in my seat at the sudden sound of Tommy's voice in my ear. The class laughed, and I grew even more annoyed.

"_What_?" My tone was full of malice… I could tell the day would only get longer.

"I said I'm gonna be there. You okay? You sort of zoned out there for a minute…" Tommy restated, and I could hear the exasperation in his tone loud and clear.

"Yeah, fine!" I muttered shortly, running a hand down my face, trying my hardest to ignore these annoying classmates of mine. Well, at least Mr. James was taking role… "Anything else you wanted to tell me, Q?" I retorted.

"Like what?" Tommy asked skeptically. Oh, I don't know, something like: "Jude, I'm madly in love with you and age doesn't matter to me anymore! Marry me, my love!"

Actually, it doesn't even have to be that. It could just be a simple: "You wanna do something together on Friday?" But, ha! As if anything like that would ever happen!

He doesn't even have to ask me out. Really. He could just be like: "Hey, wanna make out sometime?" Seriously. But he knows he doesn't even have to try, which is why he's so unbearably cocky half the time.

Right now, I'd be good with an explanation. "Why'd you _really_ call, Tom?" I said bluntly, growing tired of the conversation. Don't get me wrong, I love Tommy's voice. There was a time when I would've killed to do a duet with him… Wait, I've already done that. Anyways, not the point… It's just such a tedious conversation and we're always halfway suspended between clawing each other's eyes out, being the best of friends, or making out. We tend to avoid that last one like the plague.

It's a vicious cycle, Tommy and me. We start out hating each other, then he mellows, and then I mellow, then he's my best friend/confidante, and then someone tries something, and then I wind up getting hurt and I go back to hating him. So far I think we're somewhere between the making a move stage and the hating him stage. But I'm not really hurt yet, and I don't hate him… Damnit, now I've gone and confused myself.

It's happened before. I can prove it… Let's see… I hated him when we first met, then he started being nice, and I started falling for h-it, and then I listened to Kat and I kissed him, and then I got hurt. I hated him and I tried to quit after my first performance. Well, actually, that time I didn't hate him very long.

Then there was the weekend (or should I say Friday) at the farm. Didn't even spend the whole day there. We were friends, and we were getting closer 'cause of the song and then Sadie had to show up and ruin everything! Stupid bleach-blonde orange-skinned Barbie Doll clone! Argh! Tommy was staring at her with such lust in his eyes and ew, that was sick. And then they were bonding, and we had a fight and I saw him kiss Sadie and then I hated him again. And that's how I wrote the second verse. It really sickens me that some of that song was written about her. Bitch. I mean, sheesh, what a lousy sister I have.

Oh, and then there's the Shay thing… We hated each other then… Sort of.

And then there's my sixteenth. A birthday that will live in infamy. Well, at least my kids will have some fun stories to tell… "You think that your crush on Timmy's bad? My mom was in love with her producer who wound up dating Aunt Sadie!" Man, we are a screwed up family, aren't we? We mellowed, were best friends again, Shay broke my heart, and next thing I know, Tommy's making out with me in the rain. Bam! Out of nowhere. And then he had to smash my heart to pieces by forcing me to say it never happened. I'm starting to wish that I had made him leave instead.

No, wait, of course I don't! Wait, why don't I? Crap, I'm confused yet again!

And we hated each other (lame ass apology, man, seriously!) again, and there was Skin, my dad and Yvette, and his stupid cockiness… Well, at least he apologized. I guess that's better than Shay. And we weren't (aren't!) ever really together, so he didn't cheat on me. Now, going out with Sadie, that's pretty fricking low. And it broke my heart again, just as we were getting closer… My own sister. My flesh and blood. We share half of the same DNA, for crying out loud (well, what do you know? I remembered something from Bio!)! I mean, if he'll date Sadie, someone who has half of the same DNA as me, why won't he date me? Well, it is just a half of the helix, I guess… Not the full thing. Maybe he's into blondes… I mean, Portia wasn't blonde. Hmm, that reminds me, I should call her… Ugh, but I'd have to ask one of my THREE **favorite** people in the world that I _really_ **want** to talk to (Tommy, Darius, and Shay), which I really don't wanna do. Hey, wait! Tommy and I have similar taste. I mean, we both went out with Millses… (Is Mills even Shay's last name? How sad that I don't know my ex-boyfriend's last name!) Ew, I went out with Tommy's ex-wife's nephew! Gross, that's like incest. I like Shay's uncle. Wait, creepy… Tommy was Shay's uncle! How is it possible that they don't get along? They're related! Oh, right, case in point… Sadie and me.

Hmm, is Portia a Mills? Or does she go by Portia Quincy still? She can't! Can she?

Portia Quincy does sound nice though. Very refined. Pretty befitting of Darius' little sister. But they've been divorced for like five years… Still, I've got to wonder… Did they go out? Portia and Tommy, that is? And if they did, was it for a long time? 'Cause Tommy said he's known Shay since he was four and called Shay-Shay, which is probably why he calls Shay Shay-Shay when he's making fun of him… Or was it just spur-of-the-moment or something? Were they friends first and then it became more? Were they just drunk? Oh, who am I kidding, you would _not_ have to be drunk to marry Tommy (Tommy would have to be drunk off his ass to marry me, however, on the other hand)! And Portia's really pretty.

Maybe I should ask him about this. After all, everyone thinks we're dating. Might as well know a little bit about my boyfriend.

Wait! Tommy is not my boyfriend! He isn't a boy, despite being in a boy band. But he is my sort-of friend. So I can't mentally call him my boyfriend because he isn't. And he won't ever be, if he has any say about that… But let's not focus on that, shall we?

"E.J. wanted to know because she's scheduled you two photo shoots… One's that fashion line from before… E.J. said you'd remember… Some Simon guy's gonna be shooting you… And the other one's contemporary, more your style, sort of avant garde. Oh, and these big-name make-up people called, they apparently like you and want you to be their new face. She also said they want you back on Under the Mike again, so we need to write a new song… You know, it never hurts to lay out a few tracks on the CD… Write some songs," Tommy explained rather quickly.

My head was swimming from all the publicity. Wait, I knew why they all wanted me. Because they thought Tommy did. I snorted. "If I knew dating you brought this much publicity…" I started to say, chuckling a little, but then I stopped dead, realizing what I was about to say.

There was an awkward silence between us for a minute or so. I felt like everybody was staring at me, and you know, they probably were. Suddenly, fiddling with my hair and listening hard for Tommy's voice in my ear, I felt terribly self-conscious. I picked at the chipping nail polish on one of my fingernails.

It was then that I realized that I knew next to nothing about Tommy. I don't know his middle name. I don't know his parents' names. I don't even know if he has parents. I don't know if he has brothers or sisters. I don't know if he's an only child. I don't know how he feels about me. I don't know how he feels about Sadie. I don't know much about his life while in Boyz Attack!

All I know is his last name, the fact that he hates to be called Li'l Tommy Q., that he was married to Portia, that he's divorced, that the marriage only lasted a month, that he plays the guitar, piano, and sings, that he writes songs, that he was in Boyz Attack, that he has brown hair, blue eyes, spends hours on his hair, that the tabloids love him, follow him, and worship him like the fangirls, that he likes baseball caps and leather jackets, that he's in love with his Viper, that he's dating my sister, that he's known Shay, Darius, and Georgia for a very long time… The list goes on… Well, that's more than I thought, I guess. But it's stuff that everybody knows! I mean, half of it's common sense, the other half you could figure out by looking at his picture…

It's like everyone knows him better than I do!

Wait, I don't even know his favorite color! Or his birthday!

Even the fangirls know that kind of stuff. How sad. I know less than a fangirl. I am worse than a fangirl. I am a level below a fangirl. I am an uninformed Little Tommy Q. fangirl.

I'm pathetic.

But l know Tommy personally. I've spent loads of time with him… alone and not. He came to my birthday party, he comforts me when I'm down, and he's always there when I need him… I've kissed Tommy even! Like… Oh, how many times is it now?

The first one, at my first gig, where he didn't kiss me back… The two at my birthday in the alley in the rain that he initiated. The one I laid on him at the concert. And then the one in the dressing room. Well, if you count the first one, that's five. Five. I've kissed him five times.

But tons of other girls can claim that… And more! Like Sadie and Portia and Britney Spears and all his pop star ex-girlfriends…

Anyways, where was I? Oh, right, Tommy's favorite color…

Well, he wears a lot of black… But so do I. But the Viper's blue. And he wears some blue, like jeans, he practically lives in jeans. But then again, so do I. Grr.

You know, he should wear blue more often. It matches his eyes. His dreamy bluuuue eyes… Okay, listen to me, waxing on about Tommy "Little Tommy Q." Quincy's eyes! I'm going mental!

"That reminds me, Jude… We need to talk about that," Tommy said finally. He sounded a bit nervous. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. I had a feeling that the S.S. Broken Heart was sailing in my direction and Tommy was steering. Again. Breathless, I nodded, feeling like I was gonna throw up.

"Y-yeah. Okay. We should… Look, I gotta go. See you later, okay?" I replied hurriedly, feeling inexplicably more nervous.

"Okay, girl… Be careful," Tommy said softly, and I smiled, feeling happy. I am so whipped.

"Are you worried about me, Tommy?" I asked quietly, twirling a strand of hair around my finger.

"Oh, I'm _worried_ all right… about the people on the sidewalk," Tommy replied carefully, after a artfully-timed pause. Somehow I managed a snort, but I felt somewhat disappointed. I rolled my eyes and continued.

"This from the man who thinks ninety-five miles an hour is an acceptable speed limit?" I retorted and Tommy laughed, clearly amused.

"Girl, driving with you could give a person a heart-attack... Or whiplash from your sudden slamming on the breaks," Tommy remarked, snickering. I couldn't help but laugh back. It was like we were back to normal again, being friends, not hating each other.

"You have no idea how stressful driving with you is! You're always nitpicking and talking to the **car** like some kind of _lunatic_. It was all: "_Hey_, Jude, lose the paparazzi!" or "No, it's **break** instead of _gas_!" or "Don't hit the road kill, my **baby's** tires can't handle that!" or "Jeez, Girl, if you hit any more potholes you'll win a gold medal!" As a matter of fact, I almost hit that dog because **you** told me to ditch the paparazzi and I sort of panicked… And I didn't hit it!" I argued, remembering my driving lessons. The looks on Tommy's face were hilarious. But it's okay, because I sure shut him up when I turned on the radio to the Boyz Attack! Marathon. Needless to say, you can get tired of listening to your own voice. By the sixth song, he was begging for mercy.

Ooh, especially when I almost kind of ran into the dog (the look on his face)… He grabbed the wheel with both hands (though I'd already turned) and we had this weird moment where we were really close. It was pretty cool while it lasted. Though I kind of was ruining it by thinking of Shay, but that's not the point. Stupid Shay. He really was a waste of my time.

Tommy laughed again. "That's only because _I_ grabbed the wheel…" He began. I rolled my eyes, snorting.

"After _I_ had already turned!" I interjected perhaps a bit too loudly. But I was no longer really conscious of my surroundings anymore.

There was a brief moment of silence before we both started laughing simultaneously. This lasted for a while, and then he sighed.

"Sorry for interrupting you in class…" Tommy said, sounding a little bashful. He would have been even more embarrassed if he knew how many people were listening in.

"It's fine_. I'm the blood you might need…_" I sang suddenly, getting an idea. Tommy did not hesitate in answering my implied question. He knew my songs as well as I did.

"_In your car when you speed…_" Tommy continued in a similar tone. It struck me then how cute and couple-y we sounded. Maybe Tommy and I really did need to have a talk, after all.

"_In that cigarette you breathe…_" I chorused, laughing a little, listening over the line for his response.

"Oh, but I don't smoke anymore, Jude. I only smoke when things get bad…" Tommy replied, interrupting the flow of the song. Well, I only saw him smoking a few times, you know, like when I was looking out the window or went out in the alleyway back behind G. Major to find him. But then again, when you're pursuing a career in the music industry, you don't typically smoke. It's bad for your vocal chords. I wonder what his definition of bad is?

While I was pondering this, Tommy finished the verse, "_You can't get rid of me!_" Well, that's for damn sure.

"But why would I want to?" I whispered softly. Uh, wait a second… Did I just say that out loud? Great, I freaked Tommy out again. Just great.

As I predicted, there was a silence between us. Another one of our awkward silences.

"You really are That Girl, you know?" Tommy murmured quietly, in an enigmatic tone, as if he was in awe of something. I didn't see what he had to be in awe of. It was just me. I dunno, maybe Sadie showed up wherever he is… Yeah, I bet she'd be spectacular with that broken nose. I haven't even seen it. "Later, Jude."

"Yeah, okay… Bye, Tommy," I finished, dazed and lost in thought. What had Tommy meant by that? I swear, I'm never going to understand him… I heard the line disconnect, and then, slowly, I brought the phone down from my ear and turned it off. Suddenly I became aware of everyone staring at me, absolutely fascinated.

"So, Ms. Harrison, what was that about?" Mr. Pomp and Circumstance, our lovely professor (note the sarcasm), asked, oh-so-politely.

I ran a hand through my hair, sighing.

"Oh, they just wanted to know if I was going to the studio today. Apparently I've got a lot scheduled for me as of late," I replied lamely, trying to look bored and nonchalant instead of nervous. Mr. James shot me a skeptical look and I rolled my eyes.

"Like what?" He stated rather snappily. I groaned inwardly, realizing that my teacher was not as nice as I had previously thought.

"Just a couple shoots, an TV appearance, and I have to do some songwriting and recording… Normal stuff, really," I muttered, trying to downplay what I'd been up to. I could feel the jealous and disbelieving stares from all around me.

I sensed that the day was going to go further downhill. And I was right. "Was that really all you and your boyfriend talked about Jude?" My teacher asked viciously, as if on purpose. Naturally, it was on purpose… But, wait, did he just call Tommy my boyfriend?

"I wouldn't know, considering I don't _have_ a boyfriend…" I muttered coolly. Some of the guys sent me appraising looks and I shuddered, repulsed. Not that there weren't cute guys in the class… It's just… There were so many freshmen, and, why would I want a guy who would just want to date me because I was famous and had gone out with S-H-A-Y? Or because they thought I was dating Tommy? That was lame.

I wanted someone who wanted me for me. Someone like Tim. Man, I must have a thing for older guys…

"Oh, so then why did you kiss Little Tommy Q. in Montreal, Ms. Harrison? I mean, if he's not your boyfriend, then what is he, exactly?" You know what, that's an awfully good question. 'Bout half the time I don't even know the answer… I knew I shouldn't have done that… But what am I saying? E.J.'s probably having a field day with this! And not like I actually regret kissing Tommy… Because really, who would?

Okay, remember… Do not think about Tommy. Do. Not. Think. About. Tommy. Don't!

Damnit, I'm thinking about Tommy! Again!

"He's my producer," I replied, trying my hardest to force the sarcasm from my tone. It wasn't really working.

He gave up then. Or, at least, that's what I thought. Then he called on one of the people nearby me and asked her what I said. And the little witch told him. Well, not that she heard much, really.

"Well, they were kind of having a fight in the beginning… And there were some awkward silences and stuff… She admitted to dating him… They started talking about driving apparently, and apparently they went driving together… Oh, and then they started singing. She didn't say she loved him," The annoying girl chirped cheerfully. Stupid evil teacher's pets… Rotten little worms. Argh!

Mr. James smirked and I groaned, trying to sink down further into my seat. But Mr. James pointed me out. He practically put the spotlight on me… You know, for a rock star, I really hate the limelight… Except at concerts.

"Ah, class, we have the advantage of seeing a celebrity relationship up close, under the microphone. This relationship of our own Miss Harrison's will also serve as a good leg to bring up talent competitions, like Canadian Idol, which are a great and cheap way to find and prove talent and thus, create new and Instant Stars, such as Miss Harrison herself. After this, we will have a first hand account of stardom/the music business. Then we can move unto the topics of appearance/public relations, star worship, poseurs, and the affect of boy bands…" He lectured, gazing at me as he said poseurs. He was calling me a poseur? Him? Uh, excuse me, you know, if he wasn't a teacher…

And what makes him think I'll go along with this? A grade? Is he gonna blackmail me? I thought this class was supposed to be easy! I thought we were just supposed to watch movies and stuff…

"And what makes you think I'll let you do that? You know, getting all up in my business? You're a teacher. You're supposed to teach a class!" I snapped, rising to my feet, hair swirling around my face.

However, fortunately enough for me, the bell rang just then, and, while it did ruin my lovely dramatic moment, it sure got me out of that prison fast. Actually, I would say that I bolted out of there with my stuff, cell phone ringing again…

I happen to have lunch this period, so uh, well… You get the drift. History is one of those classes that has lunch first. And so I went to my locker, to, you know, dump my crap in it so I could eat. I really wished that I had packed something or had gone out for lunch. But when I walked up to my locker, I noticed that it was covered with tabloids, just like it had last year. Now, I'm as much (if not more, really) for the idea of me kissing Tommy as the next person… But it's kinda weird to see pictures of yourself making out with someone. Especially so many different ones.

Anyways, so I ripped most of them off (saving a few of the different ones, to, you know, put in an album or something for later… Well, okay, that and the fact that I like Tommy and I like Tommy with me, and, jeez… That's weird), and then opened my locker. All of these papers flew out of it, obviously stuffed in through the little slits. I sighed, throwing the tabloids I had saved on the shelf, and hastening to pick up the papers. I was, after all, wasting my lunch break. I only noticed that the papers were not tabloids when I picked the first one up. They weren't papers… They were letters… Addressed to me!

Interested, I began to read one of them… "You are a dirty rotten tramp who is not even worth the gum on the bottom of Tommy's shoes! You are a despicable redheaded harlot and we at the Official Boyz Attack! Fan Club do not appreciate you or your slutty ways!" Angry, I slammed it down and picked up another from the pile.

"You are a disgrace to this town, this school, this province, and this country! I, like many other Canadians, am ashamed to call you a countrywoman. I do not enjoy seeing you slutting it around, playing with boys' emotions in the way that you do!" Feeling my fury grow, I picked up another letter. Who were these people to judge me? They didn't even know me!

"It's liek sooooo nott kewl that you're dating Tommy Q! He is liek the hotttestt thing eva! I luv Tommy 'n' you stole him from me, ya bitch! I totallly cant beleive you'd pley me liek dat!" And the grammar gets worse… Ugh. I grabbed another letter.

"First Shay, then Tommy Q.? Must you take all the hot guys in Hollywood? Honestly, make up your mind before I do it for you!" Is that a threat? Yikes. Maybe I'd better get a bodyguard or something…

"Waste of my time, waste of my time… I'm not so sure that he's yours, but baby, he's soo mine! It's all about letting it all hang out… I sure know how you spend your time…" Again with the lyrical mockery… How many times has that happened? Argh. Annoying fangirls.

"He's too old for you. I can't believe that someone like you could just pull a man down and completely ruin him like that. You've wrecked his career and his reputation. I hope you're proud of yourself… Maybe the fact that you've also ruined yours might affect you, you spoiled brat!" This person has the nerve to call me a spoiled brat? They obviously have not met Sadie. Brat. Spoiled. That's what she is. I have had to work my ass off for every little thing in my life. She can't exactly claim that, now can she?

"Humping Tommy Q? I never would've expected that from you. I remember you saying you hated him when we were nine. Man, that's a trip back in time! You were never into Boyz Attack… That wasn't really your flak. You know that you're a hypocrite, don't you? Liking him is something you said you'd never do. But you lied, and now you're fried. Hair so red you look dead and bleeding, I'm succeeding in my rhyme, I've got the proper time…" Okay, interesting. But strange. Very strange. And very bad rap/poetry. Sighing, I snatched another one.

"You are so selfish and self-absorbed. You're so inconsiderate. I hate you for that, you know. Everyone saw how you broke Jamie's heart… And the things you did to Shay really aren't much better. Considering how much Tommy's f-screwed you up, I'd say that you're a match made in heaven. Hope you burn yourselves out." Okay, that was rude. And it had some words I don't like to hear in association with me and Tommy. Is there even a me and Tommy? Ugh. What about Shay? How'd I break his heart? 'Cause he totally trashed mine.

"So, how was he in the sack? I mean, he's hot, and he's definitely experienced… Call me, okay? Details!" Odd. I don't think I even know that person. And, jeez, why do they think I'm sleeping with him? 'Cause I'm not! I think I'd remember being with… Okay, I need to stop thinking about Tommy… Really.

Well, I did make some comments to Sadie and Shay… And Eden was there… But they really couldn't have told, right?

"Congratulations! I've been rooting for you two since the beginning. You two are so cute together…" Well, finally, a happy one! Except I'm not dating Tommy. Again. Never have, most likely never will… at this rate.

"Banging Tommy Quincy, Jude? I'm impressed. I never thought you'd have the guts to do something like that. I mean, everyone saw it between you two, that chemistry, but I never thought either of you would ever act on it…" What's that supposed to mean? Do I actually know these people? I sure hope not.

Ugh. The rest of them went along in similar veins. Needless to say, after the first twenty, I didn't want to take a second look at the rest of them. I was feeling really low, and I hadn't even done much of anything wrong. So I went to the bathroom, and before I knew it, I was crying, and those terrible words were swarming in my head.

"_I can't…"  
_

"_But you're not twenty-one."_

"… _Nothing really surprises them anymore."_

"_But he's not here… And it's just you and me, all alone, Shorty…"_

"_You know you want me, Jude…"_

"_Jude, you never know until you try…"_

"_I just figured, you know, since you want my boyfriend, you might try and steal some of my other belongings, **Princess** Jude!"_

"_Oh, please! Like being a star is so hard…"_

"_You could have had any other guy… Why'd it have to be my boyfriend?"_

"_But Tommy **sure** knows how to make a girl happy…"_

"_Not that you would know."_

"_Sister dearest, that's illegal."_

"_He was making it look good for the fans!"_

"_You **bitch**!"_

"_It was just a fluke, Jude! It didn't mean anything!"_

"_He can resist your evil ways."_

"_Wanna go back to my place?"_

"_And, **honestly**, after what you did to your poor sister, you have **absolutely** no right!"_

"_So you're what, just having some sort of fling with him? Do you have any idea how **irresponsible** that is!"_

"_There's something **seriously** wrong here!"_

"_If it didn't mean anything, then why were his hands all over you?"_

"_I've grown up a little, just in **case** you couldn't tell already."_

"_You are a disgrace to this town, this school, this province, and this country!"_

"_I can't believe that someone like you could just pull a man down and completely ruin him like that. You've wrecked his career and his reputation."_

"_You know that you're a hypocrite, don't you? Liking him is something you said you'd never do."_

"_Banging Tommy Quincy, Jude?"_

I couldn't listen to those words repeating in my head anymore. I was going to go insane. Oh, hell, I've been going insane since I won Instant Star. Maybe they should call it Instant Insanity or Instanity or something instead.

Ugh. I leaned against the wall, holding my aching head and trying to steady myself. My world was blurry and spinning, and it didn't help matters that I was sliding down the wall. Sitting on the cool tiles and leaning against the wall, I slowly closed my eyes, sighing and feeling exhausted. And before I knew it, I was asleep.

- Loren ;

So how'd you like that chapter? I hope you did, 'cause I did… Anyways, yeah, the end of their conversation on the phone was kind of cheesy, but I kinda wanted it to be cute, you know, to make up for the general awkwardness of the call… He was supposed to just end it with the Take Care line and then the one about being worried about the pedestrians, but well, that happened instead…

It's funny actually, how little Tommy's shown up in this story, despite the fact that she thinks about him so much. And poor Jamie and Kat haven't shown up at all. Or Georgia or Darius or E.J. But I'll get to them when she goes to the studio. Which is gonna take a while.

Oh, but don't worry… I have big plans for this little story… Hehe… They include: New songs, Jude going on a search for inspiration, hell at school, more phone calls (the phone calls are actually kind of funny), dreams, a towel, a BIIIIG birthday party, maybe a music video, 'cause that would be cool…

Excerpts from previous chapters/letters are in italics, and some song lyrics… Anyways, if you liked it, review… Oh, and once again, thank you for all the mahr-velous reviews… Really. I heart them sooo much. (:

Anyways, next chapter will prolly be the rest of her day at school. And, yes, it can get worse. Worse than hate mail and falling asleep in the girl's bathroom…


	10. Skin

Okay, so this chapter is really long. Anyways, poor Jude. She really goes through the wringer in this chapter. What a sucky day. And yes, it continues.

Hmm, anyways, so spoilers… Ooh, well, Boyz Attack! is gonna be in a chapter and I know that because I like them and awww, Tommy's sorta getting along with them. Seriously, though, was Chaz kinda coming unto Tommy or was I just imagining that? I mean, all that "You look good… Older, but good." and the "She's not the only one I want." (coupled with that weird look on Chaz' face)…

Anyways, that was a good episode. And Tommy singing Jude's song? SO cute. They were just all-in-all SOOO cute this episode. And Boyz Attack! and the dance moves… I kinda liked the old school version though… I mean, was Pick Up the Pieces like their only hit or something? Because it's the only one they ever sing… But I wrote a Boyz Attack! song… Gonna try and stick it in somewhere in this story o' mine.

But Sadie… I can see where they're going with that, and boy, do I NOT like it. But hey, they're still dating in my story, and… shudders It'll be a long time before that gets changed.

And did anyone notice that song Eden was singing? It goes like: "All my rocks are turning to sand/Before my eyes/One more reason to hide in my bed all day"… I guess it must've been written somewhere between Skin and Me Out of Me… It was the same song that was playing in the beginning of the ep… So why isn't it on the CD? It sounded pretty cool, actually… "Shatter Me", that's what it's called.

I'm SO naming a chapter Shatter Me. Anyways…

Don't own Jude Harrison, Tommy Quincy, Michael Jackson, Kat, Sadie Harrison, "Skin", "Hey, Jude", Boyz Attack, "Waste My Time", "It Could Be You", Georgia Bevans, "Let Me Fall", Professor Snape, Harry Potter, Shay, Jamie Andrews, Eden, Darius Mills, No Doubt, Satan, Stuart Harrison, Victoria Harrison, or "Just a Girl".

I do, however, own Mr. Travis Quinn, Joan Travers, "Together" (the song Tommy sings that you don't recognize), Jude's car, the Vice-Principal, Jude's soon-to-be-lawyer, the paparazzi, Joan's friend…

Oh, and if you're wondering about Joan… She is nothing like me. I cannot play the guitar, I haven't taken music since I was in seventh grade, I'm a sophomore, and Joan's really a little blunt… Almost 16, actually… In a few months. But I look like her. Except I'm like 5'4'' at the most… And my hair is slowly turning white and blonde (but it was pink! Bright electric pink)… But yeah, Joan's cool.

Song lyrics are in italics.

And just so you know… I like this chapter. I especially like the beginning of this chapter. But even more than that, I like this one part in the next chapter… You'll know which part I'm talking about… It's sooo good. Well, I like it, which I suppose isn't saying much… And I sound incredibly full of myself, which I'm not because yeah… Not that my writing's incredibly stellar and deep and thought-provoking or anything, but I figure since I separate paragraphs and spell things right, I've got a bit of an advantage… Hmm, and I sorta write stuff that kinda makes sense (Like, for instance, not making Tommy go to Iraq when he is A. Canadian, B. There isn't a draft for that yet, and C. Canada's disapproved of that war from the beginning, so they don't have any soldiers over there… Anyways, that is not the point.)… And I've never really had much of a cliffhanger in any of these chapters… Puzzling.

Sigh… I love Canadians.

Oh, and just a random note… Counting the next chapter, this story's up to 52 pages. Yay!

* * *

Mmm, I feel all warm and safe. And I've got a really comfortable pillow… Wrapped all around me! What did I do last night?

"Jude…" Someone groans. But not just any someone… Tommy! My eyes snapped open. What the hell am I doing in bed with Tommy? And indeed, there he is, right next to me, bleary-eyed and looking amazing, as always. His hair's all cute and messy and his arms are so warm around me… Ah.

I sighed blissfully, still half asleep, snuggling in closer to Tommy. Wait a second, he's not wearing a shirt! And, hey, neither am I! Whoa… Did I? Did I have sex with Tommy last night? That's so illegal! Mom and Dad are going to send Tommy to Jail. J-A-I-L! He's gonna be doing five years for statutory rape!

Ack! Suddenly I was wide awake. "Tommy, what are you doing here?" I muttered, throat hoarse from sleep. Tommy frowned at me as I pulled back from his grip a little.

"Girl, you honestly don't remember?" He questioned, looking a bit incredulous and slightly crestfallen. Well, of course I don't! But how I wound up in bed with Tommy is the least of my problems. My problem is that I'm in bed with Tommy. Were we safe? Was I drunk?

Wait, of course I was drunk… A sane Jude does not screw Lil Tommy Q. Ack, I rhymed! It must be really bad. Oh, crap… That's extra charges right there. Intoxication of a minor… I mean, look at the Michael Jackson case… Well, I guess if Tommy gets a really good lawyer, he can get off too. Besides, Tommy's younger, and he's already a sort of playboy and wait, why do my parents even have to know? Maybe if I get up now and…

"It's not that, Tommy… This is just… wrong, and all…" I stuttered, pulling the sheets up higher. Tommy's face fell, and he looked immediately nervous. Can't say this is a side of Tommy I've seen much. He reached his hand around the blankets to rest on the small of my back.

"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts about us, Jude… I mean, this won't change anything at the studio, I promise, and I know we don't know each other too well, but we'll be alone together a lot producing your CD…" Tommy promised, sounding very worried. But how odd… He didn't mention Sadie or the age difference.

I sighed with frustration. "Tommy, I don't even know when your birthday is!" I snapped, rather annoyed. Tommy gave me this indescribable look that just turned me to mush.

"Well, I'll be 23 next November…" Tommy replied quietly. Wait, next November? It was like, September now. I sighed, somewhat confused.

"And I'll be seventeen soon…" I muttered to myself. Then I noticed that Tommy was giving me a weird look, putting a hand on my shoulder and feeling my forehead with the back of the other one. Why was he acting so weird?

"You sure you're okay? I mean, don't you mean 22 instead?" Tommy questioned suspiciously. Wait, I'm actually 21? How is that possible? Am I on drugs or something? Is Tommy on drugs? I have to ask him now…

"Tommy, what exactly happened last night?" I asked, dreading the answer. I knew we had slept together, but how did that happen?

"Well, you kissed me last night, performed, and then you tried to quit. But you didn't give me time to explain how I feel about you, so I went to your house… And, well, this happened…" Tommy explained somewhat vaguely, smiling at the recollection. Wait, he couldn't be talking about my first gig, could he? Because if he was, then we really rushed into this and I didn't even know him at all. Guess he really wasn't kidding when he said in a heartbeat…

Man, am I like a future slut in-training or something? Is this what I'd do if I was 21? If so, then I'm scared…

"Anyways, I was watching you sleep for a while, and I came up with some lyrics," Tommy replied absently, bending down and picking up my guitar, the very guitar I had shoved at him after my first gig when I "quit". Okay, so I guess I did sleep with him only hours after meeting him. Go figure. Amazingly enough, he started to play a melody and sing, "_You and me, we belong together… Yeah, you know we're meant to be… You and me, we belong together… I can see it should be you and me forever…_"

Tommy sang this softly, pulling me closer to him. It struck me then that I had no idea where we were. I assume it's Tommy's apartment… Unless I've got one of my own. But I don't really recognize any of the stuff here, so I'm still going with the fact that it's Tommy's. He's so warm and soft and I wanna just go back to sleep. But I should be worrying about… What should I be worrying about?

I don't remember…

I just remember me and Tommy… Good memories. Happy… He looks very good shirtless. Mmm, I think I'll just go back to sleep… I can go to the studio later… And, besides, it's not like I really need to go, what with Tommy here and all…

I was lightly shaken awake. "Tommy, I don't wanna go to the studio now…" I muttered sleepily, burrowing my head into my arms to escape the light. I was only shaken harder.

"Whatever you want you're not going to get, now let me sleep!" I groaned, swatting away at the air and hitting nothing.

Then I heard a very unfamiliar voice. "Look, I'm not Tommy, whoever that is…" The voice was a feminine voice, and I jumped up at that, suddenly wide awake. How much of that had she heard? Okay, probably all of it… Damnit!

And where in the h-Oh, I'm in the girls' bathroom. Whoa. How messed up am I? I fell asleep on the floor of the girls' bathroom. Against the wall. And boy, do I feel it… Ugh.

There's this girl standing in front of me who I've never seen before in my life. Which means she's either new or a freshman. Really, I don't care. I'm just tired and I wanna go home, and crap, I'm probably missing History. Eh, screw it… It's not like we're doing anything important, after all.

Anyways, so this girl's got wavy dark brown hair, about shoulder-length, brown eyes. She's a little shorter than me, but taller than Kat. She wore a black lace shirt with a jean miniskirt and short black boots. Well, I guess I've left out the really cool thing about her… That would be the huge, bright pink streaks in her hair. Right now, she's just kind of annoying me…

"You okay?" The girl questioned cautiously. I merely blinked tiredly before walking over to the sink and gazing at myself in the mirror. The girl did not follow, and, as I wiped away the trails of mascara, I muttered an awkward thank-you.

"So, what's your name?" The girl asked a moment later.

"What's yours?" I retorted rather edgily, messing with my hair.

"Joan Travers. What are you doing in here, sleeping, during class? I mean, it's the first day… You can't honestly be that tired," She replied quickly, looking at herself in the mirror, smoothing her skirt. She almost looked somewhat nervous. Why was she so inquisitive? She didn't even know me. But then again, neither did those hate mail people… I snorted.

"You're new here, right? I'm guessing you're American, judging by the way you say your O's. Anyways, what are you doing out of class?" I retorted, smoothing my own clothes, which were wrinkled from leaning against the wall. Yawning, I stretched, feeling my bones pop.

"I have lunch this period," Joan stated simply, fighting back a smile. Attempting to smooth her frizzy curls, she spoke again. "You know, you still haven't told me your name…" I haven't told her my name for a reason. Right now it isn't that great to be me…

"Jude Harrison," I responded, grimacing. Joan nodded, laughing a little. I rolled my eyes, washing my hands and then drying them. I stepped back from the mirror, turning to see her reaction. Her face was blank and impassive, but then a smirk appeared on her face.

"Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah, Hey Jude!" Joan hummed, smirk widening. I felt a scowl appear on my face, and I rolled my eyes, grabbing my bag and moving to leave. However, my phone rang again, and I dropped my bag on the floor, forgotten.

"Hello?" I questioned, feeling impatient. I was wondering why Tommy had to call me again. Stupid jerk was screwing me all up.

"So, Jude, how long have you and Tommy been going out?" An annoying, hyper-fast sugary tone implored me. I didn't know the person, but I had a guess. The paparazzi, I'm sure.

"Well, for one thing, we're not going out. And printing statements that we are, however fun, is libel and slander. But mostly libel. Next time I'm calling my lawyer," I retorted angrily, hanging up the phone and picking up my bag. Good, I think I scared them. Now, let's see… I'd better get a lawyer. Hmm, note to self, talk to Georgia about that. After she chews me up about Tommy.

Ugh.

"Was that Tommy?" Joan asked innocently. I almost jumped, as I had forgotten she was still there. I frantically shook my head no and moved to get out of the room, but my phone rang again. Groaning, I once again answered.

"What do you want?" I snapped, frustrated. I knew without a doubt that it was a reporter. I could've bet ten bucks on it, as a matter of fact.

"So, Jude, how does it feel to be engaged to Tommy Quincy?" A different, yet similar sounding, somewhat annoying voice said. I groaned again, eyes narrowing as I leaning against the wall.

"I wouldn't know. We're not engaged. We're not even dating. And besides, I'm sixteen. Who the hell gets engaged at sixteen? Now I'm gonna tell you just like I told the last piranha, okay? I'm gonna call my lawyer and sue your ass for libel and harassment, if this persists…" I rambled quickly, fury building inside of me. Why would anyone think that Tommy and I were engaged? For crying out loud, it was just one kiss!

Joan laughed again, confused. "Who thinks you're engaged?" She queried, interested. It was then that it struck me that Joan had no idea who I was or no idea which Tommy I'd been dreaming about. Oh, god. I was dreaming about _Tommy_. And me. In bed. _Together_. **Naked**. Okay, you know what? I can PANIC about that later. Because I shouldn't be dreaming about Tommy either. Really. But I did. ARGH!

But you know, I could use that to an advantage. Might as well befriend someone. That way I'll have someone to talk to… Even if she's not in my lunch.

"Oh, the tabloids…" I sighed, putting my phone on vibrate and dropping it in my bag. Joan gave me a weird look, but followed me out of the bathroom. I knew the end of class was approaching, so I decided to just skip. Trust me, I think I needed it.

"Wanna tell me why the tabloids think you're engaged?" My somewhat friend posed, amused. She still looked absolutely bewildered, as if she didn't believe me. I sighed, heading in the direction of my locker.

Do I really want to tell her this? Oh, I might as well… She'll find out anyways… Sooner or later. They'll plaster those tabloids on my locker again, I bet. I took a deep breath, sighing once more, before I started to talk.

"I kissed Tommy Quincy on international television," I said rapidly, feeling my face turn about as red as my hair. Looking me over, Joan blinked, clearly not understanding what a punk like me was doing kissing Li'l Tommy Q. Well, neither did I. So, as soon as she figures it out, she should tell me. But Joan was insanely calm about the whole thing. Calmer than anyone actually involved with the situation was…

Loads of other girls would've jumped up and down asking me what it was like. Or bitch-slapped me, kinda like Sadie did, for "stealing their man".

"As in the teenyboppin' teen heartthrob Boyz Attack! über Pop Star, Li'l Tommy Q.?" Joan gaped, disbelievingly. Hey, if you told me a year ago that I would have kissed Tommy Q… Well, actually, I've almost known him for a year… Sorta. Anyways, I wouldn't have believed you. I would've denied it and asked you what you were smoking and told you to get off of it before it killed you. I sighed, turning to her.

"He hates it when you call him that," I muttered distractedly. What I'd meant to say was, **yes**, _that_ Tommy. But, here I am, distracted again because of that stupid Thomas Quincy. Argh. Joan stared at me unblinkingly, jaw dropped. I sighed impatiently, rolling my eyes. "_Yes_, I **know** he's not my type. _Yes_, I **know** he's too old for me. _Yes_, I **am** aware that that's illegal. And, _yes_, he is everything I **hate** about music."

Joan blinked, and then we were at my locker. I sighed once again, opening it slowly. "Don't believe me?" I questioned carefully, pausing before continuing, "Look at this." And I handed her one of the tabloids on my locker, pointing to some of the pictures where we were together. Her eyebrows rose, looking at the photos, as she carefully put the tabloid back in my locker.

"So, how do you know him?" She asked finally, after what seemed like forever. Staring at a picture of him and me from my birthday, I responded immediately.

"He's my producer." I gestured to the photo I was looking at, and Joan peered at it, intrigued. "That was at my sixteenth birthday party… Before it all turned sour and my heart was served to me on a silver platter." I explained in a monotone, remembering how much it had hurt.

Joan blinked for a minute, staring at the photo of my CD intently. Suddenly her face lit up with realization and she just turned and stared at me for a minute, as if she was in shock. "Wait, you're Jude Harrison…" She stated in awe, pointing a finger at me. Well, jeez, no duh. I'd already told her that.

"Yeah… And you're Joan Travers…" I retorted in a no-duh kind of tone, rolling my eyes. Joan shook her head, and I somehow felt as if I was not understanding her correctly. She went on with her explanation.

"My friend back home totally loved you. Like mad. She played your CD over and over again. Especially "Waste My Time". Man, was she a fanatic," Joan reminisced, and it struck me then that she missed her friend. I could sympathize, considering that my best friends and my sister were avoiding/hating/ignoring me.

"Oh, cool. I could sign something for her if you wanted to give her something special… By the way, you got a favorite?" I offered, trying to help my new friend. We're friends? Weird. I guess we are… Joan smiled at me.

"Yeah, like for her birthday… But, uh, let's see… I like "It Could Be You" and "Skin"… Ooh, but Let Me Fall's good too…" Joan chirped excitedly, humming "Let Me Fall". I chuckled lightly, feeling amused and remotely normal for once. Then the speakers came on.

"Will Jude Harrison please report to the office? Jude Harrison, please report to the office."

Oh, crap. I made a face, shutting my locker and turning to Joan, who nodded, waving.

"So, you have Quinn next hour, right?" She implored, sounding hopeful. I nodded, grabbing my things to go to the office. Joan nodded, smiling, giving me a thumbs-up.

"Cool, so, see ya then, okay?" She called out as I walked towards the office. I nodded, waving back at her before hauling ass to the office. Is this about my skipping history?

Hmmm. Well, I guess there's only one way to find out, right? So I went down to the office. The secretary obviously recognized me, and nodded to the vice principal, who walked forward, taking my arm and leading me out the door. We walked out of the school slowly, and I felt puzzled. Was somebody going to give me a ride to the studio or something? Was I being arrested?

"What's…" I started to stay, but the vice principal clamped a hand over my mouth.

"There's been a mishap with your car. You are the owner of a red convertible, correct?" The vice principal asked politely, waiting for a sign from me. I nodded, rather annoyed, suppressing the urge to hit the vice principal, who immediately led me over to my car, removing the hand covering my mouth.

There lay the remains of my formerly red convertible. It was banged up a bit and had been keyed almost beyond recognition. The passenger side window was broken, and a rock was on the seat. My jaw immediately dropped, and, finding my keys, I pressed the button to pop my trunk. I had two of my guitars in there (neither of them being the really nice ones… As if I would bring those to school). I debated for a moment which to pull out, but I grabbed both of them, figuring that way I'd be prepared if there weren't any amps in the music room. Then I carefully removed everything from the front of my car, put it in the trunk, and shut the trunk. I made a mental note to ask Tommy for the number of a good mechanic when I got to the studio.

But then a look came over the vice principal's face. Later I was to find out that the vice principal had been listening to a walkie-talkie, and had just found out something rather unfortunate about my locker, but I'll get to that later. So, once again, I was grabbed and dragged back in school, struggling to keep up with the vice principal. And then I felt my phone vibrate. I yanked it out of my pocket, flying down the halls after the vice principal.

"Helloooo?" I wavered, seeing my locker. I was breathless and tired and late for class.

"Jude, honey, heard about you and Tommy eloping… Could you tell us about that?" Yet another annoying paparazzi tabloid reporter who's got it all wrong and just believes whatever they hear.

Skidding to a stop and nearly falling over in front of my locker, I saw what was spray-painted on it, and an unholy fury ran through me. **Slut**, it said, in bright, dripping, red letters. I decided to take out my revenge on the reporter first. After all, I was much angrier at them.

"What the **hell**! I am _not_ married! I am **sixteen** for crying out loud, and it is _illegal_ for a sixteen-year-old to get married **without** parental consent, which I can tell you right now, _neither_ of my parents would give! Who **feeds** you idiots these lies, and why on _Earth_ do you believe them? Are you all just that _stupid_! And besides, I've only had one boyfriend… Shay! You think I'm just gonna give up on **any** other guys and marry myself off this early? Not when my _supposed_ groom gets to date anything that moves and I get stuck with Shay, the cheating _asshole_! Besides, like Tommy's a marrying type! I'm not even out of high school yet! I can't even get a driver's license yet! Now, I'm gonna get this call traced and then I'm gonna give my lawyer your number, and we can talk about a lawsuit, 'mmmkay?" I snarled, absolutely furious. Then I hung up the phone, throwing it back in my pocket and forgetting to turn it off.

I pivoted to face the vice principal, feeling my anger rise. "You'd better write this down. Because what I have to say is gonna be important, so you'd better listen up," I stated in a cool, icy tone, which was made harsher by the angry undertones. I continued on, not having the patience to wait for the teacher to get a pad and a pen and write this all down.

"You **will** find out who has vandalized my locker and my car and you _will_ hunt them down. You **will** have my locker cleaned off pronto, and I will call a mechanic to fix the car once I get to the studio. Then I will **maybe** just _consider_ not pressing charges. You **will** make the people who vandalized my car and my locker pay. They will suffer so badly that they will not even _consider_ attempting another such action. You **will** make examples of them. And if you don't, then I will take matters into my own hands, and, well, let's just say it will be a _hell_ of a lot **uglier** for all the parties involved… Got it? Nobody messes with Jude Harrison. **Nobody**. Got it? Good. Now, you will give me a pass for my music class. Okay. That good? Good," I ordered, fully enraged. It took everything in me to avoid striking said idiot before me. The teacher nodded nervously, writing me a pass for music and running off.

I walked down the hall deliberately, forcing all the anger to drain out of me. Here it was. Room 221. I stopped in front of it, hand on the handle, drawing in a deep breath before I opened the door and walked in. The teacher, who was writing on the board, immediately turned around to look at me. The door hadn't even shut yet.

"Uh, look, Mister… I've got a pass…" I said, trying to explain and hand him the pass. The teacher's face was cold and cruel, eyes narrowing at me.

"Well, if it isn't Mrs. Little Tommy Q.," My teacher sneered, snorting. He reminded me of Professor Snape from Harry Potter currently. Only the fact that it didn't really seem like he was mean to any of the other kids. Just me.

Well, that and the fact that, well… Mr. Travis Quinn, which I noticed was written on the board… To be blunt, he was hot. Freakishly, amazingly, wonderfully hot. I'm talking completely on the level with Tommy here. Yes, _that_ hot. So I'm guessing he's pretty young too.

It kills me, because he's my type too. Older (I really should not like older guys, but I **always** do), a brunette with gel issues, tall, sort of tan, prominent cheekbones, muscular, musically-oriented. Of course, I just sort of described Shay, Jamie, and Tommy… Which is rather scary, and pretty sad, to tell the truth. Well, there's the eyes. He has green eyes. Kind of like Sadie, except not. His are darker, sort of greenish-gray. But I swear, all the evil people in my life have green eyes. Sadie, this teacher who already hates me, and Eden. Joy.

Anyways, what am I doing, waxing on about how my teacher looks? Yeesh, as if I need to get tangled up with another older male. I should date a younger guy. Yes. But I'm kind of sorta dating Tim, who definitely is older than me, and who thinks I can drink. Yikes. I'm gonna have to sort that out with him sometime.

So, when he said that line about me being Mrs. Tommy Q., about half the class snickered or glared at me. Okay, more like all the class. Naturally, I was rather pissed.

"Sorry, I had some problems…" I explained, handing him the pass. Snorting and shooting me a dubious look, he grabbed the pass from me.

"I'll **bet** you do," He retorted, ripping the pass in half, "_However_, you'll find that I don't accept excuses…" It was then that I realized that he really was out to get me. I blinked, stunned.

His eyes bored into mine, and there was such bitter hatred in them that I could scarcely stand to keep his gaze. A smirk spread across his face, and I knew I was in for trouble. "Miss Harrison, I _know_ I'm attractive, but could you please stop staring at me like that? I mean, we all know you're into older guys, but I think eight years is a bit much, even for you…" He replied coolly.

I could feel my jaw drop and my face flame up. And behind me, I heard the catcalls of dozens of idiotic classmates. Mr. Quinn looked awfully pleased with himself. It was then that I knew I was the one who would have to put him in his place. "That makes it sound like _you're_ considering it," I retorted, sneering back at him. Mr. Quinn looked surprised for a second, and then looked rather pissy. The class got real quiet then.

"What, Harrison, is Little Tommy too _little_ for you?" He snapped acidly, voice filled with venom. I cannot believe he just said that. And jeez, channeling Shay! But, ugh. Can teachers do that? Make blatantly sexual innuendoes?

"I wouldn't know… Seems like **you** want to, though. It's a shame though. He's kind of seeing someone already," I pointed out haughtily. His eyes widened for a second, and it seemed as if the rest of the class had realized what I had just insinuated about Mr. Quinn's sexuality. Mr. Quinn, predictably, looked less than amused.

"Detention, Miss Harrison." That was rather predictable.

"What, Quinn, couldn't think of a good comeback?" I said mockingly, feeling a smirk spread wide across my face. "What's it for?"

I think on some level, I already knew what it was for. But that didn't stop Mr. Quinn. "Insubordination," He answered, not missing a beat. He was such a know-it-all. I have never met a more conceited, stuck-up, self-centered, snobby, arrogant person. And I live with Sadie, work with Tommy, dated Shay, and hung around Darius a few times. Ugh, he is so infuriating!

"That's funny, Teach, 'cause you haven't even asked me to do anything yet," I drawled, feeling bored, and humming a Clash song in my head. I swear, Quinn's face almost turned purple. Amusing.

"Sit," He barked bossily. I shrugged, walking over to Joan and sitting next to her. She nodded at me approvingly, and suddenly, knowing I had bested this teacher, I felt much better about myself. Oh, and I'd be skipping detention today too. For the studio.

The room was in complete and utter silence for a minute, before Mr. Quinn picked up a electric guitar, which I noted, was already plugged into an amp. I thought he was mellowing a little, but I didn't think he would give in this easily. And I was right. He didn't. He cleared his throat, sat down in a chair, and started to talk once again.

"This is Studio Level Music. This class is for students who are looking for a career in the music business and would perhaps like to know how to get in said business. Or maybe you just like to practice playing. Whatever, that's cool. But, as this class is for professionals, I will expect a little more out of you. So if you think you can get away with slacking off, you've got another thing coming…" He paused here, looking intently at me before continuing, "Now, let's see… I'll be teaching you mostly techniques, but we'll also go over the ins and outs of the business, as well as do some brief units on songwriting, composing, lyrical analysis, a performance artist research product, managing, producing, mixing, and demo-making/auditions. The first thing we're going to work on is the audition. Right now, each and every one of you will sing a song for me, original or otherwise. I'll give you some constructive criticism, and, well, that's that."

Somehow, I had a feeling I was going to wind up going first. But, as usual, I was wrong, wrong, wrong. No, it was Mr. Quinn who went first.

In the few minutes where he was getting the music and tuning and setting up his guitar, I turned to Joan, confused.

"What'd I miss?" I asked in a whisper. I was dead if he caught me talking. He hated me already and I really didn't need to push it.

"Well, he went over the rules… We're supposed to call him Travis, apparently," Joan explained in a quiet tone, also looking nervous.

"Like he's going to let me call him by his first name," I snorted to myself, slouching in my seat. A moment later, he began to play a song and I straightened up in my seat. Suddenly, I recognized the tune… all too well.

"_I drift away to a place, another kind of life. Take away the pain, I create my paradise… Everything I've held has **hit** the wall. What used to be yours isn't **yours** at all…_" My new enemy started to sing. A few students turned to look at me, but quickly looked away, seeing the look in my eye. I'll admit he had a good voice, because he does. But what he was doing… Was not good.

"_Falling apart and all that I'm asking… Is it a **crime**, or am I overreacting?_" He continued, shooting a look at me, much as I had at my father. But he was singing this song all wrong. It had emotion, but it was all anger. There was no sadness.

The electric guitar made it a much different, edgier song. It wasn't the song I had written. It was a mere mockery of my song. Here he was, making fun of a song that I'd spent hours working on… Where did he get off? "_Oh, he's under my **skin**! Just give me something to get **rid** of him! I got a **reason** now to bury this alive… Another little white lie…_" My inconsiderate asshole of a teacher continued, strumming away without a care in the world.

"_So, what you had didn't fit among the pretty things? Never fear, never **fear**… I know **now** where you've been_," He drawled on carelessly, his tone sarcastic and mocking. I grew to hate his voice more and more by the minute. Oh, yes, his voice I would always remember. And not in a good way. At all.

"_Braids have been untied as ribbons fall away… **Leave** the consequence! My tears you'll taste…_" Mr. Quinn (there's no way in Hell I'm calling him Travis) chanted, anger filling his tone. The anger was not unlike my own anger, but it was pointless and stupid and there was no pain behind it. His singing was physically making me ill.

I could fell the bile rising in my throat, and fought to suppress my disgust. It was painful to watch this. To see him sing my song, something I'd invested a part of my soul in, with such disrespect. He was treating it like some kind of jingle. It wasn't a jingle.

"_Falling apart and all that I **question**… Is this a dream, or is this my **lesson**?_" He went on, shooting me another look, taking a brief pause. Was this supposed to teach me something? Maybe the ills of doing covers? If this wasn't my song, I might actually like what he's done with it. But it is my song. "_Oh, he's **under** my skin! Just give me something to get rid of **him**! I got a reason now to **bury** this alive! Another **little** white lie…_"

"_I don't believe I'll be all **right**! I don't believe I'll **be** okay… I don't believe how you've **thrown** me away! I do **believe** you didn't try! I do **blame** you for every lie! When I **look** in your **eyes**, I don't see mine…_" Quinn sung on, voice getting progressively louder. In some ways, his version reminded me of my own. But in others, it made me wish I'd never wrote the damn song. And here it was, coming back to haunt me. All my own feelings, reversed and edited for class view.

"_**Oh**, he's under my skin! Just give me **something** to get rid of him! I got a reason now to bury this **alive**! Another **little** white lie…_" My teacher crooned, eyes closed. I desperately wanted to sing along then, to try and rectify what he had done to my beautiful song. But I fought myself… I said no, and so I didn't do it.

Here was the significantly shorter guitar solo. Much more electric. Much more charged. But much less raw…

"_Oh, my permission to **sin**! You might have started my **reckoning**! I have a reason now to bury **him** alive! Another little white **lie**…_" Travis, I should say, finished with a bang and a killer guitar riff. I'll admit it was impressive. And, yeah, about half the class looked pretty damn impressed. Which I can see, really… I mean, if it wasn't my song and if he wasn't mocking me with every word, sure, maybe I could have possibly, even remotely liked it. Well, I think all the girls (thankfully excepting Joan) were about half in love with him by then.

Naturally, I wasn't. I mean, seriously! I am so fed up with guys trying to sweep me off my feet! I'm not gonna fall for that crap anymore! Because they only wind up leaving you all alone with a broken heart for some blonde-haired Barbie… Wait, I'm just talking about Shay here, right? Right?

Uh oh… I see the way Quinn's looking at me. And it means nothing good. It means, "HA, try and beat that, punk!" It means "I'm going to make you sing next. Without preparation or water or even being able to catch your breath." This time, unfortunately, I was right. His stare taunted me, and I was suddenly fuelled with a competitive fire.

"Miss Harrison, you're up next… Don't do one of your own songs, okay? You've got **five** minutes…" Quinn posed, smirking. Ugh. I hate this guy. He's the spawn of Satan and Eden… Well, isn't that an oxymoron… He's on the level with Shay for ass-iness. I mean, sure, what Dad did was bad, but hey, at least he wasn't cheating on me… But Mom seems sort of okay with that, as weird as it may sound…

I mean, I did sort of walk in on them making out that one day. I'm not saying I want them to get back together again, because, you know what they say… Once a cheater, always a cheater… I think she's wondering about it too.

I got up hastily, picking up my electric guitar and trusting Joan (with a complex system of nods) to watch it for me. As I plugged in the amp, it suddenly occurred to me just which song would "stick it to the man". I smirked wickedly, pulling a guitar pick from my pocket and starting to strum the beginning chords to No Doubt's "Just a Girl".

- Loren ;

Love you guys and thanks loads for the reviews!

On that note, review!

Anyways, what was up with Jude and Darius making a deal behind Tommy's back? Was she giving him her songs or something? Or Tommy's demos? Or did she give him the papers? I can't remember… Was that a contract or something? And when Tommy said the infamous "There is no "We" anymore, Jude."… Did he mean professional, personally, or romantically? 'Cause I was thinking that meant he was quitting so they wouldn't be a team…

Anyways… Excerpt from the next chapter: "Bet Quincy's never kissed you like _that_, Jude…"

Ooh, intrigue! Now REVIEW, my dearies!


	11. Shatter Me

Lol… Actually, it'll take a while (a pretty long while) for you to finally find out why he's (Travis) being such a jerk to Jude. And trust me, he'll get worse! Poor Jude. Anyways, when I said brunette with gel issues… Haven't you noticed how all the guys Jude's around have hair issues? I mean, Jamie's hair is spiked straight up (I liked it when it was blue and green at the tip… That was cool. Hmm, maybe I should make him do that again), Tommy's is sorta haphazardly gelled (which looks weird but he's hot so he pulls it off)… And Shay's hair was kinda blah… Which was prolly why he was always wearing hats.

Hmm, with this story I apparently seem to like drawn-out plotlines. Odd.

And oddly enough, no one's mentioned Jude's dream…

Anyways, it's really ironic, really, who winds up saying that phrase… Tommy's not in this chapter, but I promise he will be in the next one (can't tell you how much he'll be in it… Because it's mainly about all the problems at G. Major and what not… That chapter could possibly be very large, actually… Because I want Jude to have a talk with E.J. and her new lawyer… Though I still have to think up a maiden name for said lawyer… And then she's gonna find out something totally blackmail-able about Georgia…). This is mainly because I've already written him in it… But he probably won't have a main role in the chapter (as in much talking). Which, yes, so disappointing. But I've got a lot of ideas I want to cram in these few chapters…

Darius is gonna pop up sometime soon though…

And, no, sorry, Jude's not gonna tell Tommy about Travis (which you'll prolly find unbelievable after this chapter)… This is because of two reasons… Number one, he's avoiding her like the plague with good excuses, Number two, Tommy would kill Travis… or vice versa, Number three, It's kind of embarrassing… But, I promise, Tommy and Travis will have a big confrontation much later on… I dunno when in the story that's gonna be, but yeah.

Compared to the last chapter, this one's way shorter. But I like it… Especially the really long paragraph, but yeah…

'Kay, let's see… I don't own "Shatter Me" (though I did transcribe the lyrics from the episode… a decent amount of them… They're in italics), Tommy, Jude, Boyz Attack, Shay, Sadie, Portia, Eden, or Chaz.

* * *

Needless to say, the rest of the hour went by smoothly. Er, as smoothly as the day had gone for me, anyways… I went to my last class of the day, Music Theory, which was pretty fun… Helped me start composing the tune for my next song… 

So, I was walking towards my car, grinning and singing the words to "Shatter Me".

"_All my rocks are turning to sand… Before my eyes… One more reason to hide in my bed all day…_" Ha, how carefree I was then… Little did I know that only minutes later I was to be doomed.

So, where we last left off, I was going toward my car when I sort of got intercepted. By whom, you ask? Naturally, it was Mr. Quinn. Argh! Of course he'd force me to go to detention. Because I can't have one damn thing go right today! Argh!

"_Sun comes up, feels like it wants to… **Shatter** Me! Shatter **Me**! The world is **crashing** through my door…_" I trailed off upon the sight of my arrogant teacher. Ugh. I ran a hand through my hair and started staring him down. I couldn't let him win…

I don't get how he even knows that this is my car… Unless he keyed it or something. Which I doubt because I hadn't even met him then. And then, as if blocking my access to my car wasn't bad enough, he started running his hands over it and rubbing his fingers into the scratch marks, scowling and cooing to the car. Which is really creepy to watch because it's kind of like he's groping my car, which, you know, all guys see cars as an extension of themselves… And if that car's an extension of me, well, you understand my repulsion, right? I mean, there's a teacher trying to cop a feel on my poor, violated car.

"A Viper. I'm impressed. You have good taste. I personally chose a green one… Shiny paint with white racing stripes and built in topcoat," He remarked casually, as if he didn't completely hate me and have this huge chip on his shoulder. As if he hadn't completely mocked me and given me a detention in class. I swear, men and their cars.

Hmm, his car sounds oddly like Tommy's. Weird. But I should not be comparing Tommy with this clown. Because Tommy would win in an instant… Not that I like Quinn over there! Anyways, I'm just not going to think of Tommy now. Yes, that'll be for the best. Even though I'm gonna see him in a few hours.

"Please, Mr. Quinn, stop **molesting** my car. Enough damage has been done to it as it is without your _dirty_ hands being _all_ **over** it like a cheap suit. _Now_, if you don't mind, I have to be getting to the studio…" I retorted, trying to shove him forcibly away from my car. It wasn't working. Especially as he moved faster than I did to block me, shoving me back a little.

Am I gonna have to punch someone again? 'Cause I'm really getting tired of this… Eh, I could just hit him in the face with my books. Give him a taste of his own medicine. But he's got this cocky as all-get-out look on his face again. You know, on some people, that look might be charming. But not on him. It just makes him look like the smug ass that he is.

"Well, first things first, _Jude_… You've got a detention with _me_ **now**. Besides… I'm sure they can wait… After all, you'll only be making-out with Tommy Q. all night anyways…" Mr. Quinn retorted snidely. I could feel my eyes narrow in anger. So he was still mad at me, and for what? What, really, had I done to inspire this hatred?

I was late (but I had a pass!), I might have insinuated that he preferred men (but that was totally warranted! He was already being mean to me then), making fun of him a little… Nothing that bad, really. Not like him, embarrassing me in front of the whole class, making remarks and insinuations against me and Tommy, giving me a detention, singing MY song… Wonder what he's got against Tommy?

I bet it's the boy band thing. It always is with Tommy.

Or maybe his arrogance. That's sorta bad. Still is, but it's nothing like when he was with Boyz Attack!

"Too bad, Mr. Q." I found it rather odd that Mr. Quinn flinched at this shortening of his name, and I smirked, knowing he'd just given me material. "See, I have this thing that I do… And it's called a job. Now, as hard as it is to believe, I get paid for doing it, much like you do. Only I get paid a lot more. And see, in order to get paid, Mr. Q., I kinda have to go to the studio. It says so in my contract… And I'm signed for three years. Now, if you want to, you can take this up with my manager, my agent, or my producer. But, as for now, you better move, 'cause I gotta get to work. I have songs to write, singles to record, and a CD to make…" I threatened, trying to push him off my car.

But he turned the tables on me, grabbing my wrist hard and pressing me against the car. I could feel myself completely freaking out, and he took advantage of that, pressing me harder into the car. I squirmed fruitlessly, struggling to think of what to do. My face was hot and I could feel my breaths shortening.

I had no idea what he was going to do to me next.

And that absolutely terrified me. But I think I hid it well, apart from the breathing and the shaking and the blushing.

But why was I scared of him? Mr. Travis Quinn, my Music teacher?

Why wasn't I scared of that greasy-haired guy who'd jumped on me? Why wasn't I scared of Shay, who'd invaded my room and kept up with the come-ons?

I didn't know anything about Mr. Quinn, that was true, but I didn't know anything about the slimeball, and that didn't scare me.

But there was something in Mr. Quinn… Something mysterious and dark and hateful. Anger. Lots of anger and resentment and for some bizarre reason, he was directing it at me. And I don't know why…

"**Tommy** doesn't like it when **other** men come unto me. He's rather possessive of _his_ things. If he saw you, he'd _kill_ you…" I stammered, trying to sound bold. I was always bluffing when it came to Tommy and I think Travis knew that. However, if Tommy saw this, he wouldn't hesitate to "fix" it. I'm sure. I think. Damnit. I wish Tommy was here.

And Quinn, he had the strangest reaction. He stiffened and this crazy mad look came across his face. I'll never forget that look in his eyes. It was a look of pure, angry insanity, and I didn't know what was going to happen next.

"I'll _bet_," He remarked, smirking evilly and trailing a finger up my side. Involuntarily, I took a sharp intake of air, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck rise. He smirked down at me, enjoying the control he had. I hated it. "What _Tommy_ wants, Tommy **gets**, right?"

His tone was corrosive and mocking. He grabbed my chin and I grew progressively more worried and frozen. It was a wonder I wasn't shaking like a leaf by then.

"My relationship with Tommy isn't really any of your business, now is it?" I snapped finally, struggling against him. But my demented teacher's only smirking wider. I wanna slap that smile right off his face. Really. I'd be oh-so satisfied.

"And **my** relationship with _you_ is Little Tommy Q's business?" He retorted, relishing the absolute and total control he had. I was starting to feel like he was going to try something. And that was not a thought I liked in the slightest. His hands moved to my hips and a panic rose into me.

"There _is_ no relationship. You are a teacher, and I am your student. This would be illegal even _if_ I was consenting," I sniped, being forced to be bold by my panic. Somehow I had to talk my way out of this… Damnit! Where was everybody? Isn't anyone seeing this or trying to stop it?

His smirk widened, and he pushed my shirt up a little. Just enough to reveal a thin sliver of midriff. Then he started rubbing my hip bone (the bare skin… Part of the midriff I was showing) with his thumb. Goosebumps rose on my skin and I bit my lip, horrified and wishing I could stop this. But my arms were pinned to my sides by his weight and I could do nothing.

"Well, that didn't seem to stop Li'l Tommy Q., now **did** it? Didn't stop him from _jumping_ on you and **claiming** you as his… I bet I know how it all unfolded, too… Yeah, you were workin' _late_ one night… All **alone** in that little studio… The entire label was empty. There was this dim, romantic lighting and you two were sittin' there on this nice, warm couch. You were wearing a skirt or somethin', and his hand _accidentally_ brushed against **your** leg when he was strummin' on that guitar. And he kept _doin'_ that, right? Until you were about ready to **snap**, _tear_ off all your clothes and **do** him right _there_, up against the glass wall and the sound board. But you didn't snap, 'cause Tommy was messin' up too. His fingers were startin' to _slip_ on the strings and he kept **lookin'** at you with those big, _bright_, baby blue eyes of his. I bet they were _smoldering_ with some **mysterious** emotion, right? And you wanted _desperately_ to know **what** he was thinking, so there you were, _starin'_ right back, your legs crossed up all **tight**, pen and paper laying forgotten on the floor. And Tommy's _fumblin'_ his chords and he keeps **looking** at you and you're both getting all your notes **so** _wrong_ and it seems to get hotter and **hotter** in that little room… And the space between you two seems suddenly so _close_ and he keeps getting closer and **closer** to you… You can barely **breathe** anymore and you're _expecting_ it… Somethin' **big**, somethin' _huge_… And then he just stops playing and **rips** off that guitar and chucks it haphazardly and it breaks into a _million_ little pieces on the floor… And you know you should be _mad_, right? You should be downright **pissed**. But you're not. You kinda like it. You _like_ that dangerous, mile-long wild streak in him… And you don't care about the age difference or what anybody's gonna say and you're **about** to kiss him _when_… He grabs you and pulls you to him, as close as can **be**, and he plants one on _you_. And before you know it, you're _layin'_ there, back absolutely **flat** against the couch and your bra's on the lampshade, your shirt's on the table on top of your CD, his shirt's unbuttoned and then thrown off, and your skirt's all pushed _up_, and then it's just _his_ skin against **yours**, no impediments in the way… And your lips are all red and bruised, your skin's flushed, your eyelids are fluttering open and closed, your hair's a _mess_, your eyes are this real **dark** color blue, like the ocean or something, and you're shouting, _no_, **screaming** his name as _loud_ as you can, so loud you're _hoarse_, and his hair's so **soft**, his body's so _firm_ on top of yours, he's so warm, and he feels so **good** with his hips _buckling_ against yours… And after it's over he looks at you with this **real** wide smile and he puts his clothes on, real slow-like, because he _knows_ what he's doin' to you and he **likes** it… You **do** him a few more times around the studio before you finally get around to leaving. It's early in the morning, so you go back to _his_ place and do the deed a few more times. You call your parents when Tommy's getting a _li'l_ **fresh** with you, and you're kinda **breathy** and all, but you tell 'em that you're okay and you're with him and not to worry… Recording and writing ran a little _later_ than you thought. It's only hours later, when you two are lying there, **naked** and _sweaty_ and disheveled and sore and completely wrapped **up** in each other in his _bed_, that you _finally_ get around to writing that song… But only just _barely_… Am I in the ballpark, Jude?" Travis taunts, leaning in closer, licking his lips, in this husky voice… As if he's become lost in his… story.

As if he's imagining he's Tommy and ravishing me away to the moon. Oh, god. He got me back to thinking about sleeping with Tommy. Damn.

I'm picturing it and everything. I have mental photographs and now there's this story to how it's happened… And I don't know how in the hell I'm gonna be able to look at Tommy later. How will I keep a straight face? What's to stop me from jumping him right there?

And it's weird, but when he's saying all this, I noticed the resemblance. And it's so eerie to be frozen here, being regaled with some fake story about how Tommy nailed me (Oh, god)… With someone I hate, someone I detest, even more than I hated Tommy in the beginning. Because it's just hit me that except for the green eyes and a slight difference in skin tone, he looks almost exactly like Tommy. Especially with that angry look in his eyes. That look reminds me of the look in Tommy's eyes during his fight with Chaz. I've never seen a look like that in his eyes since he kissed me. I'm stunned by this little revelation, and it takes me a while to find my voice.

"I-I'm not sleeping with Tommy…" I mumbled, eyes wide and huge, jaw dropped. He seemed slightly surprised too, and this cool, disbelieving look crossed his face. I waited for him to speak. After a while, he shook his head, laughing bitterly.

"But you will be, Jude… They all do," He muttered vehemently, and I found myself more confused than ever. They? Who are they? Instead, I did something stupid.

"Whoever said that _I_ was the one resisting _him_? I'm **jailbait**, remember?" I retorted angrily, and it felt like I was talking to Tommy. Telling him off like I'd always wanted to. But being my producer, he was unreachable and some unapproachable ideal… He was that ex-boyband Superstar, and I was just Jude Harrison, Talent Contest winner… Nothing special.

Not some blonde bombshell with green eyes and bouncy boobs and a cheery, peppy attitude. Not some singer with a sugar-sweet pop sound, dirty dance moves, and a skimpy wardrobe. I don't have a higher number or an earlier birthday.

I was Jude. Jude with guitar-calloused fingers, short, unmanicured nails, and bright, stick-straight Bozo-red hair. I wore beat-up Converse, old t-shirts, a guitar pick necklace, and ripped jeans that have seen better days. I couldn't dance to save my life, and I was pessimistic as could be. My eyes are blue and my chest isn't that big.

I'm not Sadie. I'm not Eden. I'm not Portia.

I'm Jude Janis Harrison.

"Oh, I _sure_ do… But, **trust** me, _you'll_ give in…" He drawled, and I noticed that he was checking me out. Ew. Could you hit on me a little less, please? Seriously. He's my teacher and he's making it obvious. Skeez.

And then, out of nowhere… Okay, maybe somewhere, I mean, the entire conversation WAS leading up to it! But the point is that HE KISSED ME, DAMNIT! And I can't deal. He's my teacher and he's like a gazillion years older than me (Hello, 25!)!

He kissed me, smirked and left. But not without making a snarky comment about Tommy.

"Bet Quincy's never kissed you like _that_, Jude…"

And then he turned and left. Like that. Just like that. As if it was nothing. Just like Tommy did… Sort of. ARGH!

So I'm leaning against my car, absolutely breathless and stunned and ANGRY. I could not think straight to save my life and I'm not even sure I CAN drive, even if I wanted to, which I don't.

I just got off detention, I think permanently… My Music teacher made out with me on my CAR! And I STILL can't stop thinking about Tommy! And Travis… I am so SCREWED!

And I also happen to be late for the studio. Sixteen minutes and some odd seconds too late. Just like my age. My stupid age.

Something I couldn't forget, even if I tried.

ARGH! I HATE my life!

- Loren ;

And so ends another cheerful little chapter… Poor Jude. What's a girl to do? I mean, guys are just hitting on her left and right! Poor dear. Anyways, if you liked it, review… Hmm, a quote from the next chapter… Let's see…

Okay, so Darius and Tommy are both in the next chapter… Oh, the song featured (in that chapter) is the Boyz Attack! song I wrote… Lol…

"…They called me twice more, once asking about my sex life… Yes, with Tommy! And then I had to point out that I have no sex life, least of all with Tommy… Ugh. And the second time, they asked me about, and no, I am not kidding, my "pregnancy". Needless to say, I was incredibly insulted…"

Not exactly the quote I wanted to use, but, hey, it's longer, and it'll do.

Anyways, review! I really appreciate your reviews, guys... They make me happy. Very happy.


	12. It's You

Well, Travis is Jude's music teacher (Mr. Quinn… Which is confusing, because she calls him Travis, Quinn, Mr. Quinn… And about a gazillion other things)… And Tim is a random older guy that Jude met in a karaoke bar whom she knows nothing about… He could be married or engaged or forty-seven, for all she knows… Hehe. Man, Jude's got some serious boy issues… Ah, me too…

Unfortunately, Claddagh Ring (why do I get the feeling I've read an Instant Star fic by you somewhere?), it'll be ages until the Travis/Tommy confrontation, because Jude won't tell Tommy about Travis' being an ass for a while… And I think it'll kinda be an accident… However, I'm gonna try and stick Boyz Attack in one of these chapters (upcoming), 'cause there's this thing I've been dying to write with them and then a sort of resulting thing… And let's just say Jude's a very surly, broken-hearted 12-year-old who is in her 12-year-old version of Hell :) ... (I'm SO excited!) 'Cause it's after the party (which you'll find out about in this episode), but before Jude starts fallin' for Tim a little.

grins wickedly Nice try, jazzyboo. I have to give you credit there… Interesting theory… But I never said Tommy had brothers… _Tim's_ (yes, all the T names are confusing) the one with two brothers… And, by the way, Tim doesn't really have a last name yet…

Isn't it weird though, how no one does much with Tommy's family? I mean, I saw one fic with his mom in it, and she was nice… And he had like three sisters in that one… They always make him have a sister… I guess people like Protective!Tommy…

It's interesting that so many people have theories about my li'l ole story here… Hehe. And I only I know where they're going (half the time… I get all my best ideas in the shower… Seriously… Oh, and then sometimes a line'll come to me and I'll write it into the story… Like the phone calls… But I'll get there later)…

Oh, and Sadie'll pop back up sometime… Tommy's her man and she'll be damned if she just gives him up to her sister without a fight… But they obviously have some "issues" to sort out… Which I'll deal with somewhere after I have Jude and Tommy talk (which could be ages, 'cause, 'member, he's totally avoiding her)…

Anyways, so glad to see somebody liked his little paragraph! Hehe… Quite a story-teller, isn't he? What can I say, I was on a roll… Lol… Anyways, she'll use that in an upcoming chapter, but now… You get to see Darius and Tommy and the Boyz Attack song I wrote… Teehee…

Anyways, so I just saw the episode! So awesome! But, you know, Jude made this huge life decision for Tommy, and how does he repay her? He frenches her sister (who was bein' muy selfish… I mean, whining about how bad her life was? Let's see… Jude's boyfriend dumped her and then she found out that her dad was cheating on her mom by walking in on them and then her best friend hated her… I mean, Jude's is clearly worse there) and then yells at her for trying to do something nice… Ugh, I wanted to hit him! I mean, he told Sadie NO ages ago… And nothing much has changed, really. But out of nowhere he starts hitting on her? What's up with that? Is he trying to get his mind off Jude or something? He was being SO forward. Ugh. And like Sadie doesn't know that Jude's got a crush on Tommy… I mean, c'mon, it's so frickin' obvious! They were fighting over him in Hey, Sister, for crying out loud!

But Jamie and Kat are cute. Though he probably shouldn't be trying to get with Jude in the next episode if he wants to stay friends.

And Tommy's song was really good, actually! I mean, it really wasn't bad… It was cool… But I'm generally not picky when it comes to music as long as it's not rap or country… And he was really hot… And I'm gonna shut up now (But isn't it really weird that they actually do have a media class there? Jude could have a really interesting project).

So, uh, let's see… I'm gonna say that Georgia and Darius are sorta co-managing her… Or something. Actually, the way that Georgia and Darius are in this chapter is kinda weird when you compare it to how they were in the episode… Well, aside from Darius being smooth (with the roses and all). And Darius was so supportive of the whole Jude/Tommy thing, which he really isn't in this… Other than that, can't think of much else.

Don't own Instant Star, Jude, Darius, Tommy, Georgia, E.J., Jamie, Kat, Shay, Stuart, Victoria, Boyz Attack, "24 Hours", Eden, "Pick up the Pieces", Sadie, Under the Mike, Portia, or anything else you might recognize.

I do own Tory, Mr. Quinn, Trish, Taylor, "It's You", Thad, Tiffany, Tammy, and, uh, I think that's about it.

So, without any further ado, here's the next chapter…

Anyways, forty minutes and a coke later, I was at G. Major. And believe me, I could tell that Georgia was gonna be pissed. But hey, I've had a rough day!

I mean, what with my locker being spraypainted, my car being keyed, tabloids covering my locker, paparazzi calling me nonstop (They called me twice more, once asking about my sex life… Yes, with Tommy! And then I had to point out that I have no sex life, least of all with Tommy… Ugh. And the second time, they asked me about, and no, I am not kidding, my "pregnancy". Needless to say, I was incredibly insulted), being grounded, not seeing Kat or Jamie all day, missing lunch, being put on the spot in both Music and Media and Pop Culture, oh, and of course, Mr. Quinn KISSING me! Out of nowhere!

Argh!

So I breezed into the studio, where I was promptly ambushed by E.J. and Georgia. I gulped, feeling nervous. And I hadn't even seen Tommy yet. I am so doomed. Well, might as well try and play it cool… Hey, if I could sorta pull it off when Travis was scamming on me… Wait, Travis? I gotta stop calling that sexual predator of a teacher of mine by his first name.

He is scum. I should report his sorry ass… But what if they don't believe me? Everyone thinks I'm going out with Tommy and Travis is only like two years older than Tommy. Argh. They'd call me a hypocrite and just write it off as my thing for older guys. Ugh… And I don't even know how old Tim is! He could be 29 for all I know!

"Um, hey, guys… Long time no see… Uh, I have a bit of a problem… You see, my car's been completely keyed and somehow these paparazzi all have my phone number and they've been calling and harassing me all day… So I think I need a mechanic and a lawyer 'cause I kinda said that I was gonna sue their asses and in order to do that I need a lawyer," I replied casually, biting my lip. I was rambling a little. But, argh, this is so nerve-wracking.

The look on Georgia's face scared me. It hit me then that she was gonna yell at me. Like Mom, Dad, Sadie, Tommy, and just about everyone else had. I should not have to deal with this…

Why does being a rock star always mean going it alone?

"What were you _thinking_!" Georgia questioned shrilly… Oh, great. Here it comes. "Kissing **Tommy**, a **man** who is _what_, **seven** years older than-"

"_Six_, actually," I found myself interjecting. A rather stupid move now that I think about it. Georgia gave me this absolutely murderous look and continued with her tirade.

"-_Six_ years older than you… And your **producer** to boot! On stage in front of cameras, a full stadium… On your **ex**-boyfriend's _tour_ nonetheless! And speaking of Shay, I've got _Darius_ on my **ass** about this! Did you _seriously_ think no one would find about what happened with you and Shay in your suite? He's sold that tired old story to **all** the tabloids! Your name is being raked through the **mud**, Jude!" Georgia shouted, looking less calm than I had ever seen her. And all of a sudden… Behind her was my supposed boyfriend. Who just looked like he'd been hit by a train.

"Hi, Tommy," I mumbled weakly, laughing nervously as Georgia spun around, eyes widening. Tommy had this betrayed look on his face, which I can only guess had to do with that stuff Georgia had said about Shay and I. There was no Shay and I, though, and now Tommy thought that I'd used him to get Shay back… Or worse, slept with Shay! Ugh. I am **not** a slut… Despite what my locker might say.

Before I could get in a single word in my defense, Tommy shook his head and gave me this look that made me feel like total crap before turning around swiftly and heading off towards one of the studios. Whoa, wait, I can hurt Tommy now? But I haven't even done anything. And I can hurt Tommy?

Since when do I have that power… Wait, I have power now? But I'm not even 18 yet…

Ahh! Tommy's leaving. I've gotta stop him.

"Tommy, _wait_! It's not what you think!" I cried out, moving to go after him. I could tell the interns were determined to keep their stares to a minimum. Good for them. Nice and professional.

Georgia grabbed my arm, reeling me back with a slightly peeved, stern look on her face. Her grip was a bit harder than I would've liked, but I forced myself to meet her gaze for an instant.

"Look, you two can _chat_ later, okay? This is sort of important…" Georgia interjected sharply, and it occurred to me then that I hadn't seen her this frustrated since I wrapped up my last album.

I bit my lip, watching Tommy walk farther and farther away from me by the second. For some reason, I could feel the panic rise in my throat. I wrenched free of Georgia's grasp, taking a few steps forward, but he was almost gone.

"Tommy, I'm so in love with you that I'm singing _Boyz_ _Attack_! for **you**!" I screeched, and Tommy stopped walking immediately. He spun around in a flash and stared at me, wide-eyed. Georgia was slack-jawed and E.J. was about to faint, I'm sure. Biting my lip, I started to sing the song.

"_Oh, I know I'd be lost without that pretty face of yours… The only face I wanna see next to me in the morning… Big blue eyes and pink lips make me keep coming back for more… When you're with me, it'll never be boring! And I can't promise I'll always be happy, but I can promise you that I'll try… Give me a chance, let me be your guy!_" I sang loudly, surprisingly on key (entirely). And yes, I realize that I'm not a guy, but I'm not in Boyz Attack! either…

Everyone's probably staring at me, most of all Tommy.

And I know why Tommy's staring at me. This song? It's special to him… It's his favorite Boyz Attack! song… Don't ask me how I know that, because I don't even know how I do. But it's his favorite… He wrote it, of course… Naturally.

But he didn't just write it. He sang it, he mixed the beats in the background… This was the first song he'd ever produced! This song was his baby and he loved it! Just like I loved "24 Hours".

"_It's you, it's you, it's you… You're the only one I see! That's how you know I'll be true… 'Cause in my world, there's only me and you…_" I chanted in a poppy sort of tone… Man, I kinda felt like Eden. Yikes.

Georgia knows it's Tommy's favorite. Anyways, this song ("It's You") was the very last track on their very last album… So it sounds a little different… It was sort of in that direction he'd been wanting to go in. Needless to say, it would've been their last great hit, I'm sure, but the band broke up before it could drop… Still, that CD went triple platinum…

What lofty goals I have to aspire to…

This song was the only Boyz Attack! song I would willingly listen to. And now everybody in the known world thinks I'm dating its Poster Boy.

"_Sure there might be others out there, trying to come between us… But who says we have to let them? I'm in love with you and I'm not letting go! For you, I'm giving up all the others… Baby, when you're with me, I can't think of another!_" I crooned, walking towards Tommy, who looked somewhat amazed and somewhat embarrassed with a side of confused. Me too, man.

"_It's you, it's you, it's you… You're the only one I see… That's how you know I'll be true, 'cause in my world, there's only me and you!_" I hummed, swaying my hips a little and resisting the urge to break out into cheesy Boyz Attack! dance moves I was sure Tommy knew by heart…

And speaking of Tommy, I'm getting closer and closer to him…

"_Baby, I'm different than I used to be… You see, I've changed completely… Didn't used to think much of me, but I'm not that same guy I was before. I changed when you walked out that door!_" I continued, stopping a little bit in front of Tommy.

Tommy smiled slightly, trying to hide his amusement. Everyone else, I'm sure, was staring at me, shell-shocked. I, Jude Harrison, hard-core punk-rock princess, was serenading Little Tommy Q. with a Boyz Attack! song. But really, after recording "Pick up the Pieces", why are they surprised? Anyways, I grabbed Tommy's hand (somehow without having a heart attack… Shocking, no?).

"_It's you, it's you, it's you…_" I pressed his hand against my heart, which was beating faster than usual. Tommy's eyes were wide and rather surprised. In retrospect, a twenty-two-year-old touching a sixteen-year-old's chest might not have looked very good. "_You're the only one I see…_" I ran a hand down his cheek and I couldn't help but notice how he leaned into my touch. A thrill ran through me at the thought. "_That's how you know I'll be true…_" I gently placed his hands on my hips and Tommy stiffened a little… "_Because in my world, there's only me and you…_" Finishing the song I leaned in to give him a hug, throwing my arms around his neck, closing my eyes contentedly for a minute… Everything was all right. I was in Tommy's arms. In the distance, I heard several loud claps and some grudging applause, but I didn't care.

"What can I say, Girl? You made it your own…" Tommy whispered gently, echoing my own words, and I could feel my body flood with pride at his words. A wide smile stretched across my face.

Tommy broke the hug, gently pressing my hips backwards to widen the gap between us a little. Then he bent down to whisper in my ear. "We _seriously_ need to talk, Jude." And just after saying that, less than a moment later, he was off, headed towards the studio without a backwards glance. We do need to talk. But why is it that every time we start to talk, he leaves?

I turned around slowly, feeling a wave of embarrassment descend upon me. Georgia was staring at me expectantly (I got the feeling that this had less to do with the age difference or protectiveness of either myself or Tommy, but of something else entirely), and E.J. looked the most excited I have ever seen her. Fortunately for me, I think, E.J. raced up to me and latched unto me. She was giggling, yes, seriously, giggling…

She dragged me into a free studio, practically bouncing up and down, and bounded unto a couch, pulling me along with her for the ride. A bright, luminous smile lit up her face and I patiently awaited whatever she was going to say. Good or bad, this whole me-dating-Tommy-thing was great publicity for my next album.

"Aww, Jude… That was just _so_ cute back in there with you singing to Tommy! The press will absolutely **love** you two… You guys are so **adorable** together! It's nice to see celebrity couples that are actually in _love_, for a change… This, this, it opens up **so** many possibilities! You two could do a duet… **Ooh**, and a music video! And the dates and parties and clubs! We could **totally** plan this amazing series of perfect dates where everyone could see you and _oh_, it would just be **so** great!" E.J. rambled on enthusiastically. She had only just briefly paused to take a breath when I interrupted.

I had to bring her back down to Earth.

"E.J., Tommy's six years older than I am, a former boy band member, and my producer/co-writer. It's illegal for us to go out. My parents don't like him… They'll press charges… And I really don't want Tommy to have to deal with that. Aside from that, he's dating my SISTER, Sadie! We're not dating. Period. E.J., ever since I kissed him at that dumb concert, nothing's gone right!" I explained, noticing I was starting to sound slightly hysterical.

E.J. frowned at this prospect, but looked interested in what I had to say. She gestured for me to elaborate further. Truthfully, I needed to. I needed to talk to somebody about all of the crap that had been going on lately, and it looked like I was going to find it here in E.J.

"I mean, my life sucks in all aspects… I'm grounded until I turn eighteen… My sister hates me, my parents think I'm becoming something I'm not… Things are rapidly declining at school and I just started today, but my car still got keyed, my locker got not only covered with tabloids, but with bright red spray-paint… I'm getting hate mail, I haven't seen my friends in over three months, and my teachers are out to get me! Oh, and insane paparazzi somehow have my phone number and they keep calling me, asking me insane things like, "How far along are you, Jude… When are you due?" Not to mention things here… You saw Georgia flipping out back there! And Tommy's avoiding me… Not to mention that crap that Shay's apparently been saying about me behind my back! Ugh. I need a lawyer and a mechanic," I ranted, annoyed. Seriously, I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Really.

E.J. looked a bit surprised, but hurriedly jotted down what I needed. A moment later she looked up.

"Don't worry, Jude. I'll talk to Georgia about it. Actually, I think I could get you the lawyer pretty soon. Georgia's got this friend…" E.J. assured, eyes narrowing in thought. Ah, well, that was E.J. for you. Brilliant businesswoman, really.

A moment later, she leaned in closer to me, a mischievous smile on her face. "So, how was he? He was good, right? Because he looks… hot. His body's really great, right? Nice, toned muscles, ripped abs and all that, right?" E.J. whispered conspiratorially, elbowing me in the side. I blinked at her in confusion for a moment before I realized that she was talking about Tommy. I blushed the color of my hair, throwing my head in my hands.

"**God**, E.J.! Not _you_ too! I am **not** having sex with Tommy!" I moaned, sighing and looking back up at a frowning E.J. She gave me a skeptical look.

"You sure about that?" She questioned, shooting me a look. I rolled my eyes at her, shaking my head.

"I'm **sure**, E.J.," I stressed, staring at her. E.J. frowned again, looking as if lost in thought for a moment.

"Are you absolutely sure there's nothing you want to tell me? Because I thought I saw some-" E.J. posed speculatively, staring into space.

I rolled my eyes again, leaping to my feet and interrupting her before she could say whatever she'd seen… If it had been anything. I really don't think she believes me. How sad. The only person on my side doesn't believe me anyways!

"I **think** I would remember losing my virginity to _Tommy_!" I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest. For a moment, E.J. looked sort of surprised. What, she thought I'd slept with Shay? Bleh. Gimme a break. Asshole cheated on me. As if _he'd_ get any.

That's probably why he cheated on me, come to think of it… Meh. Eden's a cradle-robbing ho.

"Besides, he's got my _sister_ for that," I muttered bitterly. Oh great. I just reminded myself of the likelihood that Tommy's been with Sadie. Just what I need to think about. As if I don't have enough problems with him already!

E.J. still looked like she didn't completely believe me, but I think she bought it a little more. Which is good, because it's the truth! E.J. rose to her feet.

"Anyways, Jude, you have those two photoshoots, which I've scheduled for Friday and Sunday. We're meeting with the make-up people here tomorrow. Oh, and you're scheduled to do Under the Mike this Saturday night, so you and Tommy better have a new song ready… This is practically zero-hour and there's no time for messing around, got it?" E.J. stated authoritatively.

I did what the star is supposed to do in a situation like this, which is to nod and nod some more. "You won't have to worry about it," I promised (referring to the last part, where she'd mentioned messing around and Tommy in the same sentence… Like he'd touch me like that. Hello, illegal…). With that, E.J. motioned for me to follow her out, still talking.

"Anyways, I'll ask Georgia about getting you a lawyer… And I'll see what I can do about a mechanic for your car… It's parked out front, right? Anyways, is there anything else I can do for you?" E.J. elucidated, stopping suddenly in the middle of the main room. Glancing around the room, I got an idea.

"Yeah… Actually. There is." I smiled a little, pausing for dramatic effect… Or something. "Tommy's birthday's coming up, right? In November? Anyways, we should throw him a party… I mean, I know 23 isn't really a big milestone, but he's done so much here for everyone, and he's coming out with his own CD… You could play his first solo single there… Or something… Kind of like you did at my… party," I replied, frowning from the memory of my fiasco of a birthday party.

E.J.'s eyes lit up and I could practically see the dollar signs flashing in them. She pulled me into a huge hug, looking quite possibly happier than she'd been earlier. "That's a great idea, Jude! It'll be a celebrity-studded event! We can invite the rest of Boyz Attack! and Darius and Portia and Shay, and, oh, you, of course! You'll be our guest of honor! Well, aside from Tommy anyways… And he's dating your sister or something, right? So she'll have to come… And Eden, if Shay's dating her… Yeah, sorry about that one… Ooh, and Tory and Trish have to come! And Thad and Tiffany… And Tammy, but Tommy wouldn't like that… Oh, well, it's his birthday, he has to deal! Ooh, and I can't forget Taylor… They'll love that. Yeah, this is gonna be good… Ahh, I have to research all of Tommy's favorites! And it has to be a surprise or he'll never go with it… Yes, I'd say this is shaping up quite nicely," E.J. mumbled to herself feverishly. She continued to ramble on about the preparations for Tommy's birthday party, but her babble was unintelligible and…

Darius was here. Yes, Darius as in Darius Mills, ex-rapper turned music mogul, uncle of "S to the H to the A to the Y" Shay. And he did not look happy. And it only got worse when he saw me. Looked like he wanted to punch me. Ouch.

Jeez, protective of li'l Shay-Shay, isn't he?

Crap, now I'm starting to think like Tommy!

No, wait, I'm good. I'm not thinking of Sadie in a sexual context… So I'm definitely not thinking like Saint Tommy.

Oh, great. Now I'm thinking like Shay! I think…

Ugh. I hate this.

Hmm, there's Georgia. She looks nervous. Really nervous. Ooh, looks like Darius is gonna talk to her. Hmm, wonder what it's about?

"Georgia, I'm buying the label from you."

Wow. I did not expect that. And, apparently, neither did Georgia.

All Georgia managed to say was a stunned, "No."

Darius doesn't like hearing no. Just like his nephew.

"I'm buying G. Major."

Hmm, wonder why? Where is he going with this?

"I-I own it. I'm not selling, Darius," Georgia stutters, trying to walk away from him. Why is Georgia stuttering? I've never seen her like this before. Odd.

"Georgia, baby, I think you are…"

Okay, is it just me, or did that sound kind of sleazy? Oh, and there goes his hand on her arm… And she's not moving! Man, he is a sleaze. Just like Shay! But, hey, at least Darius is classy about it… Not all blunt.

"N-no, Darius, I'm really not. Anyways, why do you want it so bad?" Georgia said, trying her best to retort bravely. Assuming she's scared. Which she shouldn't be, but whatever…

"Why _do_ I want it so bad?" Darius restated, literally checking Georgia out, which is kinda disgusting. And Georgia! Georgia blushed. Yeah, blushed like a schoolgirl.

Georgia likes Darius. She has a crush on Darius. Georgia Bevans, the most sensible person I know, has a crush on Darius Mills, control freak extraordinaire. I cannot believe this! It's like a sign of the apocalypse or something. It's just… Whoa.

It blows the mind, you know? I mean, here I thought Georgia was this wise, zen adult who had it all together… And it turns out she's just like me, crushing on a rappin' producer (Thank god Tommy doesn't rap… I shudder to think of it… Man, I have **weird** celebrity boyfriends… They're music clichés. A rapper and a boybander… Both teen heartthrobs… But Tommy's not really my boyfriend… Everyone just thinks he is). Hey, wait… Georgia's got it bad for my ex-boyfriend's uncle/alleged boyfriend's ex-brother-in-law. That's creepy. And it's Georgia.

Sensible, smart, calm Georgia. And petty, angry, self-absorbed Darius.

"But, Georgia, if you must know, I've seen the way you're running things around here… And that stuff with Quincy and Jude… It ain't gonna fly," Darius said, in I suppose what he thought was a quiet tone. Needless to say, I heard him from all the way across the room, and deciding I could no longer watch their flirting match without getting ill, I strode over to them.

Darius looked a bit surprised, but I didn't care. Rolling my eyes, putting my hands in my back pockets, I surveyed the two of them coolly. Georgia was still pink. "So, Darius… You were saying you wanted to buy the label… Why was that again?" I prompted icily. Darius shot me a nasty look.

"I think you know why," Was all Darius said.

I sighed and rolled my eyes again. "This **can't** be about Shay." I muttered, but somehow I had the feeling that it all boiled down to Shay.

"I think **you've** done enough to Shay… After what happened at the hotel at Monday," Darius muttered vehemently, glaring at me darkly. Oh, he's got the nerve to bring that up? What exactly did Shay tell him I did, anyways?

"_Oh_, so Shay told you that he came unto me, I told him to stop, and when he didn't, I gave him a black eye? Huh, funny, because that's what _really_ happened. I was getting the impression that he told you all that I broke his heart or something…" I scoffed, still having no idea of what Shay had said I'd done to him. Ten bucks says it involves sex, Tommy, me making a decision, and his heart being broken. Also, bet it makes Tommy and me look bad and Shay look like some kinda hero. Oh, crap… I just mentioned Tommy and sex in the same sentence… Again!

Bad Jude! Bad Jude! Jude doesn't think about Tommy in that way. Nope. No siree… I had that dream, though… Great… Just what I need to be picturing right now… Tommy naked.

Oh, jeez. I really need to shut up that thought section of my brain. I can't stop thinking about Tommy and it's driving me insane!

"Jude, what happened?" A concerned Georgia asked, temporarily forgetting about her crush. I sighed, really not wanting to go into this.

"I'll just tell my lawyer once we sue Shay for libel… Anyways, E.J. said you know a good lawyer for me… And I think I've got some songwriting to do…" I replied quickly, deftly dodging the topic. Georgia nodded a bit reluctantly, looking tired. Darius walked into her office and, just as she was about to go after him, I grabbed her arm.

"And Georgia, for the _love_ of God, **control** yourself!"

Georgia tensed, making a face and glaring at me.

"Speak for yourself," Georgia scoffed, rolling her eyes. I was trying hard to ignore the fact that she had a point there.

"Just didn't want my label sold off to Darius…" I muttered, gritting my teeth. I spoke my words through an obviously fake, forced smile. Georgia matched my smile with one of her own.

"Well, that makes two of us, Jude," Georgia replied calmly, cooling down a little. I rolled my eyes at her.

"You _like_ Darius," I stated accusingly, just as she thought she was out of the woods. I made sure to stress and enunciate like. Georgia paled a little, jaw dropping open slightly.

A moment later, she sighed, shoulders sagging. "How obvious was I?" Georgia asked self-consciously, and suddenly I felt like the grown-up. I thought it over for a minute.

"You couldn't have been more obvious if you had a neon sign with blinking lights," I responded finally, smirking a little. Georgia groaned and sighed once more. Then she shooed me off and followed Darius into her office.

I took that opportunity to head off in the direction Tommy had gone in. Studio Two.

But Tommy wasn't there.

So, since I need my co-writer to write a song with me, I went to check the other studios. But he wasn't in Studio One, Studio Three, or Studio Four. So that left Studio Five, a.k.a. the crappiest studio on earth (yeah, the one I was in when Shay came here). I carefully approached the door, glancing around to see if anybody was nearby. No one was, so I lightly pushed open the door, hearing some music playing inside. It was faint, but I caught it.

I poked my head in the door and smiled when I saw Tommy hunched over the soundboard. I couldn't see what he was doing due to the dim lighting, but I squinted a little and then saw that he was mixing. I didn't recognize the songs he was spinning, but it sounded pretty cool (this sorta reminded me of the time when I walked in on him singing "24 Hours"… There's nothing hotter than a guy you like singing your song… Okay, I'd better stop now before I become a pile of jello).

And aww, wasn't this cute… He was humming along! Aww. He was wearing headphones, and as I noticed that and the dim lighting, a wicked grin spread across my face as I got an idea. I fought back the urge to chuckle and swiftly and quietly approached Tommy.

But fate had other plans, for as I was approaching Tommy, my phone vibrated against my leg.

- Loren ;

It took me a really long time to figure out who was gonna call Jude, but I think you'll like it. That is, when I finish the chapter.

So, next up… Jude's got a meeting with her spiffy new lawyer. And she writes a new song…

_Our self-control totally imploding and eroding_

_Inhibitions lowered and weakened_

_This makes impulses rise_

_Emotion makes voices deepened_

_These actions surely are not wise_

- The song… I actually really like the title… It's kinda ironic. Anyhow, that's the chorus.

If you liked the chapter (which I really hope you did), then please review! I love your reviews! They totally make my day! Especially after the class was really hard on my group in Acting 'cause the regular teacher wasn't there (They didn't say one positive thing, seriously… They said there should've been more movement and our positioning was wrong and I made the wrong stage turn and the guy had his back to the audience and AUGH… It was bad. I wanted to beat up the freshmen… And some of them weren't even polite with their criticism! Argh! Which was bad, 'cause we were like the first to go or something)… And we had a pep assembly today… Which I was falling asleep during (which is really impressive, considering how loud it was)… And then I fell asleep during C.A. while reading 1984… And then I woke up without the book just as it was time to play Heads Up, Five Up… And, yes, I know that I'm a sophomore… Lol… It's been a looong day.


	13. Let Me Fall

Actually, when I saw Unsweet Sixteen, y'know the part when Georgia and Darius greet each other and kiss each other on the cheek? I thought that was kinda cute. They'd make an interesting "power" couple. But Jude could so wind up doomed if they hooked up. So that's where that came from… And Darius is sorta flirtatious anyways. Oh, and in the last one, she did interrupt Tommy's fight with Darius, even though that was because Tommy had work to do, but whatever.

Anyways, as for the T names… Well, you'll see. There's a reason there's so many T-names. laughs evilly

But, no, seriously… You guys are making me blush! I seriously LOVE your reviews… I'm not used to getting so many… Lol… Anyways, if this sounds like Jude, I guess it's because I'm kinda like her… In some way. I mean, I can't play the guitar and, as I said before, my hair is dark brown/pink (which is turning gold and white… Quite the interesting sight, really!), my eyes are brown, and I'm a lot better of a student than she is (though I'm a bit worried about Math… Okay, really worried… Not the point, though). But I am a sophomore, and I write songs sometimes… Like if I get really pissed. But it's not usually a full song, just usually some verses. Like when this girl was laughing at me when I fell asleep in Study Hall.

Yeah, I don't usually use that many bolds and italics (but I'll try and work on not condensing them when I use them)… That was just for Travis' little speech… Hehe. Which pops up again in the chapter… So they're generally more spaced out. Except for Travis' monologue, which shows up again later.

At some point, I think I'm gonna have Jude write a telling-off song about Mr. Quinn, 'cause he's an ass… And she has one telling off Tommy… Oh, and as for the whole no one seeing Travis feeling Jude up… Well, actually, that's a good question. Let's just say if anyone saw, they didn't care ('cause pretty much only Joan, Jamie, most of her teachers, and Kat like her… So even if they thought something bad was goin' down, they wouldn't care or try and interfere). Or they assumed he was Tommy or something. 'Cause remember, she has that thing for older guys. Or who knows, maybe someone did see her.

And yeah, Angry!Tommy is hot. Seriously. Like when he was singing Frozen… So hot! Oh, and when he was GLARING at Chaz like that… Speaking of which, what the hell kind of name is Chaz? Did they "change" it up? Kinda like they made Tommy "Little Tommy Q." and that J.P. guy J.P.? Was it originally like Chase or something and they made it flashier or something? And when Tommy said that Darius made him do taco commercials… What exactly did he mean by that? Not the point.

Anyways, it's so weird… I was watching part of this movie today, The Learning Curve, I think? Anyways, there was this record label in it… And the guy who owned it was sorta evil/insane. Guess what the label was called? Yeah, Tude Records. I was like… whoa. Weird. Of course, it could be like (Atti)'Tude… But whatever.

Oh, random fact: Coincidentally, the name Tommy means twin. Or Thomas, that is…

Let's see… Don't own Jude, Tommy, Stuart, Victoria, Tory, E.J., Georgia, G. Major, Studio B., Boyz Attack, Darius, Shay, Playboy/Playgirl (don't ask)… Do own Mr. Quinn and "Minor Liaison". Oh, songs and flashbacks are in italics…

* * *

"Hey, I was wonderin-"

"For the _last_ time, **no**, I am **not** pregnant with Tommy Quincy's _love_ child!" I snapped loudly, assuming I was talking to yet another annoying reporter and forgetting who was in the room with me. Tommy shot up from his chair as if he had been burned. The absolutely horrified look on Tommy's face will stick with me for the rest of my life.

"_What_, Jude? You're pregnant! That son of a bi-" Dad gaped, sounding both astounded and angry. Crap. It was Dad. And I'd just given him another reason to be suspicious. Grreat.

I quickly cut Dad off before he could continue. "No, Dad, I said I'm **not** pregnant!" I replied speedily, feeling my face flush a little as I met Tommy's eyes. Tommy visibly winced, fidgeting in the uncomfortable way men do when women bring up things like babies (I know, I've seen Maury… Some guys have serious paternity issues).

"Then why'd you answer like that, Jude? Where are you? Why aren't you home? You're with _him_, aren't you? Aren't you, Jude?" Dad questioned quickly and accusingly. My jaw dropped. Dad had never been so… abrupt… and paranoid… with me before. Why didn't he believe me about Tommy?

Speaking of Tommy, he took that opportunity to slowly pass me by, attempting to leave without a word. "No, Dad, I'm _not_ with him! I'm at the studio, **working**!" I retorted, grabbing Tommy's shoulder. I pushed the receiver away from my mouth to speak with him. "Tommy, **stay**," I hissed authoritatively.

I could sense Dad's unhappiness over the line.

"The studio where **he** works?" Dad interrogated suspiciously. I rolled my eyes at his antics. What other studio did I record at? He's been here with me, for crying out loud!

"Dad, he's my producer. We work at the same studio," I stated bluntly, annoyed with the unfulfilling conversation. Tommy shrugged out of my grip and once again, I covered the receiver of the phone with my hand. "You said we needed to talk, Tommy. Actually, you've been saying that for some time now, only I don't see you doing anything about it. We **need** to talk," I pointed out, feeling somewhat put off by his avoidance of the topic at hand.

"He's there with you!" Dad exclaimed loudly. I fought the urge to scream in frustration. Instead, I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling shortly, not looking at Tommy.

"No, he's not," I groaned tiredly, fed up with this fight. I could tell it was headed in that direction. He was just looking for a good enough excuse. Then I looked up and saw Tommy heading out the door. I blanched, hurrying out after him. "Tommy, wait up!" I cried loudly, forgetting that I was still on the phone with Dad.

Dad got angry. "You're lying! He's there with you! I just heard you call his name!" Dad squawked, insulted. I mentally cursed my own stupidity, rolling my eyes at him.

"Dad, you're hallucinating. Your paranoia is making you hear things that aren't there. You might want to see someone about that," I remarked distractedly, racing after Tommy. So he thought he could run away from me? Not on my life.

"You can't run away from me forever, Tommy! We need to talk about this, and you can't get rid of me _that_ easily!" I called after him, right on his heels. But out of nowhere, Georgia swooped in, grabbing my arm, looking rather smug, I noted. She dragged me away, and my eyes locked with Tommy's. He sighed, slumping over a little.

"Look, Jude, you're obviously busy. Just meet me in Studio B once you're done with whatever you're doing, okay, Jude? We'll get down to-We'll write a song, okay?" Tommy said smoothly and abruptly, stumbling over his words a little. I nodded, which was pretty much all I could do as Georgia dragged me into one of the meeting rooms.

"Get rid of you? I knew he'd do this to you! Just sleep with you and then throw you away! He's not good for you, Jude!" Dad yammered on, gasping. I could take no more of this. So I hung up and turned off the phone without another word. Georgia was smirking at me and I glared at her viciously.

"Oh, what are _you_ looking so smug about? Did you make out with _Darius_ or something?" I snarled nastily. Georgia started to snicker. Real mature of her, the Darius-loving-fiend! I rolled my eyes at her and noticed that a woman was sitting at the head of the table (the far end, which was all the way across the room). I glanced to Georgia, who smiled and then smiled at the woman. The woman smiled at Georgia, getting up from the table, walking over to her.

Georgia hugged the woman tightly, kissing her on the cheek. A moment later they broke apart. Georgia gestured to the woman.

"Jude, I'd like you to meet one of my oldest and dearest friends, Victoria LaFramboise-Ruelle. She's going to be your lawyer, and trust me, Tory's the cream of the crop. She could go over some contracts or just proceed with the lawsuits, if that's what you want… Anyways, I'm going to go now, I've got a new artist to hear… Tory, it was great seeing you!" Georgia explained cheerfully. She looked genuinely happy to see Victoria.

Just as Georgia was about to leave, I smirked and remarked in a whisper, "Oh, you mean like _Darius'_ contract for my management?" Georgia had the grace to flush before leaving and Victoria looked puzzled.

After my boss had left, I had time to get a better look of Victoria. Victoria was tall and thin, with dark brown hair done up in an elegant up-do and vivid blue eyes. She was the very picture of elegance and poise, standing before me in fashionable black stilettos and a form-fitting (and rather short, but hey, she had the legs to pull it off) business suit. Her nails were French-manicured and a matching black leather briefcase lay on the table along with some papers. She looked to be somewhere around Georgia's age and in shape.

She also was looking at me as if I was under a microscope. I wondered what she must be thinking about me… What impressions I must be giving her as we stood here in stony silence. Me, with my short, chipping black nails, calloused fingers, torn clothing, guitar pick necklace, and frizzy hair. I must look so stupid, so naïve to her.

She circled me, examining me from head to toe, eyes critical and suspicious. I felt like I was a zebra. Out of place and being stalked by a lion. I watched her warily, feeling like a caged animal. Finally, as all the watching was starting to make me dizzy, I spoke up.

"What are you doing?" I asked, trying my hardest to sound polite. I'm not quite sure it came out that way though. Coolly, my new lawyer shrugged, stopping in her tracks.

"Just checking to see if those rumors I heard were true," Victoria replied quietly. I could feel my eyes widen from shock. My own lawyer was against me. Just great.

"Which rumors?" I questioned worriedly. What were they saying about me? I had no idea. Well, that's not true… I had some, but that was just from them calling me and asking questions.

Victoria just shot me this hard look, squinting at me for a minute, as if still suspicious. Then, after inhaling deeply, she spoke clearly. "The ones that claim you're pregnant with my son's baby," She replied easily, calmly, as if she was used to this idea.

Hey, did she think I was fat! That… Argh! Hey, uh, who's her son?

"Who's your son?" I blurted out, confused.

Victoria rolled her eyes, clucking her tongue. A sharpness came over her features. "What, Jude, don't even remember who you're sleeping with?" She sneered icily.

Well, considering I'm not sleeping with anybody… It's based on who they say I'm with. Which changes. A lot.

And then it hit me like a slap in the face.

Victoria was Tommy's mother. **Tommy's** mom. Well, isn't this some first meeting? Heh. Hehe. Great. Tommy's mom hates me. Already.

"So, what am I supposed to call you?" I posed cautiously, trying to avoid an argument.

Victoria shrugged, sitting down gracefully. "I don't care as long as it's not Mom or Grandma," She remarked sharply. I seconded that motion. I couldn't imagine calling her either of the two. Matter of fact, it sounded just about as fun as shoving bamboo under my fingernails. Yee-ouch.

"You know, my mom's name is Victoria too…" I muttered randomly, sitting down at the table next to the woman who could be my mother-in-law. Now there's a scary thought. Victoria nodded distractedly.

"Do you have any idea what Shay said about you?" She asked, sounding calmer and more like before. Naturally, I had no idea. Probably something bad. No, definitely something bad!

"Uh, not really… I'm guessing it's bad?" I mumbled uneasily. Victoria gave me a look, pulling out two different tabloids from her briefcase. I had not seen these ones. Naturally, there was a picture of me kissing Tommy on the front of both of them. I cringed at the sight and Victoria frowned, opening the magazine.

"You guessed right," She commented dryly, flipping through the pages. After a moment, she stopped and began to read. "And so I got back with Jude, and we got into it… If you catch my drift, _playa_? So after the deed's done, I tell her how I feel and she literally pushes me outta the bed, tellin' me that she was just using me for **sex** and that Tommy Q., her _boyfriend_, was comin', so I had to leave. Just like that. And then she shoved me out the door," Victoria read coolly, without a trace of emotion in her voice. Despite that, I could tell she was almost as unhappy as I was about the whole thing.

Wait, Shay said that I slept with him! I cannot believe that lousy, lying, little good-for-nothing weasel! That's it, I need to talk to Darius about controlling that nephew of his! For once, his control-freak habits might come in handy. And then saying that I was having Tommy coming next, like I'd just screw Shay and then Tommy like that? Right in a row?

Puh-lease. Tommy and Shay are nothing alike. Sleeping with both of them on the same day is just insulting. Besides, if Tommy was coming, do you really think I'd ruin everything by having sex with Shay? Uh, hello, **no**!

Victoria smiled grimly, opening the next magazine. She pushed it across the table to me. "This one says you suggested a three-way with Tommy," Victoria stated, face blank of expression. She was very zen about the whole thing. I don't think I could be the same.

Hell, I know I'm not the same. She's like Ms. Botox over there for all her facial expression… And me, me? I'm like a freaking CLOWN! I'm FREAKING out about this whole thing! But I'm involved… She must be used to crap like this, having Tommy as a son.

As a matter of fact, I blanched when she said that. And I almost threw up. Not that the thought's that disgusting… It's just like my worst nightmare's come to life here. And this is all because I kissed Tommy. Damn it.

This is why I shouldn't think about Tommy. Because then I do stupid things. Very stupid things. Incredibly moronic, idiotic things.

I looked down at the article, and sure enough, it had pictures of Shay, Tommy, and me. And it was this long, detailed story about how I'd asked Shay to do a three-way with me and Tommy. I believe the words "hungry eyes", "swollen lips", and "thighs trembling with desire" were used. More than once. When I was through reading it, I was surprised it wasn't in Playboy or something. Nah, make that Playgirl… Not that it said that we all actually did the three-way… Because, hello, what would that do for Shay and Tommy's images? They're like these tough, hot guys…

It was sorta like word porn. Minus the sex. There was just a lot of "looks" and stuff exchanged. They were making it sound like Tommy and Shay had this huge attraction to each other as well as to me. Which, okay, I'm not denying it… That would be totally hot. But Tommy and Shay hate each other about half the time, and Tommy was Shay's uncle. So that's completely wrong.

I shuddered, making a face, pushing the magazine back across the table. "Okay… We need to get this straightened out as soon as possible," I declared, disgusted. Victoria nodded, smiling slightly.

"I couldn't agree with you more," She said professionally, steepling her fingers. She looked so serious and so sober… I wonder what type of mother she was-is… "You're making my son look bad."

She just had to say that, didn't she? Of course she did. After all, to the media, she's my mother-in-law.

"Here's what really happened… You might want to get this down," I began defiantly. Victoria looked up, interested. She grabbed a pencil and a notepad, gazing at me over it, poised to write down what I had to say. "A-after the c-concert, Shay and Tommy had a slight fight… Nothing big, really. I left about an hour after the concert was over for my hotel. When I got there… Shay was in my room. At first I thought I was in the wrong room, but apparently they let him in. I was really freaked out that he was there, and then he started coming unto me and saying all this crap about Tommy. I told him to stop, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, so I punched him in the eye and threw him out of my room. And _that's_ what really happened," I clarified, enunciating each and every word.

When I looked up, Victoria was still writing. She nodded at me with respect, finishing a sentence with a flourish. "I'll get it to E.J. stat and have her make a press release. And I'll proceed with these lawsuits for libel, slander, and defamation of character. I'll make them wish they'd never even heard the name Jude Harrison," Victoria promised, an evil look dancing in her eyes. Man, is she twisted! I think she actually enjoys this…

But apparently, she's a really good lawyer. Doesn't surprise me. I ought to ask Georgia about her. I mean, don't think I've forgotten that her last name is LaFramboise. Which means Raspberry in French. Anyways, if she has this French last name, how is she Tommy Quincy's mom? Are his parents divorced? Did she keep her maiden name? Have they remarried? Did they ever get married? Is she French-Canadian?

It's weird how these things happen… The more I seem to find out about Tommy, the more I realize that I don't know anything about him… All I get is more questions, never more answers. It's like there's this giant hole between us. This huge gaping hole before we knew each other… A six year hole.

I wanted to ask her these questions. All of these questions and more. But I couldn't. I was paralyzed. Paralyzed by something I couldn't explain.

I wanted to ask her about everything. Every little, minute, pathetic aspect of his life. I knew she didn't know it all, but still, I wanted to ask her. I wanted to ask about his childhood, if he had siblings, where he'd grown up, what he was like before Boyz Attack!... I wanted to ask her so many things. But I didn't.

Instead, she floored me by asking me a question.

"Are you sleeping with Thomas?" She asked directly, bluntly like that. Her hands were on her hips and her eyes, his eyes, burned into my skin uncomfortably. It was as if she was looking right through me, trying to find something in me I didn't know I possessed.

My jaw dropped to the floor. Yeah, I know, I shouldn't be surprised… I mean, I read a story about me suggesting a three-way with me, Shay, and Tommy. I got all those letters and phone calls about it… And all that crap people have been saying to me. I've denied it repeatedly, loudly… But it was somehow different coming from _his_ MOTHER. His **mother**, of all people… But I was stunned nonetheless.

For a moment, a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, I simply stared at her blankly, blinking, before my wits came to me. Blushing redder than my hair (no small feat to accomplish), I struggled to answer her. "**NO**!" I spat, perhaps a bit too fast and a bit too loudly.

She stared at me in the same manner for about a minute before breaking into a wide smile. "Good. Just wanted to know if I was going to have to worry about my son being tried for statutory rape," She replied, sounding incredibly relieved. I didn't get how she could be so casual about it. Frankly, I was surprised he hadn't already been tried for it… Not with me… But he was in a boyband. There were LOTS of groupies hanging around… Some of them must've been younger than him. And he did have a different girl every town… But I guess he just turned legal at the end, so it couldn't have been very long that he would've been liable.

Okay, I really need to stop thinking about matters of dubious legality. However, what she doesn't know is that my parents are already worried about this whole thing, and if they had any confirmation that _anything_ was going on with Tommy and me… Well, let's just say he'd better get a good lawyer. That being done, Victoria proceeded to pick up her papers and briefcase, put her papers in the briefcase, and exit the room without another word.

I sighed, glancing around at the now empty room. I left the room less than a minute later, heading for Studio C, where Tommy was waiting for me. I went there with the intention of seeing Tommy, of being with Tommy, of being able to talk to him… Of writing a song with him. But when I got there, he wasn't there.

I waited thirty minutes for him to arrive, but he didn't come. Then I realized that he lied to me about coming at all. And a part of me was really, really mad… But an even bigger part of me was hurt. Hurt that he'd lied… And hurt that he was ignoring me.

And before I knew it, I was reliving Mr. Quinn's little monologue in my head and daydreaming.

"…_Yeah, you were workin' late one night… All **alone** in that little studio… The entire label was empty. There was this dim, romantic lighting and you two were sittin' there on this nice, warm couch. You were wearing a skirt or somethin', and his hand accidentally brushed against **your** leg when he was strummin' on that guitar. And he kept doin' that, right? Until you were about ready to **snap**, tear off all your clothes and **do** him right there, up against the glass wall and the sound board. But you didn't snap, 'cause Tommy was messin' up too. His fingers were startin' to slip on the strings and he kept **lookin'** at you with those big, bright, baby blue eyes of his. I bet they were smoldering with some **mysterious** emotion, right? And you wanted desperately to know **what** he was thinking, so there you were, starin' right back, your legs crossed up all **tight**, pen and paper laying forgotten on the floor. And Tommy's fumblin' his chords and he keeps **looking** at you and you're both getting all your notes **so** wrong and it seems to get hotter and **hotter** in that little room… And the space between you two seems suddenly so close and he keeps getting closer and **closer** to you… You can barely **breathe** anymore and you're expecting it… Somethin' **big**, somethin' huge… And then he just stops playing and **rips** off that guitar and chucks it haphazardly and it breaks into a million little pieces on the floor… And you know you should be mad, right? You should be downright **pissed**. But you're not. You kinda like it. You like that dangerous, mile-long wild streak in him… And you don't care about the age difference or what anybody's gonna say and you're **about** to kiss him when… He grabs you and pulls you to him, as close as can **be**, and he plants one on you. And before you know it, you're layin' there, back absolutely **flat** against the couch and your bra's on the lampshade, your shirt's on the table on top of your CD, his shirt's unbuttoned and then thrown off, and your skirt's all pushed up, and then it's just his skin against **yours**, no impediments in the way… And your lips are all red and bruised, your skin's flushed, your eyelids are fluttering open and closed, your hair's a mess, your eyes are this real **dark** color blue, like the ocean or something, and you're shouting, no, **screaming** his name as loud as you can, so loud you're hoarse, and his hair's so **soft**, his body's so firm on top of yours, he's so warm, and he feels so **good** with his hips buckling against yours… And after it's over he looks at you with this **real** wide smile and he puts his clothes on, real slow-like, because he knows what he's doin' to you and he **likes** it… You **do** him a few more times around the studio before you finally get around to leaving. It's early in the morning, so you go back to his place and do the deed a few more times. You call your parents when Tommy's getting a li'l **fresh** with you, and you're kinda **breathy** and all, but you tell 'em that you're okay and you're with him and not to worry… Recording and writing ran a little later than you thought. It's only hours later, when you two are lying there, **naked** and sweaty and disheveled and sore and completely wrapped **up** in each other in his bed, that you finally get around to writing that song… But only just barely…_"

And before I knew it, my skin was pink and I was sorta sweaty. And I was inspired. INSANELY inspired. The words were flowing out of my pencil like honey, long and languid. I had no idea what I was writing down, but I knew it was a song. I was writing so fast the words blurred before my eyes. Cursive letters. And then I was done. All of a sudden.

Just like that.

I hurriedly glanced over what I wrote, anxious and still blushing. And when I read them, I couldn't believe that I had written them. They were so… different from anything else I'd ever written.

They were edgier, rougher. They dripped with raw feelings… Raw passion, raw emotion, raw truth. They were so honest and so… not honest. They were full of wishing and wanting and hoping and all this pent-up tension I hadn't intended to release.

And I had no idea where any of it had come from.

But it was too edgy in some ways. I wasn't sure I could face the implications behind it. I wasn't sure if it was a diamond in the rough or just… Rough. I was worried about the explicitness of the lyrics too. It didn't sound like me at all. And there was the tune, floating around in my head.

It was official. I had to get rid of this song, maybe just because it made these pictures of Tommy and me float around in my head and distract me from everything else. I got up, ripping the page off the notepad, balling it up, and walking over to the trashcan. I was just about to throw it in the trashcan when E.J. swooped in.

"What's this?" She said, ripping the paper ball out of my hand and unfolding it. She glanced it over, and I saw her eyes flicking back and forth, reading it over. Her eyes widened and she smiled brightly. "_Ohmygawd_, Jude, this is awesome! I can't believe you were just going to through gold like this away! And without Tommy here to help you! Even better! We've got to get this into the studio! Oh, and it would make the most fabulous music video! I'm thinking… make-out song… Ooh, just let me photocopy these lyrics… What's the song called by the way?" E.J. chattered on excitedly. She was practically bouncing off the walls, what with this and Tommy's big birthday bash.

I didn't even have to think it over. "Minor Liaison," I replied without a moment's pause. E.J. looked a bit surprised for a second, but then broke out into a smirk. She nodded, grinning at me in a knowing way.

"Good one," E.J. muttered, racing out to photocopy the song. Oh, brother.

I guess she saw the irony in naming the song "Minor Liaison". You know, as in a little affair, or an affair with a minor… Yikes. Then something occurred to me and I raced out after E.J. "Hey, E.J., have you seen Tommy? We were supposed to meet in the studio an hour ago…" I asked, hurrying to catch up to her.

E.J. stopped walking, frowning at me. "Your _boyfriend_ went out to dinner with the Boyz. I thought you knew," She answered, blinking in confusion.

That no-good, lying, scheming, avoiding jerk of a producer of mine! He went out to dinner with Boyz Attack! rather than write song lyrics with me or at the very least, talk? Ugh. He is so dead. I will kill him. There will be retribution. Lots of retribution. Hey, wait, did she just call him my boyfriend?

"He's not my boyfriend. Where'd he go?" I responded immediately. E.J. smirked, before shrugging. She sighed, continuing on.

"I dunno. Tom always did like Italian," E.J. muttered dismissively over her shoulder. I nodded to myself, wondering why a French-Canadian liked Italian food so much. I already knew this, of course… But I had no idea which restaurant it was. There's hundreds of Italian restaurants in Toronto.

How was I supposed to find him?

I'll say one thing.

Never underestimate sheer fury. It can accomplish pretty much anything. Including finding a boyband in an ultra-exclusive Italian restaurant in ripped jeans, a The Clash t-shirt, a guitar pick necklace, and beat up sneakers.

- Loren ;

Random question: Does the G. in G. Major stand for Georgia? I mean, I know G. Major is like a chord (I think? I can't remember… It's a note! There we go! It's been a while since I played piano)… But I noticed the little studio door had little G's all over it. Aww.

And yet another thing… Isn't it weird how Tommy and Jude's versions of Frozen are so different? Lyrically, I mean. I mean, Tommy's is about himself and how unhappy he is with who he is (and how he's not really living… 'Cause he's frozen! Lol… Sorry, couldn't resist)… And Jude's is about well, I guess, Tommy expressing himself more, softening, I guess? If that makes any sense at all. But you kinda have to look at the lyrics to see. Who knows, maybe I'll have Tommy stick it on his CD (I still like his version better… Jude's is kinda girly to be on Tommy's album)… Aww, and then I could stick it on hers and they could have matching songs with different words… And they could be the same tracks and the same length and everyone would get so confused… Ah, sounds interesting… Tommy's version makes more sense though, 'cause Jude's is kinda skippy… You can so tell I'm gonna name a chapter Frozen, right? Because I love that song, wish it was on the CD (wish I owned the CD too), have been singing that song since last night, transcribed most of the lyrics to both versions, and I really like the guitar thing (reminds me of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in a good way. Kick-ass theme song, really, the old school version, that is. I used to play this Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles game at Chuck E. Cheese when I was little… So I knew the song pretty well, 'cause I played the game all the time 'cause we went to Chuck E. Cheese's all the time. I loved it there. sigh I miss being little. Being a sophomore really bites. Really.).

Anyways, enough nostalgia for now. Oh, and the reason for the phone calls was so I could have Jude say that line with Tommy in the room, lol… 'Cause I had a vision of her saying that line… Lol.

One thing I'd like to clarify, though… 'Cause it's kinda hard to see what everybody's feeling in this fic. Especially characters like Tommy and Sadie, who appear more in Jude's head than they do in the story. Generally. Tommy appears a fair amount. Anyhow, even Jude's confused as to how she feels… She knows she feels VERY strongly for Tommy, but she's not sure exactly what that is… And then she has to deal with Tim, Mr. Quinn, Shay, and Jamie (later, sorta) on top of all that crap. Tommy's sort of avoiding Jude, (I'm gonna say that the first chapter was set when she was in the room, brainstorming) but he obviously sees a reason to avoid her…

And I think I'll end this random note there. Thanks loads for all of your great, helpful reviews! Ah, I love reviews. Reviews are awesome. I was looking at my stats the other day, for the first time, and I was like "Whoa. That many people like my stories. Or, whoa, I have stories that are on C2's (which really surprised me, actually)?" It was so cool. Anyways, I'm gonna shut up, and say that I would really like it if you'd review, and leave it at that… Anyways, Instant Star Marathon Thursday (!), and then the finale on Friday (!)… But don't worry, it'll be back on in December! I'll update as soon as I finish the next chapter, guys! ;)


	14. 24 Hours

Oops… I didn't realize he told her to meet him in Studio C. Actually, I think that's the crappy studio. I originally had the studios numbered, but then I saw that they lettered them on the show, so I had to change them. But yeah, Tommy blew her off. And he will be in the next chapter… With the rest of Boyz Attack! Hehe! And it's funny because of what Jude tells them in the chapter so she can get in. So they're gonna talk. 'Cause he can't just go to the bathroom and sneak out the window or anything like that. They might have their talk the chapter after this, but I dunno, since I have no idea what the heck they're gonna say to each other. Seriously, no freakin' clue.

And she gets her revenge at the restaurant…lol… Or after she records "Minor Liaison". Hehe. Actually, originally, he was just supposed to turn and go the other way in the hall when he saw her… And work on his album. Oh well. There's still Kwest.

Ah, yes… Even the thought of being a father HORRIFIES Tommy. Which is scary, considering you'd expect him to have like twenty kids and all, but whatever.

Oh, and think of Travis' little monologue like that part in The Breakfast Club where Bender's going on to Claire in the beginning and she screams at him to shut up… It's kinda the same thing, except they have different reactions (Hey, they're even both redheads!). Lord, I love that movie. Hate Bender/Claire together, but LOVE the movie.

Anyways, isn't it weird how both Tommy and Shay, when they're unhappy, both use the really lame "That was so not cool." Phrase, or something similar? 'Cause Shay does it to Eden in Unsweet Sixteen… And Tommy says that to Chaz in All Apologies… And I think one of them says it somewhere else, but I can't remember. Oh well. It's just weird, though, that they have the same habits… Even the nicknaming thing… Nicknaming each other (Saint Tommy and Shay-Shay), Jude (Girl and Shorty… Original, aren't they? They give Jude two nicknames that she already is. Wow. The powers of observation, my friends! They're so original. Really. You can so tell that they've both actually written some of their own lyrics… Like two. That was sarcasm, 'case ya couldn't tell) … Did Tommy ever give Jamie a nickname? I can't remember. Because Shay called him Screech, which I thought was kinda mean on his part, but I feel almost sure that Tommy gave Jamie a similar, sort of disrespecting insulting nickname. Though Shay really aged himself there with the Saved by the Bell reference. I mean, I'm almost sixteen, which is only a year younger than his character, and I haven't seen Saved by the Bell except for a couple times on TBS last summer… I think. It was on after Dawson's Creek… It's odd how similar they are… Both philanderers… Both had early success… Both got successful with Darius managing them… Both teen heartthrobs… Both kissed Jude… Both kissed blondes with bad hair who hate Jude… The list goes on. 'Cept they look completely different, Tommy's hotter, and Tommy's older, and Tommy has way better hair.

Yeah, I know, doesn't it suck being a sophomore? Last year I had fun teachers who got sidetracked all the time, and now all my teachers are so BORING and on point. And it seems like they're locked in a competition to see who can give the most homework. Yay. There's loads of essays and insane amounts of notes to take. Argh.

You'll have to wait a while to actually "hear" Jude's song, though. 'Cause first she has to talk with Tommy and then there's stuff after that and then school and the photo shoots. Booked, isn't she? And yeah, Tommy's mom is creepy… and really blunt and abrupt, which is sorta like Georgia. Except Georgia's sort of… warmer, I guess. Seriously, I had to resist making a Frozen joke here… That's kinda why Tommy's all screwed up. But you'll see that when you get to meet more of his family when it's his birthday (including an aunt, but that's all I'm gonna say… They're a sort of big bunch, but as Tommy is prone to holding grudges, he hates about half of them). And actually, the lyrics are pretty racy. I had to edit one because I was like: "Yeah, that's sorta giving them the wrong idea… And she's only 16." Of course, I'm fifteen and I wrote the lyric, but anyways…lol… I mean, the first verse and the chorus are okay, but that's about it..

Sorry, this chapter's really not that long… Compared to how long the past ones have been. And I literally have nothing written after this, and I have no idea if I'll be able to write any time this week (I'll prolly crack and make time, though. I really can't stand having these ideas just floating around in my head all the time)… So it might take a while for me to update… 'Specially as I'm prone to falling asleep randomly, as I am sleep-deprived and all that… Oh, and I haven't finished my homework yet. But whatever.

I kinda like how Jude acts in this chapter… She's different in it, and it's kind of a type of maturity, I guess… And Tommy's in it! He even talks and everything:)

I do not own Jude, E.J., Tommy, Chaz, Bruno, J.P., the other dude in Boyz Attack, Boyz Attack, Instant Star, Sadie, Shay, "24 Hours"... Or anything else that you recognize that pops up. Per usual, song lyrics are in italics... Now, I'm off to take notes on the Reformation. Yippee:(

* * *

First I went outside and hopped in my car, which I noticed was fixed! I so have to thank E.J. for that! For a moment, I wondered if I should change into something more formal than the t-shirt I was wearing. But then I decided, hey, screw it… I'm Jude Harrison, and everyone knows the ripped jeans are as much my signature as my bright red, straight hair.

So I went driving around, looking for Italian restaurants and Tommy's trademark blue Viper. Ah, love that car. That's why my car kind of looks like it. Sorta. So many good memories of that car… And, no, not making out with Tommy in that car! I'm not Sadie!

But, of course, at every restaurant I went to (dozens of them), I did not see his familiar car. So, after an entire hour of driving around, looking for it, I stopped at the first upscale Italian place I saw, throwing my car into park, locking it, and then jumping out.

I raced into the restaurant, nearly bowling over a rich-looking couple. They looked rather peeved that some punk was rushing into this fancy Italian joint. And rush I did… I breezed down the stairs and jumped, practically landing on the front desk. Let me tell you, the guy behind the podium did not look so pleased. The dirty look he gave me. Ugh. It was absolutely horrible.

But I didn't let it get me down.

"Uh, do you have a reservation for Quincy, party of five?" I questioned breathlessly.

The man shook his head no. I exhaled sharply. "Anything starting with Q?"

Again, the man shook his head no. I sighed, vaguely annoyed. "Okay, Blackthorn… Got anything for that, garcon?"

The man looked down at his sheet and… surprisingly… nodded. Then he took in my appearance again. Messy hair, wild eyes, torn jeans, ratty sneakers. He scoffed, probably assuming I was a fan. Which I sort of was.

"Okay, where's the table?" I asked, trying very hard to keep my tone polite and friendly. The man scoffed, giving me an evil look.

"It's a private party. Of _five_. Not six," He said snootily. I rolled my eyes, trying to think of something that would get me in to see them. It came to me in a flash.

"I'm Chaz' girlfriend and I want to surprise him. It's his _birthday_, you know…" I said, in what I hoped was a giggly, flirtatious tone. Even if it wasn't, it made me want to throw up. So I guess it was working. Again, the man rolled his eyes, clearly thinking I was another obsessed fan who'd just found out Boyz Attack! was dining there.

My eyes narrowed. I feigned tossing my hair impatiently. Ugh, I was having to act like some pop diva just to see my boyfriend. "Look, I'm Jude Harrison, **yes**, the one who won Instant Star… So, if you don't mind, I'd like to see my _boyfriend_, okay?" I snapped impatiently.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave me a look. I rolled my eyes at him. "What, do I have to get your manager? Take me to his damn table. Or what, you want proof?" I threatened. At his look, I pulled my ID out of my wallet, holding it up into his face. He blinked, stared at it for a minute, and then sighed, gesturing for me to follow him.

I did, but none-too happily. He led me through a busy dining hall, then down a narrow hallway, and into a smaller private dining room. I got a lot of weird looks along the way, trust me. And sure enough, in the center of the room, in a giant booth, were Tommy, Chaz, and the guys. I turned to thank the waiter. "Thanks. You can go now."

But he didn't leave. In fact, he followed me to the table. Fine. Looks like I was gonna have to act the part of Chaz' girlfriend. I rolled my eyes at the guy, walking over to Chaz, who looked puzzled.

"**Chazzy**!" I cried out, throwing my arms around him and kissing him soundly on the cheek. The look on Chaz' face was hilarious. Well, it would've been hilarious if everyone wasn't gaping at me. A second later, when I was sitting on Chaz' lap (trust me, I wasn't thrilled about it either), the waiter left. Snickering, I'm sure. But Tommy (who was sitting opposite Chaz). He looked seriously angry.

Like he was jealous or something. Which is stupid. But he's got issues with Chaz anyways, even without me to add to the mix.

"Jude, why are you sitting on my lap? Not that I mind…" Chaz asked flirtatiously. I rolled my eyes at his antics, shoving him and making him scoot over. Chaz scooted over, throwing his arms over the back of the seat, leaning back comfortably.

"Ugh. Perv. I told that waiter I was your girlfriend to get in here," I replied nonchalantly. I smirked, watching Tommy's eyes flash. Chaz laughed, and the rest of the guys blinked in surprise. One of them, Bruno, I think, spoke up.

"Hey, I thought you were Tom's girl," He exclaimed, confused.

I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning across the table slightly. "Is that what **he's** been telling you?" I questioned, eyes locking with Tommy's. There was a slightly dangerous look in them, but I could tell he was angry. And, frankly, I enjoyed it. He looks really hot when he's angry. Anyways, he deserves it.

The other guys looked a bit confused, and I decided to get up, remembering that I hadn't properly greeted my so-called boyfriend. I licked my lips and walked over to Tommy, pulling him up and pressing a rather rough kiss to his cheek, caressing his cheek and then patting it once before smiling and sitting down next to Chaz again. I blew Tommy a kiss from across the table, winking at him. The other guys were either staring at me in shock or snickering at Tommy. At the questioning looks, I turned, still smirking.

"I forgot to say hello to my baby," I said smoothly, tossing my hair. The other guys gaped, and then I looked victoriously over to Tommy, who was gaping at me, jaw slackened, eyes wide. "My baby?" He mouthed. I merely nodded, grinning back at him. He looked absolutely horrified, I noted, but all of the guys were staring at me with interest.

"So it's true, then?" Bruno asked for confirmation. Does he care if either Tommy or I are on the market or something? I nodded and Tommy shook his head as we answered the question at the same time.

"**NO**!"

"Yes."

Tommy kicked me under the table, shooting me a pointed look. He did not look happy. "See, Jude, you keep sending mixed messages! _This_ is why everyone thinks we're dating!" He retorted, eyes narrowed, looking angrier than before. Ouch. I rubbed my leg, glaring up at him.

"No, Tom. Everyone thinks we're dating because I kissed you and you groped me onstage at Shay's concert," I pointed out bluntly. Some of the Boyz were snickering. I smirked as Chaz reached out across the table, hand fisted, as if to do some bizarre secret handshake with Tommy.

"Onstage? With this babe? You dog!" He replied, seemingly proud of his former best friend's antics. Tommy's jaw dropped yet again, and he stared at Chaz as if he was insane. Grreat. So now people have to be insane to think I'm attractive? ARGH! And I like this guy?

Why do I like this guy? He's a total ass to me about half the time! But it's the other half of the time… I decided to be nice to my supposed boyfriend, and, cleaning my nails, I glanced up, leaning back comfortably. I was going to change the subject of course.

"_So_, Tommy **Dearest**, I met your mother today…" I drawled nonchalantly. The other guys whistled in unison (so cute!), while Tommy merely looked a little surprised. He knew that his mother was more than a match for me… But the other guys seemed to be scared of her for some reason. Go figure.

"Why?" Tommy asked calmly, clearly interested. I shrugged noncommittally, the barest hint of a smile tracing my lips. The other guys waited with bated breath.

"Just wanted to clear up a few rumors about you and me, **Sweetheart**," I muttered, waving my hand dismissively. Tommy's eyes narrowed at the term of endearment. He leaned back a little, seeking some much-needed comfort.

"What kind of rumors?" Tommy questioned coolly, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive position. I smirked. He knew just what kind of rumors I was talking about…

"What, Tommy, can't say it?" I sniped back, annoyed with his feigned ignorance. Then, with a feigned cool, I fought down a smirk. I polished my chipped nails on my shirt, oblivious to the interested glances of Tommy's former bandmates. It was suddenly just him and me at that table, never mind the fact that Chaz' leg was brushing against mine. I let the angry words hang in the air for a moment, allowing for the drama to build up for a bit before I spoke.

"Have you heard the one about you and me having a three-way with Shay yet?" I declared boldly, as if I was not concerned by it, as if I was talking about the weather. Tommy, who was drinking a tiny cup of espresso (which is rather funny looking, to tell the truth… This big, ripped guy drinking a tiny cup of espresso), promptly choked on the drink, spluttering and nearly spitting half of it out. This, naturally, made me laugh hysterically. It also made just about everyone else at the table laugh hysterically.

"Shay as in Shay-Shay? Are you _serious_?" Tommy stuttered, unbelieving. This was **too** amusing. I was having so much fun already.

"**Yes**, Quincy, Shay as in your former nephew…" I enunciated, rolling my eyes impatiently. Tommy bristled at the explanation. He obviously didn't like being associated with Shay, even if they had once been friends. Hmm, he's five years older than Shay, so Shay was 13 when Tommy became his uncle. Interesting. There were some more snickers, but Tommy silenced them with some well-aimed glares.

I could tell he still didn't believe me, so I went on. "Oh, yes… The articles about it read like porn or those cheesy romance novels. There were a lot of hungry looks, lip-licking, strutting, and flexing on your part," I responded cheerfully, fighting back my giggles. Tommy did not look so amused. In the slightest. The other guys were laughing hysterically, and by the way Tommy's eyes narrowed, I could tell he was not happy about this whole ordeal. As a matter of fact, Tommy immediately ordered a glass of amaretto from the waiter.

When he got the glass, he downed it in a second, much like he'd downed the wine at dinner with Shay (seriously, how did he manage to drive home? He practically drank the whole bottle!), and promptly ordered another one. I didn't see this going very well. Not very well at all. Ugh.

I glanced down at my watch, before I was interrupted by my cellphone. Wait, I'm pretty sure I turned this off… And chucked it in my car… But no, there it is in my pocket, playing "24 Hours". Ugh.

"_I've been sitting in the dirt…_" Chaz started off, amused.

"_For twenty-four hours…_" The others chorused, except Tommy, that is.

"_I've forgotten what I'm worth…_" J.P. continued, smiling widely.

"_For twenty-four hours…_" The other guys chimed, excepting Tommy, of course.

"_Said that you'd be here last night…_" I interrupted, leaning forward and staring at Tommy. My tone was angry and accusing. Tommy glared right back.

"_I'm tryin' to shake you from my skin…_" I drawled, shaking my head, shooting a meaningful glance at Tommy, who stiffened.

"_For forty-eight hours…_" I sang along with the other guys. Tommy only looked more frustrated.

Tommy sighed. "_Clean up this mess I've been put in…_" He muttered weakly, throwing his head in his hands.

"_For forty-eight hours…_" The rest of Boyz Attack chanted along, snapping and clapping and humming. It was a funny sight.

"_I'm guessing you can't always win…_" Tommy groaned into his hands, sounding absolutely terribly. Not musically. Just emotionally.

"_I'm guessing you can't always wi-in…_" I hummed along with the rest of Boyz Attack!.

"_I can't have anything I want!_" Tommy moaned, swirling his drink around before polishing it off and motioning for another.

"_They say I'm just too **young**, but it's not **my** fault!_" I snapped, leaping up from the table and banging my hands down on it loudly. Heads turned.

"_I'll find my own way home if I gotta,_" Tommy retorted, removing his head from his hands and also leaping up rather angrily. He looked about ready to leave then.

"_I'll make it all alone if I gotta,_" I rejoined, smirking. This was actually a lot closer to the truth right now than I'd care to admit. I was practically on my own here. With him avoiding me, how was I ever gonna have a second album? I need a producer to produce an album, and, with our relationship (both personal and professional) deteriorating by the day, it looked like I wasn't going to have either…

"_I'm not so trustful with my friends,_" Boyz Attack, being led by Tommy, chorused. Tommy didn't look so pleased with the harmonizing. Maybe because he didn't trust his friends… Okay, I know, bad joke.

"_I'm on the road alone again,_" I sighed, leaning back into my seat unhappily. I sighed, fiddling with my hair distractedly.

"_I guess I'm tired of **giving** in…_" Tommy snapped, sipping his drink. He shot me a narrow-eyed glare through his glass.

I smirked at him, grabbing a piece of bread and taking a bite out of it. I could feel my eyes flash. Somehow. "And so am **I**, Tommy! We need to talk about _us_," I exclaimed, feeling slightly evil. Tommy glared at me over his drink. Then he rolled his eyes, taking another large sip of the liquor.

"Fine, Jude. We'll talk. But on _my_ terms," Tommy stated, tone steely. His fierce gaze locked with mine and I smiled. Finally, we were going to talk! I was overjoyed, but I think I hid it well.

"Okay… Where? When? You don't get to ditch me again to go have dinner with the guys, okay?" I muttered somewhat bitterly. Tommy rolled his eyes and I saw some of them give each other looks, whistling warily.

"My place. Now," Tommy hissed coolly. I snorted again, somewhat amused.

"Well, Tommy, I thought you would _never_ ask…" I drawled, smirked, batting my eyes flirtatiously at him. Tommy rolled his eyes and was about to speak when I interrupted. "I thought we were just gonna keep meeting up in the studio, and in your car, and on the _train_…" I said innocently.

I heard a few catcalls from the guys (namely Chaz). Tommy gaped at me, incredulous once again. I smiled at him innocently. "What-what-what… train?" Tommy stammered, in awe. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Do I really need to sing "It Could Be You" again? I thought we already covered that one," I muttered, knowing exactly what I was doing. Tommy sighed, getting up, polishing off his liquor, dropping some cash on the table haphazardly, and reaching across to roughly grab my hand. He pulled me up by my hand, and the rest of the former boybanders got up too. They hugged Tommy and me in turn. Chaz' hands lingered on me just a bit too long.

"You're good for Tom. I can tell. Don't let him screw it up," Chaz whispered, breaking the hug as, naturally, Tommy was glaring at him. A lot. Jeez. Overprotective much? I rolled my eyes at his advice, waving it off.

"Trust me, Chaz… He already has. He is-or was… I still don't know, actually… Dating my sister, Sadie," I grumbled, patting Chaz on the shoulder. Chaz shook his head, clucking his tongue at Tommy. Yeah! Glad someone else sees how much of an ass he is. Thank you.

Tommy grabbed my arm, twining his arm around my waist (when did he become so possessive? It's like he was "threatened" or something! Manhandling me like that! Not that I minded…) and pulling me over to his car. With his eyes, he explained that we would come back for mine. But I shook my head no.

"You've had a bit to drink, Tommy, you shouldn't drive. Let me," I explained rationally, motioning for the keys.

Tommy vigorously shook his head. "Better a partially, maybe drunk guy who can hold his liquor well than a teenage girl who almost ran over a dog on the sidewalk…" Tommy mumbled, vaulting into the car and pushing the key in the ignition. I punched him in his hard, defined stomach, and he groaned a little. Well, at least he wasn't slurring any of his words. But I followed him into the car, not knowing where exactly we were going (other than Tommy's place) or if we'd make it there (he was kind of drunk!)… All I knew is that I was going there with Tommy. And that was enough.

For now, anyways.

Until we really talked. But that would be soon.

Very soon.

- Loren ;

So they're really gonna talk next chapter. And no, I am not joking… Oh, and he's a random thing that might happen: Jude could steal Tommy's car! Ooh, intrigue! Nah, it's gonna be cute. Their little talk. Have no idea what they're gonna talk about, really, but hey… It's gonna be cute.

Oh, random fact. This story was originally titled: On Tour. When I first saved it, that is. 'Cause she was on tour… lol… How original. Ooh, and I have little lists of plot twists and song lyrics in the file… Hehe.

Thanks for all your great reviews. They made the crappy, crappy day I had today so much better… sigh Anyways, on that note, if you liked the chapter and wish to inspire me to write another one (or to… lol… shirk my homework long enough to get some sentences out)… You're welcome to do so by reviewing and pressing that pretty petite periwinkle pin… Or that beautiful blue button… ;)

And, hey, if I don't update, there's still the marathon on Thursday and the finale on Friday (pouts… How sad. I have to wait to see my Instant Star)…


	15. Time to Be Your 21

Yeah, I want to put the guys back in there more, but Chaz is the only one who's last name and face I know… I mean, I know that there's a guy named J.P. Lamae or something and another one named Bruno, and heck, I don't even know the other guy's name. And I don't know which is which aside from Tommy and Chaz. But who knows, maybe I'll make Tommy babysit J.P.'s kids… I stuck them in there because it was so cute seeing them sorta mend their friendship in the episode… Anyways, but weirdly enough, I did read a fic where Chaz and Jude were having an affair (even though she was engaged to some other guy) and then Tommy came along to screw it all up… But oddly enough, I intended for her to say she was Chaz' girlfriend to get in, which doesn't make much sense, as everyone thinks she's dating Tommy… shrugs

Eh, and Mr. Quinn'll be absent for at least two chapters… Until she goes back to school again. Oh, and trust me, there was no chance of Tommy and Jude being all "I love you." "I looove you" to each other… Heck, I'm not even sure if they'll be like that at the end of the fic… Whenever that is. But, Tommy's sorta drunk in this chapter, so that might affect things. He might say some things he shouldn't. As in he probably will and then he won't remember any of it. I mean, they're gonna be on speaking terms (really shaky speaking terms), but still… They'll talk. They have to 'cause Jude's gonna be recording some new songs, and well, there's a music video on the horizon that's going to make things even MORE (somehow, yes, that is possible) awkward between them…

And nice to see that somebody noticed Jude never answered her phone! Yeah, when I was writing it, I sorta forgot about it… It was gonna be her dad or her mom, but then I got the idea of them all singing, which was cooler… 'Cause, remember, she's supposed to be at the studio working… And she's not allowed to see Tommy (and, yet, she's going to his place in this chapter). And she's grounded… lol…

Aww, Arianda, you were late to class because you had to finish this? That's like the most… Aww. Thanks. That means a lot to me! Nice to see that all these late nights of mine have been paying off. It's so nice to know I have fans! Ah, I just want to hug all of you… Cheered me right up. 'Cause there's so little to look forward to, really… So THANKS for all the WONDERFUL reviews… I'll try and work on the next chapter.

Actually, ironically enough, we have a substitute teacher for Spanish who loads of people think is really cute. And he's like 23. So it just makes me think about the Tommy and Jude thing more and more (I sit pretty far back, so I can't see him as well, so I'm not all gushy about him… Lol… And I'm working on boring Spanish all hour with my friends rather than chatting him up like about half the class was… 'Cause there's literally four boys in the entire class, which is pathetic). But hey, my parents have like an 8-9 year age difference, and they're doin' fine. They've been married for like 19 years, so it's pretty good.

Oh, and yeah, Unsaid IS really good.

And so is Paper Moon, the band featured in this chapter. I heart them. Seriously. You should go listen to some of their stuff. Their website's www.papermoon.ca, and I think they've got a myspace page or something where you can listen. Anyways, I used one of their songs in this chapter… "Pancake Bay Weather Station". It's one of my favs. But I don't think you can actually listen to the song in this chapter on one of the sites they have their music on (it's mostly stuff from their upcoming CD). Anyways, the song's from their fabulous CD, _One thousand reasons to stay… one reason to leave._ As usual, song lyrics are in italics. Actually, here's a full copy of the lyrics below…

_Crack open the photo album_

_I need to rediscover contentment_

_If I have to look into the past to find it_

_Then that's what I'll do_

_Start leafing through the pages_

_I've been through this dozens of times before_

_What makes me think that if I try once more_

_I'll see something new_

_But there amidst the blurry highway curiosities_

_Badly framed landscapes and poorly lit faces_

_Is a startling revelation I hadn't expected to find_

_This is me, looking over my shoulder_

_This is me, watching_

_Something that's just out of view_

_This is me pretending I had what I wanted_

_And this one's you_

_Twilight is wandering in_

_Concealing evidence of uncertainty_

_Empty bottles, an unwritten letter, and me_

_Watching time go by_

_Made myself believe that life couldn't be better_

_Settled in, drifting in, turned into a standstill_

_When the thing that was missing_

_Wasn't really missing at all_

_This is me, looking over my shoulder_

_This is me, watching_

_Something that's just out of view_

_This is me pretending I had what I wanted_

_And this one's you, and this one's you_

_And this one's you_

Oh, and I actually have no idea what the place where Jude had her first gig was… But I remembered that it started with V… And so I was like: Oh, yeah. Vinyl! Well, I thought it was Viper at first… And I thought it was the Vinyl Room in the beginning, but for some reason I kept thinking Palace… So I said it's the Vinyl Palace. So, if anyone knows what it's really called… Help! Anyhow. You know, it's weird how people never get Portia's name right… I mean, even if it's Porshe (that would be just like Tommy, wouldn't it? Marrying a car and all). I've seen fics where her name was like Lynn or something. It's really odd how few people remember her name. I mean, yes, I realize she was just in You Can't Always Get What You Want, and it was only at the end that they even mentioned she was Tommy's ex-wife… But still!

Oh, another thing… This chapter has some lines in French, because remember, Jude's taking French (and, in my story, she's been taking it for ages) and Tommy's mom's last name means raspberry in French… Anyhow, since I'm taking French, most of it I did myself, but I had to use the translator for some parts… So it might be off. Anyways, I prolly won't post all of the translation, if I post any… There's really not much and I sorta want to leave it open to interpretation… is good, if your Microsoft Word doesn't have a translator… Oh, and props to (yes, it's in Spanish… It offers Spanish, French, Latin, and German… for school and stuff… I think it translates to we conjugate in, well, subjunctive tense. Which is really a pain in the ass… We're relearning it in Spanish, actually. This week… Psychotic Spanish teacher… No, actually, as a testament to how obsessive I am about Instant Star, I was translating "It Could Be You" into Spanish… lol… And fitting it with the melody… _Tu y yo, todos solos… Es demasiado tarde decir no sabemos_… lol) for showing me how to conjugate some of the many (irregular) verbs we haven't learned to conjugate yet.

There's a rule about really long author's notes? Really? Yikes. I might wanna check that one out… Don't wanna get reported or anything. 'Cause that would suck. And then ya'll wouldn't ever get to find out what happens to Jude and little Tommy… ;) Nah, you prolly would… Right after me… lol.

Eugh. I missed the Instant Star marathon. And I had a crappy day. My feet hurt, I'm falling asleep yet again, and my mom's psychotic. Not to mention the homework I have yet to do. sigh I'm so… tired. And this is a long chapter. Even without the AN. The longest, I think.

Don't own Jude, Tommy, Paper Moon, Canada, Chaz, Boyz Attack! (let's see if I can go a chapter without bringing them up), Sadie, "Pick up the Pieces", "Time to be Your 21", "Pancake Bay Weather Station", "Let's Get It On" (by Marvin Gaye, ages ago… 'Cause mom's OCD about Motown), The Clash, Nirvana, the Vinyl Palace, Frankenstein, Dracula, the Viper, Instant Star, Einstein, Darius, or "Frozen".

Another thing… Some words have multiple meanings… Like Aimer. Look it up. ;)

* * *

Per usual, Tommy drove about sixteen miles over the speed limit, rather like a monkey on crack minus all the weaving. He was a pretty steady driver. Life-threatening and dangerous, but steady. Maybe he should've become a racecar driver instead of a pop sensation…

Tommy's place, in some ways, wasn't at all what I expected… First of all, it was in the city itself, right in the center of it. He had an apartment building complete with an underground garage. Naturally, it was in the rich part of town. Later, I would learn that he'd bought the entire building on a whim, as he had done a lot of recording and taping video down here (it's so cheap to film in Canada… Really). The place was massive, but so much of it was just… empty.

His place was on the top floor. Dual-level penthouse bachelor pad. He lives on the thirteenth floor. Weird, isn't it? Well, I suppose that explains a bit. I saw no one on any of the other floors, which seemed a bit peculiar (and apparently it is… Those apartments are sort of his version of guest rooms, and apparently everyone's stayed over sometime, if not just to get some rest between recording)… Everyone, that is, but me.

His apartment, let me tell you… It's fantastic! It's so hip and modern and funky, you know? I'd probably decorate an apartment similarly. It's got this whole music theme going… And there's all these framed Gold and Platinum Records on the wall… Pictures of celebrities, some people I'm going to have to assume are his family, and obviously, some of his friends. There's also a huge bookcase (It's a little known fact, but I absolutely loved to read when I was little… I still like it, most of the time), filled with all these great books… There's this really cool bar, which, of course, Tommy won't let me near… A little kitchen… I wonder what's in his fridge?

But that's not the best part. There's a giant big screen TV that takes up about half the wall, I swear, and this MASSIVE sound system… State of the art. Top of the line. There's even a DJ's turntables, I'm not kidding! But what really gets me is the shelves upon shelves filled with records, CDs, tapes, hell, even 8-tracks… Of music. Just music. But, just to make the place a little less busy, there's a few couches, some chairs, a coffee table, and a kitchen table near the bar (the couches are by the TV, naturally)…

And then there's this wicked awesome spiral staircase that I can only assume leads up to his bedroom… Oh, god. His bedroom. I'm actually thinking about his bedroom. I'm thinking about me in his bedroom… Okay, I need to cool it. Relax. Jude. Relax. Chill. Tommy's gonna catch on if you start hyperventilating.

For a moment, I simply stared at it, going around in circles in awe of its awesomeness. I could see the hint of a smile on Tommy's face. It betrayed him. That silly little dimple.

"Like what you see?" He asked warmly, coming up behind me. I turned around hastily, not realizing how close we were. I didn't even realize that I was staring at him when I gave my answer.

"Yeah. It's the most awesome thing I've ever seen!" I said excitedly.

Tommy smirked, shrugging, obviously amused at my child-like behavior. "Well, I try," He murmured wryly. Then he winked. I swear. He winked.

Wait a sec… Is Tommy actually flirting with me? I'm not Sadie or anything… Man, maybe he's had a bit too much to drink… There's obviously something wrong with him.

My stomach growled loudly and I could hear Tommy snicker. I shot him a dirty look and walked over to his fridge, opening it carefully, wary of what I might find. It was state of the art, as was everything in his house. After all, despite his cool appearance, he was still a bachelor. And they ate nasty things.

So I was vaguely confused when I saw film, frosting, a box of pizza, a CD, some leftover Chinese (my favorite food from my favorite restaurant), a sandwich, some chicken noodle soup, a gallon of milk, a carton of orange juice, a carton of tomato juice, a six-pack of Coke, a pair of Tommy's boxers, and a wedding cake in there… Wait, Tommy's boxers! Okay, not at all what I need to be thinking about right now… Really.

Oh, and they're right next to the Chinese food… Which I want, damnit. Argh. Okay, I can get the Chinese food without touching Tommy's boxers. I can do this. I am Jude Harrison, Instant Star. I can so do this. If I can sing with Shay and Boyz Attack, I can do this. I am made of tougher things.

Yes. I am Jude Harrison, hear me roar! I can do this.

Or maybe I can't.

Tommy just put on make-out music. My hand slipped. But more important than me touching Tommy's boxers… Okay, you know, I think I'm gonna have to dwell on that one for a while… 'Cause it's so wrong and…

Well, at least he's not wearing them. But he has…

Good.

Now I can freak about Tommy playing make-out music! Make-out music! I mean, sure, it's not universal like "Let's Get It On" (Thank you, God, that Tommy's not playing that song… Oh, lord), but Paper Moon is just as good. If not better. And Canadian. And an indie-ish band that like no one's probably ever heard of. And I happen to LOVE them. I mean, sure, I love The Clash and Nirvana more, but still… And he's playing them.

And it doesn't take Einstein to know that that's make-out music. What the hell does this mean? Why does he keep pitching me curveballs? Why me!

I can save face here. I'll just pull this Chinese out and eat it… Yeah. At the bar. That's good. Okay. I just need to microwave it… Hmm, set the microwave for two minutes and…

WHOA, I think Tommy just grabbed my ass! How the hell did he get so drunk all of a sudden? I mean, sure, I realize that he had three glasses of amaretto, but still! He was fine in the car! "Sorry, girl, my hand slipped," Tommy muttered huskily in my ear, bending down past me to grab a bottle of wine. Oh, no! He's not seriously thinking about drinking more, is he?

And, you know what, he does not look sorry at all for grabbing my ass! If I didn't know better, I'd say that he was faking it. But this is Tommy… Who doesn't like me like that… Despite the fact that he's playing make-out music and flirting with me and goosing me…

Okay, I'm gonna shut up before I convince myself that Tommy wants me. 'Cause he doesn't. He doesn't!

I know he doesn't because I'm just some stupid sixteen-year-old KID with a crush! And it doesn't mean anything and… Oh, why the hell is he being so frickin' confusing?

"Jude, you want some?" Tommy asked casually, pouring himself a glass and motioning to the wine. Okay, this is SO not Tommy. He got pissed at Sadie for drinking. He definitely would not let me, a sixteen-year-old, drink. No way.

But he poured me some anyways and shoved it in my hand and, oh, I can't help it! I can't say no to him! Which is bad. Really, really bad. But at least he's moving to sit down. Good. So if he passes out, he won't wind up on the floor. Phew.

And me, well, I really need to sit down. Really bad. And process things. Tommy things. "Why do you have a CD, boxers, and wedding cake in your fridge?" I blurted out randomly. Not really what I was going for. Maybe I oughtta take a sip of this thing.

Tommy laughs, sloppily sipping his wine. "Well, you know… Frozen? The wedding cake's from when I almost got married over the summer… That reminds me, did you _like_ the boxers?" He answered smoothly, barely sounding drunk. Bad joke, though.

But now I'm blushing even redder than my hair because of that last line. What does he mean by it, is he seriously hitting on me? "Not the point, Tom. We're supposed to… **talk**, right?" I snapped quickly, perhaps a bit harder than I meant to. Wait, what's this about almost getting married over the summer? To Sadie?

My sister? Seriously? Or someone else? Man, poor Sadie… And Poor Me!

"Isn't that what we're doing? So, what do you want to talk about?" Tommy mumbled, licking his lips. Greeat. Just what I need. Desperately I wanted to ask him about the wedding thing, but that'll have to wait for more important matters…

"What about you and Sadie?" I asked quickly, knowing I needed to know. Desperately. Even more desperately than the marriage thing…

Tommy shrugged. "What _about_ her? I don't know… It's up to her," He replied hazily, looking up at the skylight, which showed a beautiful view of the stars. Oh, yeah… Like that really helps. So you're on the market until Sadie says you're not? Lame!

"How long was your longest-lasting relationship?" Okay, not what I intended to ask. But oh well.

Tommy smiled faintly. "Before Sadie, I was lucky if I could keep someone for three weeks…" He responded, taking another sip of his wine. Whoa. So Sadie's the only girlfriend he's had that's lasted longer than three weeks? Oh, but wait, there's more… "'Cept for _you_, girl…"

I can't breathe. Is he insinuating what I think he's insinuating? Oh, god. I hope so… No, I hope not… Better off for the both of us this way. Right. Tommy took another sip from his glass, sighing happily. He was looking at me sort of weird and it was making my stomach flip. I could just feel the butterflies. If he keeps looking at me like that, I'm gonna faint.

No, I won't. That's just lack of food talking. I've skipped two meals in a row. All I've eaten today is bread, some water from the drinking fountain, and a Poptart. Yeah, I'm just hungry. I'll eat this Chinese food and be fine. Who knew two minutes could take so long?

Speaking of which… My Chinese food was done! I literally jumped up (leaving the wineglass behind) and raced into the kitchen, something that's prolly really stupid to do, considering that there are knives in the kitchen…

Yes! Mmm… It smells so good. I bet it tastes good too… Mmm, I loooove Chinese food. Even more than Tommy. Who I don't love. I just… like. No, not even like! I…

Oh, I can't do this! Yeah, I'm gonna eat at the table. His table. By myself. Away from Tommy Wino over there. Yeah. I can do this. What? I can. Really. I swear. I'll just concentrate on my food.

Mmm… Food. It does taste good. My mind was blissfully free of thoughts for one brief, shining moment… That is, before Tommy came, avec wine, and sat next to me. I noted that he was carrying "mine" too. Damn.

I tried to concentrate on my food. I really did. But Tommy was… distracting. Per usual. About a moment after sitting down, he reached over and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. And his hand didn't move from the side of my face. Well, I suppose it did. A moment later, it slid down my cheek.

I was freaking out, of course. There was this eerie, dreamy look in Tommy's eyes, and I was beginning to think he'd been drugged or something… But, Tommy's touching my cheek! Not that he hadn't done it before. Loads of times actually. Platonically. Mostly. 'Cept when he kissed me.

Let me tell you, there was nothing platonic about the way he was touching me now. Absolutely nothing. It was freaking me OUT. And out of nowhere, his face is moving a little closer to mine.

And then he said in a whisper so low I could barely hear it, "Our kids are going to have blue eyes."

I was… I am floored! I can't even get my tenses straight. Kids? We're going to have kids? He said that they are gonna have blue eyes. 'Cause we both have blue eyes. No "If we have kids…" We're **having** kids. Apparently. Or, at least, he _thinks_ we're gonna have kids.

Are we gonna be married when we have these "kids"? I hope so… I don't wanna have kids outside of wedlock… Not that Tommy's the marrying type. Not that I can even get married yet and ARGH.

And that's another thing… He said kid-s. As in plural. As in more than one. And you have to have sex to have kids. Lots of it.

Tommy wants to have sex with me. Multiple times. And sometimes you have to work to get a baby, so, that'll be… Even more! Tommy thinks we're gonna have sex. Ahhhh!

No, wait, you don't have to have sex to get kids… There's surrogacy and artificial insemination and adoption and… But not adoption… 'Cause he said OURS, as in, biologically. Yikes. And, come on, who am I kidding, Tommy's not the artificial insemination type, and neither am I!

So Tommy thinks I'm gonna have sex with him. He consciously wants to have sex with me. He's been thinking about having sex with me. At some point in time. Oh, god. When? I need to be prepared for this sort of thing to worry about! Does he think… now?

'Cause if he does… He's got another thing coming! No, he can't possibly be that stupid! I'm only sixteen… He knows that. He's always known that. Even when I kissed him when I was fifteen. Wait, this is wrong. Him wanting to sleep with me. A 16-year-old.

This is so illegal. Statutory rape. Hell, he could do five years for even touching me in the wrong way… Maybe Tory DOES have to worry about statutory rape charges after all… Gulp.

Well, at least she'll be a grandma. Right? Having grandkids ought to cheer her up, right? Oh, who am I kidding? That woman cannot be satisfied. By anything. Much less me having her grandkids… Wait, did I say me? Yes. Okay… What I meant to say was Sadie. Assuming they're still together… But are they?

ARGH! I'm soo confused!

I can't believe he actually SAID that. Maybe I heard him wrong. Or I should just ignore him and keep eating. Yes. That's it. Mm. Food. Good. Don't think about Tommy. Don't think about Tommy.

Good.

"Tommy, how do you feel about me?" I asked slowly and cautiously. What the hell am I thinking? I should not have asked that. I don't need to know. And, uh, I think I sorta already do. In a way.

But I can't think about Tommy possibly feeling anything… romantic… towards me. Or I'll never be able to be in a room alone with him. Because I'll want to make-out with him… Wait, too late! ARGH. Stupid Thomas Quincy. Always leaving me all mixed up.

I mean, he kissed me. At my birthday. And he kissed me back in Montreal. Twice. He was pulling up my dress then too… Wait, he was pulling up my dress and I didn't care? Aw, crud. Now I'm even more emotionally involved in this ordeal. Greeat. And that stuff he said to Kwest that I overheard… That I wasn't supposed to hear and didn't hear in entirety. At all.

But Tommy's actually thinking it over! Maybe I don't want to hear this… What if he doesn't feel the same or… Okay, I've gotta get away from him! Now! I'm not really hungry anymore. I'm just going to sit on the nice, comfy couch. Ah, it feels so soft and… couch-y.

And it smells like Tommy.

Okay, shutting up! Oh, great… Here comes Tommy. Again. I thought I'd escaped. Why does he keep following me. Tommy plopped down, right next to me, on the couch. Carelessly, he threw his arms around the back of couch, and I didn't fail to notice that one of them was now wrapped around my shoulder.

I tensed up immediately, noticing how close we were. I could smell his cologne again. Bad things happen when I get this close to Tommy. Very bad things. And the feeling of his arm against my shoulder is starting to drive me INSANE! Especially now that he's started to play with my hair and… Ohmigod! Is he leaning in? He is leaning in!

He swooped in and kissed me. It wasn't hard or rough like it had been at my birthday. It was sweet and he tasted like wine and coffee. And his lips are so soft and moist and perfect and… HE'S perfect. And even when he's drunk… He's still an amazing kisser. Better than Shay. So much better than Shay… And, oh…

Tommy broke the kiss then, smiling at me, his face slightly pink (though whether that was from the kiss or the wine is anyone's guess). "I've known it since you kissed me at the Vinyl Palace all those months ago, girl."

Damn, he gets kinda poetical when he's drunk. Wait, known what? It? By "It" does he mean his feelings towards me? What kind of feelings are those? Huh? I need to know. But I can't ask.

"I-I… I wanted… to…"

The words hung there, unnoticed by me. Completely unnoticed.

I shouldn't ask. I shouldn't even want to know. That person was right. If anything… Read: _Anything_… happens between me and Tommy… I'll ruin both our reputations and both our careers. Much less put Tommy away for five years. And Tommy cannot produce my album from jail.

I need him. I need him to produce me, to guide me, to help me, to write with me… I **don't** need him as a boyfriend. Let's face it… I've got to be mature about this. I couldn't be with him even if I wanted to. But I do want to…

No, I didn't just say that! I DON'T want to be with Tommy… I can't! He's an ass… Who's dating my sister, for crying out loud! He's too old for me… And in a boyband… And he's everything I hate about the music industry and…

Why'd he have to bring up the first time I kissed him? I mean, he was really surprised by it and it was so short and stupid… He was just starting to kiss back at the en… No, he wasn't. I was imagining things. Like I am now. Except I'm not.

"Jude, girl, I **need** you," Tommy whispered, his breath brushing my ear, grabbing my hand. I forced myself to look away, even though I'd stiffened and felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. He _needs_ me. Tommy needs me. For a change. But what does he need me for? My question was answered when he kissed me again.

Harder this time. More insistent, more bruising. I could feel him lick my lips and I moaned involuntarily… I wasn't supposed to be doing this. I wasn't supposed to be giving in like this. I felt my back gently hitting the cushion of the couch and tried to open my eyes, but Tommy's hands were in my hair and then… not… So I found myself concentrating on other matters. Like pulling Tommy as close to me as possible. He was so warm and strong. And safe…

Wait, what am I thinking? Nothing about this is SAFE! Not one damn thing! Unless he has a condom… Oh, god! I didn't just think that… I am not going to sleep with Tommy, much less a drunk off his ass Tommy. It's wrong. Soo wrong.

So wrong it's right.

Shut up, Brain! I need to stop. Tommy is not a drug. I can stop. I want to stop, but OH… That feels nice. He feels nice. I really like what he's doing to my neck. It feels so good…

"Jude, I l-" Tommy started to say between kisses, hands sliding under my t-shirt and up my stomach slowly, torturously. My eyes flew wide open and I stared at him for a second. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. "I… I l-" Tommy tried again, and suddenly, it was all just too much. The smell of wine was overpowering. I felt lightheaded and dizzy, and I think Tommy was starting to notice. "Jude, this isn't easy for me to say, but I-" Tommy began for the third time, but I cut him off, shoving him fiercely away from me, my eyes flashing.

"Snap out of it!" I shouted, pushing him harder. Tommy blinked, confused. He was breathless.

"Jude, I'm trying to tell you how I-" Tommy attempted to say once more, moving closer to me. My eyes widened even further, and still I pushed him away.

"**No**, Tommy! You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying!" I retorted loudly, turning away from him. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, exhaling deeply. I needed to clear my mind in the worst way. But here it was, coming full circle again, to focus on him. Maybe I should focus on something else instead. Like the music.

"_But there amidst the blurry highway curiosities, badly framed landscapes, and poorly lit faces, is a startling revelation I hadn't expected to find…_"

Or maybe not.

"I'm not **that** drunk, Jude," Tommy tried to argue, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. I spun around to glare at him, eyes narrowed.

"Well, you're _certainly_ drunk enough to be kissing **me**, Tom…" I hissed back, getting up from the couch. I felt cold. Cold and used. Why didn't I bring a jacket? Damn Canadian winters… Even though it's not winter.

"_This is me, looking over my shoulder… This is me, watching something that's just out of view… This is me, pretending I had what I wanted… And this one's you…_"

I wanted to leave. Never mind that his place is awesome, that he's here and hitting on me, that he's got the right food and the right music and the right… everything. I can't stay here anymore. Like in my song.

"_Twilight is wandering in, concealing evidence of uncertainty… Empty bottles, an unwritten letter and me… Watching time go by…_"

Speaking of which, it was late, and my parents were probably freaking out. I hadn't called and I wasn't at the studio. Nobody knew where I was except me and Tommy. But mostly Tommy because I wasn't quite sure of where he lived exactly.

Speaking of Tommy, where'd he go? Oh, he's at the fridge… With the wedding cake. Why? Why now? And two forks.

I am so screwed. He wants me to eat with him. Wedding cake. Oh jeez. I hope he's not going to try and feed me. That would be too strange. Too strange. Tommy handed me a fork, offering me some of the wedding cake. Gingerly, I poked the fork in the cake, digging it in and removing it with the cake on it. I hesitantly brought the cake to my lips and chewed on it.

Mmm, it was good. Tommy smiled at me (thick, creamy, white frosting all over his lips), noticing I liked it. I took some steadily bigger bites of it (Tommy had finished a good amount of it, really). It was like I couldn't get enough… Jeez, what's in this? Crack?

It's gotta be illegal 'cause it tastes too good to be legal. Kinda like Tommy.

Please tell me I did not just think that.

I wonder what this chef does with other foods? Mmm, if I made cake this good, I don't think I'd ever have to do anything else… It's so… Well, there's not really a word for how good this tastes. I was ravenously devouring the delicious cake, and half dead to the world around me (again, only the cake. The beautiful, luscious cake… I'd better stop now before I drool) when Tommy spoke again.

"We should have cake like this at our wedding…" Tommy remarked nonchalantly. I choked on my cake. Tommy looked concerned, and he leaned over, rubbing my back, which caused me to choke again. How could he be so calm about things like that? Oh, right… He's DRUNK. And jeez, he's really touchy-feely when he's drunk. Really. It's sort of alarming.

Wedding? Mister-I-Screw-Around, Mr. Anti-Commitment personified, is thinking about getting married? And to me, nonetheless? Me, a sixteen-year-old? Didn't he just tell me that before Sadie, his longest relationship lasted three weeks? I guess he's more of a quantity man over quality. Or duration.

Married? I'm too young to have to think about these sort of things. Did you know that I never thought of my wedding when I was little? Never. Sadie always did. As a matter of fact, she was a bride every Halloween. I was a bride too. Three times.

First time I was the Bride of Frankenstein (yeah, that was scary-lookin'). The second time, I was the Bride of Dracula (I had some morbid tendencies in childhood, what can I say? I was a hard-core tomboy back then). Oh, and the third time… I was a dead one. There was fake blood (Mom made it herself) and everything. It was cool-looking.

When Sadie was little, she used to dance around, singing "Pick up the Pieces" horribly off-key and kissing pictures of Tommy with a towel wrapped around her like a wedding dress. And sadly enough, no, I am not joking about the kissing pictures of Tommy thing. She had a WHOLE wall devoted to pictures of him. Just him. I'm not even talking about the rest of Boyz Attack!. Luckily for me, she took them down after her three month mourning period when Boyz Attack! broke up.

You know, I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear him. Yeah. That'll work. Wait, why am I still even here?

"Why did they call you Little Tommy Q.?" I stammered, trying to avoid an awkward conversation. Not that Boyz Attack! wasn't, of course, but hey… It was a vast improvement over what his idea of a conversation starter.

Tommy smirked, and I felt my shoulders sag in relief. For a moment, it was sort of like the old, not drunk, normal Tommy was back! But then I noticed that he clearly wasn't.

"Darius made us a band. He was auditioning people left and right, and he had most of the guys, but he knew he was missing something, or more specifically, someone. Darius has always been real close to my parents… He worked with both of them. So he came by one night to talk business with my dad because he was getting really desperate and had no idea what to do next. Somehow he overheard me singing in the shower, and, well, he asked my dad about it. Next thing I knew, I tried out with the rest of the guys… And I just sort of fit in. I was only fourteen when I was "drafted" into Boyz Attack, so I was the youngest. Hence _Little_ Tommy Q.," Tommy explained calmly, barely slurring any of his words. As a matter of fact, it made so much sense, I was skeptical of his drunkenness.

I laughed though. Singing in the shower? How did Darius hear Tommy singing in the shower? And, goodness, he was younger than me when I won Instant Star! I can see why Darius would be close to Victoria… But what about Tommy's dad? Who is Tommy's dad? Still more questions… Damn.

Tommy joined in on the laughter and it felt sort of like old times. Before everything got so complicated… And I never just realized how much I've missed that. I'm really missing out on being normal here.

Of course, he ruined the whole illusion a moment later when he fiercely kissed me again, out of nowhere, again… For a moment, I was frozen with shock and surprise. But he tasted like cake and frosting and I wanted more cake, so I soon found myself practically throwing myself at him. This didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. Frankly, at the time it didn't bug me much either.

I love it when he kisses me back.

No… I'm not supposed to… Can't think… I need some air. Some space.

I broke the kiss then, gasping for breath like I'd just run a marathon. Hurriedly, I scooted away from Tommy, even going so far as to leap to my feet and back away from the couch. Tommy sighed, putting his head in his hands.

"Savez-vous je suis québécois? Je suis née à Montréal. Qu'est-ce que je pense! Tu ne peux pas parler français! Pourquoi est-ce que c'est si dur? Tout que je veux faire est de tu dire cela je t'ai-" Tommy moaned, laughing slightly bitterly. As he went on talking, it hit me… What he was about to say. I had to stop him!

"Non, ce n'est pas vrai! Tu ne peux pas m'aimer! Tu es ivre et tu ne sais pas de quoi tu dis!" I snapped hurriedly, feeling my skin flush. My heart dropped to my stomach and I could barely breathe anymore.

"Tu me comprends?" Tommy asked incredulously. I don't have time for this. I have to… explain. Yes, explain.

"That's not the point. Tommy, it's always one step forward, two steps backwards with you and me…" I groaned, annoyed. I ran a hand through my hair and just stared at him for a minute. He held my gaze silently for a moment. But I couldn't handle it, and so I walked back over to the kitchen table. I think I'd made it clear.

Tommy didn't follow me this time. I ate in silence, barely glancing at Tommy. And before I knew it, all the Chinese food was gone. Finally, I'm not hungry anymore. Ah. It was then that I finally chanced a look over at Tommy. I didn't need to worry, because he was asleep.

Smiling, I got up quietly from the table, putting my plate in the sink. Then I made my way over to where Tommy was, lying on the couch. I grabbed the cake and silverware, depositing the cake in the fridge (but not without swiping some of the frosting) and the silverware in the sink. Carefully, I picked up the wine bottle, pushing the cork back in. I placed it on the counter and then went back for the two glasses. I poured the one that had originally been for me down the sink. There wasn't much left in his glass, so, glancing around, as if to see if anyone was watching, I downed the rest of it… Hey, after the day I've had… A few tablespoons of wine really couldn't hurt. That being done, I placed the glasses on the counter.

I turned off the stereo with some difficulty. Which just left Tommy to deal with. And what, exactly, was I supposed to do about him?

I gulped, walking over to him. Hesitating, I bent down and pulled him up. Maybe if I could get some of his weight on my shoulder… Yeah, that ought to work… Or, if I wake him up… Nope, can't risk that. Not at all…

C'mon, Tommy. I exerted a lot of force, force that was wasted, on getting him to hang on my shoulder… And, bless him, he didn't even wake. Now, it was getting up the stairs that was the real hassle… But through the use of the pole holding up the stairs (i.e. Tommy leaning against it), I managed to get him up to the second floor. I opened the first door tiredly, as supporting Tommy's weight was wearing me out. I knew even without looking that it was Tommy's room.

Not that I did much looking. It's his private space. I shouldn't be intruding. I went in far enough to drop him on the bed before realizing that Tommy was still fully-clothed. I knew he would be uncomfortable when he woke up… But I couldn't just strip him down or anything.

I had to wake him up. Damnit. I leaned over him, gently shaking him. After a while, his eyes fluttered open and closed, and then finally open again. He appeared confused and blinked, seeing me.

"Jude? What're you doi-" Tommy muttered sleepily, propping himself up a little. I pushed him back down… How exactly was I going to put this? I bit my lip, thinking.

"Uh, Tommy… We're um, going to play a little game… It's called um, the Strip Tommy Game…" I began nervously. My hands were shaking from their position on his chest. I prayed he didn't notice. It had been a long day and my nerves were frayed. I was a mess.

Tommy smiled lazily, blinking hazily. "That's me!" He mumbled drunkenly. I rolled my eyes at his stupidity before nodding slowly. I was trying hard to be serious, but I wasn't quite sure it would work.

"Uh huh… Now you're gonna help me take off your clothes so you can get to sleep…" I explained slowly and patiently, enunciating every word. Tommy smirked lazily again, blinking.

"With you?"

My throat went dry and I couldn't breathe for a second. I forced myself to swallow, quickly drawing in a breath of air. Tommy was still smiling at me. My heartbeat sped up. A lot. I seriously hope he's not… PROPOSITIONING me! Ahh!

No, Jude. That's unrealistic. And he's drunk, so it's not like you would do it anyways!

Do it… Man, I need better word choice.

"C'mon, Tommy… The faster you go… The, uh, more fun it'll, um, be…" I ordered quickly, starting to remove his shoes. Tommy nodded sloppily, throwing off his jacket. I heard it rather than saw it hit the floor. I knew that if I focused on Tommy changing, I would be done for. Literally. And someone had to be the mature adult here.

I had one shoe off when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw his shirt hit the floor. I swallowed so hard my throat burned before hastily ripping off his sock and chucking it behind me haphazardly. Then I moved efficiently on to his next shoe, biting my lip in concentration as I gently attempted to remove it.

I succeeded, gently removing his sock, before I glanced over at his face (yes, his face! Not his bare, chiseled chest with those rock-hard abs of his…). He was frowning petulantly, looking uncomfortable. He caught my stare, gesturing downward (to his pants. Naturally, I didn't look. Because if I did, I would be BEYOND screwed).

"Would you help me? My hands are slipping and everything's kind of blurry," Tommy slurred, trying to undo his belt. Then it hit me. What he wanted me to do.

How am I supposed to undo his pants? That was not part of the deal! What if he takes advantage of me? Or vice-versa? Oh, god. I cannot think of Tommy like that… And yet I am, and AUGH, this is all so damn screwed up.

I sighed, taking a deep intake of breath, slowly walking over to his side. I fixed my eyes on his belt… Only his belt… And with shaking fingers, I hastened to unfasten it, biting my lip nervously. I was scared. Really scared.

And sweating and shaking like a leaf. I was about ready to crack. _If you get any closer, it could be the death of me…_

Hmm, where did that lyric come from? After unfastening Tommy's belt (and removing it so quickly if you blinked, you'd miss it), I rocketed away from him as fast as I could. I heard the squeaking strain of bedsprings, and then I heard him stand. Immediately, I turned so I could not see him. In any way, shape, or form.

I knew he was taking off his jeans… And if I was going to lose it before when I unbuckled them… Well, I'm definitely gonna lose it now if I turn around. So, while attempting to distract myself from whatever it was that Tommy was doing behind me, I stumbled unto something big. It was a box. A Boyz Attack! the World Tour box. Yeah, scary isn't it? Making their own boxes and all.

But what killed me was what was in it. Tons of articles and pictures of me. Tabloids, reviews of my music, articles about my relationship with Shay, an itinerary for my world tour (again, with Shay), tapes of the Instant Star episodes I was in, my old school photos, tapes of me singing, song lyrics, pictures of the two of us… Why did Tommy have all this crap having to do with me lying around in a box. And, more importantly, why was it open?

I was even more surprised when I felt a pair of warm arms circle my waist. I nearly jumped a foot in the air before I realized it was Tommy, then I jumped two feet in the air because I realized it was Tommy. Tommy nuzzled the side of my face with his own (scratchy five-o'clock shadow and all) before kissing my cheek with a bit more gusto than was necessary. He smelled wasted.

Pulse soaring and breath shortening, I mentally forced myself to face him, trying to regain my composure. It didn't really work, because then I realized that Tommy was only wearing a pair of boxers, and well, judging by the heat that came to my face, I was a bit worried.

Especially when Tommy tried to take his boxers off. I stopped him with a hand on the waistband of his boxers. Again, not a wise move! Especially as I was touching his hipbone right now, and his chiseled abs were all that I could see… Lord, I never knew he was so… muscular. And… fit.

And hot… So damn hot.

It was a wonder I managed to stay off him and not just jump his bones right the- AHHH! Now his pervertedness has caught on to me! Now he's got me thinking about having sex with him! Which is illegal, and wrong… And wrong and illegal and why? Okay… Yeah, I really need to get Tommy onto the bed.

Oh, god. Not like that, you perv! Though, really… Okay, shutting up now!

I backed Tommy on the bed, backing away myself before he could grab me and pull me down with him. Tommy looked up at me giddily. I sighed, wondering what to do.

Lullaby? Well, I suppose it was worth a try.

"_Time to be your only one… To almost be your "way too young". Time to crash into the sun. Time to be your twenty-one… Time to dream that love will last… Time to drive my car too fast. Time to walk before I run… Time to be… Ooh, time to be your twenty-one…_" I sang softly, closing my eyes. Tommy was still awake, but only barely so. Much like myself here.

"That song's about me…" He whispered dimly, snuggling down into his pillow. I twitched, seeing his stomach muscles flex mid-stretch.

"_Time to be your only one… To almost be your "way too young"… Time to crash into the sun… Time to be your twenty-one… Time to dream that love will last… Time to drive my car too fast… Time to walk before I run… Time to be your twenty one…_" I hummed softly, noticing that Tommy was now fast asleep. Smiling serenely and relaxing for the first time all night, I carefully pulled the covers over him. As an afterthought, I kissed him tenderly on the forehead, smoothing his hair and feeling oddly unstable.

I wanted to lie down next to him and just sleep, leaving us both to deal with this in the morning, but I knew I couldn't do that. Instead, I settled for kissing him on the cheek and whispering into his ear, "_Time to be your twenty-one…_ Sweet dreams, Tommy…"

That being done, I hurriedly left his room, thinking up a plan on the spot. Or at least trying. I had to get home, my car was at the restaurant and I sure as hell wasn't walking there in the middle of the night. Looking for an idea, I saw Tommy's car keys. I knew he'd mind, but it was his fault in the first place for getting drunk.

I left a brief post-it note on his fridge, snatching up the keys and racing out of his apartment like a bat out of hell. Then I put the keys in the ignition and drove out of there in Tommy's Viper. I took one last, long look back at his building, memorizing every aspect about it, before I speedily turned my gaze back unto the road before me, heading towards home and certain doom.

After all, it was three in the morning. On a school night. And I was driving home in my boyfriend's car. Honestly, what would **you** think was going on?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

- Loren ;

* * *

Oh, but I'll cover up to that part… The ellipses represent a part you have to figure out for yourself. Have fun.

Tommy: Did you know I'm from Quebec? I was born in Montreal. What am I thinking? You can't speak French! Why is this so hard? All I want to do is tell you that I… (and I'm gonna leave it there for you to figure it out)

Jude: No, that's not true! You can't…! You're drunk and you don't know what you're saying!

Tommy: You understand me?

Oh, and another random fact. As of I dunno when, this is my longest fic on the site. And I'm only at 14 chapters… I have other stories with over thirty chapters. Wow. That's impressive. Who knew I could be so wordy?

Let's see… I was listening to Sekiden while writing (finishing) this chapter. And it's storming. And it's the middle of the night and I should be sleeping, but I'm not. That's mainly 'cause there's a spider on my ceiling and I dunno where to sleep. Ugh. And naturally, of course, the spider has vanished by the time I've written this.

See, that's how much I love you guys… I only get two hours of sleep a night for you! On the weekdays. Excepting the naps I've taken. Which isn't many. And all the times I've been falling asleep in class and at home. But not the point. That's really not healthy. Oh well.

Oh, 'nother random thing I noticed. Jude was starting to write Time to Be Your 21 for Shay, right? Before she added the 21 thing because of what Tommy said. Anyways, she had the _Time to be your "way too young"_ line in there BEFORE she changed it to be about Tommy. So, was it _Time to be you're "way too young"_? Which one is it? That's bugging me. So is she making it possessive, like: "I'm your "way too young"!" or is she making a statement, like: "You say I'm "way too young"!" Arg. It's annoying me. Y'know what I mean? Anyways…

Grumpy Author Time is over. The author would like to haul ass now and finish up the chapter before it's six in the morning (which is in a couple hours, but so not the point), so I'm gonna say that I really do appreciate your reviews a gazillion times over, and I love you guys for sending them. I also would like it if you would maybe quite possibly review this chapter because it has Tommy in it for once and they talk and he's drunk and it's cute and I'm rambling like a mad woman who's just eaten a gazillion Pixy Stix, even though I have…

Oh, and I wish you a happy Instant Star watching tomo-Today. Yay! Instant Star's on today! Yay. But it's the finale… So that sucks.

Anyways, I'll try and write more over the weekend.


	16. Sally Simpson

Okay... So you want to know why I haven't been updating... Actually, it's a long story... But things have been CRAZY lately. There was Homecoming and PSATs and the PLAN and all sorts of crazy stuff. I swear, I was writing the chapter. Heck, I was almost finished with the damn chapter. But then my computer got a virus. Well, I thought it was a Trojan, 'cause my Norton Anti-Virus said that, but what does it know? Anyhow, I stupidly took my computer to Best Buy without personally backing anything up. Which was stupid, because here I am a week later with my laptop back... And it has absolutely none of the documents, pictures, and music files I specifically asked them to save. Now, I don't care what their lame-ass excuse is. Because it's frickin' pissing me off. I mean, the customer should not have to call every damn day when the people at Best Buy say they're gonna. And that is why you should not shop at Best Buy. Because they eff up and erase your computer's hard drive and then charge you exorbitant sums of money for it. I'm beginning to think they invent more problems. Anyhow, since those assholes are incompetant, I lost every damn file on the computer that I gave a damn about.

Therefore, I do not have this chapter. I do not have any of the chapters of Consequences. As of now, Word is not even on my computer (I am typing this in WordPad). I don't even have any of the songs. Which annoys me, because I put like nine together the night before (or should I say the morning of) bringing my computer to Worst Buy. And I don't have a lot of the songs written out on paper or I changed them since I wrote them down, so, needless to say, I am very, very, very pissed. I'll see if I can do anything to get some files back, but if I can't, and I probably won't (but I hope... My mom's prolly not willing to go back with me), then, yeah... There would be a lot less music.

I kept telling myself I was just gonna finish that chapter in one sitting too. And I only had the part where Jude sings her new song and a conversation with Joan to go, too... If I'd only finished it. It was cute, it was funny, it was depressing, it made you angry... But all of that's gone now. sigh And the song was good too, except I don't have it on paper anywhere, 'cause I typed it on the computer and remember like none of it. I don't remember most of the songs, to tell the truth. 'Cause everything I just downloaded unto this computer is from before I was obsessed with Instant Star (ARGH!). I don't even remember some of their titles. All I know is there's "Minor Liaison" (which you may now never get to see... Well, the good version anyways. Well, the chorus... There's parts of it), "Dirty Old Man", "Playboy", "Mistake/Disgrace", "Wrong (About You)", "Illicitly Existing" (though you saw some of this in the chapter with Jude's parents' interrogation), "Justified to Avenge", "Frozen" (You'll get to see that one, 'cause it's not mine), "Driving Myself Crazy (Thinking of You)" (which is really a shame, because I was the girl in this song... I was trying really hard all day not to think about this guy, and, well, yeah), "Together" (That one you might get to see... I think), "Anticonformity", "Rules to Follow, Rules to Break", "Sexy Sadie" (not The Beatles' version... It has different lyrics and she was supposed to sing it at Under the Mike), and "Song I Can't Stop Singing". So her album might have a cover or five... Lol.

Well, maybe you'll get pieces of the songs? I dunno. This'll probably take a while, 'cause I have to start from scratch, which sucks. Argh. And all my plotlines were with the story too. Argh. So I'll see what I can do. I apologize for the lateness and for the fact that I'm reposting this chapter, unchanged, because I wanted to do this important author's note thing.

Also, thank you for all your kind reviews (They make my day!). I've got Drivers Ed tomorrow from 8-4, so, I'll try to work on this after I get back. I promise.

Don't own Jude, Tommy, Jamie, Kat, Sadie, Stuart, Victoria, The Who, Sally Simpson, or the Viper. Oh, one thing, do Jamie and Kat know that Tommy and Sadie are dating? Eh, well, even if they do, they don't, in this fic… Anyhow, song lyrics in italics… Sorry about the shortness of this chapter. Half the reason it took so long was my working to find a name that fit (I contemplated songs by Jude, the Clash, Alanis Morrisette, the Pettit Project, Easily Amused, the Ramones, and countless other bands and things you've never heard of… Really, it was driving me InSaNe!).

Quietly, I started to drive into my driveway when all of a sudden I heard a noise. As usual, I slammed down hard on the breaks.

"Stay right where you are, Quincy! We know what you're trying to do!"

Aw, crap. I've been caught. Except they think I'm Tommy. I squinted into the darkness, trying to see… It was Jamie and Kat.

"Jamie? Kat? What're you two doing here?" I asked in a loud whisper, glancing around, paranoid, as if my parents were going to pop out from behind a bush.

"Jude? Where'd Tommy go?" Jamie asked, tilting his head and peering at me sideways. I rolled my eyes, stretching out an arm to display that Tommy was clearly not in the car.

"Nowhere, considering he's at home. **Asleep**," I muttered a bit harsher than I meant. Jamie stared at me suspiciously.

"Jude, what're you doing out at three in the morning?" Kat asked rationally. I smiled at her, but had no idea of what to say to them.

"Isn't it obvious, Kat? She was with HIM!" Jamie shouted crazily. I rolled my eyes at his antics. Seriously… Didn't Dad say that earlier? When we were talking? Or, no, wait, that was last night… Man, days seem to be passing so slowly lately. Maybe it's because I haven't been sleeping. Yeah, that's it…

"Jeez, Jamie, you sound like my dad!" I retorted, sighing and parking the car. Jamie made a face at me, and I snickered. His scowl grew. Kat looked like she was torn between being amused and being concerned. Quite a funny combination, really. But I was still mad. They'd been ignoring me for over three months, and they choose now, in the middle of the night, to show up? Honestly, their timing's worse than Tommy's!

Augh. Said his name again.

"Would you mind telling me why the **hell** you two are _here_, on my driveway, in the middle of the night, after not speaking to me for over **three** months? You almost made me _crash_ Tommy's car and he teases me about my driving enough as it is," I snapped, impatiently from lack of sleep, lack of patience, and sheer annoyance. This day had stretched on for days. Yes, days! What can I say, I'm sleep deprived…

Kat let out a nervous giggle, but I supposed I must've looked tough or something 'cause they backed off. Kat looked to Jamie, who sighed. Jamie looked up nervously, staring straight into my eyes.

"There's something Kat and I need to tell you… We kinda got back together over the summer…" Jamie explained weakly, awaiting my reaction. That's why they've been avoiding me? Lame-ass reason. I can handle that. Really. As odd as it is. Except it's not.

It just pisses me off that they avoided me and didn't tell me. Either way, I locked the car, tugged the keys out of the ignition, and vaulted over the side of the war, racing up to them. I promptly smacked Jamie upside the head…

"OUCH! JUDE! What was that for!" Jamie whined loudly. I elbowed him in the stomach. Hard. He was being too loud. Especially for this time in the morning.

"So you two have been avoiding me for a fourth of a year because you're dating? That's so lame! I'm fine with you dating… I just could've used a little support… And why the hell didn't you tell me sooner!" I exclaimed, annoyed, as I berated the both of them. Jamie hung his head and Kat avoided my eyes, silent as stones. I waited for a moment, and nothing happened. So I rolled my eyes, grabbing both of them and pulling them into a three-way hug. They were both a little surprised.

"But," I continued, still hugging my best friends for the first time in months, "It's okay. Now you can repay the favor by helping me sneak in. Oh, and no making out in front of me, please?"

We broke the hug and Jamie and Kat exchanged glances. After a moment of this silent war, both shrugged, and we all walked over to my window. Jamie held Kat up first, so that she could open up my window wide enough for me to enter.

"So, why are you grounded?" Jamie asked casually, focusing on Kat, who he was pushing up. This wasn't a safe topic, as he thought it was, but I decided to humor him and answer it anyways.

"Well, the day I got back… I had a fight with Sadie and I wound up punching her in the nose… And her nose broke. And then I snuck out of the house without telling anyone. I had a drink and I came back at one in the morning. And they found out I kissed Tommy," I explained thoughtfully. Jamie stumbled with Kat for a minute, who glared down at him, but I noticed the window was open all the way. Seconds later, Jamie willingly let Kat down.

"What'd you fight with Sadie about?" Kat asked sagely. With my hands on my hips, I rolled my eyes at her.

"Isn't it obvious?" I replied, pausing for dramatic flair, "Tommy."

Kat frowned, and I'm sure she was remembering the whole mess with Jamie, her, and me when I found out they were together. Ugh. I felt so bad afterwards. Jamie also was frowning, but that's probably just because he really, really doesn't like Tommy.

"You see, Sadie and Tommy were, or are, I really don't know… Dating, that is. And he sorta ditched her in Italy to come see me in Montreal, and, well, you know…" I explained hastily, in order to counter the puzzled looks on their faces. Did they already know about Sadie and Tommy? I really can't remember.

Kat sighed, nodding. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"So, does Tommy know you took his car?" She asked, fighting back the hints of an amused smile. I winced, biting my lip. Well, I did leave a note… And I'm sure he'll find it… If he eats breakfast… It really depends on what he remembers.

I think it'd be best if he forgot pretty much everything that happened. For the both of us, really. Yeah, that'd be good.

"I left a note on his fridge!" I muttered defensively. Jamie's eyes widened to the size of saucers and Kat looked more intrigued. Crap. I just sort of let it slip that I was at his place. In a roundabout way. Ugh.

"_You_ were at his **house**!" Jamie gaped, incredulous. Somehow, I had the feeling he was assuming the same things that everyone else had been assuming. And that scared me. Because I haven't slept with Tommy. I've made out with him a few times… That's all. On my birthday in the alleyway, on stage, in my dressing room, in his apartment… Man, that makes it sound like I've been having a torrid affair with him or something. But then again, for at least three of those, he was dating my sister… Ugh, I feel like the other woman.

"Penthouse, actually," I corrected stupidly. I winced as the look on Jamie's face changed yet again. Kat looked somewhat concerned.

"I'll **bet**!" Jamie shouted. I glanced around hastily. He couldn't wake my parents up. Or I was screwed. I sighed, shaking my head.

"Look, Jamie, Kat, we can talk about this later. Tomorrow… Today… Whenever. Just later. I need to sleep right now. So, can you please help me up to my window?" I hissed, feeling even more angry. I glared at Jamie, who winced, and hurried to grab me and push me up to my window. Carefully, I climbed inside my room. Once in there, I turned around, leaning out the window to look down at them.

"Who do you have for homeroom?" Kat shouted quietly, cupping her hands around her mouth. I frowned, remembering just WHO I had for homeroom. I could feel my posture slump and tense at the same time at the mere thought of that evil, sadistic, sexually-harassing, perverted son of a bitch bastard who just happened to be my Music teacher. Of all subjects… Music. And I knew immediately that I would be skipping homeroom, screw the consequences.

I didn't doubt that there would be consequences. He was sure to make a stink about it to try and insure that I didn't get "star treatment"… But, hey, if he did that, or ever touched me again, well, I'm going to the school board. And that's that.

"Quinn… But I think I'm gonna skip," I hollered back down, being careful not to awaken my parents. Kat smiled, and Jamie frowned.

"Oh, we've got him too…" Kat answered, looking slightly happy that we at least had this one class together. Normally, I would've been happy for this too, but I was stuck with him for two periods a day. Which was two more periods than I wanted to see him. But hey, at least he can't hit on me and stuff with other people around. They'll protect me. Yeah.

"Why are you skipping, Jude?" Jamie asked, looking rather puzzled. Ah, if he knew… He would try and beat Mr. Quinn up. And fail horribly… Kinda like he did with Shay. I wish I'd been there to see that. Bet it would've been entertaining. Meh, oh well.

"Because Quinn's a bastard!" I retorted furiously, eyes narrowing at the mere thought of that idiot. Jamie and Kat looked a little taken aback, but I waved them off, sighing. "I'll see you at school tomorrow…" They nodded, waving, and walked back over to Jamie's house. It was obviously too late for Kat to go home.

But I wasn't going to dwell on that. Right now, I just needed to unwind a little and then go to bed. I changed into a tank-top and sweatpants, and blindly put an old record on the record player. It wasn't playing very loud.

For a while, I just stared up at the ceiling, not really hearing the music, just thinking. I didn't listen to the lyrics, just the way their voices sounded… That is, up until one song…

Suddenly, I was bombarded by lyrics.

_She knew from the start, deep down in her heart, that she and Tommy were worlds apart…_

Whoa, what the hell? Tommy? I must be hallucinating and hearing things… It can't be… I'm losing my mind…

_But her mother said, never mind your part… Is to be what you'll be._

This is crazy… Who am I even listening to? I'd better find the thing this one came in… Hmm, where'd I put it?

_Group after group appeared on the stage and Sally just sat there crying. She bit her nails, looking pretty as a picture, right in the very front row…_

Okay, there's a record case, and another one, and another one… And another one… Wonder which is full? This one, check, that one, check, those five, check…

_And then a DJ with a blazer and a badge ran on and said "Here we go!"_

Hey, wait, I think I know who this is… It's The Who! Hmm… Better listen closer. I'm obviously not gonna find the album, so I'm just gonna sit back down on my bed. And relax, hopefully. I ought to do that a little more… Maybe then I wouldn't be losing my mind.

_The crowd went crazy as Tommy hit the stage!_

Okay… I obviously wasn't hallucinating. Or I just hallucinated twice in a row…

Neither option's that great, really. Ugh.

_She knew from the start, deep down in her heart, that her and Tommy were worlds apart…_

Wait… Augh, I am so stupid. Just found the cover for the CD. And guess what it says? Come on, guess!

Tommy. The title of the LP is Tommy. That's the name of the album. Of course. How could I forget? Tommy. Man, I am so unlucky…

Just when I think I'm forgetting about him, he pops up again… In some whacked-out, bizarro way. You know, I said can't get rid of me in the song… But maybe I can't get rid of him.

No matter how hard I try.

He's under my skin. So far under that I don't know what to do. Ugh, why am I thinking about this? About him? It's all stupid… This lame crush I've got on him. And no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can't get rid of it! Why can't I get rid of it! Why can't I get rid of him? When am I gonna stop feeling this way?

He's broken my heart… multiple times. He's dating my friggin' sister. He's a two-timing asshole who plays and preys upon women… In his own, stupid, charming way. He's a real hard-ass perfectionist in the studio. He was in a boyband. He was my ex-boyfriend's uncle! And he was married… for a month! He's divorced! Aren't all of these things little signs… Signs that I shouldn't feel this way?

He's treated me horrible. And I keep coming back and putting up with it. Why do I keep doing this to myself? It's self-destructive! Am I some sick kind of masochist who gets a cheap thrill out of hurting myself? If I am, then why not just get it over with and slit my wrists already? It'd be a whole lot less painful.

But no, I keep going back to him… But what, exactly, am I going back to? How the hell does he feel about me? It obviously can't be very much if he doesn't even care about me enough to warn me! Or at least distance himself!

Being in his proximity hurts. Mom and Dad are… actually right. Tommy's no good for me. And me… I'm only trouble for him. This is sick.

We're sick. And twisted and just generally screwed up! Ugh, he is so damn weak! Why is he so damn weak? Why am I so damn weak? I've got to stop this, I've got to end this… This… Whatever it is! I don't even know!

It has to end. It all has to end.

- Loren ;

Oddly enough, that was not the ending I intended to have. Mainly because I did not intend to insert that song in there. But I dunno, Skin was playing at one point. I was technically gonna end it at "But maybe I can't get rid of him". But, hey…

Anyways, thanks for all the greaaaat reviews. And for putting up with me ;) Love you guys. Seriously, I couldn't do it without you…

And, to make up for the shortness of the chapter and the length of my weird author's notes… Here's a possible excerpt from one of Jude's songs… I say possible because I have to edit and sort the verses and decide what's gonna be the chorus and what would fit in a song together and which parts I can live without… Ugh. Anyhow, no idea what the song's gonna be called, but here's some lyrics (Oh, and these lyrics were originally created using that Instant Magnet Poetry thing on the original site. I edited them a bit afterwards to sound better. Oh, and on yet another random side-note, I've been writing some songs for Tommy too lately… As of now, Jude's album, my fun version, of course, has ten songs, one being Jude's version of Frozen, another being Push Me, Pull You, which is from So Weird… I dunno, found it on LimeWire and it sounded cool… Oh, a cover, and then I wrote the other seven. Wrote two of Tommy's, just a few minutes ago, actually)…

_I was too young, right? …Is that your excuse?_

_I trusted you tonight… Wrong move, wrong time_

_I fall from grace because I'm too young tonight… _

_Too young to be doing this and too young to be doing you_

_Get back away from me, nobody knew about it_

_Nobody knew about you and me_

And then, let's see… Another one… They might actually be in the same song, but I've already edited 3 Jude songs and 2 Tommy ones tonight, so I don't really feel like making these into another just yet. And I'd like to sleep.

_If we hooked up right, could it last or would it crack_

_So tired of trying again and again_

_I'll fall too fast for you sometimes… _

_And I'll do it again and again and again_

_We're the type who kiss, but let it go_

_Say stop in a heartbeat, and then I'll do it straightaway_

Oh, and since I'm feeling really bad about the short chapter, I'm gonna spoil you! Okay, in the next chapter, school with Mr. Quinn… Yikes! Jude writes another song… Tommy calls her about his car… Jude performs her new song for her Music class… Basically another crappy day at school.

Oh, and just for the record, the song Jude was composing after she came home from her "date" with Tim is called "Illicitly Existing", hence the title for the chapter. However, she hasn't finished it yet. Mainly because I haven't figured out which verse to make into the chorus. And the bit of song Tommy was singing in Jude's dream is called "Together". And, actually, considering the other songs on her CD, the next one's pretty ironic. This CD's a lot… angrier. More intense. That's why the CD's called Starting Fires. And I really do love the song I just wrote for Tommy's solo CD… It's called "Walking Contradiction". Yes, this song was also lost... Mostly. Which sucks because I loved it. Loved it. I have no idea why, because it doesn't really even have a tune. It had such fun lyrics. But whatever… And I'm gonna shut up there before I give away the whole plot.

Love you all… Night! And sorry, SOOO sorry. Just pray and cross your fingers that I'll be able to get something back... Or suddenly remember everything.


	17. Dirty Old Man

I recommend Wallmart. It's a lot cheaper than Best Buy. Except they have crap CD selection, lemme tell ya... It's weird, you know... Missing everything on my computer comes at weird moments. I mean, I'll look at my background and think: "Damn, wish I had some of those Instant Star ones I spent hours on..." or my icon thingy... (Seriously, I counted, and I made like 50 Instant Star ones in one sitting). Or I'll be watching Life With Derek and remember that I had about two chapters on a Life with Derek fic done and then remember that I'll have to do that all over again...

Aw, thanks though... Good to hear they're talking about me on other boards. Really, some excellent compliments over there. Though I know I've read Instant Star fics that are better than mine... Mine's sorta... Out there in a way... But, yeah, I do wanna be a writer when I grow up. 'Course, they make no money, I suck at creating characters, and I have no idea what I'd write, but oh well... It's just, I can sort of relate to Jude, except I don't look a thing like her except for the pale skin... And I'm not a rockstar, can't play the guitar, really not good at coming up with melodies for all these songs I write (usually I have a sorta general idea... But it'd sound a lot different in the studio). But I am fifteen, sixteen in November, just like Jude's supposed to be, and, oddly enough, the guy I liked/like/whatever looked somewhat like Tommy except with BAD, short, more grayish hair. Ugh. Lol... Except I'm like two months older than him... Anyways, it annoys me 'cause I had this whole song "Driving Myself Crazy (Thinking of You)", which I wrote about me trying to force myself to stop thinking about him (seriously, I was talking to myself at lunch: "You are not That Girl", getting really frustrated with everything... My friends thought I was nuts);). Kinda sucks 'cause he lives in my neighborhood and I've known him since like fourth grade and he's in my lunch and his locker's in my locker bay and I think he has a girlfriend... Argh. And by talking about him I'm sort of avoiding the entire point of the song, which is to stop... sigh Eh, I've been doing a lot of songwriting lately, 'cause I've got to rectify the damage that was done. Most of the songs are as good or better, though, the rewrites... And some of them are new, and others exactly the same... But man, you can so tell I've got anger issues through some of them... Like "Justified to Avenge"... I wrote that after watching Lose This Skin... Pages and pages of random, violent lyrics about aformentioned idiot guy up there... Some of them are pretty gruesome. I was just so pissed... My arm was cramping up from writing.

Oh, and as you can see... I rewrote this chapter's song. It's more powerful, but I miss the chorus. Parts of it were stronger. I did come up with most of this at like 1 in the morning, though. And the one chorus, the one that talks about her car?... Yeah, did that at lunch, got the idea on the way there, and so I ran back to my locker to rip off a piece of graph paper and get a pen. I was writing and my friends were all "What is it!" and I was all "Nothing", which would've been strange if they looked at it, 'cause they might've got the wrong impression if they saw it... I mean, considering what Jude's writing about... 'Cause I randomly start singing all the time, like under my breath, when I'm opening my locker, on the way to acting class (there used to be a point where I sang the chorus of "Skin" everytime I saw the guy I was talking about above)... So that's why there's so many...

It's so weird that one of "Jude's" favorite movies is 16 Candles. I mean, I like the movie myself... It starts out crappy and then there's a happy ending with her charming prince-type... But doesn't Alexz remind you of Molly Ringwald? Y'know, with the red hair? At least, that's who she reminds me of. But eh, I like The Breakfast Club better (hums "Don't You Forget About Me"). I've seen that movie like a gazillion times.

And it's weird... You get very impressed when you read about the cast... Like the actress that plays Jude's mom (Jane) wrote, directed, produced, and starred in her own short film and traveled across Canada with her rock band... Not to mention was in The Linda McCartney Story, The Young Person's Guide to Being a Rockstar, and this tribute to Janis Joplin! How cool is that? Seriously! And yet, they make her dad have the music obsession... And the actress who plays E.J. (what does that stand for anyways?) has a brown belt in Tae Kwon Do and has been taking voice lessons for a long time... And the actress who plays Sadie has a second-degree black belt in Karate... Actually, though, the stuff about Wes (who plays Darius), is pretty amazing; he's the first Canadian rapper to have an album go gold and then go platinum. It'd be interesting if he rapped on the show. Oh, and weirdly enough, Barbara (who plays Kat and is, coincidentally, an award-winning singer) was in this show called Mentors... And so was Jane! Weird, huh? It's odd how they've all been on so many of the same shows... And so many of them have musical backgrounds...

Oh, and just in case you're wondering... I got confused about when Jude was gonna do Under the Mike (originally Saturday), and when she was gonna do the photoshoots (Originally Friday and Sunday)... So I've decided to change it... So, from now on, she has the photoshoots on Saturday and Sunday, and Under the Mike's on Friday... 'Cause it just works out that way...

Hope the length of the chapter makes up for the delay in posting it. Sorry once again. Thank you for your patience.

And wow... This chapter, counting author's notes... Is (I am not joking) thirty pages... (the Author's notes are about two. Yikes) I mean, damn. I was like, wha? Just wait, I'll probably push it up to thirty-one. And that's in 9 point Verdana. Which is what I always use because Times New Roman is all Serif-y and frumpy.

Oh, and if the part where Jude goes nuts and starts yelling sounds a bit weird... I was watching Shakespeare in Love at the time... Hence the nuttiness. I get weird when I watch that movie. And I've been up all night, even though I've been falling asleep because I swore I would work on this so I could work on my Life With Derek fic tomorrow... Which is why it's weird. Lemme know what you think of Jude's two songs... Because, even though the first one is like a blatant rip-off of 24 hours... I still took the trouble to write it... And it wasn't easy.

Don't own Instant Star or any characters/history/backstory/places/personalities/songs/lines/whatever you recognize. Like "Temporary Insanity" (by the way, The Weekend's version is awesome... And slightly different... but awesome) for instance, which is featured in this chapter... Briefly. Along with a remake of "24 Hours" (which has different lyrics... It's a reoccurring theme, but I'll get to that later). A lot happens in this chapter. With Tommy, with Travis, with Jude, with Kat and Jamie, even some with Joan and, uh, my mind's on the fritz. Depending on whether I include Under the Mike, however, the next chapter might be longer... But that's not likely.

Anyways, so I pretty much own Joan, the lyrics to the "24 Hours" remake, "Dirty Old Man", Travis, and well, the plot. Song lyrics, are, as usual (as well as Tabloid Headlines this time), in italics... So here it lies before you, my beautiful magnum opus, the best chapter of this fic thus far (I think). Knock yourselves out... Oh, and I'd love it if you'd review. It would really make all this work I put in worth it (especially 'cause I wrote like 11 pages just today, not counting yesterday and so forth). Thank you and enjoy the chapter...

My day began simply enough. They always did. But, per usual, by the time it was over... It was as far from simple as simple could be. If that makes any sense.

I mean, I thought life was crazy after winning Instant Star. I thought life was INSANE after kissing Tommy. But I had no idea how psychotic this rollercoaster could get. I guess rollercoaster's not really a fair term. I mean, rollercoasters have seatbelts. And there are slow parts on rollercoasters. But my life? It's like a rollercoaster that started off really high, and, I mean, there's times when it still is... But nowadays, it's like a vertical drop of one thousand feet. And there's no driver, no mechanics, nothing to stop it... Nothing to control it. Nothing to slow it down. And I'm headed straight into Hell.

No, really... I oughtta be in the ninth circle by, uh, what is it? Sunday? Saturday? Oh, no, sorry. Friday. Today.

Fame is only the beginning. The stalkers come later. Yes, I know that made absolutely no sense. But I got like zero sleep...

Because you were up thinking about _Tommy_. That idiot Tommy Quincy, who is not worth your time, your breath, your thoughts, or yet another song.

Anyways... As I was saying...

My day began... interestingly.

"Hey, Jude, get up," A soft voice whispered in my ear. Their breath tickled my ear. The voice was familiar; warm and persistent. A pair of warm arms soon followed, wrapping themselves around me pleadingly. "C'mon, Girl..."

Somewhere something very far off tugged at me. I ignored it, concentrating on the warm arms and trying to fall asleep again, half-heartedly slapping away the tiny hands. "Daddy! Why is Mommy not waking up? Is she dead like my goldfish?" Whoa, whoa, whoa... WAIT just one second. Mommy? I was someone's Mommy? MOMMY!

When did this happen? Did somebody impregnate me while I was asleep or something? Damn, that must've been a long nap. I always thought I'd remember childbirth. Maybe I hit my head on something and forgot? Let's hope that last one. 'Cause if not, I'm sure bewildered... Immediately, my eyes flew open... and met Tommy's gaze (dude, he's like two inches away from me! Is he drunk again or something?).

"Hi," I said uncertainly, feeling the breath catch in my throat. Whether this was from the sight of Tommy or from the sight of "our" daughter is anyone's guess. Tommy, however, smiled that brilliant white smile of his before leaning in and kissing me. It was then that I knew I was dreaming, as Tommy clearly only kisses me when he is drunk or insane or having some kind of mental/moral breakdown. Or all three.

But I can't stop staring at... my kid? I don't even know her name. But she looks so much like her fa-Tommy. I'm dreaming... Remember. Yeah. Anyways, she's got blue eyes (he really wasn't joking when he said that, was he?) and brown hair... She looks to be about five. Which is okay... I mean, so what? I had her when I was like... Twenty. Big deal. So me and Tommy got together fast. So what? It's not like we were screwing on the side or anything, right? Wait, I don't know that! Agh!

And, hey... Are we married or just cohabiting or what? Are we even living together here? I mean, hello, this IS Tommy we're talking about here. It was then, of course, that I caught a flash of diamond and gold on my finger. I suppose that answers my question.

Unless he's not married to me! He is, right! Okay, phew. There's a matching ring on his finger... Minus the huge-ass diamond he bought me. Man, we must both be loaded. Hey, wait, what if he's not married to me! But why would the kids call him Daddy? Well, maybe they know him as their dad, or, uh, Sadie's their mom or... Yeah. That's unrealistic, Jude. You're overthinking this. It's a dream, a fantasy... It's not supposed to make sense.

And the answer is whatever you want... Always.

Our daughter practically glued herself to my side, wrapping her arms around my stomach (a somewhat hard feat when you consider that Tommy's doing the same thing). Tommy's smile widened as another girl stepped into the room. For a moment there, I was actually hoping she was his girlfriend, but she looks like fourteen... And, uh, sorta like a spitting image of me. And despite the fact that I have no idea how old I am (though, if Tommy looks this young, I'm pretty sure I'm not 36), I think I was really young when I had her... If I had her. I mean, I don't know... My cousin looks a lot like me... And she's about fourteen... Well, now.

I was exactly like her when I was fourteen. Flaming red hair (Yes, it's natural!) and all. Right down to the ripped jeans, Nirvana t-shirt, faded black Converse, and leather jacket. Well, except for her eyes. My eldest (and she has to be mine with that hair!) had these dark, cloudy green eyes. They weren't my eyes, or Tommy's, or Tory's, or anyone's in my family's for that matter. Sure, Sadie had green eyes, but her eyes were bright, this sort of clear greenish color... Not at all the bold, contrasting emerald irises of my daughter. There was this eerie intensity in them; something she'd obviously gotten from Tommy.

She even has my taste in make-up. Heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow... Pink or crimson lipstick... Ooh, and look, she's carrying a cake! Hmm, that looks like Tommy's wedding cake. Aww, he remembered! But, man, I so have to get that story out of him sometime...

A boy with dirty-blond hair followed her. He looked around ten, skinny as a rail like the girls, and tall for his age. Obviously, he got some of my mother's blonde genes. Like the little one, he too had blue eyes. His hair was longish and sorta hung around his face, though he was dressed similar to his older sister, in a The Clash t-shirt, baggy jeans, and boots. His arms were full of presents and as I caught the scowl on his face, I thought, smirking widely, that he had obviously inherited Tommy's attitude.

Tommy cast a sharp glance at the boy, who had set the presents on the bed and was conveniently ignoring how his older sister was struggling with the cake. "Kurt Joseph Quincy-" Tommy began, starting to scold, uh, Kurt... However, he was interrupted by Kurt before he could finish the sentence.

"Kurt _Harrison_, Dad. My last name is **Harrison**," Kurt interjected, scowling and looking annoyed. Okay, so maybe we more a bit more alike than I initially thought. Tommy's eyes narrowed at the correction. I could tell that he wasn't mad about the correction. He was mad that Kurt didn't want his last name. That all-too familiar angry, sneering look was up on his face once again. Just like the one little Kurt was wearing. Damn, how old is he? I mean, seriously! If I have a daughter who's like fourteen...

"Kurt, you're seven... You don't get to do this moody crap until you're in double digits. I realize that it's embarrassing to have a father that was once in a boyband, but I'm not Little Tommy Q. anymore! Now Kurt, we can fight tomorrow... Today is your mother's twenty-fifth birthday, and you know how birthdays are for her! She deserves to have a good one for once... And that means none of us fighting. Now, help your sister!" Tommy growled bossily, trying to avoid raising his voice and "upsetting" me. Puh-lease! I dealt with him and Sadie. Anything compared to that is a minor family squabble. Okay, so Kurt's seven... Now, assuming I'm twenty-five... That means I had him when I was, uh, 16-17? YIKES! Wait... Kurt Joseph Quincy... Kurt Joseph Harrison? He let me name my son after Kurt Cobain and Joe Strummer? I think I love him!

No, of course I love him... Hello, I married him! Smirking, I nudged Tommy, laughing slightly. "Tommy, what do you expect? This is what happens when you name your son after a suidical grunge rocker," I joked weakly. Tommy snorted, and Kurt grinned evilly. Laughing, I lightly shoved Tommy, "And you, my dear, had your own moody boy crap for years..." Tommy pouted, but swooped in and kissed me. I responded in kind, letting him kiss me. After all, it was just a dream... I could control it. And, besides, it wasn't like it was ever going to happen in real life. I mean, this is Tommy we're talking about... What he said when he was drunk means nothing...

Nothing.

We broke apart rather breathlessly, and I saw the my lookalike lounging against the wall in a very Tommy way. Her face was mostly free from expression, though a mild look of disgust crossed her features. Tommy frowned at her. "Come on, Julia, come here..." Julia suddenly broke out into a wide smile, my smile, walking over to Tommy. Hey, wait... Georgia... Julia... We sort of carried on the whole name-your-daughters-after-Beatles-songs-Harrison-family-tradition... I mean, "Sweet Georgia Brown" and "Julia". Except, that is, for Kurt. I bet she's Daddy's favorite. Just like I am... Reluctantly, Julia and Kurt moved closer to the bed, and I felt myself leaning harder and harder against Tommy, eyes closing, sinking into a blissful oblivion.

I woke up in my bed. Alone. Why would someone be here with me? Another dream about Tommy. Damn it. I'm not supposed to think about him. As a matter of fact, I might as well just forget about it 'cause it's not going to happen. Actually, it's best not to think about it. Okay, repressing. Check.

A wave of anger hit me like high tide... Somehow I knew it, deep down in my bones, before I was even entirely awake, that I would be angry today. It would not be some little piddly anger. It was gonna be a fire and it was gonna burn. It's odd how right I was, actually. I can honestly say that I've only rarely ever been this angry in my life. I wrote the songs to prove it. So I dressed carefully that morning, in clothes that were comfortable... But ass-kicking. My favorite torn jeans (though they ran a bit lower than I would have liked), a tight red (my favorite color) tank-top, my beat-up black leather jacket (the one I wore to my _first_ Open Mike Night), and my combat boots. I immediately reached for my electric, gazing at the clock, which gave me some fifteen minutes to get to school (lucky me, I'd skipped Quinn's class... Sheer bliss).

One thing I wondered, though... Why didn't my parents freak about seeing Tommy's car in our driveway? Or Sadie, for that matter? I mean, it's not like I hid it or anything... It's right there... In our driveway. Big sapphire blue Viper, polished to perfection, with bleach white racing stripes. Not so hard to miss. Pretty damn obvious, actually. Maybe they checked in on me and relaxed when they noticed that Tommy wasn't there.

After grabbing a bagel, I grabbed the car keys and hurried out the door. I might've sped a little on my way to school (but come on... It's Tommy's car, and it's so smooth and... awesome. It just begs you to go over ninety with this cute little pouty face on the dash...), but that's nothing new, really... I parked my car in the teacher's parking lot, just for safety's sake. This time, nobody was gonna touch it. No more vandalism just because everyone here hates me. That being done, I locked his car, sliding sneakily into the school. I had just gotten my books and put my guitar away when the bell rung and I was off to first hour... Well, second I guess. You can see me smirking from all the way over here, can't you? See, that's what missing Quinn's class does to me. It makes me feel like I can fly...

My first classes were relaxed, well, that is, until my phone rang just as I was on my way to Media and Pop Culture. I debated not answering it for a minute as I did not want to answer my cellphone in class again, but then I gave in, scurrying off to the Ladies' to answer the call. Ten bucks says it's Tommy calling about his missing car. Ugh. I do not need to be thinking about Tommy now, at ten in the morning. It's bad for me. So bad for me.

Oh, and to top matters off... The poem we got to read in English:

**Heart, We Will Forget Him! **by Emily Dickinson

Heart, we will forget him!  
You an I, tonight!  
You may forget the warmth he gave,  
I will forget the light.

When you have done, pray tell me  
That I my thoughts may dim;  
Haste! lest while you're lagging.  
I may remember him!

Yeah, pretty much sums up how I'm feeling right about now. Or my new goal in life... Except, well, that last part keeps stopping me from getting what I want. Closure. I've never had closure and I never will...

I forced myself to open the still stubbornly ringing phone... And saw the picture I dreaded to see... Yep, Little Tommy Q. was calling, and I had to answer. I sighed, trying to be like him, trying to play it cool, gathering my strength before I pressed the talk button.

"Morning, Sunshine," I replied as nonchalantly as I could, even though my thoughts were racing. How much, exactly, did he remember of last night? I mean, he got pretty drunk and pretty crazy there... Trying to say that he l-whatevered me. Focus, Jude. Clarity.

"Where's my car?" Okay, so Tommy's obviously not a morning person. Funny. He gets up at like four to do his hair. Anyways, Dude, Where's My Car? is a movie. Bleugh. Ashton Kutcher.

"Chill, Tommy. Your baby's fine," I muttered rather shortly, feeling irritated with him once again. But then I remembered dinner last night, and, feeling a smirk cross my face, I continued. "Oh, the car's good too."

Tommy didn't laugh. This might've been because he hates mornings. Or because he's probably late for work, definitely very hungover... Oh, and his car's missing. And he may or may not remember what happened last night. Or maybe it was too soon to joke about our fake relationship... Hey, if I can do it, and I'm the heartbroken one...

"What the **hell** did you do that for?" Tommy snapped furiously, shouting his anger into the phone. I forgot how pissy Tommy got when he was mad. He didn't tend to be prone to outbursts, more of the whole brooding thing... Like: "Look at me! I'm a teenager! I'm a rockstar! I have angst! I'm sad! Don't you think my pout is sexy?" That sort of deal.

I winced at the venom in his tone, but after a brief pause, I forced myself to continue. "What, Tommy, did you want me to walk across town to an Italian restaurant at three in the morning, all alone, to get my car? You know what goes on down in some of the worse neighborhoods at night... Unless you want me to be raped or something, Tom. If you do, by all means, enlighten me!" I screamed at him. I could feel the anger welling up inside. I was letting him get to me... Again. Damnit.

Tommy was silent for a long moment. Then he let out a short breath impatiently. "No, girl, of course not... It's just... You could've stayed or something..." But as soon as he said it, be both knew he was wrong. I couldn't have stayed there. Even if I'd wanted to. And he'd be breathing down my neck about it either way.

"Tommy, that's crap and you know it. So let's just cut to what you really care about... Your car. Look, I'll just drive it to the studio after school..." I snapped bluntly, slamming my stuff down unto the counter, feeling oddly like E.J. with the way I was bossing Tommy around. It's about time you got control, Jude. I was so... bitter.

"No, Jude... I've got your keys... We can rendezvous on your lunch break," Tommy argued, sounding slightly ticked. Ah, well, that's just too damn bad. And rendezvous? When did we become spies... Or people who make out? Okay, well, I could give him the last one 'cause we sorta have... but...

"Ever think I might miss my lunch break, Quincy? I'm missing Media class right now, you know. I mean, honestly, if you're going to call me during any class, make it Music. I hate that class..." I scolded, starting to pace before the mirror. Seriously. Media, that I can handle. It's like every day and I have lawyers (i.e. Tommy's mom) to protect me. But Music... That's Quinn, and he's whole new territory. But ugh... I like lunch.

"How can you hate your _Music_ class?" Tommy muttered incredulously. Was he pacing too? Yes, I realize that Music is my favorite subject, it's what I'm best at, but... Well, if you had Travis Quinn... You'd hate it too, Tommy! Of course, I didn't say that...

"The teacher's a complete asshole. Even worse than you, actually," I retorted, feeling suddenly jaded. If Tommy was surprised by my language, he didn't show it. He might've flinched, though, because I heard a sharp intake of breath on his end after I said that. There was, however, a long silence over the line before he spoke again.

"You want me to talk to this guy for you? Get him to lay off you?" Tommy offered politely, even chivalrously. I'd once thought he was my Prince, but he was anything but. Something I'd learned the hard way. But still, you had to admire the fact he totally overlooked the fact that I'd just called him an asshole.

Tommy sounded so sincere I almost accepted. That would make everything worse. "No, Tommy, that would only exacerbate my problems. But thanks," I mumbled, staring at myself in the mirror. Here I was, getting close to being a year older, and I had changed. My hair was a bit longer, there was a different look in my eyes. Those are the only real differences. I've gotten a bit edgier, a bit more grown-up.

But I'm not twenty-one. I'm not sure I'll ever be Tommy's twenty-one.

And now I'm thinking about being with him again. This is ridiculous. I'm ridiculous.

"So, E.J. told me about your new song... She thinks it's gonna be the single of the year. Even wants to turn it into a music video... What I want to know, however, is why you failed to tell _me_..." Tommy said breezily, adding a certain edge to his tone towards the end, as if he was hurt or something. Sure, he's my producer, and I understand that talking about my songs is literally his job, but he ditched me.

He ditched me, and this time I won't just forget about it. I'm done sweeping things under the rug. It's kind of obvious by now that I'm hiding things. You can see the bump.

"That's funny because what I wanted to know is why you ditched me when I was writing that song to go eat with Boyz Attack!" I snapped, feeling very annoyed as I rolled my eyes at him. I hated how he pretended to be so damn clueless when he wasn't. He's not clueless. He has a brain.

Tommy didn't have an answer, so I chose to continue. Stupidly. "Besides, I _hate_ that song. I hate every last word of that song. I was trying to throw it away when she walked in and took it from me. Tommy, please, get rid of that song for me! Everything will be better that way. I don't care what you do to it, just get **rid** of it," I rambled, blushing at the mere thought of the lyrics. Yes, it would be best if Tommy never saw that song. It wasn't something I was proud of, to say the least.

But Tommy said nothing on this subject. Not one single word. He didn't promise me anything. Is he going to fulfill what I asked him to do? As a matter of fact, there was a rather long silence between us. I knew then what he was going to ask. He was going to ask about last night.

And I guess he had the right.

"Jude, what happened last night?" Tommy asked slowly, hesitantly. He sounded nervous, which I can understand, but why? What did he think had happened last night?

Now that I think about it, I don't even know what happened last night. When he figures it out, he should send me a memo...

"Honestly, I have no idea..." I sighed, leaning against the wall, slumping down a little. I mean, yeah, I remember it... But I just don't get it! I don't get him!

Tommy inhaled sharply; I could hear his breathing speeding up. "Absolutely no idea?" He questioned, sounding a bit desperate. What, did he think I'd gotten drunk too? It's not like we slept together or anything...

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and closing my eyes, trying my hardest to concentrate. "It's not that. I remember what happened. I just... don't get it," I moaned, sliding slowly down the wall. I paused a moment before interrupting so Tommy couldn't get a word in. "Look, why don't we just talk about this later? I'm late for class..."

My patience had nearly worn out completely. I was suddenly so tired of this... whatever... with Tommy. I wanted a definition. I wanted to know something for sure. I wanted to know one way or another. I was so damn sick of this limbo. I did not want to talk to him in the slightest.

"Jude, please, tell me one thing you remember about last night..." Tommy beseeched raggedly. I knew what he was hoping hadn't happened. He's just lucky I can say no, now isn't he? If I hadn't, I might've woke up in bed next to him. Okay, not the point... I wasn't supposed to think that. Argh.

I sighed once more, and my legs gave out underneath me. I groaned loudly as my butt hit the floor painfully, splaying my legs out. Taking deep breaths and trying to ignore the pain, I thought in vain for something innocent that had happened in his apartment last night. The best I could come up with was the cake. I licked my lips at the thought of the cake and I spoke without thinking.

"Cake... We were eating the wedding cake in your fridge... From some summer wedding that you failed to tell me about... God, I love that cake. It's... amazing," I said dreamily, daydreaming blissfully about me and the cake. Note how I failed to mention how he said we should have cake like that at our wedding.

I could feel Tommy's smirk over the line, which was a bit unwarranted. "Yeah, girl, it is," He replied huskily, chuckling.

I frowned, noting something in his tone. My eyes narrowed in annoyance as I exhaled shortly. "You're eating the cake right now, aren't you?" I stated bluntly. It was not a question; I just knew. It made me angry. Tommy eating my cake. That lovely, creamy, smooth, delicious, wonderful cake... Okay, maybe I'd best stop drooling.

Tommy continued laughing lightly. "Maybe," He remarked smoothly, tone enigmatic. I scowled at him, trying hard not to think about how that pig was probably stuffing the entire cake down his throat, not appreciating it for its buttery goodness. The thick, fluid frosting... Saccharine, but not too sweet... Mouth-watering, transcendent flavor... Mmm, cake...

But then, in the midst of my reverie, I remembered something. "You claimed it was your wedding cake. Care to explain, Tommy?" I retorted, snorting. I wish I had been there to see the look on Tommy's face. I bet he paled, his eyes bugged out, his jaw dropped... He couldn't speak. Damn, bet he's still hot, even like that.

It took a few moments, but Tommy recovered... Slowly. "I'll explain later... Now, as payment for my interrupting you during class and making you miss a good portion of your lunch break... I apologize in advance for that, by the way... Is there anything I can bring you? Lunch maybe?" Tommy offered politely, turning up the charm. Well, it just figures.

I shrugged moodily, leaning harder against the wall, feeling it dig hard into my back. "You know me, you know what I like... Figure it out, Tommy," I said, surrendering and attempting to relax a little.

"Okay... I'll bring you your heart's desire. I promise. See you soon, girl," Tommy finished warmly. I smiled slightly. A promise from him doesn't mean much, doesn't mean anything at all... But I believe it. He might not bring me the food I want, but he'll bring me my heart's desire, all right... Even if he only brings himself. But I said none of this, as he hung up before I could even say goodbye.

"Love you too, Tommy," I muttered sarcastically, slowly and painfully getting up from the floor. I stood before the mirror now, still holding the phone which still displayed _his_ picture. I stopped staring at the photo, looking up into the mirror at myself. I didn't like what I saw.

I don't want to be That Girl. I don't want to be This Girl. I'm not pathetic, but Tommy drags me down to this level. He always does. With a single word, I'm on my knees. It's not right that he has such power over me.

Hmm, this would make a good song. Such a hold over me... Yeah, I think I'm getting something here.

I slammed the phone shut and then turned it off.

"_It's not right that you have such a hold over me... I hate that you exercise such control over me! I really wish that you would stop cajoling me... and, right now, I don't need you consoling me. What I need is for you to be finally over me! Why can't you see I just want you to let me be? A__ll I really want is for you to set me free!_" I sang, smoothing my hair and checking my reflection in the mirror.

I was not fixing myself up for Tommy. I was not trying to look better for him. At least, that's what I told myself, which was, of course, a lie, as I was redoing my lipstick and I didn't even know why... It wasn't like I was going to kiss Tommy or anything... Right? While I was in the middle of doing this, the door opened and someone walked in. I turned around to face Joan, who smiled at me.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," She quipped, donning a smirk and walking over to the mirror. I nodded empathetically, tugging on my hair in frustration... This whole Tommy thing was driving me nuts.

I sighed, leaning forward for a minute and taking a deep breath before turning to Joan. "So, how much of that did you hear?" I asked, feeling somewhat embarrassed that she'd heard me singing. Which is stupid, I know, because A. She's in my Music Class, B. She's heard me sing before, C. I was on a televised talent search, D. I have a CD out, E. I went on a world tour this summer, F. She's my friend, and G. That is definitely not the first song I've sang about Tommy... But I was, for some bizarre reason.

Joan laughed. "Pretty much the whole thing. I'd like to hear it with guitar... Is it going to be on your next album?" Joan answered smoothly, doing her lipstick... Her trademark bright red. I shrugged dismissively, turning around fully, leaning my full weight against the counter.

"I don't really know... Maybe. It just sort of popped into my head. I mean, I do have to sing a song for Under the Mike tonight... It depends..." I responded vaguely. Joan nodded interestedly, outlining her eyes with heavy rings of black eyeliner. She began then to do her mascara, but stopped, realizing something and turning to face me.

"What are you doing in here anyways?" She questioned, slightly confused. I made a face at her.

"Getting phonecalls from Little Tommy Q., like any other girl..." I snorted, glancing at the amused and confused look on her face. I decided to elaborate with gestures and further explanation. "I stole his car last night..."

A wide smile spread across Joan's face. She shook her head, laughing slowly to herself. "Only you, Jude... Only you can get yourself into such strange situations..." She muttered, chuckling and shaking her head. I nodded heartily. She was right. Only problem is I can't get out!

I want a Lifesaver! Oh, well, that's what Jamie and Kat are for...

I picked up my things, glancing at my watch. Boy, was I late... But oh well. I waved to Joan and then left for class, dreading each step. Thud, thud, thud... I'd done harder things, and I would do harder things. I put up with that, I can put up with this too. I stopped in front of the door, taking a deep breath before I opened the door and stepped inside.

All eyes, as usual, were on me. Mr. James looked over at me from the blackboard. He stopped writing, and, forcing myself to be calm and mature, I began to talk, choosing my words carefully. "I'm not gonna give you an excuse. I was late and I'm disrupting class right now. Just schedule my detention for Monday morning, okay? I'll go to my seat now," I said honestly, but still quickly. I turned and was making my way to the back of the room when my professor spoke.

"Miss Harrison, I'm not going to give you a detention," He stated coolly.

I whipped around to stare at him in stunned surprise. My jaw dropped, and I could just hear the murmurs. What, did they think I was sleeping with Mr. James too?

"Look, I deserve it... I was late and I don't even have a pass or an excuse," I retorted, trying to be an adult about this whole thing. I was being responsible, damnit, and he wasn't letting me!

Mr. James simply stared at me, turning fully around. I hated that smug, so superior look on his face. The one that every guy who thinks he knows what's best for me gives me. Dad... Jamie... Darius... Shay... Tommy... Travis... Don't even get me started!

"You taking this class is merely a formality, Miss Harrison. You are making the news... You are involved in it. Why should you have to study this class when you already know everything firsthand? Besides, you can teach us..." He explained clearly, even politely. But I wasn't buying it. Not for one second.

I saw right through him and what he was trying to do. And I called him on it. "I am not going to let you just let me get off the hook for doing this! If I was a regular student, I'd have the date already marked in my calendar... I don't want this kind of celebrity treatment. I can see what you're trying to do too! You're trying to make everyone here hate me more! And I won't let you do that to me. I'll be here Monday, even if you're not," I snapped fiercely before slumping down in the closest desk. People stared at me, and I knew they hated me... No one was sitting around me.

They were either afraid or they hated me.

Neither made me feel better about myself.

But I just forced myself to ignore everything and focused hard on the class and studying. I was going to do better this year.

At everything in this tightrope balancing act that was my life.

The hour dragged on, but I bolted out of there faster than a speeding bullet, meeting up with Jamie and Kat at History. We dropped our stuff off and headed towards my locker. Kat and Jamie picked up right where they left off, badgering me about Tommy.

"What do you mean you were at his place?" Jamie asked warily, cocking an eyebrow. Jeez... He was protective like Dad... Except worse.

I sighed, putting away a few of my things. "Jamie, I was just there to talk. Relax," I retorted patronizingly, shooting a brief glare at Jamie. I absentmindedly tucked a pencil behind my ear before getting up and shutting the door. "Tommy was a perfect gentleman."

LIAR, LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE! Tommy wasn't and you know it.

He was hitting on you more than Sadie hits on him. And that's really saying something.

Jamie snorted, looking away. "Oh, I'm sure... Li'l Tommy Q._ never_ tried anything with a girl," Jamie muttered sarcastically, adopting a falsetto for the second part. I scowled at him, sighing frustratedly. Kat giggled, and I fought the urge to punish someone severely for this.

Jamie and Kat stood on either side of me, and, staring at me and themselves, conversing, they failed to notice someone brush against me... Not on accident. On purpose. Touching my butt. On purpose. But I did, and that person was Mr. Travis Quinn.

I spun around immediately, and he smirked, waved, and then had the nerve to blow me a kiss. Looking him in the eyes, a raw fury came over me. I remembered every last feeling from that day. How disgusted I felt... How cheap and dirty he made me feel... His hands all over me. Him shoving me against his car... The way he looked at me with that crazy angry look in his eyes. And every ounce of me, right then, in that moment, a righteous hate such as I had never felt before ran through me like an electric current. I stared after Quinn through narrowed, furious eyes.

Jamie groaned, noticing that I was surveying said idiot teacher. "So you're half in love with Mr. Please-Call-Me-Travis too? Honestly! That's what, half the school?" Jamie lamented a bit loudly for my taste. Quinn was, after all, only a few feet away. So naturally he overheard Jamie and smirked widely. Why is it that every guy I know is a cocky jerk? Well, except Jamie. And Dad...

Ugh, I wanna smack the smug little bastard.

"Hell no! The man is vile, cocky, and an ass... Not to mention too old for me and then there's the fact that he cannot shut up about me and Tommy!" I snarled viciously, ripping a paper out of Jamie's hands and the pencil from behind my ear. I pressed the paper against the locker and started writing a flurry of words down on the paper.

"_Hey_, that's my Math homework!" Jamie complained loudly, trying to snatch the paper back. I deftly dodged his lousy attempts at grabbing the paper, too frustrated to bother with a fight with him right now.

"Well, it **also** happens to be my new song..." I sniped back, not missing a beat. A moment later, I was finishing the song with a flourish, looking over my words. Jamie and Kat took that opportunity to peer at it over my shoulder. I could feel their eyes widen at the lyrics. I guess you could say that they were sort of like "Minor Liaison"... And by that, I meant this new edgy stuff I'd been writing lately. What can I say? Progression. I was blooming as an artist here, growing and maturing and becoming me... My new CD should be called Starting Fires... Or something. But hmm, Starting Fires... I like that. I'll talk to Georgia about it...

Jamie and Kat started at each other, unsure of what at all to say to each other, or, for that matter, to me. They exchanged glances nervously for a few minutes before Jamie bit his lip and spoke. "It's... uh... Different. Do you, um, have a tune in mind? I mean, I haven't seen much like this from you in... Ever," Jamie replied hesitantly. That was true before... I thought for a moment, trying to find a way to explain.

"I picture it kind of like "Skin"... Except angrier and with electric guitar instead of acoustic... I don't know. I'll hash it all out during Music Theory or at the studio later..." I responded pensively, shrugging as we walked to the cafeteria. Kat bit her lip as if remembering something.

"What's it called?" She inquired finally, after a long pause. The bare traces of a smile lit up my face. I snorted, knowing just how Quinn would finally get his. Yes, this song would restore the balance of power... Once and for all.

"Dirty Old Man," I answered effortlessly. Jamie snorted and I felt myself frowning at him.

"What?" I questioned Jamie, who heard the unspoken threat in my voice. He snorted yet again.

"Remind Tommy never to piss you off again..." He muttered, mumbling something under his breath. I nodded absentmindedly, remembering suddenly that I had to meet Tommy, who was probably already outside waiting for me. Hurriedly, I folded up the paper with the golden lyrics on it, pivoting around in the opposite direction, waving at them before racing out the back door of the school, winding up in the teacher's parking lot. And sure enough, there he stood, leaning against my car (which, I noted, had the hood down... Oddly thoughtful of him) like he owned the place.

"Tommy," I drawled as he turned to look at me. A slight smirk crossed over his face as he took the sight in, and he chuckled lightly.

"What, girl, you trying to take me out?" He joked, raising an eyebrow. Understandably, I wasn't in much of a joking mood, so I fixed him with a fierce look and the smile dropped from his face. For a moment, the dual meanings behind his statement occurred to me, and I wondered if he'd meant that as a compliment.

"Who says I'd have to _try_?" I countered, placing my hands on my hips. My eyes narrowed and a smirk appeared on my lips. Tommy smiled, propelling himself off the car and towards me suddenly.

"Ouch, girl... That one stung," He replied, pressing a hand to his chest as if he was wounded. Of course the drama queen isn't wounded. But he is being funny... And charming... And sweet... And especially nice... If you don't count the phone call earlier. Hey, I'm supposed to be mad at him! Damn it!

Tommy stretched out a hand, flexing his fingers and beckoning for his keys. "Keys?" I rolled my eyes, rummaging around in my pockets for them. It took a while, but finally, I found them! I haphazardly threw them to Tommy, who made a face, but caught them anyways. "Thanks," Tommy muttered sarcastically, clutching the keys tightly, as if they were a precious treasure.

I rolled my eyes at him, leading him to where I'd parked his car... Right next to a shiny green replica of his own car. Similar model, racing stripes and all. Tommy's eyes narrowed at the sight of it, as if it was reminding him of something else, something that he didn't particularly like. Meh. Drama queen. "So, Quincy, where is the so-called food you promised me?" I questioned as I stopped walking and pivoted abruptly to face him. Tommy reflexively took a step back from me, a faint, amused smile crossing his face.

"Come on, it's in your car..." Tommy said calmly, placing a hand on the small of my back to guide me. I tried my hardest to ignore the sparks that went off when he touched me. I forced myself to avoid thinking about how warm and smooth his hand was. Or how he kept dragging his fingers around and around in circles on my back... Or the butterflies in my stomach. Before I knew it, we were at my car.

Tommy opened the passenger's door for me, before getting in himself and then picking up a large, white box on my seat. I plopped down on the seat heavily, and Tommy just gave me a look, fighting back laughs. This suppressed laughter was immediately silenced by one of my glares. Tommy handed me the box. What was in it? Who owned it? "For you," Tommy clarified warmly, looking over and waiting for me to open it.

Slowly, as I was worried this was all some kind of joke, I opened the box. And sitting pretty there inside it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life... That wedding cake. Insert drool here. For a moment I could do nothing but stare at it in total awe and disbelief. But I got over that a moment later as I quickly closed the box, which I secured before I threw my arms around Tommy in a tight hug. Amazing that such a little, simple gesture like bringing leftovers could make me so happy... But it did.

He really knows me. Me.

He remembered. This has got to mean something, right? He has to at least care about me! He has to! He kept his promise this time. He really did...

I clung to Tommy, breathing in the smell of his cologne (which still smelled like a gazillion of my favorite things put together), feeling his warmth. After a long, perhaps too long, moment of this, I backed up so I could plant a kiss on his cheek. Once again, with an arm still draped around his shoulders, I backed up and simply looked at him. He was so pretty. And so obviously out of my league. "You're the best, Tommy," I murmured lazily, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes.

Tommy smiled widely and genuinely at me before reaching over and playing with my hair. Gently, he pulled my head towards him... Is he going to kiss me again? "Girl, we've been over this before... You're better than the best, better than all the rest... Hmm, that would make a good song," Tommy replied, going a bit starry-eyed on me. His hand continued to smooth my hair. Is this heaven? 'Cause it feels like a dream.

"Yeah, it would..." I muttered distractedly, gazing into Tommy's eyes. They're so blue. So bright. So... Gorgeous.

"We could work on it in the studio today," Tommy said, though he sounded miles and miles away. What exactly was he thinking about? Not that I would ever figure that out, anyways.

"Let's do that then," I whispered, feeling dazed and leaning in just a bit closer to Tommy. And was it just my imagination, or was Tommy leaning in too?

"Okay," He breathed softly, leaning in a bit more (definitely this time). He blinked and suddenly his eyes, so blue, were all I could see. I started to lean in too. We kept getting closer and closer. We were going to kiss! Tommy and me! Finally!

And then... A very familiar ringtone started to play. Temporary Insanity. Now, why doesn't that surprise me?

Tommy's eyes widened with sudden realization at what he was about to do, and immediately, he backed away, horrified, pulling the phone out of his pocket, and looking slightly annoyed. But nowhere as annoyed as I was. I leaned against the seat, staring first at the sky, and then, when that hurt my eyes, the cake box on the floor, and then, finally, my eyes slid over to Tommy, who was now on the phone.

There was this odd, fervently nervous look in his eyes. He didn't look my way. I resumed my slouching position, staring moodily at my surroundings and humming "Temporary Insanity" under my breath.

"_It's temporary insanity... What's going on with you and me?_" I chanted under my breath, once again turning to gaze at Tommy, who was decidedly ignoring me in what appeared to be a very one-sided conversation. He wasn't saying much. Just yes, no, maybe... That sort of stuff. Monosyllabic. "_Is it real, or is it fantasy? Forever or just temporary... insanity?_"

Suddenly, I didn't know anymore. Not that I really ever had.

"_And I don't know how it's gonna be after this... Do we pretend these feelings don't exist at all? Or do we fall?_" I sung in a slight whisper, still staring over at Tommy. He still refused to even look at me. Great. More awkwardness with us. I was tired of singing wishfully, so I sat up straight, tapping my nails impatiently on his dashboard. Tommy nodded vigorously to me (as the sound was driving him crazy) and soon hung up the phone. For a moment, he avoided my eyes, but then he forced himself to look at me, letting out a sigh.

"Look, Jude, I'm sorry... I gotta go," Tommy paused, frowning slightly. He placed a hand on my arm, shrugging. "Studio stuff... You know Georgia," He finished lamely. Yeah, I know Georgia. But something was off about this whole phone call. I had the distinct feeling that he was either lying to me or not telling me something important... Same difference!

"We really do need to talk though. So stop by the studio as soon as possible... Not to mention that you've got Under the Mike tonight, so E.J. wants you to pick out something to wear that, I quote, "Goes with the song", not to mention she wants you to get your answers straight to some of the questions they're going to ask you. You're going to be singing that new song you wrote yesterday, the one that E.J. told me about... And I'll let you know if anything further comes up, okay, Jude?" Tommy rattled off authoritatively, sounding a bit too much like Georgia or E.J. for his own good. It was then that I remembered that he was my producer and that he was six years older than me...

Not that that small fact was one that ever truly left me... It's just, sometimes, it didn't hit me as hard, you know? Sometimes it was just a little background fact that didn't matter nearly as much as it really did... Tommy was so immature still, and I had always been a bit mature for my age... It sort of... Evened out.

Tommy smiled at me then, though there seemed to be something hidden behind his smile. He looked a bit sad. But he leaned in and kissed me on the forehead nonetheless. I flushed and picked up the cake, smiling coyly at him. Tommy smirked back and then, suddenly, he was off, zooming out of the parking lot at over a hundred miles an hour. Sans even a single goodbye. Gee, thanks, Tommy.

"_You made a move to change your mind. Too much to lose; we've crossed the line... between friends and something more. And was it all a big mistake? And if it was, it's much too late to undo... And I don't really want to... let you go, but I still don't know... how I feel about you... what this really means! It's crazy to want you! Is it meant to be?_" I sang clearly and loudly, although I felt the complete opposite about the situation. All of that, somehow, seemed true. And parts of it seemed like they were foreshadowing events I should be worried about. Oddly enough, the lyrics did turn out to be prophetic. Or, at least, that's what I would find out later...

Muddled and confused, clutching the cake like a life preserver as I wandered aimlessly towards the cafeteria, feeling suddenly drained. I didn't bother with the overcrowded lunch line. I merely grabbed a plastic fork and made my way over to Kat and Jamie's table. They shot me some odd looks, peering curiously at the large, white box. I didn't answer their unspoken question, as at that time I had spotted my new pink-haired friend. Smiling, I rose and waved Joan over.

As I did this, something occurred to me, and I frowned at her, confused. Joan gave me an equally confused look, silently asking me why I was looking at her so strangely. "Aren't you in last lunch?" I mumbled, bewildered and too tired to think straight. Great, worn out already. What would I be like at this time tonight? Zonked out in the middle of Under the Mike? Not something I needed or wanted.

Joan smirked widely, sitting down next to me. For a moment, we both forgot Jamie and Kat were there. "Well, Jude, I've decided to do the both of us a favor and transfer into your history class... Or, at least your lunch... I'm sort of in AP History... This is _practice_," She replied happily. The smile faded from her face less than a moment later when she poked some of the cafeteria food with her fork. It moved funny and she looked a bit paler than usual. I rolled my eyes at her, starting to once again open my box.

"So you're skipping..." I stated bluntly, in a no-nonsense tone. Joan looked up thoughtfully for a moment before answering.

"I prefer to call it exercising my right as a free citizen to eat at the time of my choosing..." She said loftily, but once again, made the mistake of looking down and turned a bit green at the sight of her food, which she pushed away immediately, as if it was infected with the plague. "Or... _Not_ eat," Joan muttered under her breath, now glaring at the food. I laughed at her and suddenly realized that Jamie and Kat were not only still there, but had not been introduced.

Uh oh. I gestured first to Joan, looking at Jamie and Kat nervously. Would they like her? "Jamie, Kat... This is my friend, Joan Travers..." I explained hesitantly, before gesturing to Kat and Jamie and speaking to Joan. "Joan... Meet Jamie Andrews and Kat Benson, my best friends..."

Joan smiled, holding out a hand to shake Jamie and Kat's hands. She seemed to have a firm grim, but, then again, I suppose handshakes are an American tradition. For a moment we all ate... Or didn't, really... In silence. Then Joan turned to Jamie and Kat, gesturing towards the box.

"She told you what's in there yet?" She questioned in a low, conspiratorial tone. Jamie and Kat frowned and shook their heads. Of course not. There was more to their conversation, but I didn't hear it... Instead, I was focused on the cake... And getting to the cake.

I had long since opened the box, but a note I had failed to notice before fluttered out of it. I snatched up the note, scanning it briefly. It was in Tommy's handwriting. Slowly digging into the cake, I began to read the letter.

_Jude,_

_Honestly, I have no idea what happened last night. Pretty much everything after I drove home is a blur. I don't remember much, but I do remember hearing you singing when I was drifting off (or maybe you'd already left... I could've been playing your CD). You were there to take care of me when I was drunk, at least to the extent of getting me upstairs... I appreciate the sentiment. _

_I know you didn't have to stick around to do that, and I'm sorry if you got in trouble with your parents because of it. I also apologize for my actions, especially if what I did when I was drunk hurt you in any way. I should know better than to get drunk around you, of all people, as you are still a minor and my getting drunk set a bad example for you. If I overstepped my bounds any, just tell me what I can do to make it right, and I'll do it without asking. At the very least, I owe you one._

_We can hash out the details of what exactly happened last night later today at the studio. I know you'll be busy, but I'm hoping you get a break so we can talk, and if you don't, I can come to you or you can sneak out and we can meet... Call me if plans change. If necessary, we may have to have this conversation over the phone._

_As for where to meet me... You know the place. I'll be waiting impatiently. We desperately need to talk and come to an understanding on certain matters... Not just last night. I know I've been avoiding you and ignoring you a lot lately, which is stupid and immature of me... It's affecting our work, and it's something I need to fix. You mean too much to me for me to jeopardize what we have like I've been doing lately._

_On a side note, you asked about the cake. I'm not sure if or what I told you about it last night, but I'll explain it anyways. The cake was for my wedding; I wasn't joking about that. Sadie was not the "bride-to-be". I know what you're thinking, and I wasn't two-timing her. I'm not like that anymore. _

_The truth is... complicated, but I'll try to explain as best as I can. Sadie and I got into a big fight during the middle of our trip. So we parted ways and I went to go visit some friends of mine down in Milan. Long story short, I ran into this old ex-girlfriend of mine, Michelle. She was doing a shoot (and by shoot I mean she's a supermodel, not a soldier or a druggie... anymore) there, and we had a lot of catching up to do. I've known Michelle for a very long time, and so we soon fell into old habits... One day she asked me to bake her a cake (I'm a rather accomplished cook, and my mother's side of the family, being French-Canadian, has some amazing recipes for pastries and sauces). She told me that she was planning her friend's (Lucy... Who I had also dated, and was surprised to find out was getting married) wedding and that the caterer had canceled at the last minute. Michelle sounded desperate, so I decided to help her out and made the cake... The very cake which you are now eating. _

_Eventually, I called Lucy up, wondering why she hadn't invited me to her wedding, and found out that she was living in Florence, so I went there to visit her. It turned out that no, she was not getting married... She was still single and tried to, well, you don't need to hear that... So I went back and found Michelle planning our wedding. She had sent out invitations and everything... It was insane. When I got back, the wedding was only days away..._

_Luckily for me, it was a small one. Her family and mine, pretty much. No press (even better). Not that being around my family is fun... They're all screwed up... But it beats hanging around all my old ex-girlfriends. I had no choice but to leave her at the altar. Needless to say, it wasn't pretty, but she shipped me the cake as a memento... Trying to get back together, I guess. Not that it worked, as she just came off as a psychotic lunatic, but who am I to judge?_

_By then I was already back with Sadie, and then I left... And, well, you know the rest. Here we are. One thing, though... Promise me you won't ever tell Sadie. I'm trusting you with this, so you better stand by me, got it?_

_Tommy_

_P.S. I'm looking forward to hearing your new song. I hear it's edgy, raw, and intense... All the things I love about you, girl._

Well, I... Don't know what to say.

I mean, it's a weird story. And he says he didn't two-time Sadie, but clearly this other girl thought they were serious enough to get married. Because see, if a guy left me stone-cold like that and had a relationship with another girl... I'd be a little pissed myself. Oh, wait... Tommy's kind of done that to me, hasn't he?

And honestly, where does he get off telling me to keep my mouth shut? His secret, not mine. Another little white lie, I guess... Just like the song. He thinks I'm what? Why doesn't he want me to tell Sadie? Aren't they already over? And what were they fighting about in Rome?

Hmm, I think Tommy likes dating girls named after Beatles' songs, though... I mean, Sadie, Lucy, Michelle, Ju- Okay, not that last one... I swear, if he's dated someone named Prudence (probably not, judging by the name itself... He seems to be attracted to easy girls like Sadie)... Next thing you know he'll fall in love with someone named... heaven forbid, Julia!

Not that I can blame Michelle for wanting to marry him. Hell, right now _I_ want to marry him just because he can make this cake. Not that you don't always want to marry the guy, Jude. Shut it! Great, now I'm talking to myself again... Stupid Tommy. Stupid, stupid me.

And what does he mean: "_You mean too much to me for me to jeopardize what we have like I've been doing lately." _Or, for that matter, "_All the things I love about you, girl"_? I mean something to him? He cares about me? And... He loves things about me? That I'm edgy, raw, and intense? How can he love that? What does this all mean?

I feel bad for that Michelle girl. I mean, sure, she was a little (okay, A LOT) clingy, but she didn't deserve that. He ditched her stone-cold at the altar, for crying out loud! I feel for her, really I do. I mean, Tommy's done the exact same thing to me. Not literally, of course! But he has... See, that's the thing about guys like Tommy... When you think it's serious, it's not. It never is.

He's so hard to read. Immediately after reading the note, I folded it up and placed it carefully in my pocket. Nobody else needed to see this. My sole focus returned to the cake. It was so good, and, good... My eyes were closed and all my other senses were muffled as I devoured the cake almost religiously, relishing each delicious bite.

I drowned out the voices and noises around me, burying myself in that thick, creamy cake. But I was eventually snapped back to reality when I felt Jamie's hands clamp down hard upon my bare shoulders. My eyes shot open and I nearly choked and almost dropped the fork. "Jeez, Jamie, what the hell was that for!" I shrieked, trying to calm my breathing.

Jamie backed away slowly, fixing me with a look. "You were dead to the world except for that cake, Jude... You have a problem..." Jamie stated in all seriousness, though he still managed to sound like he was joking.

"More like **problems**, Jamie..." I muttered, scowling and taking a bite of my cake. Jamie capitulated, nodding grudgingly. A smirking Joan reached out and swiped the cake with her finger. I gaped at her, appalled, as she put her finger in her mouth and it emerged frosting-free. She too nodded, smiling.

"Ooh, yeah, this is some good cake..." She mumbled, reaching out towards the box. But before she could even get near the cake, I smacked her hand down, fixing her with a glare. Joan laughed, shaking out her hand. "So," She asked, "Where'd you get the cake?"

Swallowing another bite of heaven, I turned to look at Joan. I shrugged, forcing myself to stay calm and relaxed. "Oh... Tommy made it a while ago," I answered quietly, looking down so I wouldn't have to meet Jamie's stare.

"Pretty Boy cooks?" Jamie gaped incredulously. My head shot up, and a flush spread across my face. Tommy isn't a Pretty Boy! Okay, now I'm just lying to myself... He so is! He spends hours on his hair and clothes... I sighed, nodding, rolling my eyes. Even now, after he's known Tommy as long as I have, there's still this huge disdain between them... It kills me, because, you know, they're so much alike... I mean, they both go through incredible amounts of hair-gel in a month, they both wear the same sort of clothes (okay, except Tommy's are nicer and more expensive... And he wears sunglasses while Jamie wears classes), they're both friends with me, and they're both so into music... They really know their stuff... And they both really know me.

"Yeah, Jamie... Tommy cooks." Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Joan smiling at me. She was obviously remembering when we had first met. Now, damnit, I thought I had repressed that memory of that dream... It's not something I want to think about. Wow... It's so weird thinking that that was only yesterday.

"Oh, I'm _sure_ it's among his many talents..." Jamie muttered sarcastically. I stabbed at the cake, feeling the beginning traces of anger start to flare up within me, rolling my eyes. Kat looked at me expectantly.

"Not that I would know his many talents..." I retorted half-under my breath. I was thinking that Sadie probably would. I mean, I've kissed Tommy, but I haven't slept with him... Which really pisses me off, because EVERYBODY thinks I am! And I'm not. He won't have anything to do with me half the time! It's gotten so bad that he won't even sit down and help me write a song. I haven't even started recording any of the songs I've written yet.

"Jude... You came back from his place at three in the morning," Jamie pointed out in a low tone, making sure that no one at any nearby tables heard. I glanced immediately to Joan, worried as to what she would think about me. Her face showed no judgment, which rather impressed me. My eyes narrowed and I set the fork down.

"Yeah, well, he lives on the other side of Toronto. In the city. On the rich side. Which happens to be kinda far away from my house. And nothing happened! We went there to talk... His terms, his house... I mean, honestly, do you think I want to discuss things like that in front of Boyz Attack! in a crowded Italian restaurant? No... I mean, as if it wasn't bad enough with Tommy being all moody and glaring at Chaz and throwing back glasses of amaretto..." I countered in a tense whisper. Jamie's eyebrows rose and he looked like he was about to speak, but I continued on my rant. "Though the look on his face was **priceless** when I told him about the tabloid rumors... He spit out his espresso when I brought up the one about me "suggesting" a three-way with him and Shay..."

Joan burst out into hysterical laughter, and Kat just stared at me oddly. I gave her a look, asking for her to explain. Kat shook her head, an amused look on her face. "It just strikes me as so weird sometimes that I know you... I mean, you're out hobnobbing with celebrities, making out with Little Tommy Q., recording singles, singing in clubs you're not even old enough to get into..." I understood where she was coming from.

As for Jamie, well, he still looked stunned. But then he stiffened a little, bending down and pulling something out of his bag. He dropped it on the table, pushing it over to me. And there was a blown up picture of me and Tommy at dinner last night arguing. _Instant Star Headed for an Instant Break-up?_, read the title. How'd they get that picture? But Jamie's face was impassive. He bent down again. All I could think about was how I'd have to talk to Tory about this. She was supposed to fix it.

Another tabloid flew across the table towards me. It was a picture of me hugging some of the guys (yes, it is odd how I hang around so many guys... Especially groups as diverse as Shay's posse, Boyz Attack, and Spiederman... But there are so few girls in that part of music business). _Jude's Taste for Older Men_. Yes, it actually said that. Maybe I shouldn't sing that song today... I hate to admit it, but Mr. Quinn might actually be right. I mean, who's going to believe me? Really? When everyone thinks I'm sleeping with Tommy and am dating all five-fifths of Boyz Attack! Even though J.P. is married!

And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse... They did.

Jamie slid another tabloid across the table to me. It was a picture of me sitting on Chaz' lap. Yes, it **could** get worse... And I was looking at it right now. _Jude Harrison: Heartbreaker?_ Um, excuse me, isn't that Tommy's night job, not mine? I'm just an innocent sixteen-year-old virgin who entered this dirty, dirty cesspool on a whim. Kat submitted me for the stupid contest anyways! It's not my fault!

And then Jamie threw yet another one on top of it... Me kissing Chaz on the cheek. _Two-Timing Tommy Q?_ But then, as if all of those were not enough, he dropped the last magazine on top with a loud plop. And there was a picture of Tommy and me heading for his car. And guess what the title was? C'mon, guess...

_Jude and Tommy's Minor Liaison_. How'd they even get that song title? Was E.J. spreading press about it already? I could just bet the article showed how we went to his place. Or mentioned that. Or showed a picture of Tommy picking up my car this morning. I have to say... They move fast. Maybe I should put Tory's number on speed-dial.

And, what, exactly, was I supposed to say to that? I could do nothing but stare... Stare at the big, glossy photos that proclaimed me a slut. To tell you the truth, though, I was rather surprised that there wasn't one that said something about me sleeping my way through the shattered remains of Boyz Attack! Knowing the bloodthirsty paparazzi, I gave them a day or two. So I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, forcibly exhaling a hard puff of air.

"Well... I'm not going to orgies with Boyz Attack, if that's what you're wondering..." I mumbled sarcastically, forcing myself to laugh at the joke. It was one of those moments where if you didn't laugh, you burst into tears... And I did not need to go hysterical today. Of course, I went insanely hysterical that day... But you'll find out about that later.

Joan laughed brightly at the joke, while Kat looked slightly worried about my mental sanity (trust me, I was too), and Jamie... Well, Jamie was most assuredly not happy. In fact, he looked angry, overprotective, and outraged all at the same time. I don't know... I was mainly getting the anger. I sighed once more, digging around for my cellphone. "Tory was **supposed** to sort this out. And all that's happened is, well, _nothing_! I mean, sure, the damn paparazzi stopped calling me and asking me about being married and engaged and knocked up... But honestly, you think she'd be a bit more concerned about her _son's_ reputation!" I complained, frowning and looking to see if I had her number. Of course, as it so often is, I did not. The only numbers I had on there that might be of any use were the studio (not helping), G. Major's basic line, Darius (yeah, right!), and, well, Tommy's number. Sad, isn't it?

Kat stared at me with wide eyes, but Joan and Jamie merely stared at me with curious looks. Obviously wondering about Tory. Hehe. Oops. "Oh, Tor-Victoria's my lawyer. She's apparently one of the best in the business... Of course, I've only been her client for a day, so what do I know?" I rambled, trying to avoid the fact that I'd mentioned something about her son... Which of course led me to thinking about the commitment-phobic idiot. Ugh.

Jamie fixed me with a shrewd look. "You mentioned her son's reputation... Just who is your lawyer, Jude?" Jamie questioned thoroughly. Kat nodded slowly, looking more worried. Finally, I couldn't hold it back anymore. I can't lie to them... They're my best friends.

"She's Tommy's mom, okay? And she doesn't like me. Matter of fact, I see where Tommy gets that prissiness from..." I hissed angrily. Suddenly I was mad at my lawyer... Why hadn't she done anything to fix this? Why? He was her son, after all... I mean, I understand not giving a damn about my reputation (though it's her FREAKING job, for crying out loud! But then again, not doing work seems to run in the family... Like how Tommy's conveniently been ignoring me for the past few days and not recording or co-writing with me)... But not giving a damn about her son's? That's effed up. No wonder Tommy's such a trainwreck.

Joan giggled at the mention of Tommy's prissiness... She either has a really good sense of humor, is easily amused or high right now, or desperately wants to remedy the completely permeating sense of awkwardness here... Hmm, tough call, but I'm going with the last one...

"Isn't that a huge conflict of interest?" Jamie pointed out, scowling. What, he didn't want me out of legal trouble? Or was it Tommy he wanted nailed to the wall? But why?

I could only shrug. Of course it was. But if Georgia trusted her... Then, theoretically, so could I. And she was supposedly the best... But Georgia likes Darius... Which says something not so good about her taste... Imagine what would happen if they hooked up? Weird, huh? "Maybe."

Kat was fed up with all of this thinly-veiled fighting. Well, she had always been uncensored and incredibly blunt. So she interrupted our private glaring contest, rolling her eyes. Quickly, she glanced to see if anyone was listening before she spoke, leaning across the table. "So, Jude, what **did** happen last night?" She asked in a nervous whisper. I didn't know how to answer her question.

I don't even get what happened last night. But I sighed and thought furiously of something to say. "Um... We talked some..." was all I could get out, and awkwardly, at that.

Suddenly, Jamie peered across the table at my cake. His dark eyes narrowed in concentration, staring at the cake, as if he was dissecting it with x-ray vision. Then, slowly, he backed away from the cake, blinking and then fixing a hard stare on me. "Wedding cake, Jude?" He let the question hang emptily in the air, but I knew what he meant.

"Tommy's not dropping hints, Jamie..." I retorted, rolling my eyes. Honestly, what was with Jamie? He was so suspicious and mistrustful... Like Dad. And Mom. And Sadie. Though I sort of deserve the Sadie thing. But Jamie knew I was telling the truth. He knew first hand that Tommy was not the marriage type (not that he tried to marry Tommy and got ditched at the altar or anything... Though, you know, that is a funny mental picture). In fact, I'm laughing sort of hysterically right now and I'm getting a lot of weird looks from everybody.

"What's so funny?" Jamie pondered, confused. But of course, looking at Jamie only made me laugh harder... Especially as I was picturing his tall, willowy form in a wedding dress. And let's just say that white isn't his color... I mean, Tommy normally dates tall, skinny model types... Really pretty ones. Picturing Jamie waiting anxiously at the altar for... I'm really killing myself here! ... Tommy, of all people... With bright pink or red lipstick, teal eyeshadow, blush... Funny stuff. Ooh, I can just imagine the veil... You almost can't tell he's a guy. This is hilarious. Ahahaha! He's got wide shoulders though... And he's much more curvy than you'd think, really... Oh, and imagining Jamie with long, blonde curls... That's the best of all!

"What's so damn funny, Jude?" Kat snapped, getting a bit too up in my face for my liking. As I was delirious and laughing insanely, I answered truthfully. Big mistake. Hilarious, but stupid.

"Just picturing Jamie getting married to Tommy..." I gasped in between giggles. For a moment, Joan stared at Jamie, and suddenly she too could picture it, breaking out into hysterical laughter. Steadfastly Kat remained frowning, but when she glanced over at Jamie, she lost control and started snickering, though she tried her hardest to hold back the laughs. My eyes were blurry with tears from laughing so much. It was nice to laugh, for once... Nice that everything didn't have to be so serious.

Jamie, on the other hand, was clearly not amused. Which was expected, being the killjoy that he is. Nah, he's not a killjoy... Jamie's brow furrowed, and he scowled moodily, crossing his arms over his chest. "And, what, may I ask, is so funny about me being a groom?" Jamie implored in a low tone.

All three of us girls exchanged glances, silent for one second before breaking out into bouts of laughter once again. "What makes you think that you're the groom?" I deadpanned, briefly maintaining my composure before once again cracking up. Jamie's jaw dropped and he suddenly turned to Kat, who sobered up enough to tell it like it was.

"Jamie, honey... C'mon... You vs. Tommy. Can you honestly picture Tommy in a wedding dress? No. But you... You've got the body to pull it off..." Kat replied consolingly, placing her hand gently on his shoulder. Really, quite a sweet speech... Until you consider that after saying the last part, she soon entered a violent period of giggles so strong rivulets of tears ran down her face. Yeah, laughing even harder than me about her own boyfriend... Says something about her, doesn't it?

But that's Kat for you. Finally, we all (for the most part) stopped laughing. But Jamie looked even less happy than before. Once again, he leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. "Jude... What really happened with you and Tommy?"

I thought we'd already been over this. Did I not cover it in my answer before? I mean, sure, I realize that thinking about Jamie in a... giggle... wedding dress distracted me a little... But I answered! With a succinct "Nothing!" I said we talked. And we did.

I just left out the part where Tommy got drunk and started hitting on me... Or when we were sort of kind of maybe completely making out. Okay, so I lied. So sue me. This is Jamie we're talking about here. He doesn't want to hear about me and Tommy. He hates Tommy. And, he used to... Okay, shutting up now.

"I told you, Jamie. Nothing. Relax. We talked, ate some food, listened to music. Nothing really out of the ordinary. It was... normal. But with more serious talking," I explained, annoyed. Jamie was such a big brother sometimes. Honestly, he was worse than Tommy was when I was dating Shay... And there's nothing even going on this time! Jamie shrank back from me, an unreadable look on his face.

"Okay, Jude... If that's what you say..." And then, suddenly, I stared at him. I mean really stared at him. I looked into his eyes and suddenly, I saw something. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Jamie didn't believe me. Jamie didn't trust me. Jamie, the Jamie I've known since birth... My next-door-neighbor. My best friend in the whole wide world. He didn't believe me... Didn't trust me. My own eyes widened in shock, and every ounce of joy flooded out of me.

"You... You don't believe me. How can you not believe me? You've known me longer and better than anyone, Jamie. Than anyone in the world. You're my best friend. So why don't you trust me? Why?" I interrogated forcibly, feeling as if I'd had all of the wind knocked out of me. I was still so stunned.

Jamie's face belied no shock. He looked slightly sad, to tell the truth, as he backpedaled quickly. "It's not you, Jude... I just think that he might have persuaded you to lie to protect him. I'm here to tell you that he could, no, he _should_, go to jail for what he's doing to you... It's illegal and he **doesn't** love you!" Jamie burst out quickly, sincerely. He was trying to put the best spin on this... This ugly thing that lay there between us.

"Gee, thanks for pointing that out, Jamie! Except for three things... Three little things. Number one: I already knew that. Number two: There's nothing going on. I repeat, **nothing**. He's not _That_ Guy, and I'm not _That_ Girl. And, finally, number three: Do you really have to rub it in, Jamie? Don't you think that the fact that he's **screwing** my _sister_ gave me that impression?" I hissed back furiously, forcing myself to hold back the tears like a dam.

I would not fall. I would not break. I would not let him... let this... get to me.

Jamie's face changed. Suddenly, he turned angry. And then he laid it all right out there in the open for everyone to see. Quietly, of course.

"He's got you brainwashed, Jude. You've fallen for him... And you're letting him do this to you," Jamie snarled, as if he couldn't have believed it. "Who would've thought it? Jude with a Boyz Attacker... Or two." His words were icy and harsh. Cold as "Frozen".

My jaw dropped. It was the "Or two" that did me in. I slapped him lightly, and Jamie could just stare at me. Well, what do you expect? He just called me a slut. In front of my friends. What the hell did he think I was going to do? What was I supposed to do?

"I'm **not** in _love_ with him, Jamie! I'm **not**! He has no control over me and I'm not _letting_ him do anything!" I sniped back, feeling the anger spike within me. I got in Jamie's face, letting him feel the anger radiating off of me. "I can't believe even _you_ think I'm sleeping with him. Mom, Dad, Sadie, the media, E.J., Shay, Darius... I can understand why they think so. But you, you're my best friend. I thought you knew me... Guess not, huh?" I muttered huskily, laughing bitterly. I was laughing desperately, forcing the tears back. I could not let him win. I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction that winning brought. Because he was wrong. So wrong, and he didn't even know it!

"I thought so too..." Jamie said quietly, looking down briefly. He then looked up again, this time having the nerve to meet my eyes before continuing. "But you've changed, Jude... You've changed ever since that stupid competition. And I don't know you anymore. I don't like what I see when I look at you, Jude," Jamie finished, an odd look of finality in his eyes.

I didn't know then what that look meant. I didn't realize it until it was too late. That look was the end of our friendship. But I didn't think of this then. I thought only in the moment... Of how angry and hurt I was, but how I mustn't cry... No, I must not let myself. Not until I could be alone.

"Have you ever thought that I don't _either_, Jamie? I don't like what everyone thinks I am, because it's **not** what I am. I don't like what I've become lately... But, the way I see it, it's not me that's changed. It's you," I retorted, feeling horribly depressed. All I wanted was to go home and hide in my bed all day. I wanted to be alone so I didn't have to face this.

I didn't want to watch our friendship splinter and break into pieces. But I stood there, frozen. I couldn't move and I couldn't breathe.

Kat suddenly interrupted. "No, Jude... Jamie's right. You have changed. You've been a pretty lousy friend lately," She piped up, sounding absolutely serious. It was then that I realized that I'd lost Kat too. She didn't believe me either. But our friendship had never been the same since, well... Jamie.

"The only lousy friends I see around here are you and Jamie. Ignoring me for three whole months, and then, the day after you profess your sincerest apologies, you turn your back on me and ditch me in my time of need. Did you stand by me? No, not at all... You didn't stand by me... No way," I yelled back furiously, shaking my head violently. It was becoming harder and harder to push back the tears that lingered in the corners of my eyes. They were almost overfull with moisture. I couldn't make it much longer.

The lump in my throat grew, and I struggled to swallow over it.

"Now is a bad time to be quoting The Clash, Jude! Doesn't fit the seriousness of the moment, does it?" Jamie snapped mockingly. But it did. It did fit the moment. Because, here he was, like every other guy in my life... Abandoning me. Hurting me. Leaving me hurt and alone.

And not caring about it. Not giving a damn about how I felt.

"Jamie, I'm wearing Joe Strummer's guitar pick. I can quote The Clash whenever the hell I want..." I bit out angrily before continuing in a much sadder tone. "What, would you rather I sing "Skin"? Well, Jamie, when I look your eyes... I don't see _mine_. Okay, so there, you happy now! You don't **believe** me. You don't **trust** me. You don't **know** me. So why am I even trying anymore? Why am I fighting this? This is _my_ destiny... I might as well accept it, right?" I cried furiously, rising up from the table, slamming my hands down on its surface.

I was now on the borderline... of being completely, utterly hysterical. I was mad, incensed, insane. And so I did what I usually do... Something completely one-hundred percent insane. My eyes darted around as I rose my hands in the air helplessly, gazing out at everyone enjoying their lunch. I was now the center of attention... Something I was becoming far too used to. As if they hadn't been staring at me already... All lunch. My vision was blurry with tears, but I continued to stand there.

"Jude, please... Stop being so dramatic. For God's sake, Jamie didn't say he hates you!" Kat snarled, wishing me desperately to sit down and be quiet. But I refused to let things be that simple.

"He didn't have to," I snapped, eyes blazing angrily. I was dangerously close to tears.

Joan rose hesitantly, tapping me on the shoulder. "Jude... Calm down. Just sit down, relax, eat some cake... Freeze Jamie out if you have to... Get a breath of fresh air... Please!" She pleaded, hoping to calm me down. It was a noble effort, but I also ignored her, looking out shrewdly upon the crowd, spreading my arms out wide.

"_Like_ what you see before you? A living specimen in a petri dish under the microscope of your watching eyes? Laid _bare_ out here in the open, **naked** for everyone to see? You like _reading_ about my life in the papers... You like gazing of pictures at me and gossiping about me behind my **back**. I haven't bowed to your will before. I refused boldly and loudly... But why should I refuse now? I'm sick and _tired_ of refusing. It's become too much to stand **here**, defiant, as I have, for so long. So I'm giving in... I'll **become** what you want you want me to be... What you expect me to be... I'll _be_ who you think I am. You want a robot, I'll go through the motions! You want me to sing an original song for the first time... I'll sing, I'll come up with a new hit here, right off the **top** of my head and sing it to you _acapella_, sans guitar, if you wish! You want a circus **freak**, a spectacle to look at... Well, then, I'll give you circus _freak_!" I shrieked, furious with rage. Everyone turned to stare at me, but no one said a single word. Not even a wispy whisper.

"I know what you want to ask. What you want to say to me... And so I'll answer!" I shouted zanily, running through the full circle of insanity.

Then I really went nuts. If I could go back in time, I would've dragged myself out after Kat said what she said... But I can't...

"LET THE RECORD SHOW, FOR THE LAST TIME, THAT I HAVE NOT HAD SEX WITH THOMAS "LITTLE TOMMY Q." QUINCY! YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG HARRISON!" I screamed at the top of my lungs before storming out of the cafeteria, slamming the doors behind me.

Before I knew it, I was running as fast as I could out of the school and into the parking lot. The very parking lot where Tommy had just said goodbye to me. I jumped into my car, slamming the door shut behind me, banging my head against the steering wheel several times.

Predictably, the horn honked, and it was then that my glass wall broke, and the dam of tears fell from my eyes. Pitter-pat, pitter-pat. The tears rolled down my face, down the steering wheel. It tasted like leathery saltwater. I slammed my eyes shut tight, but the slow, hot tears leaked out anyways. I leaned against it, banging my hands against it helplessly, and I sat there, crying hard for a long period of time.

My eyes were red and stinging when next I opened them. They burned when exposed to the light, leaving my world a watery blur.

In fact, I was still crying as I picked up my guitar. I didn't care that it was electric. I didn't care that it had steel strings. I didn't care about anything as I held it in my arms and began to play "24 Hours". But I changed the lyrics again.

"_I've been lying in the gutter for 24 hours. I've been hiding behind this shutter for 24 hours... Been low since I was with you last night_," I began sorrowfully, plucking the strings in a slightly sadder, slower version.

I didn't care that the steel hurt my fingers. I didn't care that my voice was scratchy and broken sounded from sobbing.

"_Trying to get you out from under my skin for 48 hours... Cure my broken heart from within for 48 hours_," I cried, swiping at the tears making salty tracks down my face. I took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. "_I'm fully positive I can never win... I'm fully positive I can never win_," I muttered despondently, desolately staring out at my surroundings, feeling the most alone I'd ever felt in my life.

"_Why won't you give me what I want? You say I've changed, but that's not my fault! I'll drive my own self home 'cause I gotta! I'll work myself to the bone 'cause I gotta!_" I wept, feeling angry suddenly. Angry that I'd let them hurt me. But I couldn't do it anymore! I couldn't! The tempo sped up.

It was almost as if I knew the heartbreak I'd be facing later on that night. But I didn't. And now, I wish I had. Maybe it would've changed the mess that followed. Maybe I would've been more mature about the whole thing... But what do you expect, I'm only sixteen, right?

"_I must've chose the wrong friends... 'cause I'm treading this lonely road again_," I whispered, taking a deep, ragged sigh. "_I guess it's finally time for me to give in..._" I mumbled weakly, sinking into my seat. Soft black leather... Like Tommy's car. Why was I still thinking of him?

Do I like hurting myself? Am I only alive when I feel my heart breaking all the time? Because if that's what feeling alive is like... Then maybe I'm better off dead.

Not that I want to kill myself or anything... It's just all too much. I want to relax. Be somebody else for a day. Being Jude Harrison sucks.

"_Why do I still want to keep you close? You went your separate way, you already chose... Why must you hurt me everyday? Why must this hurt me everyday?_" I sobbed desperately. I didn't bother to wipe the tears away. I didn't bother to hide them or even will them away. They just crept down my cheeks like silver bullets, fast and furious. Without any end in sight.

My fingers were starting to ache. But I didn't care. I didn't care about anything anymore. I could only concentrate on the absolutely mind-numbing pain I was feeling.

"_Why won't you give me what I want? You say I've changed, but that's not my fault! I'll drive my own self home 'cause I gotta! I'll work myself to the bone 'cause I gotta!_" I begged and I pleaded loudly, wanting them to come back, find me and say that it was all okay again. That we had both overreacted this time. That we were still best friends forever.

But they weren't, were they? Nobody was around for miles. Everyone was inside, in class. I didn't even remember that I was skipping history for the second day in a row. I should have, but I didn't.

"I_'ve been wasting my time watching my life pass me by... I wish that I could die! I'm without any goal, not even gonna try... to maintain my control. This time I won't defy!_" I screeched hoarsely, sniffling. They weren't coming. They weren't coming. No one was coming. No one was coming because no one cared anymore! No one loves me. No one.

Not one lousy person. Not even my family anymore.

And I think I've just proved that I have no friends... Especially not best ones!

"_Why won't you give me what I want? You say I've changed, but that's not my fault! I'll drive my own self home 'cause I gotta! I'll work myself to the bone 'cause I gotta!_" I bawled hysterically but steadfastly kept playing. I could feel my fingers bruising and crying out in pain, but I didn't care. I didn't even look down. My eyes remained forward, staring unblinkingly into space. What the hell was I waiting for? It wasn't coming!

"_Why won't you give me what I want? You say I've changed, but that's not my fault! I'll drive my own self home 'cause I gotta... I'll work myself to the bone 'cause I gotta..._" I sniffed, as I had no tissue and my nose was starting to run. Like my mascara... dripping all the way down my face. I was a mess.

But most of all, I was lonely.

"_For 24 hours, 24 hours, 24 hours, 24 hours, 24 hours.._." I chanted feebly, rocking back and forth a little to comfort myself. The tears slowly slowed down as my chords did and finally, I snapped out of my not-so-silent reverie. My guitar dropped uselessly into my lap, and I dug into my purse for some tissues. I found some, and, gazing into the mirror at my disturbed, sickly pale, and ill-looking reflection, I began to clean myself up.

I wiped away the trailing black mascara and blurry eyeliner I'd put on to impress Tommy. I stemmed the brackish flow of tears from my leaking eyes. I blew my nose until I could blow no more. And then, finally, I swiped off my frosting greased lipstick. My lips were a virginal pink. But I felt used and abused... Not innocent, not "touched for the very first time". I had been taken advantage of lately... by so many different people... And I can't, no, I won't, take it anymore!

That's it. I'm quitting today. And this time... I mean it.

The lipstick left greasy red stains on the tissue, but then a deeper crimson started to sweep through the paper. I gazed, horrified, in the mirror, but my lips were not brimming with blood like a vampire's. I was not bleeding... From the mouth.

And then, slowly, I cast a sweeping glance down at myself. My fingers were bleeding at the tips. Of course. From the guitar. I winced, but bound my fingers in the tissues, snagging my guitar and swinging it around my back. I tossed the used Kleenex in the trash, moving inside. I snatched band-aids from the nurse's office and hurried to the girls' bathroom I'd made my home lately.

After splashing some cold water on my face to cool me down and restore my coloring, I rinsed, soaped, lathered, and disinfected my hands before twining a band-aid gently around each one. I wanted desperately to go home, but knew I could not. I had to stay for two more classes... One of them being Quinn's. I could do this. I had to.

After all, would I really let Quinn win? That's just what he wants, after all! I vowed silently not to let him win. That meant letting him get the best of me, and that had already happened enough for one day (really, I had no idea it would get worse!).

He was a problem I would fix with a song. And if that didn't work... I'd tell. Someone.

And I'd make them care.

The bell rung, and lugging my guitar, I walked briskly to his class. Best to get there early. I'm going to receive enough stares as it is in the hallway, after all. Fortunately for me, when I arrived at his classroom, the room was completely, utterly empty. He was not here, so I settled down and started pantomiming playing what I thought was the tune to "Dirty Old Man". Humming the lyrics and tune to myself, I summed up that it fit the song perfectly. And it would be even awesomer on the electric, hooked up to the amp.

I was starting to get excited again, but my excitement was short lived as... In walked the devil incarnate... Mr. Travis Quinn. Determinately, I made an effort to ignore him, forcing myself to look away. My plans, unfortunately, were sorta smashed when he walked up to me languidly. There was no one else in the room, though some students' things were here. We were all alone... Once again. My posture tensed, and I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise...

Though in fear or anticipation, I did not know...

"So, Miss Harrison, missed you in my class this morning... But then again, I suppose it must've been quite a commute over here from Tommy's place," He drawled amusedly. That was only the beginning of his thinly veiled insults. I found that he was always insulting either me or Tommy. My virtue, my looks, my music, my attitude, my character, my mood, my mind, even!

I didn't even bother to look up. That would only let me get more enraged, which was just what he wanted. I didn't need to go homicidal on the guy... Even if it was justifiable.

"I wouldn't know, Mr. Q. I wasn't at his place, actually. I just sort of slept through it... Like I always do when you're teaching," I responded coolly, continuing my little game. I hesitated, pressing my fingers softly against the strings. They twinged unpleasantly. Fortunately, however, I never traveled without a pick in my pocket. I had a feeling I'd be needing it soon.

I glanced over and saw his jaw tightening. I smirked to myself. I was doing my job, at the very least. Which was, right now, to piss him off.

He really did hate it when I called him Mr. Q.

"So, you were at Chaz' place then, I presume? After all, you are his _girlfriend_, right? I must say I'm impressed... You're moving _up_ the chain of Boyz, starting with the easiest..." He remarked casually. I could feel the satisfied smirk cross his face as he said that. But I forced myself to push back the anger. He would get his later.

Like in maybe ten, twenty minutes? The sooner the better... I'm already getting sick of this.

"Oh, like _you're_ one to talk. Sex-starved teacher... You're the easiest of them all," I retorted acidly, practicing my tabs.

Oddly enough, he froze up. I saw him tense out of the corner of my eye. His eye twitched. Why was he so affected by a simple phrase?

"Oh, Quinny, don't get your panties in a twist. Of course, you're so desperate you probably don't even bother with underwear... You like to think of the little kiddies on your lunch break," I mocked, my own smirk widening as I cast a brief glance over at Quinn to see his reaction.

He had backed away from me before, but now he grew annoyingly closer to me. He was, once again, frustratingly angry. I didn't want to look up for fear he would strike me or something. If I had been really playing the guitar, it would've given away my fear.

So naturally, I was surprised when Travis roughly grabbed my chin and forced my head up to look at me directly in my bloodshot eyes. He was so close I could feel the hot, livid puffs of his minty breath against my face. His breathing quickened into soft, wrathful pants. I could see myself reflected in his deep, murky green eyes. They were darker than before.

"I am not some kind of pedophile," Travis snapped icily, in an outraged tone. Immediately, as if to prove his point, he dropped my chin harshly, stepped back several yards, and snorted.

But I met his crazed gaze once again, feeling the fury crackling within my own eyes. "Say that when you **didn't** pin me against my car and shove your _tongue_ down my throat yesterday. Say that when you **didn't** touch my _ass_ on your lunch break. You can say that, _Hypocrite_, when your words match up with your actions," I spat venomously back at him. My fingers had long ago stopped pretending to play. This was real. This was now. This was... on.

His eyes narrowed in fury. "I can see right through that little _innocent_ act of yours, Harrison, so don't **you** lecture _me_ about hypocrites!" He sniped back immediately.

Innocent act? But it was all real. I was innocent. In this matter... And in everything else. This was not my fault.

Well, you did kiss Tommy in the first place. And you did make those comments in front of Shay and Eden about him coming back to your room... Not to mention what you said to Sadie... Or to Quinn himself, for that matter! And kissing him last night... And singing him a love song at G. Major... And what you said in front of the guys last night at dinner... Okay, so sue me!

"Yeah, well, stop hiding behind your hatred of Tommy as the reason why you hate me!" I hissed childishly. An interesting look crossed Quinn's face then, and he smirked widely. He was... amused. Of course. As always. I wanted to piss him off again.

"What makes you think I hate you?" Quinn asked smoothly, walking back towards me again. Crap. I don't want him near me! I don't! But as he said that, I was floored. You could've literally knocked me over with a feather.

I recovered fast, though. "Well, gee, Quinny, I don't know... Maybe the fact that you're not so much of a hard-ass on _any_ of the other students?" I drawled mockingly, fixing him with a hard look.

"Aww, Harrison, I'm flattered, but what would Tom-Tom say about you checking out my ass?" Travis posed, beaming. He was positively glowing with joy for himself. He did look flattered, the smug bastard. How could he be so easily amused? He grinned at me widely, holding back chuckles of mirth. I fixed him with a weird look, though.

He had, after all, brought up Tommy again. Seriously, is he gay or something? Not that I would have a problem with it... Actually, I think I would throw him a coming-out party. Just as long as he doesn't hit on me... Really. Anything but that.

"And _I'm_ the one everyone thinks is dating Tommy? Jeez, with the way **you** go on about him... I'd say you were attracted to **him** instead of _me_," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head in wonderment. However, I had said all of this just loud enough for him to hear. He scowled at me before shrugging. Did he even get that in the way I meant it? On second thought, did he even hear it?

"You've got to love love-hate relationships."

What the hell does that mean? Does that mean he thinks we have one? Or is he talking about me and Tommy? Or him and Tommy? Or, um, well... I'm out of ideas. Just what, exactly, do I say to that?

"And just **who** are you insinuating is in love here?" I questioned shrewdly, eyes narrowing as I crossed my arms across my chest. He too looked speechless. He still hadn't found an answer by the time Joan walked in.

"Good question," She muttered, plopping down in the seat next to me. Mr. Quinn immediately backed off, going to do some busy work at his desk. I felt his eyes burning a whole through my face. Great, just great. "So, what's up with Quinn?" Joan pondered in a quiet whisper.

I shrugged helplessly. Not one clue. All I know is that he's screwed up. I relayed this to Joan, who, once again, laughed. It's true though.

Before I knew it, the students started streaming in. I tapped Joan. I wanted to talk to her. She, unlike my other two traitorous friends, had stood by me. And she hadn't even known me over a day! It was mind-boggling that life-time friends would ditch me while a one-day friend would remain. But that was my life for you...

Mr. Quinn had started speaking, and I noticed, but I didn't care. His voice was more annoying than nails on chalkboard to my ears and I was constantly aware of it.

"Look, I just want to say thanks... For standing by me and believing me. It really means a lot to me..." I said, thanking her sincerely. I meant every last word this time. Frowning, I mused thoughtfully. "Hey, look, I've got Under the Mike tonight... You wanna come? I mean, I'm sure Speed and the guys would let you play with them if you want... Or you could just hang around backstage. It's a rockstar's paradise. Oh, and you'd get to meet everybody... Some of the best in the business," I was rambling and I knew it.

Joan nodded. "Okay, sounds awesome!" She replied excitedly.

However, our conversation was interrupted by Mr. Quinn. Hmm, do you think calling him Winnie-Poo would piss him off? I bet it would. Ooh, and they're gonna laugh too. I'm so calling him that!

"Well, as much as I hate to interrupt such precious moment... I am trying to teach here, ladies..." Quinn interjected rather loudly. Joan frowned, and I scowled, glaring at him with every ounce of raw anger in my body. I was, to tell the truth, a bit sapped out. But I wouldn't be when I was singing.

So I snarled oh-so-politely, well, bitterly, I should say, "Oh, **bite** me, Quinn!"

The rest of the class looked somewhat taken aback. But Mr. Quinn kept his cool and only rose an eyebrow. It was as if he had been trained by the best. Or maybe he'd just used a lot of Botox.

"Another come-on, Harrison?" He returned slyly, bending down to my level. Many chuckles and glares broke out in the class. I glared at him petulantly before a smirk came to my face as I thought carefully of what to say back.

"Like _you're_ one to talk," I snorted.

I let the words hang in the air. Unacknowledged. Was it just me, or did he turn three shades paler? No, it was four. He looks a bit ill to tell the truth... Might want to see a nurse or something. But then he stiffened and chose to merely ignore it.

A wise move, but an overall ineffective one. Especially considering what I was going to do soon. I would let him be all business for now.

"As I was saying before, something you would know if you were paying attention, Mrs. Quincy... Is that every Friday in this class, we have Open Mike Day. If you've written a song, the forum's open to play. We will also be available to help you write songs. For most of you, you will have to write, perform, and master a song per quarter... However, for you, Mrs. Quincy, you will have to write, perform, and master a song per month. And none from your last CD. No covers, either. I'm smarter than that," He explained bossily. After all, he was a teacher. But he was really overestimating his intelligence.

Even Tommy knows not to kiss me. Sort of.

And I hadn't failed to notice that he'd called me Mrs. Quincy. No, that was glaringly obvious.

"Fair of you, Mr. Q, but I think I can handle that. Now, if I sing multiple songs within the same month, do they count for separate months?" I questioned, having a feeling I was going to write a lot more this month... But how many will I be recording? Weird. I never thought of things like this... Usually. But I was in Quinn's class, so the rulebook had long since flown the coop.

"We'll see when you perform multiple, new, original songs within the same month, now won't we, Jude? Now, any volunteers to go first? Anybody even written a song?" He continued bravely. He doubted me. He didn't believe me. He underestimated me. And he would pay for that.

Not that I'm gonna kill him or anything... But this song is just as good. My hand shot immediately up into the air, waving around wildly. I practically jumped out of my seat, trying my hardest to look eager to share my music with the world. And, trust me when I say that my enthusiasm was no act. "Ooh, ooh, pick me, Mr. Q! I mean, you're taking volunteers, right, and here I am, volunteering..." I exclaimed loudly, waving both hands at him before glancing around and finding myself the only one volunteering. "The only one volunteering." I stated rather loudly, as a rather obvious hint to Travis to call on me.

"It's New Song Day, not Perform Any Old Song Day," He snapped irritably, looking down at his clipboard. Bet I had a zero already. Yeah, prolly. And about 50 detentions saved up. I continued on graciously.

"But Mr. Q, I am performing a new song," I pouted, trying to sound all sweet and innocent, like I was a little baby again... Which I most definitely was not!

"Very well then, Mrs. Quincy, blow the roof off,"Quinn muttered sarcastically, snorting and looking dark and slightly moody. Honestly, the man brooded more than Tommy. And that, my friend, is saying something. Damn whiny boybanders.

"Mr. Q? Why does she call him that?" A random student asked offhandedly. Well, wasn't it obvious?

"I didn't exactly get the memo about calling him Travis, and he hates me... I'd call him Mr. T., but he has neither the bling, the hair, the muscles, the clothes, or the uncanny resemblance to Darius to pull it off," I elucidated sincerely, calmly, feeling relaxed. For now. That being said, with another look from Travis, I grabbed my guitar, glanced at the lyrics scrawled haphazardly on Jamie's math homework one last time (it was a small victory, having that paper... He would pay), and walked up to the front of the room.

I plugged my guitar into the provided amp, stepping closer to the mike and hesitantly playing out my chords on my guitar... This time with a pick.

"I'm an opening act. Cool," I breathed into the microphone. Then I started to play my tune. Angry rock in the style of "Frozen" and "Me Out of Me". And then I leaned in, practically kissing the microphone, and started to sing.

"_I was shoved and pinned against my **car**... Held there by your strength and **weight**... Paralyzed by the **fears** that came over me. I could no longer **move**, I dared not **breathe**... Horrifyingly, I could only feel you there **against** me!_" I began edgily, watching Travis' face carefully. Shock registered first. I carried on, regardless. The words were engraved in my brain now. I couldn't get them out if I tried.

"_When you pushed me on top of that car, that stormy dark green **look** in your eyes... really **freaked** me out, then you came **alive**! And you made it so I could no longer **deny**... the complete, utter revulsion I felt for **you** inside, but I was trapped, **frozen** there in horror... as you pressed yourself to me so **disgustingly**. The salty bile **rose** up in my throat thickly, and the truth remains, I won't **let** you terrorize me!_" I continued furiously, not able to keep the disgust out of my tone. His eyes widened at the mention of green eyes. Yeah, buddy, it's about you, damnit! And not in a good way... Okay?

"_Oh, you **take** it for granted that I won't say a word... But it's me who has been taken **advantage** of. And for that, don't you **doubt** that I won't tell, because I can't stand your **harassment** anymore! I feel so damn **sick** when I walk through your door, and I'm fed up with our own little personal **war**! I don't wanna see your ugly **face** anymore!_" I sang, feeling enraged and incensed. My anger rose to the level it had been when he groped me. Yeah, I was gonna sure show him.

Time to turn the tables. In a big way.

"_I was shoved and pinned against my car... Held there by your strength and weight, paralyzed by the fears that came over me... I could no longer move, I dared not breathe... Horrifyingly, I could only feel you there against me!_" I repeated, feeling and sounding harsher and angrier this time. My eyes didn't wander from my target. Now he was angry. He clenched his fist, his face turned red with suppressed rage.

Oh well. The next verse would nip that little problem in the bud, wouldn't it?

"_My boyfriend's rather **possessive** of his things... He hates the idea of **other** men touching me (especially **nonconsensually**)... Now, as of yet, this isn't something that he knows, but if you **push** my buttons, and, I'm **sure** you will... I'll be sure to let it slip, go out and let it **show**! And I'd love to see the way my boyfriend **handles** it, because it's sure to be pretty **damn** violent!_" I chirped gleefully at the happy thought of Tommy beating him up. Oh, joy. Some of it was true, though... Tommy was possessive. But I wasn't his to own.

And, trust me, it would be violent. Travis' scowl widened. I would tell. There was no question of that. The question was not if, but when... And maybe who. But definitely Tommy... And I'm gonna be there to see the fireworks... Oddly enough, he didn't look so scared. At least, on the outside anyways... I didn't doubt the things Tommy could do in sheer rage. I'd heard about his bad boy bad-ass reputation... For someone in a boyband, that is. Bad-asses aren't in boybands. They all have to have cute asses so teenyboppers come to their concerts...

"_Oh, you take it for granted that I won't say a word, but it's me who has been taken advantage of, and for that, don't you doubt that I won't tell, because I can't stand your harassment anymore! I feel so damn sick when I walk through your door, and I'm fed up with our own little personal war! I don't wanna see your ugly face anymore!_" I chorused, keeping the smirk up there on my face. Yeah, he deserved it. This would set things straight. Not everything, but this, at least... This thing I really didn't need right now.

"_I was shoved and pinned against my car! Held there by your strength and weight! Paralyzed by the fears that came over me! I could no longer move, I dared not breathe! Horrifyingly, I could only feel you there against me!_" I enunciated, singing as loudly as I could while still singing.

I took this opportunity to gaze out at the crowd. Most of them looked somewhat shocked, or as if they had suddenly been awakened. A few, however, were glaring at me. Joan looked slightly worried about me. I knew what she thought this song was about... And she was mostly wrong.

Travis, Mr. Asshole Crappy Teacher over here, didn't go that far. Thank God and my lucky stars and my guardian angel or two up there. And thank his too, 'cause if not... He'd be in the clink, the slammer, the pen, the hole... Prison, right now. For at least five years with my parents and my lawyer... Or possibly beaten to death if Tommy found out about it.

What can I say, justifiable homicide? Now I turned to look directly, for the first time all song, at one Mr. Travis Quinn.

"T_his is why you will leave me the **hell** alone... You filthy, pervy, nasty, and _dirty_ old man! And if you don't, if you refuse, if you **won't**... I'll end your career **singlehandedly** before it's begun! What happened will remain our dirty little **secret**, so if you wanna keep your **life** and your job, then just _shut_ up!_" I chanted virulently, feeling dark and evil like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named... a.k.a. Travis Quinn... Not Voldemort.

This was our embarrassing little secret. I would get the stigma too. And I wasn't That Girl. I don't screw around. I haven't and I won't because I'm not Sadie. I'm not! And I won't ever be!

"_Because I can't stand your harassment anymore! I feel so damn sick when I walk through your door! And I'm fed up with our own little personal war! I don't wanna see your ugly face anymore, anymore, anymore! You dirty, dirty, dirty, nasty, pervy, pervy, old, old man!_" I finished, launching into a masterfully intricate, charged guitar solo and then strumming slower and slower. The song began to calm down a bit, and soon, it was over... Entirely. Yay! Finally.

For a moment, everyone in the class was shell-shocked, but, with the prompting of Joan (the first to recover), they burst out into wild applause. I smiled at them benevolently, bowing low before them, blowing kisses, and suddenly having to sign a flurry of autographs. After all, I was an internationally-known international rockstar.

Everyone, that is, save Travis, who got his. He stood gaping and staring at me for a good moment. He could honestly think of nothing to say, and I can't blame them. I wonder if that's how he knew he came off as. Because he does, you know! But when he did managed to say something, it wasn't a critique about my lyrics, my language, my tabs, my chords, or my notes... It wasn't even a critique... Not that it was really positive or anything... But still.

"Get the **hell** out!" Quinn cried out hoarsely. His eyes looked dark and watery, as if he was remembering something tragic. But what, I wondered? Or was I simply imagining things? I was tired and it had been a long day... Yes, that must be it.

Needless to say, I didn't need to be told twice... So, amidst the loud, raucous applause, I grabbed all my things, throwing them together and racing out to my car.

But jeez, why was Quinn so weird about this? That, however, was not a question I pondered as I returned home and took a nap in my bed, nearly collapsing. I was so tired. I could barely keep my eyes open... It had been a very _long_ day.

And it was about to be an even longer night.

But I didn't know that then, now did I?

-

Oh, and there's now a backstory for why Tommy's so messed up... Though it'll be chapters before you hear it, just like the feud and, yeah... Let's just say it involves his family and sort of freaks me out a little, because the things that I made screw him up kinda happen to me (no one beats him, if that's what you're wondering... But yeah, you'll see why)... Of course my brain thought of these reasons, so go figure... It'll be after his party, I think...

Ooh, SPOILER time... For the fic, silly, not the show. Jude and Chaz get close, though they're really only just friends. Tommy is quite bothered by the whole thing, but is he as bothered by it as Jude's parents? Ooh, that's a toughie.

Anybody ever notice the irony in Jude being named Jude? Aside from the fact that she's named after a Beatles song... Which is about a guitar player, oddly enough... Isn't it weird how "Hey Jude" and "Sexy Sadie" fit Jude and Sadie so well? Aside from that... St. Jude's the patron saint of Lost Causes. Hmm...

Okay, and let's see... The next chapter, you ask? Tommy and Jude will finally have the talk they've been missing. But it clears up surprisingly little and only manages to complicate things even more. Jude's left a bit burnt by the whole ordeal, and so she childishly lies to Tommy, writes a rather insulting song or five (one of which she chooses to sing at Under the Mike... And, to everyone's chagrin... It becomes a HUGE hit), and goes out and parties with... Well, that'll come later, child...

All my love, Loren ;


	18. Your Eyes

Oh, Sadie's in college. That's where she is. So she goes to college in the city. A pretty nice one, I think, because Jude's paying for her school. But Sadie has her own car, so she doesn't need to live there... She commutes. And everyone was gone when she woke up because her mom and Sadie were at work/school (Jude's mom checked in on her when she left at sixish, you know, after about having a panic attack seeing Tommy's car outside, and found Jude to be alone and completely zonked out. So she let Jude sleep. And Sadie could've woke Jude up, but she hates her, so she wanted her to be late for school. And Jude's dad is still moved out... He just hangs around a lot).

The cool thing about Joan is that nothing surprises her. She's very calm. Except she laughs a lot. I might have to fix that. I think I'll have her make fun of Darius or something. You know, 'cause he doesn't know how to button up his shirt. And then Jude'll be like, "Yeah, that was Darius Mills... Rap mogul. He's kinda my manager and my ex-boyfriend's uncle and Tommy's ex-brother-in-law... Long story."

And Mr. Quinn doesn't know how far Tommy lives from her school... He just said that because he's an ass and he knows she hates it when people make comments like that... Or he thought that that was why she was late. As for when she tells Tommy... Well, hmm, lemme see... Who ever said Jude was gonna be the one to tell Tommy? Hehehe.

Glad you liked the songs (It almost means more to me when you say you like the songs... Because those are all me, pretty much. Especially some of the ones I wrote when I was angry at a guy... You'll prolly get to see some of those soon. "Justified to Avenge". Dunno when though... I put so much work into those songs. It's crazy. I've written like 34 or something. Not counting the ones I had before my comp (ironically named Travis... I actually do like that name. And I like his character too, which is the weirdest part. But it's gonna be a while before he's nicer to Jude) decided to le screw me over. Fitting, isn't it? Which is why it means a lot when you compliment the songs, because, well, I'm not really a poet or a songwriter. Not unless I have to do it for a fic or something I'm writing. Which is odd, because I'll get inspired at the weirdest times... You should see my math homework from last year... Covered in song lyrics... Some of the probably to "Minor Liaison", which was part of another song first... 'Cause I had a character who was in a band and wrote songs, and, ironically, her producer was crazy in love with her... But he was like the same age) ... I was kinda worried about that, because it's not the kind Jude usually writes... She doesn't usually curse and isn't usually that descriptive. I was just sort of exhausted there by the end. I was forcing myself to finish. So that's why it's not as detailed as I would've liked. Actually, I wrote this killer song yesterday. You won't get to see it for a while, though. :(

Yeah, lots of foreshadowing, I know. But you'll see, hehe... Actually, the day doesn't end bad, because she goes out and parties with Chaz to cheer herself up... But well, she gets home pretty late, and, well, the tabloids. But her and Tommy's conversation isn't exactly a happy one, as you'll see, and Jude lies to him because she's so angry she can barely see straight, and then Tommy's freaking out and going insane (it's so bad he has to go outside for a smoke and he goes through like five cigarettes a minute or something). And then her family doesn't like her new song... Because it's really insulting, so she'll probably be grounded until she's 21 or something.

Okay, so I changed my mind. I wrote this part of the chapter and decided to leave it off before Jude and Tommy have the second part to their Big Talk where they discuss what happened last night. That way I can use one of the new songs in the next chapter. Consider it my birthday present to you...

Let's see... Don't own Jude, Tommy, G. Major, Kwest (is it with the K or the Qu?), Sadie, Shay, Darius, Georgia, E.J., Jamie, Kat, "Your Eyes", or "Train in Vain (Stand by Me)".

* * *

I arrived at the studio to find it in a flurry of activity. There were all sorts of businesspeople running about, none of whom I knew, and, well, frankly, I had no idea what the hell was going down. But it was something big. I smiled at Kwest, who happened to be getting a cup of coffee. G. Major has some of the best coffee in the world, I swear. Love that stuff, seriously.

"Hey, Jude... 'Sup?" Kwest nodded nonchalantly. I shrugged, getting myself a cappuccino. Or whatever. I practically live off the stuff nowadays.

"You know, usual stuff... Anyways, I've got this new song, and I kinda want to run it by Tommy first, but we'll probably be in to record at some point, okay?" I explained quickly. Kwest nodded, smiling widely. He obviously had something very fun to do in his free time... Or someone.

"Got it, Jude. Come in whenever... I'll be... reading," He said thoughtfully, stumbling over his words a little. Methinks Kwest is lying. Oh, well, I've got bigger things to worry about. Like what I was going to say to Tommy.

But first, I had to ask him a question... Ooh, punny. Get it, Kwest, question? Okay, sorry... Bad, I know. But what can I say? My curiosity got the best of me. "So, just wondering... What's going on here? Who are all of those people? Did Darius buy the studio or something?" I asked, gesturing towards the workmen and workerbees. Kwest frowned, shrugging.

"No... They haven't told me much about it... Only that they want you to be doing a music video. And they might film some of it here..." Kwest stated calmly. Uh oh. That couldn't mean, could it...? But it's so early. I haven't even started recording it. You can't make a music video without music!

But what I was really thinking was every expletive I could bring to mind. Tommy hadn't gotten rid of the stupid song. And now I'd be filming the music video to "Minor Liaison". Now who's gonna be my costar? Shay again? I could so not handle him all over me like that. I hope Darius knows that.

Oh, that reminds me! I have to meet Tommy. In the alleyway. On the fire escape. You know, the one where we first made out... in the rain. Narrow, sort of balcony-ish, brick walls, iron banister? Grungy and grimy and romantic as hell? Yeah, that alleyway. I am so screwed.

And then again, Tommy and I... all alone. Just like in the song. There's only two reasons why Tommy would want to meet there. 1. Utter privacy. 2. Utter privacy to make out in... I might just walk off that fire escape screwed! Okay, Jude, we don't need those sort of thoughts, now do we?

You probably won't even wind up kissing. After all, this is the studio. Anyone can see you. Why would he kiss you here? But we almost kissed in the car! That has to mean something, right?

And Georgia interrupted you. That has to mean something, right?

Shut up. No, you shut up. Damnit, both of you, shut up!

Lord, I'm talking to myself. This has crossed the line from Temporary Insanity to Permanent Insanity. Tommy is making you lose your mind. Jamie was right about that, at the very least... Don't think about Jamie!

I sighed, remembering how badly the day had gone thus far. I was going to be with Tommy soon. Things would be better. So much better. I pushed the door open gently, walking out unto the fire escape, guitar in hand. I cast a quick glance up at the sky. It was overcast: cloudy and gray. I could smell the rain in the air. I loved rain and I hated it.

I loved it because... Please don't tell me you're that dumb. And I hated it, for, well, pretty much the same reason. I equate rain with unrelenting heartbreak or relentless bliss. Two extremes. What can I say? I'm a walking contradiction.

And there, at the end of the alleyway, was my prince. He would save me and whisk me away from this awful, horrible, terrible, no-good, dirty, rotten day. Good, old, reliable Tommy. Wait a sec... What the hell am I on? Tommy, reliable? And Tommy was the one who got smashed last night?

Yeah... You're losing it, Jude.

I smiled brightly at Tommy, walking over to him. He was silent and looked rather grim. He didn't say a single word, and he flinched when I touched his shoulder. Tommy finally turned to face me, but I spoke first.

"Hey, Tommy! I wrote a new song... I wanna know what you think about it. I sung it in Music... They totally loved it. Now, mind you, it's supposed to be electric, but I don't exactly have an amp out here, so... Here goes," I chattered on excitedly. Then I started to strum my guitar in the same tune as before. Tommy didn't seem to register any of this, but I knew he was listening, so I started to sing. "_I was shoved and pinned against my car... Held there by your strength and weight... Paralyzed by the fears that came over me. I could no longer move, I dared not breathe... Horrifyingly, I could only feel you there against me!"_

Tommy had closed his eyes to listen, but at this, they shot open. His hand dropped down upon the guitar, an urgent look in his eyes. "What's the name of that song?" He asked, sounding pretty desperate, oddly out of character for him. I shrugged and stopped playing.

"Dirty Old Man," I replied coolly. I swear, you should have seen the look on his face. That's gonna haunt me for a while. He looked absolutely horrified. Wide eyes, jaw tensed, brow furrowed. I attempted in vain to wave off his fears. "Relax... It's not about _you_," I muttered, attempting to placate him, but Tommy wasn't having any of it.

"I hate it," Tommy said resolutely, jaw set. His eyes burned with an anger I found out of place. My eyes widened, and I could feel my nostrils flare. Tommy thought my song sucked? Tommy? Tommy who knew me better musically than anyone? The entire class loved it. Even Travis had nothing bad to say about it. And Tommy, my freakin' producer, doesn't like it? It's his job to produce. My music. He has to like it. And if he doesn't like it, he can make it so he likes it.

Tommy was the one who said to not let what anyone else said about my music affect whether I liked it or not. And I'm not just gonna let him contradict me. But why doesn't he like it? Even Jamie gave me a reason.

"Why do you hate it? I sang it to my music class today. It was a huge hit. My evil music teacher didn't even say a word against it..." I asked boldly, feeling rather annoyed with him. That was only the beginning.

Tommy didn't answer. He looked away moodily, out at the dirty alley below us. The vague smell of garbage made the moment even more unpleasant and awkward. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

"That's not why I asked you here," Tommy said enigmatically, turning to look at me for a fleeting moment before once again staring up at the sky. His evasiveness, his coldness, all his feigning aloofness... It annoyed me. Ugh. What is his problem?

"Then why did you ask me here, Tommy?" I questioned impatiently, defiant hands on my hips, tapping my sneaker against the steel beneath my feet. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Tommy abruptly turned to look at me, a harsh, fierce look in his eyes. But seeing me, his cold facade melted just a little. He quickly had to, once again, avert his eyes.

He seemed a bit nervous and somewhat jumpy. Like he'd had one too many cups of espresso and was shaky or had to go to the bathroom. He roughly ran his hand through his hair, and his face screwed up in a tormented look. I was beginning now to wonder for his sanity. And I suppose then, he was too. He briefly looked at me, and only while answering. "I asked you here because there's a lot of things we've been needing to talk about and I haven't been around much lately..." He said quietly, looking away.

Well, gee, isn't that the truth. For once. Wow. Somebody call the papers! Tom Quincy's actually telling the truth for once! Surprise of the century! And an understatement. For crying out loud, the man's been turning the other way in the hallways when he sees me! I fixed Tommy with a hard look... Which would've been a whole lot more effective had he actually been looking at me. Naturally, he hadn't. Doesn't even have the guts to do that nowadays.

Why won't he look at me? He didn't have any trouble before... Just what, exactly, is he hiding from me? Above us, the thunder rumbled ominously.

"Let's start with what you're lying to me about, Tommy. I wanna know why you can't look at me. You didn't seem to have any trouble before... In the car..." I growled bluntly, moving a bit closer to him. Tommy immediately looked up at me. Our eyes locked, and this time, he wasn't breaking the stare. There was such an intensity in his eyes, though...

"Yes, in the car..." He muttered, seemingly distracted. I wondered vaguely if he was remembering what had almost happened with us. How we had almost kissed. But should I say anything? I worried if I did, I'd receive another "it didn't happen" conversation... And that was not what I wanted or needed. I decided to take matters into my own hands. A patented (I'm still waiting for the trademark) Jude moment. I always do stupid, stupid things like that.

So I leaned in and kissed him. Bam. Like I did at the Vinyl Palace. Bam. But unlike at the Vinyl Palace, he kissed me back... Immediately. But it didn't get intense like the other kisses had, because he suddenly, like at the Vinyl Palace, realized just what the hell he was doing and who the hell he was doing it with. Me. And, of course, with my identity came my age. In big flashing lights. And once again, Tommy couldn't do it.

"I... I _can't_," He mumbled helplessly, weakly, staring at me as if he was completely, utterly lost and confused. But I was lost and confused. Not this dance again. I'd never been into choreography as it is. Not to mention all the circling each other and dips and spins. It was all too complicated and involved a level of trust I didn't have with Tommy. Not that I don't trust him or anything.

I'm just afraid that if I fall... He might not catch me. You know, like in "Your Eyes"?

"_Your eyes are holding up the sky... Your eyes make me weak, I don't know why! Your eyes make me scared to tell the truth! I thought my heart was bulletproof, but now I'm dancing on the roof... And everybody knows I'm into you_," I sung softly, passionately. I meant those words with every beat of my heart. His eyes, his laugh, his smile... They were holding up my sky. Right now, he was one of the few things in my life that wasn't, you know, totally crappy. I meant those words with all of my heart. It was stupid, trying to appeal to him like that... It was stupid even trying to appeal to him at all. But I thought if anything would finally win him over... It would be a song. Maybe it would've worked better if I hadn't written the song about Shay.

I've written and will write billions of songs about Tommy Quincy. It's a fact of life. Right up there with "24 Hours" is about Jamie and will always be about Jamie, well more than half of the rest of my songs are about Tommy. "It Could Be You", check. "That Girl", check. "Time to Be Your 21", check. "Criminal", check. He even influenced parts of "Shatter Me" (one of the rocks turning to sand), "Skin" (which, all right, was mostly about my Dad, but that was one of those weeks where every man I knew, pretty much, was an asshole to me. I mean, I could avoid my dad. But Tommy? He was everywhere. And, hello, the kiss that never happened? Another little white lie), "I'm in Love with My Guitar" (I think it's safe to say that I was in love with more than my guitar that day), "Temporary Insanity" (even though that's not my song... He even set it up with that Steve guy who produces The Weekend), "Waste My Time" (before the Shay thing... ish), "Let Me Fall", and "24 Hours" (especially when I was singing it after he kind of smashed my heart for the first time). Oh, and let's see... That one song you were writing the other night... And the one he was singing in your dream... And "Minor Liaison". I should've just sung one that was about him. It wouldn't have been hard.

"I can't do this," Tommy only managed to repeat numbly. I can't again. He'd already said that. And he hadn't given me a reason. Yet again. I bare my heart and soul to the guy and all he gives me is a weak "I can't". Well, you know what, Tommy? I can't either. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep getting hurt and burned by you. I refuse. I'm not That Girl, remember? You won't shut me up on this one. I want to know why.

An angry burst of lightning lit up the sky, but I didn't flinch. I felt the fury of the lightning like it had struck me. I was aflame with fury. Fury I directed at Tommy, the cause.

"What is it this time, Tommy? I'm too young? You're too old? You're my producer? I've heard it all before! So go on ahead, tell me what it is... Tell me why you can't do _this_, why you can't be with me. Tell me. Give me one **decent** reason. One good reason's all I ask. I mean, it doesn't even matter what the press thinks anymore. Everyone already thinks we're dating. And all the harassment is completely worth it if we are. So tell me. Go on ahead, Tom. And it better be good," I snarled, crossing my arms over my chest, nearly shaking with fury. My angry eyes pierced through him. I wanted him to hurt, to explain.

But mostly, I just wanted him.

He looked at me with regret. His stare lingered and then he shook his head, as if it was wrong to even look at me. What? It's not like he was undressing me with his eyes or anything. Why won't he look at me? I want him to look at me. Look at me, damnit!

Then Tommy looked at me and said the most heartbreaking thing in the world.

"I'm back with Sadie."

At first I didn't believe him. I thought he was joking. I mean, come on. He kissed another girl, me, her sister, on international TV. Well, more like I kissed him. But still, he wasn't complaining, now, was he? Taking him back meant that Sadie was much stupider than she really was. And she couldn't possibly...

"How dumb do you think I am, Tom?" I snorted, rolling my eyes. Tommy sighed, gazing out at the darkening sky. Away from me. He sighed again, focusing on the streaks of lightning. It wasn't raining. Yet.

"I told you... I'm back with her. She called me up today and asked me if I wanted to give it another shot. And I do, Jude," Tommy replied, sounding distant and not at all as earnest as he was trying to sound. I snorted once again. I still didn't believe him.

Come on. Sadie is no idiot. And she hates cheaters. We hate cheaters. Even more than we hate other women. Except I was the other woman and Sadie hated me. Except she was the other woman and I hated Sadie.

"Have you seen her nose lately?" I laughed derisively. Tommy's jaw tightened and he fixed an intent stare on me. It was a familiar look... And not just on Tommy's face.

It was a joke. One that Tommy, of course, didn't get, as he hadn't seen her lately. Later on, I would wish I had been there to see the look on his face when he saw her nose, but alas, I wasn't there to see the payback. But there was more than enough to go around anyways.

"I'm **serious**, girl," Tommy said morosely, and I realized then that he was. He was being completely, utterly, honestly serious. Well, maybe not so honest. He was serious. And he was with Sadie. Again.

I wanted to ask him why he went down that stupid trainwreck again. I wanted to know why of all the girls in the world he had to choose my sister, my rival, my now-enemy. But I knew why. It was because she was Sadie. Everyone had always liked her better. She was blonde and perky and bouncy. Every guy's fantasy, I know. Especially one like Tommy. She was the right age (A glorious 18!) and the right detachment (he had no influence over her). She was a great girlfriend, better than I could ever be. She could give him things I legally couldn't. Like sex. Things he needed. Things he wanted. Things he had to have to live. Things I can't give him. Not for a long while. She was Sexy Sadie and I was only Hey Jude. How did I ever think I could compete with that?

"When?" I asked immediately, sounding breathless. My head was spinning. The thought of crying had not even come to me yet. I was still stunned. I couldn't believe any of this was true. But it was.

Tommy glanced at me guiltily. I felt the pain in his glance... But did he feel the hurt, the betrayal, the ache, the anger, in mine? The emotions were starting to rush into me like a waterfall, and I had no control over them. Anger, sorrow, fear, hurt, bitterness... love.

"When?" I repeated snappily, loudly, banging my hands down hard upon the railing when he'd failed to answer my question. Lightning crashed above us. What great timing. Tommy flinched as if he had been burned. But I was the one burned here.

"Right after I called you this morning. Sadie called me," Tommy responded half-heartedly, looking much less happy with the current arrangement than he should've. I wondered why he was the unhappy one. His heart hadn't been broken. First Jamie and Kat, now Tommy. Grreat. All my rocks have turned to sand. And in one day. Hmm, let's see, I think this is gonna be a record-setting day. Bet my heart can break three times in one day!

Right after he called me. That ass! He still doesn't know what the hell happened with him and me and he gets back with Sadie! My friggin' sister! Bastard! Oh, great... Now my eyes are starting to tear up. And it's gonna rain soon. I can just feel it. Well, I hope Tommy gets soaked. I hope he gets absolutely drenched. I hope he drowns in the deluge. I hope this stupid alleyway floods and carries him off with it. I hope he at least gets the worst cold known to man. I want him to suffer. To suffer like he's making me suffer. Like he's made me suffer.

"Yeah, whatever," I muttered dimly, trying to avoid crying or exploding on Tommy. I was so tired. I'd already yelled so much today as it was and... Then it hit me like a brick wall. Why I'm feeling so blue over Little Tommy Q. BAMMO! Here it is. Are you ready?

Yeah.

I'm in love with the idiot. Now, of course, this might not be life-shattering to you. You probably think I was in love with the guy even before Montreal and my tour. Well, you're dead wrong. I liked him. I cared about him. I had a schoolgirl crush on him. Hell, I even lusted after him.

But I was not in love with him. Completely. I have never said: "I love you, Tommy." Because I didn't. Not even to myself.

And now I do. Let's hear it now... I am sooo screwed. Without a doubt. Beyond a doubt. Screwed.

Doomed.

I mean, seriously, what is wrong with me? Do I like getting hurt or something? I'm crazy. I like... No, correction, I LOVE Little Tommy Q. Little Tommy Q., of all people! Oh, God... I've finally lost it. I'm in love with a boybander!

Tommy cleared his throat softly with a nervous look in his eyes. "You just kissed me, girl. We kind of need to talk about that too."

"Oh, so _now_ you want to admit that it happened? You want to discuss it? Well, isn't that too **damn** bad! You're too late, Tom. This time _I'm_ making the decision for the both of us. That kiss was a _mistake_. It didn't **mean** anything!" I snapped, pulsing with anger. Defiantly, I leaned forward, hands on my hips, eyes challenging him. Let's see how he likes it when I turn the tables on him. Yeah, that's what I thought. I fought, forcing back the tears. "Sound familiar, Tommy?"

Tommy sighed, looking away. Of course, Tommy, you go... Take the easy way out! Why not? After all, it's what you always do, isn't it? It hurts to look at you, but I do that every day. It **ought** to sound familiar.

"Yeah, a little too familiar," Tommy muttered slightly bitterly, hands in his pockets. He was still staring at the flickering skies. Where did he get off being bitter? He's not too young! He doesn't have all these people pulling him in a gazillion different directions! Or, well, I don't know... Maybe he does. What with me and Sadie and all...

His brother's not dating the... well, uh, Sadie? He isn't being hit on by his music teacher... He didn't lose his two best friends in one day! He doesn't have to perform and get interrogated tonight. He doesn't have to do much of anything. Where does he get off?

"Good, because it's supposed to be. I took a page out of _your_ book, for once," I mocked cruelly, crossing my arms over my chest. It was getting colder now. The rain was approaching steadily. And it was going to be a thunderstorm. One hell of a storm.

In a flash, Tommy turned to face me, the lightning better lighting up his features. His overall tone was once again pained and apologetic, but I didn't care. If he really meant it, then he would not have hooked up with her. But he did, so he didn't mean it. He never does. It won't ever be enough.

"I'm **sorry**, Jude!" Tommy cried, practically on the verge of begging for my forgiveness. Ha! I'd like to see that happen... Downright entertaining. I wasn't just going to wuss out and not yell at him just because he sounded a little sad. He's broken my heart one two many times for that to happen.

"Me too, Tommy. Me too. I'm _sorry_ that I ever thought you were more than some stupid drunk angst-ridden emotionally-**crippled** brooding boybander! I'm _sorry_ I ever entered the **damn** contest in the first place! And I'm _sorry_ I ever **met** you, Quincy!" I yelled back crazily. In some ways, I really meant every word... But then I thought about what my life would be like if I hadn't won... And, well, it would be boring. Boring, but simple. Simple was always good.

Tommy stepped back a little, a stunned look on his face. The insults had obviously hurt him more than I thought they would. His eyes glistened fiercely as his blue eyes locked with mine. "You don't mean that," Tommy said in a growl. There was no anger behind his voice. His eyes glittered with determination, as if he knew I didn't mean that. But I did.

"Wanna bet, Little Tommy Q?" I smirked, hands on my hips once again. He had it coming. His eyes flashed briefly when I used the hated nickname, but he didn't explode at me like he had when we first met. That was probably because he was lucky I hadn't slapped him yet. Yeah, right now the anger is sort of overcoming the sadness and rejection...

"You don't mean it. I'm one of the best things that's ever happened to you... and vice-versa," Tommy replied, trying to justify his point. Can you believe that? I mean, honestly, can you! He's so damn cocky! I'm kind of ignoring the last part now because he just said that he was the best thing that ever happened to me, which obviously is a lie! And, seriously, if I'm the best thing that ever happened to him, then why the hell is he dating my slutty sister? Sexy Sadie strikes back. Ugh. Bitch.

Remind me why again I'm in love with him? I mean, he's dating my sister. And he gets all pissy whenever another guy's into me, yet doesn't do a single thing about it when I give him the chance, which is always. He's so full of himself, and he's avoiding me... He always runs away! Always! He's crazy. He is a whack job. He needs to see a shrink. All those issues he has.

"Well, aren't _we_ full of ourselves, Tom? No, you're the **worst** thing that's ever happened to me! Good things don't break your heart repeatedly. Bad things do that. Bad _people_ do that. And you, Tommy, are a bad person, because you don't stop breaking my heart and you pick the lousiest days to do it on!" I exploded emotionally, once again fighting back the tears. If I couldn't let Jamie see me cry, I definitely couldn't let Tommy see me cry. Especially over him getting with Sadie. How pathetic would that be? And I am not _going_ to be pathetic. **He** is the pathetic one. Pathetic because he can't ever even make up his mind. Jude or Sadie, Jude or Sadie, Jude or Sadie? Come on, Tommy, it isn't that hard! You just keep choosing one over the other, and that pisses one of us off. He needs to make a choice.

And right now, I'm not sure if choosing to be with Sadie really means that he chose her. Because if he's with Sadie, then why is he still here with me? It's not just that we work together, I know that. People who just work together don't say things like "You're one of the best things that ever happened to me." Friends rarely even say stuff like that. You only say things like that if you've got feelings for a person.

Tommy can't have feelings for me. Despite what he was trying to say last night. If he really meant it, he wouldn't be screwing Sadie. Why does he have to lie all the time?

"I already told you I'm sorry, and I **am**! What _more_ can I do?" Tommy yelled back, sounding tortured. Why was he trying so hard to fix this? He said in the note that he didn't want to ruin "what we had". But what was that exactly? It seemed like he ruined it long ago, whatever it was. He was trying hard to fix it, but he couldn't. He'd ruined it by ignoring me, by choosing Sadie over me, by lying and denying and hiding and running away!

He can't do anything more. I don't want him to do anything more. It hurts too much already.

"If you could do anything more, I wouldn't be mad at you. Besides, asking you to dump Sadie would be completely out of the question..." I replied honestly, with a bit of an edge to my voice.

First I lost Sadie. Then I lost my parents' trust. Next I lost Jamie and Kat in one fell swoop. Now I'm losing Tommy. All of my closest friends in one day. Who do I have left?

At the mention of dumping Sadie, Tommy's eyes flashed angrily. Of course, he was attached to her. Who wouldn't be? Blonde, pretty, preppy, cheerleader Sadie. He wasn't going to dump her, especially since they just got together. Who would be that stupid? Not Tommy, and not me. Me fighting against Sadie? I was just a tiny little bug versus a giant. I didn't stand a chance.

Once again, for the second time that day, the lyrics to Train in Vain floated around in my head. _Did you stand by me? No, not at all! Did you stand by me? No way. You must explain why this must be... Did you lie when you spoke to me? _Well, okay, I think that last one's sort of obvious. Tommy lies, Tommy lies, Tommy lies. He always lies.

"Yeah, it would be. Now, we have some songs to write..." Tommy muttered abruptly, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the door. He just brushed me off, just like that. He was seriously cracked if he thought that I was writing a song with him now! I don't even want to look at him! I just want to go away and cry in the broom closet. You know, Studio C, 3, whatever they call that hole... It's deserted, trashy, perfectly fine for doing something like that.

I need to get this out of my system. I need to write some songs... A lot of songs. I can feel it. My hand is going to be so cramped. I was annoyed by his casual dismissal. I was annoyed by his attitude, how he thought I would just willingly do what he wanted me to. Like I was going to follow him around like some helpless puppy. No. I'm not like that. Not anymore, you hear me, Tom!

"Go to **Hell**, Tom! You can take your songs and shove them up your _ass_! Now, if you don't excuse me, I've got better things... better _people_... to do!" I sniped snarkily, jerking out of his grip and pushing him (he almost fell over the rail) away. I stalked towards the door, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted me around forcibly, making me look at him.

I have no idea why I just said that. I just knew I didn't want to see him and I didn't want to be trapped in a room with him, writing songs. I would be terribly blocked and unable to write anything with him there. I would be too emotional, too angry, too depressed, to even think properly. I wanted him to hurt as much as he'd hurt me. But the last part was... A bit uncalled for. And a lie.

I mean, I'm not him. I don't go out and screw strangers. I never had groupies on my tour... I was never married. I don't DO people. I mean, I'm sure the whole world thinks we're sleeping together, but, honestly, I don't have the time... I'm either at school, eating, showering, recording, writing, performing, or, in my free time, sleeping. I'm sure I left a few things out, but really, I don't have the time. I'm not a slut. He's the slut. He's the worst kind... The one that leads you on and then just leaves you.

Anger radiated off Tommy in waves. Every line, every inch of his body, was stiff with fury. I haven't seen him so wrathful, so enraged, in a very long time. Since I got "Frozen" back from Darius, maybe? That's the only time I can ever recall seeing him really angry, come to think of it. Well, I guess he was angry around Shay, but that really doesn't count, does it? He was only mildly peeved then. "Like who?" Tommy snarled, almost shaking with rage. He gripped my wrist so hard I was almost bruising.

"Wouldn't **you** like to know?" I sneered in his face. In that moment I hated him. I just hated him. He only cared when there was someone else. Never when there was just me, all alone. He leaves that Jude alone. He just hates and dumps on any guy who's interested. And then there aren't any guys who are interested. He picks up the pieces and then he breaks me.

"I think that's kind of the point, Jude..." Tommy pointed out, only slightly less frustrated. I was so furious that I had to force myself to not spit in his face. I decided something right then and there. I'm not going to call him Tommy. Tommy is a nickname, an affectionate one... And just because I'm in love with the guy doesn't mean I hold any affection for him. So there!

"What part of **Go** to _Hell_ don't you understand? I'm _leaving_. Don't come find me," I snapped furiously, finally turning around and leaving, almost running. I felt the first drops of rain hit me on my way out the door. I charged through G. Major like a bull in a china shop. I was a complete mess.

I didn't stop until I got to Studio C, a.k.a. The Crapper. I didn't care that it was trashed. Hell, I barely even turned on the light. Holding my guitar, I collapsed on the floor, leaning against the soundboard for support. I had left one of my notebooks here back when I was doing "Waste My Time", and there it lay on the floor, forgotten, much like myself. Hands shaking, tears now falling down my face, I picked up a pen and started writing.

It's impossible to say home many verses, bridges, and choruses I wrote to the thousands (it seemed) of pages I used, but my emotions varied. At first the tears were merely tears of sadness. But then I got angrier and sadder and suddenly all the hurt from today poured back out again. I felt betrayed by everyone I'd ever trusted... Jamie, Kat, Tommy, Sadie... I was so angry and hurt and frustrated that I couldn't think, I couldn't even see straight! The tears ran down my face in rivers... Then suddenly, they would stop or become bitter, hot tears of anger... Only to lapse again into sorrow. I was an emotional rollercoaster.

I just let all of my feelings pour out, and I didn't care about anything. I didn't care about life, or the fact that I was supposed to be getting ready for Under the Mike, or the fact that I hadn't recorded even a single song yet. I just choked back the tears, hiccuping and wiping my nose from time to time. Then suddenly, I was grouping lyrics into songs... Angry songs, sad songs, random songs... Stuff that wasn't even good enough to be a song. And before I knew it... I had about ten songs. Which one would I perform? The tears had started to die down by now, and I was beginning to feel a little bit better.

That is, until the door opened and Tommy walked through. I hastily and embarrassedly wiped my eyes, rising to my feet, clutching my guitar and my notebook. Bravely and gamely, I met his eyes, betraying no distress. I'd cried enough tears over him.

- Loren ;

It's weird. Now I'm sixteen. It's so... strange. I dunno, I just thought I would've done more. I haven't DONE much, you know? Like dates. I have none. Ugh. Sweet Sixteen and never been kissed... Lol. Seriously, isn't that a line from Instant Star?

Oh, here's some snippets of some of the songs Jude wrote (or, rather, me)...

_So I've given up and I'll never look back_

_I'm done with you from now on_

_You make me feel so damn useless_

_All you do is bring me constant pain_

_And I need to leave you because_

_I can't cry myself to sleep anymore_

_And pain radiates from my core_

_I am blown apart from the power of the blast_

_I am ripped apart, torn so wide open, and I bleed, I bleed_

_The force throws me on the floor, there I'll stay forevermore_

_Others around me suffer, but I feel so much worse_

_You said you wouldn't break my heart_

_But I see now you've lied_

_As my heart lies on the floor in pieces_

_Thinking of every last tear I've cried_

_Over you, they weren't worth it at all_

_Time to bow, time to take your fall_

_It only hurts if you think it's gonna hurt_

_It only bleeds if you let it burn_

_And it truly pains me to say_

_That my wounds won't heal this way_

Oh, and just for kicks, here's half of the chorus of this song I wrote that I really like (Jude writes some songs that freak Tommy out, and this is part of one)... 'Cause I was thinking about this song I love, "First Bell" by Sixty Stories, and, yeah, that inspired me...

_My ankles are swelling up in my shoes_

_And my jeans are getting smaller in every way_

_The weight is settling around my hips like a noose_

_And my cheeks are becoming paler by the day_

_It's a visual reminder of how I'm so loose_


	19. Over Me

Actually, about Tim... She has a date with him next... something or other. Okay, let's see... She kissed Tommy on Tuesday, the last day of her tour... Shay came on to her. Then she got home on Wednesday, beat up Sadie, snuck out and went out with Tim that night/morning. She came home, made up with Jamie and Kat, and got grounded on Thursday morning, went to bed and then woke up a few hours later for her first day of school... Then she talked to Tommy, got harassed by her teachers, met Joan, and got kissed by Travis. Then she went to the studio, sang to Tommy, wrote "Minor Liaison", and went to the Italian restaurant and crashed the Boyz Attack! Reunion. And then she and Tommy bailed and went to his place to talk, Tommy got smashed and started hitting on her, they made out, she put him to bed, then drove home... Then she slept in Friday, went to school, talked to Tommy, wrote "Dirty Old Man", switched cars with Tommy, and then had a fight with Jamie and Kat and a nervous breakdown in the caf. She cried in the car, rewrote "24 Hours", and sung "Dirty Old Man" to her music class after snapping with Travis. Oh, and then she came home to the studio and met Tommy, who informed her that he was seeing Sadie again, and then they had a fight and she told him to go to Hell. Which is where we are now. Phew, what a week! (Well, actually, that's just like 4 days!) So she's supposed to meet Tim on Wednesday, but I think I'll have her reschedule the date.

'Cause she has Under the Mike and the interview with the make-up line tonight (Friday), a fashion shoot with Simon (Saturday), and the fashion shoot with the other clothing line (Sunday). Yeah, the timeline's a wee bit confusing. Oddly enough, I hate Wednesdays. Everything bad in my life happens on Wednesdays. Yet Jude's worst days are Thursdays and Fridays. Okay, Thursdays are bad too 'cause I put off doing all my homework until then...

Jude does have a relationship with Tim... but they're really casual. They see other people, but they don't talk about it. Jude does get a real, bona fide boyfriend though... But she'll have Tim until then, and Tim during, and, uh, Tim after... But they're both secretive, so, well, hence the casualness of it. With Tim, she gets to be anonymous.

Ooh, on a hilarious side note... Ruelle, part of Tommy's mom's last name? Yeah, I found out a while back that it means alley. So Jude and Tommy made out in la ruelle. Doesn't she have a weird name? Victoria TheRaspberry-Alleyway. Lol. Prissy, ain't she?

Yeah... I'm only sixteen. Just like Jude. Actually, here's a spoiler: Mr. Quinn does a song assignment with the theme of "Sweet Sixteen", you can either write a song or do a cover (but if you do a cover, you have to wear a costume and have dance moves and cite the band who wrote/first performed the song)... So you'll get to hear a song by Joan. ;) And a few covers.

Anyways, am I the only one who finds it hilarious that Tommy doesn't want to be called Little Tommy Q., yet everyone still calls him Tommy most of the time? I mean, Georgia and E.J. do sometimes, right? Isn't that weird? I dunno, it's early/late tommay (tomorrow/today... one of the staples in my life) and I'm tired, so a dust particle could seem funny.

Oh, now for some notes about this chapter. Jude and or Tommy may possibly be incredibly out of character. Though Tommy is self-medicating a bit at the end... I mean, Jude is an emotional rollercoaster. She goes from giddy to depressed to lovesick to furious to bitter to... Well, she's nuts. Temporary Insanity. Her hormones are all over the place. Oh, and she says a lot of stuff about hating Kwest... Even though she doesn't, she's just pissed. And then end is sort of rushed... I meant to have more dialogue and thoughts, but, Ugh. But I was tired and I promised Minela I'd finish tonight... And it's apparently 37/32 pages or something delusional like that... Wow, I beat my own record! I am SO getting up to 100,000 words! Okay, sorry... Rambling.

Oh, and another thing... Jude calls Tommy Tom a lot in this chapter. A LOT a lot... And she thinks about him really harshly. And another thing that's kinda confusing... Jude's having a conversation at the same time Kwest and Tommy are having a conversation...

I meant to post this earlier, but my computer decided to take a page out of Quinn's book and start acting like an ass. Ugh. Who is not my computer's namesake. Argh. I slaved and slaved on this chapter, really, I did! I got no sleep 'cause of it, and I kept falling asleep in my classes... sigh Anyways, this chapter's really important. The Jude/Tommy stuff... It'll come into play later... hehe.

Don't own Jude, Tom, Sexy Sades, Kwest, Portia, Yvette, Darius, Georgia, G. Major, Victoria (Jude's mom), Stu, Jamie, Kat, Eden, Shay, Boyz Attack! (seriously, I call Tommy a boybander so much in this chapter), Chaz, Justin Timberlake, or Michael Jackson... To say the least.

I do own Julius, Regina, Cambria, Kwest's real name, Quinn, Joan, "Over Me", Tommy's bro... And other dudes you don't recognize.

* * *

"Jude... I have to know... what happened last night?" Tommy questioned carefully, though he came off panicked and slightly worried. He has some nerve to ask me that now! You should've figured that out before you said yes to Sadie. Why should I even tell you anyways? You don't deserve the truth! 

A white hot instant of fury coursed through my veins and made me say something very, very stupid. But I was hurt, angry, and depressed... It was a wonder I was even functioning at that point.

"We slept together," I lied coolly, crossing my arms over my chest. There was a point where neither of us realized exactly what I had said. Even after I said it, it took me until the end of the conversation to register the big mistake I'd just made.

The look on Tommy's face was priceless. He looked absolutely horrified. Eyes bulging out of their sockets, jaw dropped open wide, brow already furrowing with worry and fear. I was a bit insulted by that. Honestly, sleeping with me would not be THAT bad. Tommy forced himself to take a deep breath before slowly asking the question.

"**_What?_**" Tommy barked so loudly he made me jump. Okay, so maybe it came out a little louder than intended... Yes, it was that bad. I rolled my eyes at him, despite the fact that he looked like he was having a heartattack. Hmm, amusing.

"As in we had _sex_, Einstein," I retorted caustically. At his bewildered and still horrified look, I once again rolled my eyes. "What, did I _stutter_?" I snapped, feeling rather annoyed. It wasn't that unbelievable. He had, after all, been coming on to me all night. I stopped him, remember? I was the mature one.

For once. Not that that's happening again... any time soon.

I swear, Tommy started hyperventilating. He began to pace rapidly in front of me. Had I been looking at him, I might've gotten dizzy. But I hadn't. Several times Tommy's mouth closed and opened, opened and closed... He resembled a fish in that way. "H-**how**?" Tommy finally managed to choke out.

I rolled my eyes for about the millionth time. "How do you _think_, Tom?" I snorted, tossing my hair brazenly. Tommy was deathly pale, and he looked as if he was going to be ill. Nervous, are we? Hehe. Let the bastard suffer. It's about damn time he did. He forced himself to breathe before asking another question.

"You agreed, right?" Tommy asked shakily, licking his lips nervously. I nodded, and Tommy sighed in relief. His face momentarily broke into a smile, but then it occurred to him that I had actually agreed. I could read the look on his face. He was wondering why I had agreed, knowing how bad it was. But I had an answer to that... A perfect answer.

"Then... why?" Tommy muttered, confused. Honestly, how is he surprised? Loads of girls slept with him who didn't even know him! So why was it surprising that I wante... Okay, stop right there, girl. No, don't call yourself girl. It's bad enough that he calls you girl.

I rolled my eyes again, shrugging. "Well, it's not like I had much choice in the matter..." I muttered bitterly, narrowing my eyes at him. I took a deep breath before speaking, looking down and away from him before our stares locked once more. It's amazing how after you tell one lie, all the others after it seem to come out so easy... It's like second nature. "I **was** drunk, after all..."

I mean, even if I was telling the truth about the other part, I couldn't really tell him why I had given in. Even though I hadn't. Tommy paled again, his face drawn and gaunt. He glanced at his feet briefly before looking at me once again. I could tell he wanted me to answer another one of his stupid questions, and I knew what he wanted to know this time without even asking.

"You don't remember?" I said, laughing bitingly, trying my best to sound disbelieving. Tommy said nothing and I took his silence as an unspoken affirmation. But even if he had, I would've gone on in the same way. "You ought to... You _did_ pour me the drinks, after all..." I mumbled disapprovingly, pouting. "Tsk, Tsk, Tsk."

If it was possible, Tommy blanched further and a feverish, panicked look appeared in his eyes. It slowly spread to the rest of his body, and he stood there, twitching silently. He began whispering vehemently under his breath. It was soft, so soft I had to lean forward to hear it, but I did. He was, as always, muttering about propriety, the law, the consent age, and intoxication. Excuses, excuses, Tom.

I think I was really freaking him out. More than I thought I would. In fact, I was starting to be freaked out a little myself.

"I'm a child molester. Oh, God, I'm a _rapist_..." Tommy chanted, repeating the words again and again. They were engraved in his mind. This time, he couldn't look at me. He forced himself not to, so it didn't even matter if he wanted to or not. He was almost shaking, and I suddenly became aware that he needed to sit down. I mean, I just wanted to make him as upset as he's made me... I didn't want him to pass out or anything.

I bit my lip, feeling suddenly guilty that I had lied to Tommy. I wanted suddenly to help him. I know, it sounds bizarre, right? But I felt so bad about it, and, well, I am still in love with the guy... So I approached him hesitantly, putting my hand on his arm. Tommy flinched, moving to pull his arm away, but I was faster. I grabbed his arm fiercely and practically threw him on the couch. Tommy glanced up at me briefly, but then quickly looked down, eyes burning with guilt.

He didn't care now, because I wasn't touching him. On some level, it probably hurt that he was so skittish of me, but I wasn't thinking of that then. I stood over Tommy, suddenly now I had all the power. But it felt so hollow, and I didn't want it anymore.

The silence between us was tense and awkward. Tommy waited awhile to break the silence. "I'm sorry, Jude, I really am... I'm sorry that I got drunk in the first place. I'm sorry that I lost control of myself and my feelings. I'm sorry that I dragged you down with me. I'm sorry that I took something from you that you can never, **ever** get back and that I don't even have the _decency_ to remember. And I'm really sorry about the thing with Sadie..." Tommy began, apologizing rapidly in a strangled tone. And I knew, without a doubt in my mind, that he meant it. That he meant every last word.

Except he had nothing to be sorry for. In that moment, I was sorry for lying to him. I could feel the tears once again creeping up in my vision. Warm, guilty tears. For a change, I was glad Tommy wasn't looking at me. I hastily wiped a few shameful tears away before they trailed down my face. Tommy didn't see. He continued apologizing. It was good that I had wiped them away, because a moment later, Tommy finally looked at me. The hurt, ashamed look in his eyes almost broke my heart again because I knew that _I _had put it there. Me and my big mouth.

"I **do** care about her, you know... And she, she _loves_ me... She loves me and I slept with **you**, her sister. Her **sister**! I am the worst boyfriend ever. I actually thought avoiding you would help, but it only made things worse. I should've _known_ that you would confront me and force me to talk... But we never got around to finally having that talk, did we?" Tommy murmured, trying to justify himself. Except it didn't sound like he was trying to convince me or explain it to me. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself, explain it to himself. He was worried about how Sadie felt, but it never occurred to him that he'd made me feel the same way. Why didn't it?

The fact that he cared about Sadie, that he still wanted to be with her... despite even my lies, the best attempt I'd made at completely ruining it for them... Stung. If he cared about Sadie, then how did he feel about me? He cared about both of us, right? But if you care about someone, you don't break their heart constantly. You try to avoid doing that. So he didn't care. He couldn't, and he wasn't looking at me again.

All the guilt I'd felt over lying to him completely evaporated away. I felt the anger ebbing back slowly, mixing in with the hurt. "No, Tom, we didn't. But I've got a few hours to kill... Why not do it now?" I stated, a hard, eerily mature tone in my voice. Tommy stiffened both at my tone and well, the fact that I'd used the words do it... Reminders, I guess, that he didn't want. Funny, 'cause he didn't remember a thing. And why should he? Nothing had even happened. We'd kissed, made out a little, but that was it. That was it.

Tommy nodded, and I sat next to him on the couch, my back straight as a rod. I stared nervously at my feet, suddenly realizing that I had no idea what to say. Oh, why did this seem so much easier before? Well, maybe because you hadn't lied and said you'd slept with him then, Jude! I am so stupid. This is going to come back to haunt me... I can just tell. And when Tommy finds out the truth (or, in the rare case that he actually remembers something. I really hope that he was so drunk he can't)... It really won't be pretty.

Tommy surprised me then by putting a warm hand on my arm. My head immediately shot up and I glanced over at him. He was looking at me so... warmly. As if he hadn't been having a panic attack a moment ago. I really didn't deserve it. Then he absolutely floored me by enveloping me in a soft, friendly hug. I was confused, but I was in his arms and everything seemed somehow better, even though it wasn't. My eyes fluttered shut, and I simply relished the feeling... I had a gut instinct that said he wasn't gonna go near me again for, well, a long while (and I'm even talking in the studio). I was right about that, of course. Let's just say that I've done a lot of the producing on my album. Me and Kwest... Bless Kwest. Sometimes he would sneak my singles to Tommy so he could "fix" them, you know, if we were both stumped...

Anyways, back to me in Tommy's arms. He smelled just like I remembered. Like a light shower, black coffee and cappuccino, soap, my guitar, some fancy cologne... Exactly perfect. But I could feel him starting to pull away, so I opened my eyes before he could see me. It seemed so much harder to fight temptation now... now that I was in love with him. It's funny... I keep saying that like it's some huge revelation, but it's really not.

Everyone (whoever that is) already thought I was in love with him anyways. And I think even I knew it, somewhere deep down inside. It's weird when you think about it like that. I guess I just sort of stopped fighting it, you know? I admitted it to myself, laid it all... Well, I guess I didn't. I mean, it's not like I told Tommy or anything. I probably won't ever tell him. He's dating my sister, after all!

I mean, I said I was falling for him numerous times. And, really, what's the difference between that and love? Because that's what you're referring to when you say that... I'm falling... in _love_. You see? I had a crush from the beginning. I've known for a while, haven't I? Ever since the pier when he had his arms around me and we were playing "24 Hours". He told me writing a song is like falling in love.

Scratch out the like. Writing a song with him made me fall in love. Writing a song is falling in love. Only writing a song is a hell of a lot less painful.

I looked at him and all those warm, fuzzy feelings came over me that day. Such a nice, bright, clear day. Staring out at the blue waters of Lake Ontario. And, to some degree, I still felt that way today. I've been in love with him since that day, and, I only realized it just now... I'm so stupid.

"Look, girl, I just want you to know that if you ever... If you get pregnant, or anything... I'll be there for you to hold your hand, or wipe away the tears, or... whatever you need. I'll be responsible for my actions... I owe you that much," Tommy promised soothingly, grabbing my hand.

Why was it so much harder now to resist now? So much harder to stop myself from kissing him.

However, in response to his promise, I snorted. It wasn't that I didn't think he would keep his promise, because I knew he would. It was due to the fact that I could not possibly get pregnant, as I hadn't slept with him in the first place. Fighting back a laugh, I looked up, answering Tommy's questioning look. "Trust me, Tom, I'm not gonna get pregnant," I assured him confidently. Tommy didn't look too sure, so I elaborated.

"We used a condom."

Those, my friend, are the magic words. Not please or abracadabra, lemme tell ya.

Tommy gave me a look, releasing my hand. A colder, stern look crossed his face. "Even condoms aren't always 100 effective," Tommy pointed out rationally. What, speaking from experience? Tommy is exactly the sort of guy you expect to have illegitimate children. I mean, J.P., for instance, did. The guy had tons of 'em. Actually, I think he has at least joint custody over all of them. His wife's nice. I met her after the benefit.

You see, most of the guys used up all their band money. I mean, Chaz had a little left... And the other guy, the one who's name I can never remember, I think... Tommy saved a lot of his. I mean, I think he could be a millionaire just because of the interest. Not to mention his sizable paycheck from G. Major, which I'm sure isn't much because of Georgia's, um, money troubles. Anyways, how did I get on this topic? Oh, right, Tommy and his illegitimate kids in the making. Well, he wasn't going to get one from me.

"Well, Tom, this one **was**, okay?" I insisted a bit harsher and louder than I meant. Tommy gave me a skeptical look, raising an eyebrow, but said nothing, merely nodding. He sighed.

"Okay... If you say so. But, girl, just so you know... I'll be there, okay?" Yeah, Tom, I know. Still can't get rid of you, can I? I nodded, forcing myself to smile, even though I felt like doing anything but. I bit my lip, looking nervously over at Tommy. I watched him surreptitiously for a minute before I realized he was staring at me. I looked away nervously, biting my lip harder.

Why was he looking at me now? He couldn't look at me before, now suddenly he's staring at me! What the hell is up with that! No, second thought, what the hell is up with him? I looked at him with my peripheral vision, and saw that he was still staring at me. I glanced away, staring into space for a minute, and then repeated the cycle.

It seemed to loop on endlessly like this... I don't know how much time passed. But it was a much shorter period than it seemed. Finally, I could take it no longer! This was maddening! I couldn't deal.

I turned my head sharply, staring back at him full on. He didn't look away. He met my wrathful, questioning gaze head on. I scowled at him, feeling tough and rather like a biker or some other creature that would beat you up as soon as look at you. Meh, so sue me... I wanted to break his spirit.

"Quit looking at me like that," I commanded boldly, eyes narrowing, boring into his with rage. There was a brief, silent pause. But the stupid big-headed idiot didn't stop looking at me. Why can't he just do what I want? Even this one little thing... It would make everything SO MUCH EASIER! "_Why_ are you looking at me like that?" I snarled, feeling my lips curl into an angry sneer.

Man, I was bipolar today. Damn, another thing I got from Tommy. Moody, moody, moody. He's like a storm, and he's gonna take me over completely. Wash all that is me away and leave only debris in his wake.

Oh, wait... I forgot. He's done that already. With me. And about a million other girls.

Tommy finally looked away, rather quickly. As if he was ashamed or guilty or something... Please. The man is dating my sister. He has no friggin' shame. "It's nothing," He mumbled distractedly. What, Tommy, thinking of Sexy Sades again? I think I'll smack you. You do deserve it, after all, you stupid ass!

Once again there was silence. I resumed staring out at the wall, wishing that I could be somewhere else... Anywhere else. Hey, seriously, wasn't I supposed to be recording something? Jeez... I always suspected... But now I know!

Tommy is a lousy-ass producer. Why Georgia hasn't fired his sorry ass is beyond me. You know, maybe he's not this much of an ass to his other clients? I bet that's it!

Your job is hanging by a thread, boy. You hear me! A thread. If we don't get this worked out... I'm getting a new producer.

I can do that, you know. I'm a cash cow, baby. Whatever the cow says goes.

Yeah, whatever Georgia says goes. Okay, that was kinda mean... Who was I calling a cow there? Me or Georgia?

Uh, sorry... Georgia. Sorry. I mean it. Wait, why am I thinking this? I didn't do anything except mentally call her and me cows... And, you know... Neither of us are cows.

My mom is a bit of a cow. Kat is sort of a cow...

No, no, no! They're not cows... I still have some shred of liking for them. I _understand_ them.

Sadie is a COW. Sadie. Ugh. She's just... a cow. And that's me keeping it tame! Of course it's me being tame! I could call her a lying, cheating, slutty, skanky, two-bit ho... Bitch. Okay, Jude, chill.

Damn it! Tommy's staring at me again! Is this guy stupid or what! You can't have me! You're with my sister, you dumb-ass! So stop looking at me like that! You shouldn't! It's... wrong... and flattering. But still wrong!

"No, it's **something**, all right! Now spit it out!" I screeched, raging. Anger coursed through my veins. Thump, thump, thump. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP. My heart beat faster, louder, faster, louder... FASTER, LOUDER, FASTER, LOUDER!

Okay, maybe that was a bit louder than intended. Tommy looks a bit freaked. Maybe it's too early after too go crazy?

Nah. The bastard's doing my sister. I've got the right.

Tommy cleared his throat a bit apprehensively, shooting me a concerned look. Then he pursed his lips, as if he was thinking of something to say and couldn't find the words. There was a long pause... And then he finally spoke. "I just always thought you would look... _different_... afterward," Tommy said softly.

I knew what he meant.

Suddenly his eyes loomed so close to mine. Like mini Blue Moons. Clear aquamarine pools, and I was falling in. The chlorine would kill me. I would drown in those pretty, innocuous blue waters. I was already sinking... His eyes were so big and blue, and I just totally melted like... like a... teenybopper!

See, this is why Boyz Attack was huge!

Just one look in his eyes... And you're completely sold. I know I am.

All my anger evaporated away, and I didn't know what to to... What to say.

I'm rhyming. I've become a Dr. Seuss book. Oh lord. Seriously. Somebody shoot me now. I'm waxing on poetic about his eyes.

I am a lyricist! A songwriter! I do not **do** poetry! Or vivid, sensory details. Okay, see, I knew Honors English was a bad choice. It's making me think! And I don't need to _think_ like a writer. Because I am a songwriter, see the difference? The word song in front of writer, you moron! And we do not **do** details. No, we don't.

We **communicate**.

_You_, communicate? Excuse me, I'm laughing my ass off.

You couldn't "communicate" your way out of a plastic bag.

You can't even say what you want to Tommy, for crying out loud! What, exactly, did I want to say?

Wait, what did he last say?

Remember... The thing about how he thought you would look different? Oh, yeah, riight...

Wait, so he knew he was gonna sleep with me?

He's thought about it? Not when he's drunk? He knew... What, did he think we were gonna get together or just hook up randomly someday or... Or what?

Of course I don't look different.

I haven't slept with him, have I? I'm still a virgin.

And here comes the guilt. Damn it.

"Well, I don't!" I muttered childishly. This entire thing was childish. I should've just been mature about the whole thing it the first place. I should've lied and told him nothing happened.

Hell, right now, even the truth would be better than this.

Tommy merely shrugged and didn't say a word.

Now what were we supposed to talk about? I had no idea, but let's make a "not" list... Not our relationship, not when he was dating Sadie. We had no relationship. Except our friendship... And our business one!

Yeah, that's what I wanted to talk about! I cannot get my album recorded if he keeps turning the other way when he sees me in the hall. Or if he blows off songwriting with me to eat with Boyz Attack! Or if he beats down my new songs or... Well, anything he's been doing lately. I cleared my throat nervously before beginning.

"Look, Tom, we gotta work something out here. What happened with us can't happen in the studio. We can't let the personal interfere with the professional, you know? 'Cause both of us, we've got to work on this album... I need my producer, and you need your singer. I can't do it without you. You can't just blow me off and ignore me like this. You're going to have to see me, whether you want to or not. And I realize that you're working on your own album too, but I need you in there with me. So we need to work something out," I explained lucidly. Wow. I sounded really mature and adult (not in the porn way) just then. I must be growing. See, aren't you proud of me? I'm learning to move past things.

No, Jude, you're not. Remember how you lied to Tommy about having sex with him? That was immature. And then you said he got you drunk. That was immature too. Your retaliation hasn't done you an ounce of good. He's still with Sadie, and that's not going to change anytime soon. It won't, no matter how much I want it to...

Tommy nodded sagely, looking somewhat impressed. "Yeah, you're right, Jude. We do. We have to be professional about this. Let's just forget about this for now. I promise I'll come to the studio, and I won't ignore you... Things will be like they used to," Tommy stated in a sure, positive voice. But we both knew he was wrong. We did manage, for the most part, to be wholly civil and professional around each other in the studio, after that. He showed up most days... There were only a few songs he wasn't there with me to record, maybe three or so... I dunno. Things would never again be like they used to.

Never again.

I sighed, nodding to myself. "So, we clear?" I drawled, fiddling with my sleeve. I looked up and over at Tommy anxiously, waiting for a response.

Tommy looked a bit worried, but he nodded calmly. "Yeah... Crystal," He stated simply. I nodded again, but I felt so stupid.

And I was, of course. Stupid and naïve and stupid... For thinking this way... About Tommy. I'm insane. A nutcase. Jude Harrison, freakshow!

Actually, that reminds me of my nervous breakdown in the cafeteria today.

Yikes. Bet that winds up in the papers.

Damn, I'm so bitter and depressy. They'll probably say I'm suicidal from that. My little speech. Ugh. I'm not. I mean, sure, Tommy drives me crazy... But not that crazy!

Bleh. I don't want to be this way, really, I don't! I awkwardly nodded to Tommy again (for what seemed like the umpteenth time), not knowing what to do or what to say in the silence. I glanced over at him, a slightly goofy smile on my face for no damn reason. Please, tell me why I'm such an idiot! He grinned back, and out of the blue, I was reminded of something. The fangirl questions from before.

"Tommy, what's your favorite color?" I asked brightly, feeling a bit stupid for even asking. Wow, what a new feeling. Note the sarcasm. Tommy always makes me feel dumb. I laughed nervously. But Tommy didn't seem to think that I was stupid. His smile widened and he flashed those pearly whites. I almost melted into a puddle on the floor.

"Blue," Tommy answered calmly, without even a second thought. I was rather surprised to tell the truth. But, hey, I suppose his eyes are blue. That's probably why. But that didn't satisfy me enough, now did it?

"Why?" I questioned slowly, turning the word around in my mouth a little. I didn't notice it before then, but Tommy had an arm wrapped around my shoulder. I leaned into his touch and focused on his every word. They were, after all, rather important... A bit of a slight turning point, you could say.

"Because it's the color of your eyes, girl," Tommy replied without hesitating, looking me straight in the eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face. That was somehow one of the nicest, sweetest things anyone had ever said to me. He was suddenly so damn cute (not that he wasn't before), I couldn't stand it anymore.

Before I knew what I was doing, I leaned in and kissed him. And, for a guy with a girlfriend (who happened to be my sister!), he was showing surprisingly little resistance. At first I was so caught up in the moment that I didn't even realize what I was doing... But then I realized that I was kissing Tommy, with perfect timing, might I add (my tongue was about halfway down his throat), so I did the right thing... for once... and broke the kiss, feeling absolutely horrified.

"Oh, **God**, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," I stammered nervously, backpedaling as fast as I could. I scooted as far away from Tommy as was possible while still sitting on the couch. I didn't look at him, and I had a feeling he wasn't going to look at me. Jeez, I really need to stop doing that. Quit like your songs say you're supposed to. Tommy didn't say a word, and that made me nervous. So I looked over at him.

His mouth was set in a firm, grim line, and he was looking down. His eyes briefly met mine. "It's okay. I shouldn't have said that," Tommy muttered, sounding guilty. He was guilty of course. He had just sort of cheated on Sadie. With me. Again. But hey, who's counting? Well, I kissed him... But he didn't shove me away or anything.

"Guess we ought to add that to the list of things that never happened," I mumbled, laughing mirthlessly. Tommy frowned briefly but nodded. He exhaled deeply. I inhaled sharply. There was silence.

"What list?" Tommy joked, cracking a wan smile. I giggled, smiling back. I didn't understand why or even how I was smiling... I didn't always cry around Tommy, after all. I immediately relaxed, sinking into the couch. Tommy relaxed a little too. His arm was still around my shoulder, oddly enough. This is a small couch, isn't it? Of course, why wouldn't it be? This is, after all, the shacko studio.

"Very funny," I sputtered, laughing a little more. Suddenly, I was reminded of Jamie in a wedding dress. With long blonde curls and puffy sleeves and a spandex wedding dress with a wide velvet skirt... Flowers in his hair. And he called Tommy a pretty boy! I could play the entire scene out in my head. There was Tommy waiting at the altar... Black tux... Mm, he looks hot. Okay, let's skip to the bride. Oh, look, me and Kat are bridesmaids... Neither of us looks particularly happy. Odd. Or not. Ooh, here comes the bride. Ahaha! Jamie's dress has a train!

Oh, look, Dad's giving him away! The look on his face is priceless. Hey... There's Sadie. Ew, is she frenching Mr. Quinn? Ew, she is! And Tommy is glaring at them with the look of death... Possessive, aren't we? Okay, shutting up... The pastor's talking. And apparently everyone in the church has an objection, but they're getting married anyways. Go figure. Oh, look, here comes the kiss... Hey, wait, if they're getting married, then who'll have what name? Jamie Quincy? Tommy Andrews? Hmm. Interesting. They're kissing, but it looks really wrong... They're devouring each other's faces. It's sickening. Even worse than Sadie and Quinn in the corner. No, wait, I take that back. Tommy and Jamie aren't trying to have sex... In a church. That is so wrong.

But that's Sadie I guess. She doesn't care who she screws... She doesn't even care where 'cause she'll do it... everywhere. That was a bit harsh, but I really don't care. She can go screw herself. Actually, you know what? Sadie should just lay off the screwing, period. She has a problem. It's called please, close your legs, you over-exposed peroxide bimbo Barbie. Man, I have a lot of pent-up aggression. Ooh, hey, now Tommy's in the wedding dress!

He has long, sweeping brownish-black hair and his make-up is fabulous, though he still sorta looks like a drag queen. Wow... Somebody got a boob job. His wedding dress is a bit too low-cut. And who knew the guy had so many curves. Um, let's see... You do? Remember, you "slept" with him? And Sadie... And Portia... And all those other girls he's... Yeah. Well, I suppose that's what happens when you wear a skin-tight silk dress. Look at those high heels! How can the boy walk? And I have never seen so much bling on one person. I am surprised he hasn't keeled over, what with those huge chandelier earrings, that giant tiara, and those monstrously heavy strands of diamonds draped around his neck.

If you couldn't tell, thinking about all the wedding arrangements of Tommy and Jamie and picturing them in my head... Well, it made me start laughing hysterically. Even worse than before at the lunch table. Tommy lightly tapped my shoulder, grabbing it harder in an attempt to calm me down. That didn't work, of course, because as soon as he touched me, I tensed up.

But it did serve to end the fit of laughter. I wiped the tears away, still sniggering silently to myself, forcing myself to banish the thoughts of Tommy and Jamie in wedding dresses. "You okay, Jude?"

I nodded, taking deep breaths. I hadn't been breathing there for a second. My sides hurt from laughter. Tommy shot me a concerned look, and I stopped smiling, realizing how much he reminded me of Jamie. "So, what's so funny?" Tommy asked interestedly. He was leaning in a bit closer to me than he probably should have, but I didn't care. A smile crossed my face in spite of myself.

"Oh, just picturing you and Jamie getting married. You made a **much** prettier bride than he did. Never knew you had so many _curves_, girlfriend. You only just barely looked like a drag queen. That reminds me, you have _got_ to give me the number of your plastic surgeon," I remarked amusedly. Tommy scowled petulantly. What, Jamie's not good enough?

He wasn't for you...

Okay, shut up! Jamie doesn't think of me in that way anymore. He's dating Kat!

He did that before too! And he still...

I mean, he was awful hard on you about the whole Tommy fiasco. Well, no duh.

He was acting kind of like Dad about the whole thing. Oh, and like Tommy hasn't acted that way around Jamie... or Shay? What are you... Am I... trying to say here? That Jamie still likes me?

That's crazy. He just doesn't trust me.

Or maybe he doesn't trust Tommy. I mean, can you really blame him? You don't trust him either.

No, correction, I don't trust myself around him. I already know to expect only lies and empty promises from Tom. I've finally learned my lesson.

"Jamie? You were thinking about me _marrying_ Jamie? ...And I was the **bride**?" Tommy scoffed incredulously. Hmm, sounds like someone's insecure about his feminine side. Tsk, tsk, Tom. You were just much better looking in a dress than blonde Jamie.

"What, Tommy, worried I think Jamie's more **manly** than you are? Trust me, if I thought that, I would be dating Jamie right now," I retorted, snickering at the look on Tommy's face. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Aww, cuuute. But as my words sunk in, Tommy's eyebrows rose exponentially.

"Dating Jamie? What... what do you mean?" Tommy questioned curiously. But he seemed a bit more curious than it was right for him to be. I mean, he was with Sadie... So why did it matter if I could have been dating Jamie?

It's that stupid Tommy syndrome, isn't it? You know... Where he's jealous, he only cares when other guys do... And then backs off when we're both single... Or when I'm single.

It's basic human instinct, I suppose. We always want that which we cannot have. Man, I could write volumes on that topic.

I mean, there are some people who always get what they want. Sadie, for instance. Tommy... Shay... Darius especially.

And then there are the poor suckers like Jamie, Kat, and me... who can't get what we want.

I mean, I guess I got the career... That I wanted. But I didn't want all the crap that came with it, you know? And, believe me, that is a LOT of crap.

"Nothing. We're not even friends right now and he's dating Kat. So it doesn't matter anyways..." I muttered dismissively, the words blurring together. I looked away from Tommy. Suddenly my throat felt so dry and swollen. Of course... It must be from all that crying I did... Why didn't I feel it before?

I can't sing with my throat aching like this. I need to get some liquids in me pronto! Yeah, that'll be my out! I turned to Tommy to tell him where I was going to go, and I even had my mouth open when Tommy interrupted.

"No, it does matter... And what do you mean you're not friends anymore! I thought that he broke up with Kat..." Tommy exclaimed, brow furrowed in confusion and contemplation. Hmm, I wonder what Jamie would say if he knew we were talking about him?

Probably to avoid talking about him. I sighed frustratedly, massaging my temples.

"We had a really bad fight today at lunch... And some things were said and... I don't want to talk about it!" I uttered, feeling my eyes become watery again. No! I don't want to cry again! But... I really miss Jamie. He was my best friend in the whole world. And, for some reason, he didn't believe me... But... Maybe I should cut the guy some slack?

I'll apologize... Yeah. On Monday. He better apologize too, though... He said some awful things to me.

Tommy's eyes blazed. What, did he want to beat Jamie up or something? No... That was my job. Was my job. I guess it's Kat's now. "We're going to talk about it, Jude," Tommy stated matter-of-factly, an odd finality in his tone. I glared at Tommy, still feeling my eyes burn. It still stung.

"Fine. He called you a pretty boy... But that's nothing new. Made a comment about the whole Chaz thing, which has, might I add, hit the mags. He didn't believe me... Said I'd _changed_. He said he didn't like what he saw when he looked at me. He said that **you** ought to go to jail... And he's right," I muttered, exhaling and shaking my head. Tommy frowned, a guilty look on his face. He was trying to remember sleeping with me, I'll bet.

My mom's words suddenly came to me.

_He took her drinking! That playboy **pervert** of a producer of hers took **our** daughter to a bar so he could get her drunk and have his **way** with her without even breaking up with her sister **first**!_

It struck me how I'd made them so very true with my lies. Of course. Except he'd gotten back with Sadie and there was no bar involved in the story. Tommy's frown deepened. I was giving him fine lines and wrinkles. The thought of that, for some reason, made me smile.

What can I say? I'm weird.

"You said something about... being able to date Jamie. Explain," Tommy said, and it was an order, not a statement. It was an order, and I, of course, had to obey the Great Tom Quincy.

"I don't see why it's any of _your_ business... But, if you **must** know, and, being _you_, you **must**... Before I went on tour... He kissed me. You see, he was supposed to go on tour with me. And then he told me he wasn't going... That I would _miss_ him or something. So I went up to the ticket place... I had both tickets with me. And I had to make a choice. Whether I should go on the tour **you** arranged... Or whether I should do the Shay one. You know... Should I _Stay_ or Should I **Go**? And I had another choice to make... Whether I could **be** with Jamie... Or _not_. I could have run back and kissed him... whatever. I thought about it for a minute or two... But I didn't. I called up E.J. and asked her to pick for me. And she picked Shay's tour. So I went and I had a **great** time, and Jamie and Kat ignored me all summer. There, _happy_?" I explained unhappily. Tommy relaxed a little. Of course. There goes the Tommy syndrome again. Now that Jamie's out of the picture completely... He ain't interested.

Tommy nodded slowly, looking happy, and there was a brief lull in the conversation. I moved to leave, but he grabbed my arm and made me stay. There was that heartbreaking look in his eyes again. The one he'd worn when he made me say the kiss never happened back on my birthday. A look I was all too familiar with lately.

I knew what he said was gonna hurt... And I didn't know if I could take any more pain.

"Jude... We have to pretend it didn't happen. And you can't tell a soul... If you do, well, I'll be headed to prison for at least five years... And that's just for statutory rape, not providing liquor to a minor... which leads to so many other charges, girl, it makes my head spin. So help me, if that happens, there isn't a lawyer in the world who could get me off..." Tommy pleaded desperately. His panic was sincere, but it still hurt.

"Hey! They got Michael Jackson off..." I retorted flippantly, snorting. Tommy's eyes narrowed, and his grip on my arm tightened. I really don't think he liked the comparison. Come to think of it, neither do I. Tommy's too cute to be a "Dirty Old Man". And too young. But of course, so is Quinn... And yet. I mean, I can't say that Tommy's cute without saying Quinn's cute because they look freakishly alike. Except for the eyes and the fact that Quinn's a little taller and Tommy's a bit more muscular.

But I don't need to be comparing them. Because Quinn's pond slime. And Tommy has Sadie. And both of them are out of bounds anyways. And if I compare them, then that means I'm thinking about that terrible... I'm not. Because that's what he wants me to do.

"I'm serious, Jude. You can't tell anyone... We can't even talk about it-" Tommy begged, sober, his poker face up once again. I realized then, what he was really saying.

He was, once again, taking the easy way out. Making it so we couldn't talk about it. Of course. Classic Tommy. If we don't talk about it... If we lie, everything will be fine. All fine.

He sounds just like my dad. Great, just what I need to remember... Dad screwing Yvette on the sofa... The same sofa that I walked in on him screwing Mom on. Eeeew. I oughtta tell her that. Damn, we need to but a new sofa. Eww.

Well if we lie about this... Okay, yeah, I see the irony. Lying about a lie. I mean, I guess it's the truth, you know, the whole double negative thing... since it never _actually_ happened... But it hurts. Because that's all he cares about.

Himself.

He doesn't want to go to prison. He doesn't want to have to take care of the problem. He doesn't want to fix it. He doesn't want any complications to ruin his relationships. He wouldn't want a kid either, you know. He just wants it buried under the rug. Our dirty little secret. No one else can know. Well, they shouldn't! It's private and one of my worst moments. But he can't tell anyone either.

Mom and Dad would have him arrested. And I doubt even Tory at her most determined could pull off letting him off... When Mom and Dad are determined, well, they're determined. They wouldn't rest until he was sitting on a concrete block in a maximum security prison. Hell, they'd go for the best. Alcatraz or Sing-Sing... Haha... A musician in Sing-Sing.

See, I'm cracking up! And yes, both of those prisons are in the U.S. I know that. I imagine he'd get some killer prison tattoos. I gotta tell him to get a snake... I think blue or gr-No, not green. Ugh. Green makes me turn green. Never green. Blue would... would look good. Yeah. Good.

Ooh, or a heart. Bet Tory would LOVE a Mom tattoo. Teehee. Though I always heard that other prisoners hate sex offenders. Jeez, Tommy thinks he's a sex offender.

Man, this whole situation is friggin' screwed up.

Stupid self-absorbed bastard. My eyes blazed. "That's _all_ you care about. You, _you_, **you**! You **always** care about yourself... What's best for _you_! Well, Tom, what about what's best for **me**! Do you even _care_? No, of **course** you don't! You just care about how it affects _you_! When it all boils down to it... that's all you **ever** care about! You don't _care_ who you hurt. You don't _care_ how you affect others. You just **don't**... _care_," I snapped furiously, seething with rage. I was literally shaking as I stood there, glaring down at him. His grip burned my arm, and I hit his hand away with everything in me. I was amused to see the look of genuine pain on his face.

"You didn't even have to _ask_, you know? I **know** what would happen to you if I told, okay? And I _didn't_ want that to happen to you. Because **I **care! Despite everything, I _still..._ **care**! More than I can say for you!" I hollered back, finding myself a bit hysterical and close to tears. I forced myself to blink them back fiercely.

Tommy stood, walking towards me slowly. I backed away blindly, running. Then I hit the wall.

Quite literally.

I ran into it.

And it sorta hurt my back. Tommy's paying for my chiropractor.

But I've always thought that they were no-good crooks... So he's paying for my doctor's bill.

"Jude, I'm sorry... I-" Tommy began empathetically, feeling bad and sorry... I guess. But it didn't seem real, it didn't seem genuine. He was a phony.

And I had always hated phonies.

"You keep _saying_ that, but what does it really mean?" I snarled wrathfully, my eyes seeing red. Blood red. Fire engine red. Red as my hair. My blood pressure, I'm sure, was skyrocketing. I clenched my fists, ready to fight him off.

I was dying to punch him.

Seriously, gimme the chance and I'll go for it! Really, I will! I've got the reason, my ammunition... All I need is one remark to set me off... and then BAM! He won't know what hit him.

Oh, wait... It'll be me.

Hehe.

Tommy obviously had no answer to the question, so he decided to try another route.

He licked his lips. "It means that I care about you, girl," Tommy declared sincerely, his tone full of intense emotion. He was trying to be contrite and penitent so I would forgive him, but I wasn't feeling like it. Screw forgiveness! Screw the guilt!

I started laughing bitterly, so bitterly it verged on hysterical. "You _care_ about me? Is **that** what you call it? Because, Tom, if you _care_ about me, you sure have a **funny** way of showing it! Normal people like me... We call your _form_ of "caring about me" **screwing** me over. You see, you only _really_ care when there's someone **else** in the equation... on _my_ end. You get **so** jealous, Tom. But other than that, you ignore me _completely_, acting like I'm just some **dumb** _kid_ that **you** got _stuck_ with. Make up your **damn** wishy-washy mind! You can't have it _both_ ways!" I growled fiercely. The fury within me bubbled up like a soda bottle that was being shook. I was ready to burst all over Tommy.

Tommy's hands came down hard on my shoulders, and a deep, somewhat enraged look danced in his eyes. He meant business. "I **do** care about you, Jude. I care about you so much that it _hurts_. It **physically** hurts me. Is that so hard to believe? All I'm _trying_ to do is protect you... You're _not_ some **dumb** kid, and I'm not _stuck_ with you... It's an **honor** to have you in my life, girl," Tommy swore passionately. He was almost shaking me.

In a movie, this would be the part where the hero snaps and makes out with the princess. But this was real life, and Tommy was no hero, and I was no princess.

Besides, we'd already done that once, remember? At my Un-Sweet Sixteen Birthday Bash. In the rain, in the alley. Romantic, no?

Yeah, 'cause I was soaked to the bone in a silk dress and my hair was plastered to my head and all icky from the hair spray and my mascara was streaming down my face and I was freezing my **ass** off and my feet hurt and my heart was broken and I was on the _rebound_ and my boyfriend had just dumped me for my ugly rattily-extensioned bleach-blonde bimbo rival/worst enemy and all I could taste was acid rain, which would most probably kill me if the pain didn't first, and I could smell rotting garbage and we were on the narrowest fire escape (a _freaking_ **fire** **escape**) of my life overlooking a damn _romantical_ dumpster and plague-carrying rats. Yeah, that's hot. That _really_ does it for me. Really. Mm, what a great place to make out in. That was the best kiss of my life, you know.

It was **so** romantic.

Not.

"I'll believe it when I see it, Quincy!" I shouted back, right in his face, frustrated and fed up with his insipid games. I am not your pawn, Quincy! I am not your slave!

I paused, remembering something. "AND DON'T YOU _EVER_ CALL ME "GIRL" AGAIN! I AM **NOT** _YOUR_ GIRL AND I WILL **NOT** EVER **BE** _YOUR_ GIRL. CALLING ME GIRL WILL **NOT** MAKE IT ALL _BETTER_! THE NAME'S **JUDE**, SO USE IT!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, putting everything I had in me into that forceful scream.

Tommy couldn't believe it.

He couldn't believe me. But he obeyed. Like a good boy. Good dog, Tom-Tom. Good dog.

Tommy sputtered, backing away from me slightly. I might've got some spit in his eye when I was talking. Go figure. It was an accident... He still looked slightly uneasy.

Good. He should.

"Jude... all I'm trying to do is _clear_ the air between us... _Clear_ things up. _Fix_ what's been broken..." Tommy stated, imploring me to forgive, to relax. But I wasn't going to capitulate like that.

"No, **you're** just trying to get our _stories_ straight so the **lies** will match up!" I hissed back, eyes narrowing further. I wanted to leave and made a move for it, but he grabbed my hand. I almost died, and about half the anger drained out of me as my heart skipped a beat.

He's so cruel! Why does he keep doing this to me?

And why do I let him?

"Jude, I just don't want any more broken hearts out of this..." Tommy whispered emotionally. He squeezed my hand in a way that was supposed to be reassuring. But it wasn't.

My heart, still a-thumping away, skipped another beat.

But I rose above it. I ignored it and let my anger carry me forward.

"Too late for that," I bit back viciously, slapping him hard across the face. He let go of my hand and I stormed past him, heading for the door. I couldn't even be in the same room as him... Without being torn apart by the dueling desires to kiss him or kill him.

And I had no idea what to do.

My hand was on the doorknob when I felt his hand on my shoulder. He said my name with so much emotion... "_Jude_..." There was actual pain and desperation in his tone. I almost turned around. I almost apologized. I almost mellowed. I almost forgave him. I almost told him the truth.

But I was too angry, too young, too hurt, and too stubborn for that.

Just like him.

Instead I removed his hand from my shoulder, dropping it as if it, as if he, was nothing... nothing to me. But that was a lie, of course.

Ever since I met him I've become better and better at lying... Lying to everyone, about everything. What I do, who I'm with, where I am, how I'm feeling, when I do things... I'm keeping secrets left and right, and they're not just mine.

Practice makes perfect. He always says that. He makes me sing the same old tired lines over and over again until I'm just plain sick of them. My own songs!

Practice makes me perfect, right, Tom? Right?

I was cold. Frozen just like the song. Suddenly I was the Ice Princess. The Ice Queen. I deserved the title. I was jaded, disbelieving, disapproving, disillusioned. With him, with Sadie, with Love, with Music...

So I snapped at him instead, with the precision of a sniper. Though I was an Ice Queen, the fury lingered in my words, my tone. Not that I cared.

Something I learned from him... How not to care.

Tom Quincy 101, of course.

Here's the textbook. Wanna see?

The Basics of Being Tom Quincy by Jude J. Harrison

**Number One:** Don't care about anything. Not a thing. Except good old number one!

**Number Two: **Lie like a rug whenever possible to save your ass.

**Number Three: **Have sex with anything that moves and looks remotely attractive. The more the merrier.

**Number Four: **Write crappy boyband jingles like "Pick Up the Pieces", "My Apology", and "It's You".

**Number Five: **Break Jude Harrison's heart repeatedly for your own amusement.

**Number Six: **Spend hours on your personal appearance... Clothes, hair, etc. Primping and prepping away... "You're So Vain" should be your own personal theme song.

**Number Seven: **Speed down the roads in expensive sports cars. Speed limits don't apply to you.

**Number Eight:** Beat the crap out of any guy who pisses you off just because you feel like it.

**Number Nine: **If possible, steal your friends' girlfriends for recreational purposes.

**Number Ten:** Murder anyone who calls you "Little Tommy Q."

**Number Eleven: **Never fall in love. That's for losers!

**Number Twelve:** Avoid commitment like the plague. Monogamy sucks.

**Number Thirteen: **Regularly cheat on your girlfriends. You know, just to keep you on your toes.

**Number Fourteen: **Consume massive quantities of alcohol, drugs, medication, and cigarettes to numb the pain.

**Number Fifteen: **Immediately disapprove of any and all of the males associated with Jude Harrison's life.

**Number Sixteen:** Be as cocky, self-absorbed, egotistical, and generally full of yourself as is humanly possible. Remember, you're God's Friggin' _Gift_ to Humanity... That's a lot to live up to!

**Number Seventeen: **You're hot and you know it, so flaunt it.

**Number Eighteen:** Be incredibly moody and generally tempestuous all the time. Like a girl who's PMSing, but with no end in sight.

**Number Nineteen: **Get pissy whenever someone brings up something you don't want to talk about.

**Number Twenty:** If you want it, you better have it. Or you're a total idiot and a tool.

**Number Twenty-one:** Avoid your family at all costs. They're insane, the lot of them!

**Number Twenty-two**: Brood, brood, brood, you boybander, you. Besides, you look so hot when you pout.

**Number Twenty-three:** Be wary of Darius Mills. He's a snake.

**Number Twenty-four: **Tell people to forget things ever happened, and, in fact, that they didn't as often as possible and befitting the situation. Go on ahead, deny the existence of such events! It's so fun to play make-believe.

**Number Twenty-five: **Do as little real work as possible and charge exorbitant fees for doing so. That's for chumps and suckers, which you, most certainly, are not!

**Number Twenty-six:** Flirt and charm your ass off. It helps smooth over tiny problems in a second.

**Number Twenty-seven:** Be as irresponsible as you can be, and never accept responsibility for your actions. That's for quitters!

**Number Twenty-eight:** Get unreasonably angry over the little things. Life's more fun that way.

**Number Twenty-nine: **Completely focus and devote your life on/to seeking pleasure for yourself. None of this helping others' BS! Be like the Sun King, because, remember, you just don't give a damn!

**Number Thirty:** Be a completely and totally insufferable asshole every damn day of your miserable, pathetic, waste of a life.

There, done. I should write a book. With all this in mind, I delivered my words with not-so-careful consideration.

"Don't **bother**, Tommy! I got the message. We're _crystal_! I won't tell your _precious_ little **girlfriend**, even if she _is_ my sister! Even _if_ she has the right to know what a cheating **asshole** her _boyfriend_ is! I'll keep _your_ dirty little secret, but **not** forever!" I hissed lethally, a deadly wrath coursing through my cursed veins. I was ready to beat the crap outta him.

Justifiable homicide. It's legal. Completely legal.

Unlike me and him, right?

Tommy's hand dug into my shoulder, forcing me to turn around. My breath shortened, and, a rush of anger overcoming me, I pushed him back... Hard. My movements were jerky and tense as I put on my guitar, pulling out my pick and beginning to play a tune. "Since you don't seem to understand it in words, I'll put in in a simpler format... One you can get," I sniped bitterly.

Hmm, wonder if he noticed that I just insulted and undermined his intelligence. Or lack thereof. I mean, the prick is dating Sadie, Queen of the Bimbos! He just looked interested to hear the song.

"_I can't believe I let you __**get** to me! Why can't I tear you out from **under** my skin? And why can't I admit that we're **not** meant to be? I try but I can't stop thinking about you... It seems you're here, you're **there**, you're everywhere!_" I lamented, being torn apart by fury and depression. It was odd, but the music was perfect for the moment, you know?

The steel twanged so perfectly against the hard plastic of my pick. I was playing acoustic on an electric guitar, and it sounded great. All eerie and serious. Hurt and mad at the same time. My voice was like that too, soft but somehow loud... Edgy, bitter, dark, and enraged, but at the same time hurt, broken, damaged. It was haunting... Tommy Quincy would sure remember this one.

I continued, feeling the tears appear in my eyes. Let my words sink in. Let them hurt him like they've hurt me. You thought "Skin" was about you, Quincy... You thought "Dirty Old Man" was about you... Neither of them were.

But this one, this one is. This is your "Skin", Tommy. And let's hope it has the same effects.

"_It's not **right** that you have such a _hold_ over me! I hate that you exercise such **control** over me! I really wish that you would **stop** _cajoling_ me, and right now I don't **need** you _consoling_ me! What I need is for you to be **finally** _over_ me... Why can't you see I just want you to **let** **me** **be**! All I really _want_ is for you to **set** **me** **free**!_" I raged violently, strumming the strings harder and harder.

So hard my fingers hurt all over again... And I wasn't even using my fingers! Tommy looked guilty. Good, he ought to be! And... I ought to listen to myself more.

It isn't right... And I hate it. I wish that... And I don't need this! I need him to finally be over me. Completely, wholly, one hundred percent.

"_Tell me why it is you won't _leave_ my memory! Need to forget every **last** thing about you... It's past time for my **intervention**! Falling for you was not of **my** own election... I'm not a _fan_ of this **direction** you've sent me _spiraling_ in!_" I cried, feeling my fingers start to hurt again. My hands still moved like lightning... So fast. I was pulling out all the stops... All the fancy guitar tricks I knew... just for this one song.

It was the best guitar solo of my life. I didn't screw up once... Even Quinn couldn't criticize me, even if he wanted to. I knew immediately that this song was the type that anybody would appreciate... Even if they didn't like my style. It was universal, and my pain, my suffering, transcended everything else... Language, melody, style...

Here I was, just making up the melody as I went along... I knew without saying that I would never sing this song as well again. I would never have this much passion behind it again. The words would never be the same again to me. They would never mean the same things to me as they did now. It would never sound the same again.

"_It's not **right** that you have such a hold over me... I **hate** that you exercise such control over me! I really wish that you would **stop** cajoling me... And right now I don't need you _consoling_ me! What I need is for you to be finally **over** me! Why can't you _see_ I just want you to **let** me be? All I really _want_ is for you to **set** me free..._" I repeated tempestuously, feeling myself start to cry. I fought it... I fought it as hard as I could.

The guitar grew more intricate, more complex, more involved. It took on a life of its own. My fingers worked harder and harder. I worked so hard on my voice to hit all the high notes. I hit notes that day that I might never be able to hit again in my life. I went to new highs and new lows.

From a producer's point-of-view... My heartbreak was good for business... But from a, well, whatever Tommy was to me exactly... From that point of view... It was heartbreaking and guilt-inducing.

"_Why can't I just **ditch** you? Like I've been **wanting** to do? Why must I **suffer** for _your_ **crime**? Why am _I_ the one who has to do the **time**, when being **stuck** with you's another **curse** on my _life" I sung pleadingly, shaking my head and wondering why it was, exactly, that I could not do so.

I'd been trying to ditch him, to get rid of him... To stop thinking about him, lusting after him, and being in love with him for ages! Almost ever since I met him. Deny, deny, deny. Hide my feelings, bury it all. But none of it worked...

The tears didn't fall. They hung, pent up in the air, clinging to the tips of my eyelashes like snow piled down upon tree branches, weighing them down. Weighed down like my pent-up soul was.

I could tell the words resonated within him. It wasn't the ditching... Or the wanting or the suffering. It was the crime... Do the time. He was afraid of going to jail. Still. Even after I'd already said that I wasn't going to tell anyone. That he didn't even have to ask me to keep my mouth shut. After I'd sworn that I wasn't even going to tell Sadie, my sister, who had a right to know. He was uneasy, unsure, and worried.

It was written all over his face. Guilty shame. Shameful guilt. Spelled out in bold black letters across his forehead.

"_It's not right that you have such a **hold** over me... I hate that you exercise such **control** over me... I really wish that you would stop **cajoling** me... And right now I don't **need** you consoling me... What I need is for you to **be** finally over _me_... Why can't you see I just want you to let me **be**? All I _really_ want is for you to set me **free**..._" I commanded boldly, brazenly. I was on the edge, on the verge of breaking down and whimpering. I didn't want to do it again. I was so sick of crying and weeping like an idiot. I felt like a fool.

I want you to be over me, Tommy. Forget all about me. Don't let me linger in your thoughts, on your mind. You've got Sadie now. You don't need me. I'm a freaking third wheel there! If... If you keep thinking about me... I'll only wind up more hurt. I'll think I've got a chance. You'll just lead me on again and leave me.

I need you to be over me. It's not good for me if you're not. It's bad. You're bad for me, Tom.

Just... let me be. Let me be myself. Let me be... Leave me alone. Let me just... be. All alone.

Please, Tommy, set me free! Free from you! Get rid of these ropes around my wrists, these manacles around my ankles... These... chains! Set me free! Make me fall out of love with you! It hurts to feel this way... To fall this hard for someone like you. Release me! Release me!

Set me free. Let me be. Get over me.

I silently pleaded with Tommy in my head, trying my hardest to let my eyes communicate what I meant. My eyes burned into his. Our stares bored holes into each other. I couldn't help it... I snapped. I broke. I cracked.

My tempo sped up, notes becoming more jagged, more bitter, more rough. Twangy. The beat was charged, pulses of ire coming through with each jarring note. The tears blurred my vision. I exerted as much force as I could playing those shocking notes. Strong.

That's what I was. That's what I was going to be. No more weakness.

"_I was _too_ **young**, right? …Is that your **excuse**?_" I questioned piercingly, glaring fiercely at him.

I paused. Tommy was speechless. He just stared back at me, jaw dropped open wide. He had no words.

"_I **trusted** you tonight… Wrong **move**, wrong _time" I cried, shaking my head, laughing at myself for being so stupid.

Tommy visibly winced. Trust. He was an authority figure... What he had done. It only served as an unwanted reminder of something he couldn't remember... Not that he even wanted to. Even if it had happened!

The hot tears started falling down my face. The pace slowed a little... I was distracted.

"_I **fall** from _grace_ because I'm too **young** tonight…_" I whispered, sniffling. The tears came now, faster and faster. I was a right mess.

I did not cry prettily. Not that I really ever looked pretty. Tommy frowned, guilt written over every feature. I hoped his heart was breaking too. At the very least.

I didn't even care that he was seeing me cry. I pressed the pick harder and harder against the steel... The beat sped up, faster and faster, higher and higher... Until finally, it broke.

"_Too young to be doing _this_ and too young to be doing **you**!_" I screamed turbulently, my voice hitting every note I could and then some I couldn't. I couldn't even see straight. But, still, all I could see were Tommy's ice-blue eyes... Haunting me! Killing me! Ripping me apart inside!

One of the strings snapped then. Part of it bounced back and slashed at my arm. It pained me, but I ignored the sensation... Something I'd been doing a lot lately. Ignoring my feelings. Ignoring the pain.

My hungry eyes took him in for a last look. I didn't stop playing. The pressure on the strings was the same. My fingers clenched the guitar with white knuckles. Tommy was absolutely stiff and static. His hair stood straight on end... Something I hadn't noticed. It had been that way after Under the Mike too... The first time. He was freaked and he knew he'd hurt me. Same thing. His mouth was still agape, eyes wide as saucers. He couldn't believe what I'd just screamed. His mouth opened and closed, but he had nothing to say.

"_Get back **away** from me, nobody knew about it!_" I snapped, incensed. My voice was low, throaty... Sore. I was overdoing it. I threw everything I had into it... Those verses. Tommy took a few steps back.

If I didn't watch out, I was gonna lose my voice. Not something I wanted to do.

"_Nobody **knew** about you and me!_" I snarled savagely, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.

A look passed over Tommy's face then. Like it hadn't even occurred to him then that I could've told anyone what had supposedly happened with us already... Like Mom, Dad, Sadie, Quinn, Kat, Jamie, Joan, Georgia, E.J., Kwest, any of my teachers... I could've told them... But I didn't. He seemed in that instant, so very betrayed... Which was, of course, my job.

"_Nobody knew about **you** and _me," I croaked hoarsely. The pressure on the strings decreased... My notes and chords slowed and finally cut off. There was an awkward silence for a moment... So many things lingered in the air between us, unspoken. As they always would.

But Tommy got the message. And he believed me.

The tears ceased falling, and the notes died out. I flew out of the room. Guitar and notebook in my hands, I breezed into the studio we usually recorded in. A part of me expected Tommy to be on my heels, but he wasn't.

What can I say? The other part of me expected him to turn tail and run the other way. Damn, I ought to add that to the book. Tommy didn't follow me.

And, of course... Kwest ain't in here. Peachy.

So I walked right out and went into the next one. Needless to say, I was more than a bit surprised by what I saw.

Okay, I was absofrickinglutely floored. Ugh, what is with my annoying habit of walking in on people making out, on their way to have sex? Dad and Yvette, Dad and Mom, Tommy and Sadie, and now, of course... Kwest. I'm emotionally scarred! I'm never gonna be whole again, you know!

And not just 'cause of the Tommy thing.

I'm never touching that soundboard again. Why? Because Kwest... Nice, sweet, mature, RESPONSIBLE, hardworking, job-oriented workaholic Kwest... Is freaking making-out with Portia.

Ohmigod. Kwest is making-out with Portia. Tommy's Portia. Tommy's ex, Portia. Tommy's ex-wife, Portia. Darius' little sister, Portia. Shay's aunt, Portia. Portia, of all people.

He's become Tommy. Greeat. Just what I need. Another ass in my life. As if Dad, Quinn, Jamie, Shay, Darius, and, of course, the original, Tommy, weren't enough? Who's next, Spiederman? Wally? Kyle? Tim?

Oh, I couldn't handle it if Tim became an ass!

Wow, that really came out of nowhere.

Seriously, how can they not have seen me here? Are they like, blind?

"So, uh, when exactly are you planning on telling _Tommy_ about this? Assuming, of course, that you _want_ to tell Tommy you're boffing his ex-wife. Or, come to think of it... What about **Darius**? I'm sure he's around here somewhere trying to buy the place right out from under Georgia... Bet he'd have some _interesting_ things to say about this..." I announced loudly, making sure that they could hear me. I did not want to let this get R-rated... No thank you.

Kwest looked absolutely horrified, jumping apart from Portia. Portia merely looked calm and collected. She was cool, radiating serenity and peace. I wondered vaguely if she was a model... I mean, she had to do something, right? She probably works for Darius... But what, exactly does she do? Is she a consultant? Like for fashion, or for music, or... something. Does she dance? I mean, what does she do? I can't exactly picture it, what she does, exactly...

She's so calm though. Well, I guess after having Darius the mental case for a brother... And living with him her whole life... I mean, and she was married to Tommy... She must be tough.

"No, Jude... **Please**, you can't tell anyone!" Kwest pleaded, panicking. Portia didn't look happy I mentioned her brother or her ex, but she was calmer. Kwest looked like he was gonna have a nervous breakdown, which was understandable, as he was terrified that Tommy and Darius would team up to kick his ass. Not such an unreasonable fear, really.

But he was afraid for himself... And his tone, everything about the moment... Just served to remind me of Tommy... An unwelcome reminder of Tommy. I snapped out at Kwest, feeling my eyes burn.

"What _is_ it with men saying that to me lately?" I questioned angrily, throwing my hands in the air. Portia frowned a little and straightened her clothes. A knowing look crossed Kwest's face, a smirk replacing the fear.

"**Oh**, so you're feeling vindictive because of Tommy..." He drawled smugly, looking pleased with himself. I, however, was not pleased. For obvious reasons... Mainly because he was, well, right. I wasn't in the best mood, and right now, all I wanted to do was record "Dirty Old Man". It was still entirely about Travis... But a little bit, just a little of that frustration, was now attributed to Tommy. I felt like I could do the whole song in one shot, and then maybe cram in another angry girl song.

"You know, I can go get either one of them right now, if you wish..." I stated icily. Okay, so some of my frustration might be leaking through. Oops.

"No, **no**, that won't..." Kwest muttered franticly, practically grabbing me to ensure that I didn't tell one of them. Honestly... Like I wanted to talk to either of them... Especially Tommy. He's hiding from me, for crying out loud!

Bet I could find him if I wanted, though. Ten bucks says he's out in the alley. He was out there... But he was recording, actually, a totally different song at this time. But I'll get to that later.

Portia interrupted Kwest, rolling her eyes at him. "Sorry about him, Jude," She said, apologizing for him. Kwest smiled faintly, wrapping an arm around her. Portia just kept on smiling.

I spouted the first thing which came to my mind. "Which one? Kwest or your ex?" I asked, snorting. Portia chuckled and Kwest cracked a smile.

"Funny," He said, finally relaxing around me. But I wasn't going to make things that easy for him. I was far from feeling free and easy.

"I didn't realize I was joking," I said coolly, wrapping my guitar strap across my chest and over my shoulder so my guitar was strapped to my back. I clutched the notebook to my stomach, crossing my arms over my chest. I wasn't smiling. I'm sure that standing there in my beat-up leather jacket, ripped jeans, tight red tank-top, and combat boots, hair stick-straight and shock red, standing on end... I was pretty intimidating. Especially since I was so insanely angry.

"Damn, Tom _really_ pissed you off good," Kwest mumbled disapprovingly. Good, so he was on my side about this whole thing... Not that he had much choice, as I was here and angry enough to hit him... To hit any male, actually. So I decided to be just the slightest bit kinder and let the comment slide.

I nodded tiredly. "Yeah, it's like some massive conspiracy with guys today..." I sighed bitterly. Yeah... Pissing me off and hurting me. Jamie and Tom hurt me... Travis and Tommy pissed me off. It's a regular trend... I glanced around the room momentarily. Tommy wasn't here, and he knew we were supposed to be recording. Not that I was really surprised, but he promised!

Why did I believe him? I'm smarter than that!

"You **know**, Tom was supposed to be in here to record..." I drawled, still glancing around the room. I paused, rolling my eyes. "But I _guess_ he's wussed out. _Typical_ Tommy." I wanted to play my guitar _so_ bad. You have no idea.

"Tommy doesn't wuss out," Kwest retorted argumentatively. I rolled my eyes at him. What do you know? Yeah, maybe he doesn't wuss out of fights... But he does wuss out of work, and talking with me...

"Do you know Tommy? He **always** takes the easy way out," I said assuredly. I exchanged looks with Portia. She nodded, putting a hand on Kwest's shoulder. After all, she would know better than anyone else...

"It's **true**, you know," Portia pointed out, obviously speaking from experience... He took the easy way out on their marriage, didn't he?

"You _would_ know," I mumbled under my breath, sighing. Long day. Such a long day. I really wanted to collapse and go to sleep... I was so tired. But I couldn't. I had Under the Mike. And a bunch of recording to do.

Sinking into the chair Kwest had only minutes ago violently vacated, I spoke up a bit, directing my question at both of them, "So, how long has this been going on?"

Kwest and Portia exchanged looks, frowning. Apparently, neither of them knew.

"Aren't we supposed to be recording?" Kwest muttered, changing the subject. I rolled my eyes at him. Nice try, Kwest... But why don't you just tell me you don't know the answer? But yeah... We are supposed to be recording. Keyword being **supposed** to be recording. Not actually.

I rolled my eyes again, tapping my watch, an excuse fully ready. I just wanted a little break. We were definitely going to record. Definitely. Dirty Old Man. Producer or not. "Can't do that until we wait at least ten minutes for Tom to show up. So far I've counted four and a half minutes. We have five and a half to fill," I replied smoothly, glancing down at my watch before kicking the ground, setting myself and my chair into a spin.

Spiraling in, just like the song.

Kwest shot me a dirty look. What?

You know you can't fault my reasons, Kwest. We have to wait for Tommy.

Even if he isn't coming.

Kwest raised an eyebrow, approaching me, while Portia flounced down unto the couch. Obviously, she felt unwelcome. I couldn't blame her. I didn't exactly want to talk about Tommy either. "You _never_ call Tommy Tom. What's wrong?" Kwest asked softly, putting a hand on my shoulder. Here he was, once again, reminding me of Tommy, the ONE person I wanted more than anything to just forget.

So, Kwest, you really wanna know what's wrong?

Everything. Everything's wrong.

There isn't one damn, freaking thing in my life that's going right! My parents are Splitsville, or aren't they? I don't even know! No one tells me these things! They don't trust me at all anymore... They're completely paranoid whackoes! And they think I'm with Tommy. Still. So I'm grounded until I turn eighteen. Yeah, that's at least a year! More!

And all I did was break Sadie's nose! I mean, seriously! It's not fair!

Oh, yeah... Sadie hates me. But, at least she's not talking to me! I mean, I am paying for her college! And what do I get? Not even one thank-you. Bitch.

I've sort of taken to avoiding the whole clan, you see...

And... School life is hell. Everyone's whispering about me in the halls... the caf... CLASS! My Media teacher finds it fun to encroach on my legal rights to privacy, my Music teacher (of course, it has to be the two classes which should be easiest for me... _Should_ be) hates me for **no** reason, yet somehow _still_ manages to hit on me! And, despite my best efforts and nervous breakdowns, the whole **damn** place thinks I'm _sleeping_ with Tom!

I mean, my car was keyed. My locker was spraypainted. I got **hate** mail! At school!

For crying out loud, they're supposed to _protect_ me there!

That crap's complicated by the fact that my two best friends in the world, Jamie and Kat, are dating and NOT TALKING TO ME. Oh, and they don't **believe** me about the Tommy fiasco! Honestly, and _I've_ changed! No wonder I'm not so trustful with my friends!

Right now, Joan, who I've known for about a day and a half, is my only friend in the world. How sad is that? I mean, really!

Well, and there's some teachers who are nice to me... But I've skipped History two days in a row! Yikes.

And Georgia's like in love with Darius or something... So I don't even have the security of the label to fall back on because I'm constantly worrying she's gonna sell to him... He's made it clear (crystal) that he wants it... And maybe her. They were totally flirting like mad. Talk about your unholy unions!

My lawyer also hates me, and, like her son, has taken to NOT doing her job. I mean, at least she's got a reason... What reason could Travis possibly have? I mean, really! He doesn't know me, and he certainly doesn't know Tommy! Well, er, at least, um, I think so...

Bet Tommy stole his girlfriend.

I know the feeling, trust me, I do.

Oh, yeah... I've made no progress on this album. None whatsoever. I've written some songs... But "Minor Liaison" has no tune and I FRIGGIN' hate it! And the others... No melody... No spell-check. No nothing. And Tom hates "Dirty Old Man". Let's face it... I'm never gonna sing "Over Me" that well again...

So what choices does that leave me?

Can we say that Jude's CD is gonna have a lot of covers? I think we can and it will...

Tommy avoids me like the plague... Kwest is frenching Portia... I'm never going to get a thing recorded! My voice can only carry the thing so far... I need a producer and an engineer to make it work!

Georgia's gonna get pissed when she finds out I haven't done anything. She needs the money or she'll sell to Darius! Who will bling up the place, and not in a good way! Can you say booty girls around every corner?

He'll make me dress like a wh... Like Sadie! I don't even like showing my stomach!

But things with Tommy? They're the worst. Worst. Things have gone from bad to worse to... worst. Things can and will get worse. It's a nightmare. I told him we had sex and now he's flipping.

And he's with Sadie! Sadie! I love the stupid idiot, and he's with my sister! ...Every night. He's...

Damnit! Now I have pictures of them screwing ingrained in my poor, naïve, innocent little brain. Poor Jude. Tommy's gonna get you...

Oh, too late! He already got you!

That little punk-ass wizard suckered you in with his stupid love spell and you, of course, fell for it. His stupid Michaelangelo good looks and his damn obnoxious charmingness. Argh. He's the Prince of Darkness... Evil boy with the black iron crown! He's no prince.

Not my Blue-Eyed Rock 'n' Roll Prince.

No, not anymore.

He's Sexy Sades' whore.

Oh, look, I rhymed. Fun. How on Earth do I love that backasswards brainless caveman? How can you love someone who doesn't have a heart?

I think we all know the answer to that question.

Painfully.

Just like I did with Tommy, I jerked out of Kwest's grip. I looked away defiantly, staring at the oh-so fascinating ground. Scintillating. "Everyone _else_ does... So why not me?" I retorted bitterly, answering his question with another question.

Kwest shook his head, starting to pace. Obviously, something was very, very wrong. With me and Tommy... And, of course, the perceptive Kwest had just discovered this. Wow, my coworkers are so bright! He put a hand on his chin and thought for a long while about it before he finally found his answer... A weak one at that. It was all highly circumstantial. "Because you just **don't**..."

Wow, Kwest, your cleverness amazes me. Honestly, what the hell does Portia see in you? You have little to no brains, so it can't be that... But, then again... The woman dated Tommy, King of the Idiots. Compared to him, you must look like a prize.

But you're still such a dumbass!

Bet he's good in bed. That **has** to be it. Bet that's why she was with Tommy too. Because we both know he's not good for anything else. Except money. Goodfornothing cheating skank of a man.

"It's like how he calls you _girl_ all the time. A fact of life... A tradition," Kwest struggled to explain it in words. I sorta got what he meant... But it had absolutely no merit. Who was he to talk about me and Tommy like he knew everything about us and our relationship?

Uh... Kwest, yours and Tommy's engineer. Tommy's best friend. Your friend. Witness to most of your fights and their aftermath. Tommy's advice buddy.

But how can he give good advice, honestly! I mean, the guy is a total idiot. A tool. Portia is clearly the brains of the operation...

Hey, wait, Kwest is the guy! He's the dumbass who told the Grand Pooba of Dumbasses, a.k.a. Tommy, to date my slutty sister instead of me! Kwest is the asshole I have to thank for the Sadie/Tommy arrangement. Bet he has an abnormal fondness for Barbies.

Bet he'd choose Sadie.

Yeah, Kwest, you're _so_ moral. You talk about me like a piece of meat! "Hitting that" in a few years! Barbarian chauvinist pig! You know, what, have you thought of doing me too or something? Do you look at me like that too! You know, in that same way that Tommy's not supposed to? Did you when I was just a kid at fifteen?

Did you, huh? **Did** you!

Yeah, Kwest, you're so **moral**. For crying out loud, you're sleeping with your best friend's ex-wife! How the hell do you **justify** that?

Do you justify _that_ with the same mouth that argued on Sadie's behalf?

Sadie, over me? Me, your friend? I spend hours around you, and this is what I get?

Brother, I just can't wait until Tommy hears about _your_ dirty little secret. I just **can't** wait. I might have to tell him myself.

Too bad, too bad.

You are so hosed... Because if **Tommy** doesn't kill you... _Darius_ most certainly will.

I almost feel bad for you. Almost... but not quite.

What can I say? I want retribution, I want vengeance, I want revenge.

I rose from my chair furiously. It was the mention of Tommy's nickname for me that made me snap completely. I'm not his girl. I'm a girl. And he likes to remind me of that. To remind himself of that.

Jude... girl. Oh, yeah, that's right! I can't touch her... I can't look at her that way... 'Cause she's a minor!

She's too young. And I'm too old. I'm her producer, her co-writer, her boss... She trusts me. Better not blow it.

Girl. I'm an authority figure. Me! Authority, not come-hit-on-me. Boss. I'm in charge... Oh, girl!

It's even a boybander thing. They always use _girl_ in their songs. I want you **back**, _girl_... You're gonna be **mine**, _girl_... I love you, _girl_. _Babygirl_, come back to me, come back to **me**.

It's so damn _unoriginal_. Just like him. The played-out washed-up has-been LOSER King of Broody Teen Boybanders.

Girl. She's out of _bounds_, and I'm not **That** Guy! Girl. Do you think I'm _okay_ with the fact that the **coolest** chick I know, the one who _gets_ me the **most**, is only _six_-**teen**? No, but... Girl, girl, girl.

A brilliantly masterminded conspiracy to bring up my age. It's a little less come-hither than Baby, you know... But that's what I am, right? Some little kid. Baby. That's what he sees me as.

Girl. To rein in his desires. _Girl_... Hold back, Tommy, **hold** back. 'Cause I'm just a _girl_. Right?

Girl, girl, girl, I wanna hurl!

Girl.

I hate the word, as I hate my life, all Tommy's crap, and you, Kwest! If someone else says girl... I'm gonna snap and go FREAKING homicidal on them. And I'm not joking!

I threw the chair across the room with a flick of my wrist. I felt like the Hulk. Wow. Jude mad. Rawr! "Well, I **do**! Facts become _fakes_, and traditions **change**... He doesn't call me _girl_ anymore! I don't call him **Tommy** anymore! It's a trade-off... The personal for the professional. This is **just** business," I snapped venomously, like a poisonous snake ready to spring and kill. Which, I, of course, was.

Kwest backed up a little, slightly afraid for his life. He had the right to be. I wanted to dismember someone and good old Tom-Tom's flown the coop. Portia looked rather worried for her lover. Tough luck, sister. Stupidity is its own reward. There was a long pause. My chest heaved as I panted angrily, all charged up and standing on end.

"If it's just business, then why are your eyes red?" Kwest countered smugly. I glared daggers at him and the smile promptly fell off his face.

Should I answer?

I sighed, running a hand through my pretty ruby-red hair.

"Because it wasn't always just business," I answered jadedly, blowing out my bangs. Portia frowned, getting up and walking over to me.

"Oh, you poor thing," She exclaimed, a sad, familiar look in her eyes. I'd seen it in my own every time I cried over the commitment phobic loser. "Come here. You need a hug... It's been one of those days, I can tell." Portia said gently, opening her arms for me. Darius had a good sister. I can see why he's so protective.

She's so friendly... And nice. And how could I ever hate her? Even if she married Tommy, who I love... When he's obviously broken both of our hearts! So I walked over and hugged her back. It was nice that there was someone who understood... Who _really_ understood what I was going through, because she'd felt it too.

"You got that right, Portia," I mumbled, wanting once again to just collapse. I felt so tired. I was practically clinging to her for dear life, like she was a life preserver or something. Oddly enough, I felt at peace.

"This is like one of Tom's fantasies come to life," Kwest remarked glibly from behind us. That just shot the peace to hell. I bet I wasn't supposed to hear that.

We broke apart, both glaring icily at Kwest, who gulped nervously. This idiot is my engineer? It's a wonder he even gets **that** job done. I'm gonna need a new one too! One I don't wanna throttle. A new producer and a new engineer.

Because I'm going to murder the two bumbling fools I'm currently stuck with.

Georgia's name is Georgia Bevans, right? Just checking... Because she seems to run this place the same way George Bush runs America... They do, after all, have the same initials... Only, I like Georgia. Except for the Darius thing, which is completely wrong and effed up.

"Don't make me smack you too," I hissed ferociously, reaching out for him threateningly. Kwest backed up and laid off with the taunts right there... predictably. Suddenly there was a thrashing sound at the door. Kwest peered out and confirmed our worst fear. It was Tommy.

Kwest cursed under his breath, but Tommy struggled a bit more with the door. Luckily, he was so upset he kept screwing it up. Portia and I had time to jump in the closet and hide. It was a tight fit, but it was better than seeing Tommy.

Anything, right now, was better than that. You see, Kwest isn't like Tommy. He wouldn't even cross the line in the first place. Not even a thought out of line. The guy has total control. I mean, Tommy might look like he's got it all under wraps, but that's something that takes him years to do... Kwest, he's the real deal. He was born calm.

Kwest would avoid the line altogether, because he's an adult. Tommy's still my age. He's screwed up, so here he is, not only crossing the line, but erasing it and redrawing it... He's trying to balance right now on the middle, but he's doing a half-assed job of it. Not really surprising.

Hurricane Tommy rolled in the studio, cursing worse than a sailor. I'd never heard him swear like that.

"**Somebody** get me a drink!" He snapped finally, amidst a fluid stream of obscenities. He was obviously ransacking the place and not thinking clearly. Kwest, however, was.

"Tom, isn't it a bit early?" He pointed out smoothly, probably gesturing to the clock. Yeah... It was about three in the afternoon... But as they say, it's five o'clock somewhere! Tommy possessed this mentality.

"**No**!" He screeched sharply, continuing to tear the place upside-down. Obviously, I'd driven him to drink. Again. Bad, bad, bad, naughty Jude.

"Where the hell is that drink?" Tommy muttered angrily, cursing all the more. Kwest somehow managed to cool him down, because we stopped hearing crashing noises. Good for Kwest. Georgia would be proud.

"T, this isn't a bar... It's a studio," Kwest stated disapprovingly. Good point. There was a bar though. Of course. Methinks it's in Tom's office. But I dunno... I haven't been in there much. Lucky me.

While still listening to their conversation with one ear, I started one of my own with Portia.

"Seeing Tommy that day at the party... It just made me feel so lonely. I missed him... I missed having someone, you know?" Portia began hesitantly, a slightly sad, nostalgic look in her eyes. She was being serious and honest.

Yeah, Portia. I know. I know the feeling.

That reminds me of Tim. I miss him... I... I should call him, right? I want to see him sooner. Wednesday seems so far away.

Well, duh, that's because it is!

"A fully _stocked_ studio, and you know it," Tom muttered defensively. Portia's comment coincided perfectly with Tommy chucking and breaking something.

"Now why can't one of these **damn** interns go get me a drink! Is it _really_ so hard to get a bottle, a glass, and pour?" Tommy bellowed, sounding as furious as I had before. He too was frustrated by Kwest's sheer, utter incompetence. What, you can't even pour the man a drink?

Portia winced. Never knew Tommy was violent. I paused before speaking to her. "Okay, I see where you're going with this... But how does Kwest fit in?" I asked quietly, just as Tommy sent another fragile object flying. It smashed on the floor with a tinkling sound akin to that of my broken heart when he hit it with a sledgehammer earlier and broke the already busted-up pieces.

Asshole.

Portia winced again. Was he like this when they were married? If so, no wonder she divorced his sorry ass. Or did he divorce her? I just don't know.

She spoke in a whisper, obviously worried... Though whether for her ex or her new beau was anyone's guess. Especially mine.

"My family wasn't rich growing up. We lived in a bad neighborhood. It was just mom, Darius, Julius, Cambria, Regina, and me. My mother was big into Greco-Roman stuff... Hence the names. Darius' middle name is Zeus. Needless to say, it's given him a bit of a god complex. Anyways, Kwest and his mom lived next door to us..." She was rambling nervously, obviously worried about Kwest. I couldn't blame her.

I'd heard about some of the guys he'd beaten up.

Justin Timberlake's face was never quite the same again.

Yeah, that's why they're called Boyz Attack! 'Cause half of them were from the hood, and, well, they just beat the crap out of the Backstreet Boys after one of their first concerts... Tommy especially. Tabloid glory. They really pushed the bad boy image to the extreme there. It's given him issues.

"No, in fact, it's so easy that **you** can do it... Why the drink, anyways?" Kwest replied, sarcastically but still congenially, as if he was chatting to a perfectly sane person about the weather, patting Tommy on the back in a manly fashion (I'm assuming). It was either that or spanking him... We heard patting noises. And I don't think Tommy's A. Into Kwest., or B. Into Kinky stuff like that.

Portia exhaled, relieved. Kwest was fiine. Ew, not in that way, sicko! He's like a gazillion light years older than me! I mean safe. From Tommy's deadly wrath.

"Why else?" Bemoaned Tommy, finally calming down, head in his hands. He just sounded so... dead. So not Tommy. Like I'd killed his soul or his favorite stuffed animal or something.

"Gotcha. _Jude_," Kwest drawled knowingly. I winced, as I'm sure did Tommy, at the mention of my name.

Portia gazed at me searchingly, but said not a word. Lucky me. Boy, did I have some serious explaining to do. We held our breath there, waiting for Tommy's answer.

"Yeah," Simple admittance. How very... unlike Tommy. But it didn't taste so sweet. He sounded so heavy, so serious... Like I'd broken him or something.

There was an awkward moment, both outside and inside the closet. I took advantage of the moment to lean over and quietly ask Portia a question. "Is Kwest his real name?" I mumbled, jerking a thumb towards the door. Portia shook her head, listening intently.

"No... His real name is Kyle," Portia answered finally, shaking her head. She continued listening for... for what, exactly? Sounds of violence? Tommy breaking things again? Kwest getting the crap kicked out of him? You know, I think I want to do that last one. Sounds fun.

Meh. I've got a lot of pent-up aggression, especially towards men... Just one little kick, I promise!

Okay, so I'm lying. But seriously... His name is Kyle? "Kyle... His name is Kyle?" I questioned, incredulous. He doesn't look like a Kyle. Kyle's so mellow. Kwest looks like... A Qua-shon or something. Shon. I like the sound of that. It's very forceful. Something like that. What's Kwest's last name, by the way? Why do I know so many people who seem to be lacking names?

Like Spiederman. And Kwest. And Shay... Portia rolled her eyes at me and was about to speak when, suddenly, we heard Kwest's voice. Or should I say Kyle's? Both of us jumped. And it hurt! I hit my head on one of the little coat hook-thingies.

"So how bad are we talking here?" Kwest mused aloud. This was followed by some scraping noises, which I assumed to be... a chair? Yeah, Kwest, buddy, it's bad. You have no idea how bad. Bad. Very bad.

And even worse for him, since he thinks he actually slept with me.

"Malt liquor bad. I'm talking 100 proof," Tommy stated wearily. He sounded desperate. Jeez, what exactly did I do to him? He started ransacking drawers and cabinets again. Silently, I prayed that Kwest would make sure he didn't open it... Then I would have to do even more explaining. Ugh. Portia's eyes widened a little, her eyebrows shooting up with surprise. Yeah, I mean, I think the liquor's a bit much too.

Yeah... I mean, malt liquor? What is the boy trying to do? Kill himself? Kwest made a tsking sound, and Portia frowned.

"**Damn**. But you can't get wasted here..." Kwest remarked, sounding surprised. Yes, Kwest, Tommy has seriously screwed things up. It is screwed up. Who am I kidding? Things with us have been screwed up since I started mouthing off about "Little Tommy Q." They were never normal to begin with. Whoa... Wait, Tommy wants to get wasted?

The guy's making it with my sister and the one thing he promised me was that he would show up in the studio. The one thing he promised me. I can understand him needing a little time to deal with things. I can understand him avoiding the studio. I can even understand him having a drink or two.

But getting drunk off his ass? At work? When he's supposed to be working? _Hell_ no. Not if **I **have anything to say about it! Getting himself drunk in my presence is what started this mess! DUMBASS. I am going to go out there and beat his sorry ass down.

Wow. I actually agree with Kwest. Wow.

The world is clearly coming to an end.

Portia has this weird look on her face. Her face is all screwed up and she's frowning. I guess she's been around Drunk!Tommy before herself. Well, duh, Jude. She was with him during his ultra-screwed-up end-of-Boyz-Attack!-days. Probably some of the darkest days in his life. He was probably drinking a lot then, right?

There's a lot I don't know about Tommy. A lot a lot.

"I can do _whatever_ I want and right now, I'm gonna **die** if I don't get some liquor in me pronto!" Tommy groaned, already sounding half-drunk. He threw something again, and Portia's breathing sped up. It suddenly occurred to me that she really cared about Kwest. She was so worried about him... That's so, so reassuring. I guess. Oh, I don't know!

That's Tommy's motto, you know. I can do whatever and _whoever_ I want. Like Sadie-kins. She might be my sister, but we are obviously not kin. And not kindred!

Okay, Jude, honey, suppress the Sadie rage. You know what... That's a cool word. All the vowels. Sadierage. SadieRage. Sadirage. Sadyrage. Man, I am ALL over the place today! I must have a chemical or hormonal imbalance or something. I'm a teenager... I'm just hormonal. I think. Let's uh, let's hope that's it. Either that or I've finally lost what little mind I had left.

"You really love Kwest, don't you?" I whispered, staring at her. Portia leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes for a minute. I worried a bit for her own sanity for a minute. But then a wide smile spread across her face and she opened her eyes brightly, leaning in a little.

"I ought to..." Here she paused, leaning in conspiratorially, a mischievous look in her eyes. "I _married_ him," Portia confessed, giggling lightly. For about the millionth time all day, I was floored. I gaped at her, jaw slack (much like Tommy had earlier), eyes wide, eyebrows buried so far up in my hair. It was so silent in that closet you could hear a pin drop.

That and Portia chuckling away... but only just barely. I heard my name mentioned outside, and immediately jerked to attention.

"Where's Jude?" Tommy asked casually. Portia and I exchanged nervous glances. My heart was in my throat. I stared at Portia, still shocked. She married Kwest? How? And when?

Ooh, boy, is Darius gonna be pissed! I mean, he doesn't even know. He would've given her away, right? You know, I bet he didn't get to do that when she got married to Tommy either... Uh, at least she's older, right? Not that that's much consolation, really, but hey, what's a girl to do? And, how, exactly, can she be married to him? I realize she's known him for a while, but they can't have been married for very long... How long have they been married? It can't even be a year. I mean... It's so weird.

Kwest doesn't wear a wedding ring. And Portia's not either... It's just odd to hear that they're suddenly married, you know? I just don't picture them all happy and cohabit-y. Do they live together? I mean, I thought she lived with Darius... And Tommy is Kwest's best friend. I think he would've noticed the presence of a girl in Kwest's apartment. How do they make this all work? They can't exactly see each other often... Kwest practically lives at the studio, after all... Well, I don't know... Maybe he calls her for a booty call when Tommy and I are passed out on the couch.

"Bathroom," Kwest responded, not missing a beat. Smooth, Kwest, smooth. I heaved a sigh of relief, almost groaning when my bangs flew up in the air. Portia snorted, and I fixed her with a glare. Real ladylike of you, Mrs... Uh, Mrs. Kwest. Man, that sounds weird.

Tommy sounded awful relieved too. Not that I could blame him... I didn't exactly want to see him either. Unless I got to beat him up or something. Or, at the very least, to stop him from getting wasted.

"How long?" I inquired hoarsely. My voice was sore from crying and singing a little too hard... still. Portia smiled dreamily, staring out into space, thinking.

It seemed to be ages before she answered. "Oh, since... Since after the party, pretty much," Portia whispered. Again, I gaped at her. Can you say rushed into marriage? Jeez, is this the way she hooked up with Tommy too? Actually, I think it was. Remember, they were on tour...

People do crazy things on tour.

Tommy, for instance, did Portia.

Okay... Sorry. I'm trying to stop. Really, I am. I gaped at her, suddenly finding the words.

"Oops, you _did_ it again," I muttered sarcastically, leaning heavily against the wall, which groaned annoyingly. Portia fixed me with a severe glare. I rolled my eyes at her and snorted. Suddenly, the closet was getting a bit too small for the both of us.

"My marriage to Kwest has already lasted ten times as long as my marriage to Tommy! If not more," She retorted sharply. I nodded to myself... It was vaguely impressive when you put it that way. But I still had more questions.

"How do you make it work? Can you even live together? How do you manage to keep this up without letting anyone know? You... You don't even wear wedding rings..." I blurted, feeling the questions just slip out. Portia at first frowned, then smiled slightly. She shrugged.

"We don't live together... I live over at Darius' mansion... To keep an eye on things, both when he's there and when he's not. Kwest is at the studio so much... It's hard. We... we have a place just down the street. It's nothing much, really... Just a place to stay, not a place to live. Frankly, I don't know how we've managed to keep it a secret so long. I guess it's because we don't really see each other all the time, but we talk on the phone or leave messages every day..." Portia explained carefully. Then she smiled widely, as only a woman head-over-heels in love can, and pulled a long chain out of her shirt. A nice, shiny ring hung on it.

They must pay Kwest a lot more than I thought. That is one big diamond. I suppose it's modest... But it's still big. They both have very good taste, I must say. It occurred to me that I'd seen a similar chain around Kwest's neck. Aww. Precious. They match. I smiled back at her. It was proof that love did turn out okay for people... Well, sort of okay, I suppose. After all, they were hiding this from everyone.

"Well then, you'd better tell Darius soon. Tommy's got Sadie now... Besides, if he gets pissed at Kwest, then he's a hypocrite. After all, how many girlfriends has he stolen? And you're not even married anymore!" I pointed out, scowling... Not at her. At the general idea of Tommy possibly or probably disapproving. If he did, I'd be sure to call him on it. Portia laughed, then frowned slightly.

"Sadie?" She pondered, perplexed. I nodded grimly.

"Yes," I stated plainly, sighing heavily. I ran a hand through my hair, staring at the darkness. I paused for a moment. "My _sister_."

Portia nodded understanding, frowning faintly. "Yeah. That sounds like Tom," She said in a low voice that screamed disapproval and some bitterness. I somehow managed to laugh.

"What, he do one of your sisters?" I remarked jokingly. Portia scowled, clearly not amused. Obviously Tommy was a bit of a touchy subject with her. She seemed so... cool... with the divorce. But I guess that he broke her heart too.

She nodded in the same fashion as I did, holding up two fingers. "You could say that..." She muttered scathingly. Re-OW. Yikes, Tom. You better watch out. Wait... He's slept with all three of Darius' sisters... Wait... Who's Shay's mom? Let's uh... Let's hope that... You know, if he did... Then I totally see why Shay sorta completely hates Tommy.

Uh, how exactly do I put this? And, jeez... When was Tommy with all of them? He must have a lot of free time. I opened my mouth to ask these questions, but once again, I was interrupted.

"T, man, where you been?" Kwest asked concernedly. Damn good question. If Portia wasn't in the closet, we'd be recording.

Tommy probably shrugged... Something cool like that. But he answered Kwest without hesitation... There was barely even a pause between the question and answer. "I wrote a song. Recorded it. Mixed it. What can I say? Inspiration hit me like a bolt of lightning!" Tommy declared rather boldly... and rather psychotically, as the sound of breaking objects once again followed it.

Seriously, how were there still breakable things in there? I mean, really! Please, get the sharp objects away from Insane!Tommy. Georgia's going to be so pissed.

Kwest, I imagined, was giving Tommy a wary look. And, hopefully, backing far, far, far away. Portia was clutching her necklace and biting her lip anxiously. Poor thing. I understood her worry. "Okay, Tom, I think you've been outside too much. Maybe lightning really did hit you..." Kwest said, attempting to placate Tommy. Because throwing crap will make Georgia pissed and he doesn't want to face her wrath. He has to at least try to stop Tommy.

Even though the last guy who tried was in a coma for a day. Thank God he came out of it.

Tommy could've been up for murder. Or assault.

This is impressive, though. Tommy broke his self-imposed retirement (not that he wasn't going to work on the CD anyways)... for me. Yikes. There were a few more crashes as Tom knocked over what sounded like a rack of CDs. Let's just hope he didn't stomp on any of them. Let's just hide this little incident of Tommy smashing things from G. She's got enough to worry about, what with money and Darius wanting to buy... Tommy let out a deep sigh.

"I can't do this right now."

Everyone except Tommy rolled their eyes at precisely the same moment. No duh.

Kwest voiced my thoughts. "_Wow_, Tom. I couldn't tell," He mumbled sarcastically. Tommy groaned, pacing around the room (we heard a few crunches on the ground), probably throwing his hands in the air or something equally stupid. Of course, he's the King of Stupidity, so everything he does is stupid and flawed and beautiful... No, wait. He's doing Sadie. Ugh. Now I've got mental pictures again!

It hurts to think about that.

"I need to... to clear my head," Tommy muttered, sounding pained, as if he had a headache. Well, he was majorly hungover...

Once again, we all rolled our eyes (except for Idiot Boybander). Yeah. You do. Because you frickin' trashed my studio. Jerk.

"Yeah, man. You really do," Kwest advised, pushing Tommy towards the door, so he didn't suddenly start breaking anything else. Can't blame him.

"I **need** a smoke," Tommy grunted weakly, before leaving. The door slammed behind him with surprising force, and, as soon as it shut, Portia and I bolted out of that tiny closet. Good thing I'm not claustrophobic, right? Jamie is... Big time. He can't even go up on elevators. You have to practically hold his hand, I swear! Baby...

I'm gonna apologize. On Monday... I swear.

The time just sort of dragged on from then on. I mean that in a good way. We had no time, really... But it seemed like we had lots. Portia cleaned (the poor thing), while Kwest and I recorded... Hurricane Tommy just tore through the place... Racks of CDs crashed to the ground and out of order... chairs thrown half-way across the room, scattered. Tiny pieces of knickknacks covered the floor... And, somehow, she managed to clean it all up in less than an hour. Was she a maid in a past life or something, 'cause, damn, that was impressive!

Oh, you want to know what we recorded?

"Dirty Old Man".

As I said, screw Tommy.

No, Sadie, I wasn't talking to you.

It was cool... I played bass and back-up guitar myself, Kwest did the drums... Portia and I had to coax him into it... Though she kissed him a lot... And then I pointed out that he did the drums for "Frozen"... It's amazing how he gets all defensive when you say stuff like... Oh, so you'll do it for Tommy, but not for me!

Freaking hilarious when his wife walks in the room and hears that. Kwest turned pink. Hehe... Oh, and then Portia told me about his dreads. And She had a picture.

I laughed straight through his drum solo. He was not amused. He, however, was amused (literally bawling with laughter) when I started choking on my own spit and almost died laughing. It's a good way to go, though... The laughing part... Not the choking-on-my-own-spit thing. That would suck.

Anyways, Kwest mixed in the instruments, looking to me anxiously before doing anything else. "So, I slip this one to Tommy for extra producing, right?" Kwest posed, obviously assuming I would say yes. I didn't. I shook my head no frantically.

"No! He hates this song. He officially banned it from my album. If he finds out that we recorded it, he'll kill us both," I stated, glancing around nervously, as if our dear friend was lurking around a corner. Dear friend. There's a laugh. We were never just friends.

"So you singing this is like a protest against Tommy?" Kwest asked bluntly. A devilish smirk crossed my face, reminding me of Mr. Quinn, annoyingly enough. Only evil people smirk. Like Shay, and Eden, and Sadie, and Quinn, and Tommy... Ugh. That's my short list of enemies. The short list. The bigger one includes every paparazzi and tabloid mag in the country.

I shrugged, still smirking. "His fault for not being here," I countered coolly, hands on my hips. Kwest nodded, for once agreeing with me. Again, the world is ending!

"Can't argue with you there. It's getting pretty bad. We ought to talk to Georgia," He remarked, frowning slightly, obviously worried about Tommy. He was right, of course. But we both knew that neither of us was going to Georgia. Both too damn loyal for that.

Besides, she would be sure to ask me what had happened... My worst nightmare come to life at this moment.

Decisively, I reached over and took out the CD, placing it in the copier. I pulled one of the CDs out, grabbed a marker, and wrote "Dirty Old Man" by Jude Harrison on it. Then, on a napkin Tommy's wrath had just barely missed, I jotted a quick note. I placed the CD in one of our jewel cases, along with the napkin, handing it to Portia. "I'm just going to let the music speak for itself this time. No fancy producing tricks," I said determinately, patting the case.

Kwest gave me a knowing look. "And no fancy _producer's_ tricks."

I nodded, grinning. "Exactly."

We agreed that Portia was going to take it to a radio station that was "my style", you know, sort of alternative? Being Darius Mills' sister, she had a lot of sway in the music industry. Besides, this time there was no boyband pop crap added to my tracks. It was hard, rough, real, unpolished. Raw. Remember, what Tommy loves about me?

I get more raw by the day.

We barely managed to sneak her out... In fact, I ran into Chaz, and Kwest had to sneak Portia past him... It turns out he, too, was there to work on a new album. I wonder how Tommy's gonna feel about this development?

Oh, who am I kidding? He'll probably be producing him.

Anyways, we talked idly for a few minutes, and we were just about to get to the juicy stuff... You know, Tommy in Boyz Attack! Embarrassing moments, songs, crushes, things like that.

And guess which ghost came back to life? Come on, guess!

Yeah, that's right.

Speak of the Devil, and he comes... Yeah, Tommy.

"Jude! We've got a meeting, now!"

I didn't even look at him. I merely rolled my eyes and ignored him. It is fair, after all... It's what he does to me. Tommy didn't appreciate it. See! Now you know how it feels!

He gritted his teeth and spoke louder.

"_Hello_! Space-Cadet Jude! Meeting!"

I rolled my eyes again, not looking at him. "You know, _Caveman_, I only talk to people who talk to me in complete sentences..." I retorted, trying once again to resume my oh-so rudely interrupted conversation.

Tommy tapped me hard on the shoulder, raising his voice. He sounded angry. Well, well... That's just too bad. Isn't it?

"Jude, stop acting like a **kid** about this! We have a meeting to go to!"

He sounded more desperate. Pity.

My eyes narrowed at his words. It was the kid thing. Ugh. Kid. Almost as bad as...

"**Newsflash**, Tom, I _am_ a kid! Or don't you _remember_? I mean, that is what you keep spouting back at me, so why do you sound so surprised?" I taunted, losing a bit of my own cool. My voice rose involuntarily. I sighed, irritated, crossing my legs. Tommy bristled at the obvious reminder.

"Jeez, Jude, get _over_ it!" Tommy snapped venomously. I finally turned to face him at this, cocking an eyebrow. Oh, no... You didn't.

But you did, right, Tom? Of course you did.

You always do what you shouldn't. Why is now any different?

"_You're_ telling **me** to get over it? Well, maybe _you_ ought to get over it! You get jealous every time I **talk** to another guy! And, for crying out loud, Quincy, you're dating my sister, so why the hell don't you **act** like it instead of bitching at me all the time!" I snarled viciously. I knew then that all chances of talking to Chaz, a normal person, for a boybander, that is, were ruined. Argh!

Can't I talk to someone who doesn't have all your issues, Quincy? Gah. Chaz was right calling you a prima donna! Everything always has to be you! You, you, you! I looked away... No more looking at him.

"Hey! **You're** the one who keeps hitting on me!" Tommy returned loudly. I fixed him with an icy glare, rising to my feet and getting all up in his turf. Oddly enough, the look in his eyes was very, very familiar. It sent a shiver down my spine... And not the good kind.

"And _you_ keep letting me," I hissed coolly, poking him hard in the chest. Well, can't argue against that, now can I?

Man, he smells like smoke. I'm going to choke on his carcinogenic fumes. If he kills me, I'm so dragging him down with me.

"You smell like a brothel..." I mumbled, coughing and waving my hands to freshen up the air... Walking languidly, I continued under my breath, but loud enough that he could obviously hear me, "... Not that I'm _surprised_."

Tommy scowled at me, crossing his arms over his chest. "What, Jude, that the best you got?" He countered sharply. Yeah, being a slut was actually an honor for a guy.

Bastard.

I snorted. "You're a walking venereal disease," I scoffed. Hmm, I think I might have a song about that... Well, I've definitely got one for Sexy Sades. One she'll never forget.

Tommy also snorted, leaning in, circling me and sneering. "Didn't stop _you_, now did it, girl?" He growled into my ear. I felt his breath against my cheek and my pulse involuntarily sped up. Tommy's smirk widened. He relished the effect he had on me. The effect he still had on me.

Bastard.

I slapped him then. Hard, across the face. It was partly the comment and partly the fact that he called me girl. I loathe that word. Tommy didn't look surprised like Jamie had.

That was probably because Tommy really, really deserved it. He was lucky I wasn't beating his sorry ass down.

"You can't keep using the fact that you're older than me as an **excuse** to be an _ass_, Tommy," I yelled back, feeling myself flush in anger. I didn't even look at him.

I was staring right at him, but not looking at him. Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Oh, here we go _again_..." He muttered to himself, throwing his hands in the air, grimacing almost violently. He shuddered.

I decided to take on a new tactic. "It's not like Sadie and I are the first sisters you've screwed over... I mean, if _Darius_ only knew the things you've done to his baby sisters..." I drawled threateningly. Tommy's eyes went wide, and I felt a victorious smirk appear on my face.

I wonder if he could take Darius.

Portia told me about it.

Cambria was just a one-night-stand sort of thing, but they tried going out for a week or two. Then they broke up and she got with his brother... Whose name Portia refused to tell me, despite the fact that Tommy was not in the room!

Apparently they had some big fight... And so now Tommy doesn't even like admitting the existence of said brother. Egotist.

This is why I was fishing for info from Chaz.

She was an tour thing. Vegas, and she was hangin' with them... They got drunk and Tommy proposed. He does the most interesting things while drunk. Like hit on me incessantly. They tried to make it work, but Tommy's a philandering ass at his best... And he was on tour the duration of the relationship.

Apparently it's a total drag touring with your boyfriend/girlfriend.

Go figure. I would've thought bliss over doom...

Oh, but the Regina story... That's the worst. She's Shay's mom, you know. How incest-y and wrong is that! No wonder Shay hated him. I would too... He had an affair with her when he was 18. Because apparently he nailed every Mills sister in the same year. Go figure. Anyways, he broke up her marriage. And they'd been married a while (Regina and Shay's dad)... Since Shay was born... 13 years. And Tommy broke that up. Except no one "knows" he did it... They just suspect. At least it was after Portia.

As I said, he's done a lot of crap to a lot of girls that I don't even know about. And I have a feeling I'm only just beginning to get down to it.

Yeah, Tommy was freaked, and he had the right to be. I was, after all, utterly serious about my threats.

Tommy turned to look at me, and I suddenly really looked at him. His hair was a mess... He was literally dripping wet. Like he'd been out in the alley. He had to be cold. And, though there was such... hate and rage clearly written all over his face, I found all the feelings I'd been trying to suppress rushing back. After every argument... Every fight... I still felt the same.

If my affection hadn't _grown_.

I'm seriously twisted.

All I wanted to do was... help him. So I said bye to Chaz and dragged Tommy to his office. One of those places I avoided like the plague. My heart had been broken in here, after all.

Of course, right now I can say that about half of G. Major.

And then I hunted down towels and clothes... He was about to change, but I was still sorta looking. Talk about embarrassing! I had to turn around... It was just so weird. I mean, he didn't say anything and neither did I... And, suddenly, before I knew it, he'd tapped me on the shoulder, fully-dressed, and we were walking to the meeting.

"What's it about?" I questioned curiously.

Tommy frowned. His mouth was set in a grim line.

"_Us_..."

The way he said that word was so eerie... He said it with such finality... Us.

There wasn't an us anymore to talk about.

Nevertheless, it would prove to be an... _interesting_... meeting. To say the least.

Loren ;

Thanks for all the great reviews. They keep me going!

Oh, the lyrics to "Over Me"...

_I can't believe I let you get to me_

_Why can't I tear you out from under my skin_

_And why can't I admit that we're not meant to be_

_I try but I can't stop thinking about you_

_It seems you're here, you're there, you're everywhere_

_It's not right that you have such a hold over me_

_I hate that you exercise such control over me_

_I really wish that you would stop cajoling me_

_And right now I don't need you consoling me_

_What I need is for you to be finally over me_

_Why can't you see I just want you to let me be_

_All I really want is for you to set me free_

_Tell me why it is you won't leave my memory_

_Need to forget every last thing about you_

_It's past time for my intervention_

_Falling for you was not of my own election_

_I'm not a fan of this direction you've sent me spiraling in_

_It's not right that you have such a hold over me_

_I hate that you exercise such control over me_

_I really wish that you would stop cajoling me_

_And right now I don't need you consoling me_

_What I need is for you to be finally over me_

_Why can't you see I just want you to let me be_

_All I really want is for you to set me free_

_Why can't I just ditch you?_

_Like I've been wanting to do?_

_Why must I suffer for your crime?_

_Why am I the one who has to do the time?_

_When being stuck with you's another curse on my life_

_It's not right that you have such a hold over me_

_I hate that you exercise such control over me_

_I really wish that you would stop cajoling me_

_And right now I don't need you consoling me_

_What I need is for you to be finally over me_

_Why can't you see I just want you to let me be_

_All I really want is for you to set me free_

_I was too young, right? …Is that your excuse?_

_I trusted you tonight… Wrong move, wrong time_

_I fall from grace because I'm too young tonight…_

_Too young to be doing this and too young to be doing you_

_Get back away from me, nobody knew about it_

_Nobody knew about you and me_

_Nobody knew about you and me_

'K. I'm done. Love ya.

Reviews are appreciated... Very much. Insanely much.


	20. Quintessential

First of all, sorry it took me soo long to update... I was kinda blocked for a while and then the natives were restless on my other stuff... Anyways, here it is, and the next chapter for sure is going to be Under the Mike. Wow, it's only half as long as the last one... But I'm over 100,000 words with only twenty chapters! Yay!

Oh, let's see here... Am I the only one who finds it completely strange that Jude, Tommy, Eden, etc. all have the same last names as presidents? I mean... Harrison (There were two presidents named Harrison), Taylor, and Quincy (y'know, like John Quincy Adams?). And Jamie's last name is Andrews, and there were at least two presidents named Andrew, not to mention all the one's named James, which reminds me of Jamie's car...l ol... "It's all part of the fragile ecosystem I call Jamesica".

Ah... Tom's sexual encounters... Lol. Sadie's not gonna catch anything... For various reasons... The main of which being that Tommy's not as much of a slut as he was when he was eighteen (it is SO weird to say that). He did a lot of very mean and stupid things when he was eighteen (including some you have yet to read about). Seriously, and you thought Sadie was bad... He was a total trainwreck then. I mean, now, he's semi-trainwreck. But Boyz Attack! was breaking up, Darius wouldn't let him do "Frozen", things with his family were total crap... His life was pretty sucky. So he spent 'bout half the year drunk, the other half screwing people, the other half getting in fights with people, and then the rest of the time was spent touring with the Boyz and, uh, trying to record and write songs... I wrote a song about him being a slut... hopefully you'll get to see it in the fic somewhere... Anyways... LOL! The sorta Tommy/Chaz comment... Well, they did share a tour bus/hotel rooms, so he kinda tended to see Tommy go into his room with chicks. Actually, Chaz has a very important role in this chapter...

Nah, Chaz had his own problems (which I'll get into later when I have the Flashback chapter)... I might've hinted at them, but I can't remember. But since he and Tommy were like brothers back then, he has a lot more insight into Tommy than Portia (not romantically, but, you know, family relations and stuff). They're gonna have some interesting chats, actually. So you get to find out in this chapter a lot of what makes Tommy who he is... But Portia and Chaz are both going to be pretty important. Lol... Actually, I find it weird that no one's said anything about the fact that she lied to him.

He could go away to jail for a preeetty long time, though. I mean, he's in a position of trust, touching her inappropriately. That's at least 5 years right there. And when you add that he supposedly got her drunk... Well that's a few more there for A. Getting a minor drunk, B. Getting a minor drunk with the intention of, well, you know... And then, to crown it all off... You can't give consent when you're under the influence, so then he'd be charged with rape. It would be very ugly.

Actually, though, Tommy doesn't know if she was a virgin when she "slept" with him. She didn't tell him that she was... Actually, she told E.J. that she was a virgin a bagillion chapters back... But not Tommy. She's said a lot of things in this fic. She's said that she ISN'T sleeping with Tommy, hinted that she is, told Tommy himself that she did... Actually, he just kind of assumed that she was. Well, and then there's those nasty Shay rumors.

And he never asked her to not tell Sadie. She just jumped to conclusions, which Jude is so prone to doing...

Oh, and I don't own Instant Star or pretty much any of the songs mentioned in conjunction with Darius... It's kinda cool, actually. Those are songs that Wes "Maestro" Williams, the guy who plays Darius, really wrote... 'Cause, remember, he was the first Canadian rapper to have an album go gold and platinum? Pretty cool actually, so I found the lyrics and just had to use them. As usual, song lyrics/rap are in italics. And that's about it...

My computer's beeping now, so I'm gonna cut it off there.

* * *

Tommy and I breezed into the meeting. Okay, well, more like stalked, because neither of us was in the best of moods... Anyways, Darius, Georgia, and E.J. were all sitting down at the table already. Georgia and Darius were sitting next to each other, directly facing Tommy and me. They were sitting kind of close, but, well, it's a small table. E.J. was sitting on the left, at, well, I guess what you might call the head of the table, that is, if you were approaching it from the other side... Much like Kwest was.

In fact, Kwest snagged the seat opposite E.J. Does he want to die? I am not sitting next to Tom.

"Have a seat," Darius replied in a patronizing tone. I shook my head. I wasn't going to just give and and do what he says. He's my manager... Not my boss.

"I'm not sitting next to _Tom_," I stated, feeling the edge creep into my tone, unbidden. Next to me, He stiffened a little, clearly not amused. Well, gee, Tom, that makes two of us. Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Real mature, Jude," He muttered under his breath, placing his hands in his pockets, sneering. This time, I rolled my eyes. See, Tom, that's the whole problem. Like I'm going to let you get the upper hand. Come on.

"That's _exactly_ what you said last night," I hissed back, icily, scowling at him. Tommy paled drastically, eyes widening. What, Tom, like you're really surprised? I mean, I am lying to you and all... But I thought we'd already established that. Honestly. We exchanged glares, snapping to attention when Darius cleared his throat loudly.

"What, trouble in paradise?" Darius questioned mockingly, fixing me... Why me, of all people? ...with an expectant look. You think I know? Haha. That's hilarious. Me and Tommy? That's not paradise. It kind of feels like hell, actually. You know, with the him-dating-my-sister-thing... And other stuff.

I turned to Tommy, feeling an evil smirk spread across my face. "Well, Tommy **has** been smoking," I muttered. Darius frowned. Really, a singer, especially one on a comeback track like Tommy, has no business smoking. Oh, and, surprise, surprise, Darius doesn't look happy. Not that he's going to be managing Tommy again... Not after the whole Boyz Attack! Fiasco. Tom might want to look into that before his new single comes out.

Tommy scowled at me, snarling under his breath, "And _who_ made me?" Oh, of course... He's trying to pin this on me! Me! Jerk... I glared at him, which silenced him for the moment, as I was the one who had a reason to be mad here. And no, I don't care that I lied to him. He had it coming. It's what you get for being a total ass. Georgia rolled her eyes, reluctantly getting up and taking the seat across from Darius. At first, Darius frowned, but then he smiled at her.

Ugh. Get a room. No, wait... Eew.

Tommy and I both realized it at the same time. We both eyed the chair greedily, like circling hawks. I, however, was determined to get it first. There was no way I was just letting him have it. What Tom wants, he gets... Well, not now! The winning streak ends here!

This time I'm gonna get what I want. And he is just going to have to deal with it. Tough Luck, Little Tommy Q. Like a cat, I pounced for the chair. But Tommy jumped for it at the same time, and, of course, somehow, I wound sprawled across his lap. Naturally. "Oof."

I pushed myself up, pulling my torso off his thigh... Probably not an area I should've been touching. The look on his face was priceless... He was a bit dazed and everything. And, seeing that, I got an idea. I slid one of my hands up his shirt slowly, grabbing the collar hard and forcibly jerking it so that he fell off the chair with a loud thump, still out of it. I got off his lap before he fell, and in a moment, I was sitting victoriously atop the chair. Ah, womanly wiles come in handy, don't they?

This is how Sexy Sades gets sooo far. Well, two can play that game. Not that I want to play games with Tom Quincy. Please. I'm done with him. Liking him is so sixth grade. In fact, I didn't even like him when I was in seventh grade. Of course, Sadie was in ninth when she worshiped him. It's really impossible to worship Tommy the God when you know him personally.

He has a lot of flaws. Flaws that I like to bring up... They make me back off and forget about him, the slime that he is. Really an excellent thing to do. After all, if you concentrate on his flaws, then you forget all his good qualities... Like the fact that he's sweet, caring, thoughtful, pretty, witty, cultured, international, funny, cute, a great singer, an amazing songwriter, has killer musical taste and knows music, hot, buff, muscular, is a good kisser, knows me...

Okay, enough Tommy Fever, Jude!

Think about all his flaws... He's an ex-boybander... Too old, commitment-phobic, full of himself, so damn cocky, promiscuous, thoughtless, angry, violent, jaded, exhibitionist, heartbreaker, cruel, iNsAnE, drinks too much, smokes, drives too fast, lies like a rug, sleeps with everyone, has dated half the known world, is a player, jerky, sharp-tongued, stupid... Dating SADIE! Oh, yes, he has no shame! Not that I'm surprised.

Anyways, so I was laughing my ass off, staring at Tommy on the floor... And, oddly enough, I was the only one. Go figure. I thought it was freaking hilarious. Everyone was sort of looking at me weird. I hate it when people do that... Makes me feel like an alien or something. "What?" I snapped loudly, as Tommy groaned, getting up.

Oh, Tom, is someone getting old?

Oh, right... That's kind of... you. Haha.

I'm still throwing him that twenty-third birthday party, right? Ugh, and his birthday's in like... two months. Well, that's plenty of time to write him a nice, censored, happy birthday song.

So I'm guessing that one I just wrote about him being a slut just won't do. Bummer. I think that could turn out quite nice. I suppose it is his birthday... It wouldn't be proper. I've got to mix it up, you know?

Tommy reluctantly walked over to sit next to Darius, glaring at me all the way. Georgia and Darius exchanged non-romantic looks before nodding and clearing their throats in unison. Jeez, are they a couple already? They're acting all buddy-buddy.

"Darius, E.J., and I have done a lot of a talking..." Georgia began awkwardly, looking to Darius for support. Uh oh. Whatever this is... It can't be good.

Now Mr. Mills himself took the floor, steepling his fingers and leaning forward a little. "Anyways, we've decided to push you two as a couple..." Darius stated bluntly. He didn't get to finish his pretty little sentence.

Tommy and I both leaped violently out of our seats at the exact same moment, screaming, might I add, "I OBJECT!" The entire room blinked... Why are they surprised?

I flushed, and Darius raised an eyebrow, glancing between us. "I thought Tory was the lawyer in the family, T," He remarked acerbically. Tommy's eyes narrowed in response, but he sat down, his face the perfect picture of mature dignity. What, is he impersonating his mother, Super-Botox-Lady? Nah, bet she doesn't even use botox. It's probably just her stupid perfect genes.

I, however, did not try and be Tory. I stayed standing, rolling my eyes at Darius. "Um, weren't you the one that told Georgia, and I quote, that "that stuff with Quincy and Jude… It ain't gonna fly"? _Yeah_, Dar, you were..." I pointed out, annoyed. I am not going to do... whatever... with Tommy.

We aren't a couple, so they can't push us as one... False representation, lies, misleading advertisement... Darius rolled his eyes at me, motioning for me to sit down. Fat chance, Darius! If I sit down, then you have the power! And I am not letting another person have power over me. Not another man!

I don't need you. I don't need Tom. I don't need Jamie.

And I most certainly don't need Quinn.

You all want something from me... Something I just can't give you! And I shouldn't have to! I shouldn't have to be pulled in so many directions everyday. I owe you nothing. All of you.

You've done me no big service. Quincy's ruined my life just as much as he's helped. And Jamie, Jamie has timing that would make Tommy blush in envy. I don't need this.

It's time for me to assert my rights. And it's time for you, for all of you, to LISTEN.

Georgia and E.J. exclaimed nervous glances. Pursing my lips and narrowing my eyes, I glared out at the people before me. "I am not Tommy, and I am not Sadie! I will not play my sibling like that! So you can't force us as a couple... Because I refuse to date Tom "Trainwreck" Quincy over there! I can do better!" I shouted stubbornly, making angry gestures.

Tommy's eyes narrowed at the implication. No, not that one... The thing about the sibling. Guess his brother really does piss him off. Well, I'm not like you, Tom. I'm not easily amused by a supermodel's boobs.

On second thought, if I did... I would have some issues. Bleh. And, damnit, I can do better than Tommy! At this point, anyone would be better than him! Anyone who doesn't break my heart. Georgia and Darius looked a bit confused. It's the sibling thing.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed. "You see, Tommy over there just _happens_ to be dating my big sister, Sadie... And I don't want things to get even more awkward at home," I muttered bitterly, gesturing towards Tommy, whose eyes narrowed further. Is that possible?

Georgia and Darius exchanged weird looks (obviously deciding what to do), and I decided to sit down again. Oh well. Oh, and I didn't even mention that it's sorta illegal and that my parents would so sue his ass, and then he'd be producing his album from jail. That'd have to be a pretty nice jail... But Tommy's too pretty; he'd be made someone's bitch on the first day.

But then again, the guy has a mean right hook... I saw those pictures they took when he beat up Nick Lachey. Did I spell the teenybopper's name right? Oh well... They were some pretty bad pictures. Ye-ouch. Did you know they had to pull Tommy off of him? Oh, and while they were, Tommy knocked out a photographer and a police officer. Maybe he can hold his own.

But then again, maybe some huge guy named Bubba who weighs a thousand pounds will be his roommate...

Nah, because then Tommy could outrun him. Running is what Tom does best, after all...

Okay, some girlfriends would say something different... Like all of them. They'd say, well, you know...

Darius sighed, exchanging glances with Georgia. "Okay, so maybe she doesn't have to actually pretend to date the guy... But there are other ways of pushing it, right, G?" Darius surrendered, opening the floor to Georgia... He didn't exactly look amused. In fact, he was sending a death glare to Tommy right now. Fun. Make him suffer, D. Make him suffer.

"Darius is right. Since we can't push you as a couple for the publicity, we'll do a music video. Jude, your album needs the publicity... And Tom, if you're planning on your own career, it'll be good for the public to see you performing again," Georgia said wisely, matter-of-factly. Whoa, did she just say Darius is right? Yeah, she did... And Darius looks surprised too. She is right, though. A music video would be good for both of our careers. And both Tommy and I know it.

"Anyways, I faxed the lyrics to a... friend of mine... And he wrote some guy vocals. So I was thinking that Tommy could do the vocals and we could add them into the recording," Georgia finished brightly. Who was this friend of hers? Whomever he was, Tommy's eyes darkened at the mention, and even Darius looked wary, as if they both knew who this mystery guy was, and weren't happy about it. I bit my lip, glancing over at Kwest. We hadn't recorded the song yet... I didn't even have a tune, and Tommy hadn't even looked at the lyrics. Georgia caught on. "We do have a recording, right, guys?"

Kwest and I exchanged panicked looks for a good minute, silently arguing over who should tell Georgia. I say Kwest because I'm keeping his secret and he owes me big time. He's arguing, of course, that I'm the one who made us record "Dirty Old Man", and so it's therefore entirely my fault. But then I managed to point out, with a quick glance to Tom, whose fault this whole fiasco really was. Can you imagine? An entire argument with looks alone!

This is entirely Tom's fault. I mean, for starters, he was supposed to be there to help me write songs. But he blew me off to go eat with Boyz Attack! So I don't have a melody to my stupid song I hate. I wouldn't even have written the damn song if he had been there! And I told him to destroy the damn song, which he didn't do. Not to mention that he skipped out on producing and then trashed the studio. So excuse me, Tommy, if I have no sympathy for you. I want Georgia to bawl you out. You deserve it.

Tommy took it upon himself to explain. "Sure we will..." Okay, now I have to step in. I sent Kwest a clarifying glance and he nodded. Gotcha.

"Hey, Tom, how do you **know** that if you weren't in the studio today? Because if you were in the studio, you'd know that not only did we _not_ record that song, but that I don't even have a melody to it. You haven't even seen the lyrics," I snapped sharply. Georgia looked around at all three of us... Tommy, Kwest, and me... like she was deciding who to yell at first.

Through clenched teeth, she turned to me and asked, "Did you record _anything_, Jude?" I opened my mouth, glancing briefly at Tommy, who was still glaring at me, and was about to answer when a woman, obviously one of the secretaries, entered, giving a phone to E.J.

E.J. immediately silenced both of us, listening intently to what was being said on the line. We all stared at her with beady eyes. "Yeah..."

"Okay..."

"Cool..."

It continued on at this boring pace for several minutes, and I pondered exactly what song I was going to sing at Under the Mike tonight. Hmm. I wanted something to get back at my slutty sister and even sluttier producer. Hmm.

I was snapped out of my pondering, however, when E.J. squealed loudly. "That's AMAZING! You really want to? Well... You know Jude. She would love to go on another summer tour! Okay, I'll tell her then. Great," E.J. chirped, beaming, a smile stretched from ear-to-ear. She immediately turned to me, holding out a hand and looking incredibly excited.

"Jude, I just got a call from this huge tour booker. He's running a huge punk tour this summer... I can't remember the name... Anyways, he heard your new song on the radio, loved it, and knew he had to have you on the tour. I'll call him up and find out some of the other bands that are going on it, but apparently everyone who's big on the punk scene is going. I hope you don't mind, but I said you could do it... You don't mind, do you?" E.J. explained carefully. Do I mind? Do I mind?

What is this woman on? Of course I don't mind! I'm going on a huge tour this summer... I mean, sure, I did that last summer, but this time I get to go with strangers whose music I admire and artists I actually respect. You never know... I might just make some really cool, really famous friends. I'm so excited! I was so excited that I leaped out of my chair and ran over to E.J., hugging her so tight she couldn't breathe. "Of _course_ I don't mind! I'm so **psyched** here! Thank you, thank you, _thank_ you!" I screeched happily. E.J. winced, but smiled back, motioning for me to get off of her. I laughed, blushing, and ran over to Kwest.

I threw my arms around him gleefully, hugging him tight and kissing both cheeks. Which, in retrospect, is sort of weird, and Portia probably would've been looking at me funny, but I was so happy I wasn't really thinking that straight. "Thank you so much! If it weren't for you and your wife, none of this would've been possible. I owe you so much, Kyle!" I shrieked, jumping up in the air... Wait, did I just call him Kyle? Oh well. Tommy gave Kwest a weird look (probably about the name and the wife thing), and then glared at him. Damn Tommy syndrome.

Kwest, on the other hand, shot me a look of death. Aside from the fact that I called him by his real name, I also mentioned his "nonexistent" wife. Hehe. Oops. At least I didn't say that she's Portia. I would be beyond dead right now.

"Wife?" Tommy asked, frowning, "Why haven't I met her?"

Kwest glared daggers at me, but I merely smiled, once again in my seat, looking across the table. "Oh, Tommy, but you _have_. Trust me, you've **met** his wife," I drawled amusedly, feeling a knowing smirk spread across my face. Kwest looked absolutely murderous, whereas Tommy was just confused.

"Do you have to bring that up, Jude?" Kwest bit back furiously. His teeth were clenched. Well, rawr! Go Mr. Chill. Guess you don't use Botox after all, Kwesty. I nodded, still beaming, shooting a brief glance at Tom.

"What, can't handle thinking about the other men your wifey's been with? Worried that you don't measure up?" I taunted cheerily, grinning at the double entendre. Kwest looked irritated, while everyone else just looked confused. Well, okay... Tommy was brooding again. Doing that whole frowny-face thing he's so famous for. Teen angst is so... 1998. He looked like he was concentrating on something real intently.

But he's an idiot, so that could be the table. Yes, Tom, it is real wood.

"So... I've been with his wife?" Tommy wondered aloud. Kwest's features were hard, while Georgia seemed to be purposefully ignoring this conversation to do something like, I dunno, play footsie with Darius? Knowing her little crush, probably.

I rolled my eyes, fighting the urge to scream out, "You **married** her, you dumbass!" I laughed hysterically for a minute before snorting. Then I forced myself to take a deep breath and said instead, "Tommy, haven't you _been_ with half of Canada already?"

This time, Kwest had to smile, and Georgia and Darius both noticed. Darius chuckled, but stopped when Tom turned to glare at him. Yeah, Darius might be intimidating and all, but he's not here to tangle with a pissed-off Tommy-Two-Time. I like that. Tommy-Two-Time. Kinda like Tommy Tutone. I think. He really wasn't amused by that comment, but he deserved it.

"Well, Jude, you sure don't seem to have a problem with that," He replied frostily, leaning across the table. Oh, no... He did NOT just say that. Can you say... SMACKDOWN? 'Cause that's what I'm thinking. Man, I really shouldn't watch wrestling... It's fake and pathetic and yet, still... I KNOW THEIR NAMES. How effed up is that? Well... It sorta sounds like my relationship with Tommy Gun over there. You know, that's like my favorite Clash song. And that was BEFORE I met him... It fits too... It's weird, but it does.

Hmm, now, anything to chuck at him? Ooh, let's see... Give him a taste of his own medicine. His middle name should be Crash. Totally. Oh well, c'est la vie! I balled up a piece of paper and hit him in the head with it when he wasn't looking. He glared and rubbed his forehead. Like it hurt! I bet it didn't even give you a paper cut! Assface. "Stop _pissing_ me off, Quincy. I mean, do you want an entire album about how much of an ass you are? That would be really bad for your publicity, after all. Hmm, I can see it now... Songs About Tommy Quincy, Asshole Extraordinaire by Jude Harrison..." I hissed angrily. "So, what do you think, Tom?"

Tommy scowled, raising an eyebrow. "I think that the title's a bit long." Cool, smooth, great, Tom. Ugh. I hate you. He paused, hmm, wouldn't this be perfect if he had his shades to cover his eyes? I think it would be. Eyes are the window to your soul, you know... And your eyes will betray you. Always. But without them, I get the added bonus of seeing how pissed he is. "Anyways, wouldn't be the first time you've written a song about me... even an angry one," He said coldly, leveling the accusation against me.

My eyes narrowed, and I had tunnel vision. I was so angry I couldn't see anyone else. Even though I wanted to. "You are so full of yourself, you know that? "Skin" wasn't about you. Besides, what makes you think that my songs are about you? Hmm? If I remember correctly, I wrote "Waste My Time", "That Girl", "Your Eyes", and "Time to Be Your 21" about Shay. And "24 Hours" and "Temporary Insanity" are about Jamie. "I'm in Love with My Guitar" is about my guitar, George... "Let Me Fall" is about my parents, as are "Skin", "Shatter Me", and "Criminal". And I didn't write "Stupid Girl" or "Pick Up the Pieces". So there. Not you, okay!" I growled, slamming my hands down on the table. I need something harder to chuck at his stupid head.

Okay, so I was sorta, kinda, completely, totally lying there. They're all sorta about Tom. Or influenced by him. I mean, for crying out loud, I, me, Jude Harrison, punk rocker to the core, did a Boyz Attack! cover. A Boyz Attack! original, pretentious exclamation point and all, written by the King of Boybanders himself, Little Tommy Q. Honestly! How pathetic is that!

Tommy snorted. "Please. _Time to be your 21_? We both know that neither Shay nor Eden is 21. Try again, Jude... And don't forget "It Could Be You". That's the best one," Tommy sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. He is so full of himself. I mean, I know he's right, but that's just a low blow. He's so tactless about it, and so cocky. Ugh.

"Okay, Tommy, if _you_ want to explain to Georgia and Darius why that song is called "Time to Be Your 21", then, by all means, go ahead. **Explain**," I snarled, throwing my hands in the air. Tommy paled a little and closed his mouth. Good. We can't incriminate ourselves, now can we, Tom? No, of course not. We don't want you to wind up in jail, now do we? I wanted to say something else too, but Georgia lightly tapped me on the shoulder.

"E.J. said you had a new song playing on the radio... What's she talking about? You didn't clear a new single with us," Georgia stated accusingly. It's true, of course. I'm supposed to clear my new singles with them first, but I knew Tommy hated the song. He would never clear it, and, well, I didn't have the time.

I shrugged. "Turn on the radio." Georgia fixed me with a look, and I sighed, tossing my hair. "Okay, fine. I wrote the song today, at school. I sang it for my music class... They loved it. I tried to sing it for Tommy, but he didn't like it. In fact, he couldn't stand it. So, since he was avoiding the studio like the plague, I took matters into my own hands. Kwest and I recorded it, and his wife took it to some radio stations... Enough said," I said honestly. Tommy's eyes narrowed in fury.

"Doing things behind my back **again**, Jude?" Tommy snapped viciously, leaning forward on the table. He has the nerve to accuse me of that? I only do things behind his back for a good reason. Like the "Frozen" deal. Even Kwest said that was the nicest thing anyone's ever done for him. And what do I get? Chewed out about it and a LOUSY apology... and I'm trapped with Darius as a manager until I'm eighteen. I just might be screwed here.

"Oh, you mean like you _doing_ my sister behind my back, Tom?" I retorted violently, groping around for something to throw at him. I found something; a glass ashtray. Before I knew what I was doing, I had hurled it at his head with the force of a jackhammer. Is that right? I mean, I don't know... It might be velocity. It's probably velocity, right? You see... That's what happens when you flunk Physics, and, trust me, I flunked. Well, at least that time I didn't have a six percent. That was just plain embarrassing.

Fortunately for Tommy, he ducked and it... just barely, might I add! ...missed his head. But only just barely. It sort of skimmed his hair and then smashed into the wall behind him. Some glass flew back and hit him, but he coolly brushed it out of his hair, turning around to stare at the wall. Darius raised his eyebrows, Georgia's eyes were wide, and Kwest shook his head disapprovingly. Then Tommy turned around to look at me, looking more than a little surprised.

"What, Tom? Surprised when _other_ people break things?" I asked evenly, raising an eyebrow. Yeah, Tom, I know about you trashing the studio. Violent, aren't we? Not like it's ever gotten you anywhere. Tommy paled a little, glancing away from Georgia and glaring at Kwest. Georgia, on the other hand, ignored him, and turned to me.

"What's the song called?" She questioned calmly, as if Tommy and I hadn't just been duking it out again.

"Dirty Old Man," I replied with a grin, smirking at Tommy. This song's definitely not about him, but it's nice to freak him out, don't you think? It sure is fun. I reached into my bag, pulling out a copy of the song. It didn't have a fancy cover or anything fun on the CD, really. Just a blank CD with "Dirty Old Man" written on it. I handed the copy to Georgia, glancing over to Darius. "Just... Listen, okay?"

They both nodded, and I think they got the message. You know, maybe I shouldn't have done that. I mean, me telling Georgia and Darius to go off alone together to listen to a song? That's like dangling a big, juicy carrot in front of a starving rabbit. I just hope I don't walk in on them making out. I mean, I know I have an uncanny habit of doing that... Dad and Yvette... Dad and Mom... Tommy and Sadie... And Jamie and Kat (Let's just say they weren't about to show me any courtesy after our fight). But seeing Georgia and Darius would burn my eyes and make me want to hurl.

They motioned for me and Kwest to leave the room, which we did all too gladly. Besides, I wanted to go finish pumping Chaz for info about "the Boyz Attack! days". I would so kill to see a Behind the Music on them. But I'm going to have to wait for that, aren't I? Oh well... Sherlock Jude's on the case. Sherlock Harrison? Does that sound better? No, it doesn't.

But, as Kwest was running off to some closet to have phone sex with Portia, I'm sure... I wound up running into someone. Stupid, stupid, CLUMSY me. And who did I run into but Shay? The "Big" Shay. S to the H to the A to the Y Shay. Why did I ever date him? He's such a snake in the grass. I mean, the fact that he doesn't have a last name should've tipped me off in the first place.

I don't want to see Shay. I don't like Shay. Just the very sight of Shay irritates me. So, okay, I might've sucker-punched him, right in the gut... But, you know what? He totally had it coming. I mean, as if it wasn't bad enough that he cheated on me with my rival while on tour. If he was going to do that, he could've just dumped me before going on tour. That, at least, would've been nicer. More humane. But nooo, he didn't. Oh, and then there's the part where he broke up with me on my birthday, at my huge birthday bash, humiliating me in front of the press, my coworkers, my friends, and my family. Thanks, Shay, for being an A-class ass.

Seriously. I mean, he almost makes Tommy look good... sort of. I mean, okay, I guess, well... I don't know.

Oh, and then let's not forget the rumors. He said that I slept with him, and then that I was with Tommy afterwards... Very incriminating. Does he think that I like to look like a slut in front of the tabloids? Because I don't. Oh, and then the one about me suggesting a three-way. Yeah, that was pretty classic. The look on Tommy's face. Man, was that priceless. Actually, I don't think that one made me look bad. Gee, I wonder if I should spread some rumors of my own. Like how I beat Shay up? That was killer.

How was I ever able to go on tour with the idiot? I don't know. I think it took a lot of restraint and deep breaths. Plus all the awesome souvenirs. I mean, I bought a few, but Shay kept buying me stuff. Ah, guilt will do that to a man. Oh, like when we were in that lingerie store... Yeah, it was more like the parade of clothes Shay will never, ever see me in. It was fun, though, buying all those clothes on his credit card. I love spending money that's not mine. Seriously, I still haven't unpacked it all. I had so much crap from the tour that it's being shipped here. Now, I'm not sure, exactly, if they're going to be delivered to the studio or my house, but, hey! It could get sort of awkward, having clothes delivered here. I think Tommy would have a coronary if he saw the lingerie. No, I know he'd have a coronary. Man, that would be amusing.

"That's for spreading all those rumors about me. I guess you're not man enough to admit that I kicked you out," I whispered, watching him crumple to the ground. Man, is this a familiar position. You know, I'm going to have to tell Darius he's here. Of course, interrupting Darius when he's alone with Georgia is like a death sentence, but whatever.

How about I talk to Chaz? That sounds fun. Now, let's see... Where is the idiot? Oh, okay, there he is. I turned immediately from Shay, who was still clutching his midsection... Aww, poor baby. See if I care! Ugh. Anyways, I walked over to Chaz.

Is that even his real name? I mean, okay, I know it's supposed to be short for Charles or something, but I just can't picture him as a Charles. Chaz is so... flashy. It has Darius bling written all over it. I'll ask him about it. I smiled, sitting down next to Chaz. "Hey, Chaz."

Chaz smirked. "Hey, Jude," He replied in the same tone, leaning back against the couch. "So, what do you want to know?"

He saw right through me, didn't he? Well, I was curious... You know, any stories I can use to blackmail the guy... Aside from the ones about him nailing Darius' sisters and sorta breaking up Shay's parents' marriage. That's so not cool. I sighed, sinking into the couch. "Okay, so tell me about Tommy's mysterious brother..." I begged, pouting. An odd, sober look crossed Chaz' face, as his eyes darted around nervously, obviously looking for Tommy. Relax. I'm not going to let him kill you.

Chaz finally sighed, biting his lip. "Has Tommy told you how Darius started up Boyz Attack?" He began, squinting off into the distance. I don't have time for this... The song isn't this long. And then they'll come out looking for me. I nodded irritably.

"Yeah, yeah... Tommy said Darius heard him singing in the shower. Though, really, what was Darius doing in Tommy's bathroom? He was like... thirteen, right?" I said, bored, my mind immediately jumping to think up not-so-innocent situations. What was Darius doing in that bathroom, though? I mean, assuming the story's true.

Chaz laughed, nodding. "Actually, that's the truth. You see, Tommy's dad is a talent scout/vocal coach, and it's hard to see what's right in front of your own nose, especially when everyone in the family sings. So, when Darius stumbled into the wrong bathroom, he knew he was on to something big. But Tommy's dad convinced Darius that it was just a fluke. But then Darius heard Tommy's big brother singing, and he knew it wasn't just a fluke. I was Tommy's next-door-neighbor at the time, so one day I came over and we started singing one of his brother's songs, you know, harmonizing and stuff... Darius heard it and saw dollar-signs. So he sat Tommy's dad down and made him listen, and convinced him to make us a band. Then he got J.P. and Bruno from the neighborhood he grew up in, and, well... Boyz Attack! was born," Chaz said informatively. He had this really far off look in his eyes. I think he was probably watering down the story a little.

I was about to ask him something, but he beat me to it. "You see, Tom's big brother... He was sort of the leader, the original frontman. He wrote all of the songs, even gave us our name. We weren't always Boyz Attack! We used to be just... The Boys. Very simple, old-school. It's not something a lot of the fans know. I mean, he left it up to Bruno and J.P. to do the dance moves, I got the costumes, and Tommy got the melody and helping Darius with the backbeats, something Darius hated. In fact, he still hates it. But then Darius started really pushing us as pop, a boyband... He wouldn't let anybody play a musical instrument, started pushing the dance moves to new highs, began picking out the costumes himself... Well, Tom's bro, let's call him Big T, okay? Anyways, Big T couldn't take it anymore, said there was no "artistic integrity", so he quit. You have to understand that him and Tommy, they weren't just brothers... they were best friends. So when Big T quit, he expected Tommy to go with him," Chaz continued, frowning.

I get that... Sibling loyalty. That sort of explains the Sadie thing. He has no sibling loyalty, so, well... I mean, I get that. You expect your best friends to have your back. Like Jamie and Kat, for instant. That's why I'm so mad at them. I can see his brother's point... but there has to be more.

"But Tom didn't," I interjected. Well, that's obvious. Chaz nodded knowingly.

"Right. You see... We'd all bonded, being in the band together. And it might sound strange, but T wanted to stay with us, his friends. After that, nothing was ever the same. Big T never forgot that Tommy chose Boyz Attack! over his family. We started getting big when Tommy was fourteen, and that made things even worse between the two brothers. Big T insulted Tom and our music at every chance he got. The truth is, well, he was jealous. He had his own recording career, and his CDs weren't selling as well as ours. Not that he was doing awful... His debut album almost went gold... But things kept getting worse and worse at home, and, finally, when Tommy was sixteen, he just stopped trying. He started getting back at his brother in the only ways he knew how, which were, pretty much, flaunting his success and stealing his girlfriends. If there's one thing Tom _knows_ how to do, it's seducing a woman," Chaz elucidated, talking fast and using plenty of hand gestures. His eyes still darted around nervously, looking for Tommy to come and bust us.

I can personally testify to that last comment... not seducing, I'm too young, remember? But him making girls fall for him. I see it. I know it. I live it.

What, afraid Tommy's going to beat you up? Okay, I'll give him that one; it's sort of valid. But, seeing as Chaz hasn't even told me the name of the "evil brother", I don't think he's got a reason. Is it weird that I want to know his name? It's just because no one will say it... But still... I mean, is the guy Voldemort or something? I just don't see what's so bad about him. Okay, so Tommy gets pissed if you say his name... Big deal! Tom's pissed half of the time anyways... a lot of times at me! I am not afraid of him!

I mean, he's a womanizing scruple-lacking bed-hopping sister-dating boybander slut! You can't be afraid of someone who can sing in such a high falsetto. It's just... not possible. I bet he yells when people bring up this mysterious brother. Tommy doesn't really yell at me. He gets mad, sure, but he doesn't yell...

There has to be more to it than that. I mean, I might not like Sadie all the time, in fact, I might hate her about half the time, but I don't get mad whenever someone says her name. Well, I get kinda pissed when Tommy talks about her, but that's self-explanatory. His brother feels betrayed, and then Tommy brings up his fame and steals his bro's girls because his brother is completely brutal to him. That's not bad enough for hate that extreme.

"As the years passed, things became progressively worse. I think things came to a head between them when T was eighteen... But the band was breaking up and Tommy and I weren't really speaking much back then. I don't know much, but they finally had this big blow-out over some girl. I don't know what happened, but Tommy's brother completely lost it. He started a fight with Tommy, which is completely stupid as he knew that Tommy could lay him out. It was a bad time to messy with Tommy, and he just started whaling on his brother. He would've killed the guy if Taylor hadn't seen what was going on and grabbed Darius. Tommy never forgave his brother, especially when their mom took Big T's side over his. He declared that he had no brother from then on, and that was that," Chaz finished, catching his breath a little. He looked a bit thirsty and I felt slightly sorry for him. It was a long story, after all, and I know Tommy wouldn't be happy that he told me. Not to mention that he's probably got to start recording tracks soon.

Wait a second, who's Taylor? "Taylor?" I asked quizzically. Chaz smiled slightly.

"Oh, yeah... T's baby brother. Actually, I think he's about your age now," Chaz answered thoughtfully, smiling. So Tommy has an older brother, or, excuse me, no older brother. His older brother is dead to him. So he just has a younger brother... who's my age!

Hmm, you know, I wonder if he looks like his big brother... You know, it would be funny if I dated his big brother, wouldn't it? Give Saint Tommy a taste of his own medicine...

And of course, there's the fact that he stole all of his big brother's girls... Might that also be a reason, Jude? Well, considering I've gone and fallen for the idiot in the first place, I don't think Tom would have to try that hard to "get me". It would make him dump Sadie though. Or would he cheat on her? If he does, Sadie would dump him, right?

I made-out with him and she still took him back. I mean, they've broken up how many times already? Okay, first there was the kiss at the farm... nothing really happened after that. Then there was the whole debacle that happened when I found out they were dating. Not to mention their big fight and break-up in Italy. Then him ditching her in Italy to see me in Montreal. That's four times. Four. How can she take him back so many times? Is she addicted to pain or something?

She wouldn't be the first Harrison. Not even the first Harrison woman.

I know I can't have him, and still, I'm pining. It's so pathetic. I need a new boyfriend, but not Shay. Shay is a slime weasel. There's always Tim, but he could be freakishly older than I am, and I don't really know him. Jamie's taken... and not speaking to me, even if I wanted it. And... well... That's pretty much it. Man, I need to meet more guys!

Okay... Let's list all the guys you know! Darius, Shay, Jamie, Tom, Kwest, Chaz, J.P., Bruno, Quinn, Tim, Speed, Wally, Kyle, the one guy whose name I don't remember, guys I met on tour...

Darius... ancient, controlling, Shay's uncle, likes Georgia. Next!

Jamie... We already covered that one. Next!

Tommy... dating my sister, too old, an ass, won't have me, the problem! Next!

Shay... Been there, done that, didn't like it. Next!

Kwest... too old, married, Tommy's best friend. Next!

Chaz... way too old, receding hairline, boybander, Tommy's other best friend. Next!

J.P. is... married, has kids, boybander. Next!

Bruno... kinda creepy, boybander, Tommy's friend. Next!

Speed... uh... Just no. It'd be weird. He's in my back-up band and... Speed. Plus he's dating like a million girls. Next!

Wally... in my back-up band... I can't screw things up. Next!

Kyle... see reasons above, plus the fact that he has a girlfriend. Next!

Travis... hell no! Why did I even think that one? I must be getting really desperate here. Ancient, teacher, asshole pig, totally biased, picks on me, hates Tommy, looks like Tommy, don't go there! Next!

Tim... maybe? I mean, sure, I don't know him well, but... He's nice enough, I guess. Plus, he saved me from that creepy guy. I feel so... connected to him. It's weird. Hey, wasn't I going to call him? Yeah... I should do that now.

I got up, whipping out my cellphone. "I've got to make a phone call," I mumbled, dialing Tim's number as I went. Where to go for privacy? Oh, Studio C. Yeah. No one ever uses it... Total privacy. I rushed into the door, glancing behind me nervously. I saw Georgia, Darius, E.J., and Tom filing down the stairs and hurriedly slipped into the studio, sighing, as I waited for him to pick up.

One ring.

Nothing.

Two ring.

Nothing.

Three ring.

Noth-Wait! He picked up!

"Hello? Who is this?"

I had disguised my number, just in case. Wow, he sounds good. I think I missed him. He's so... normal. I grinned happily and deepened my voice.

"Hey, Tim... It's Julia. I just wanted to say that I've changed my mind. I can't wait until Wednesday to see you," I began in a sultry tone. I sound like a slut. Ew.

"Oh?" He sounded a little surprised.

I nodded, but then realized that he couldn't see me. Smart, Jude, smart. "Yeah... Look, I've got something on Sunday... You know, this thing for work... But I could do something afterwards. If everything goes according to plan, it ought to be over around three, maybe four. How about you pick me up at six at the karaoke bar we met at last time?" I suggested, laughing flirtatiously.

I don't know how, but I knew Tim was smiling. "Sure thing, girl. That sounds great," He replied, sounding cool but still sort of excited. Not overly excited, but like he was looking forward to seeing me.

I felt myself smile, really smile, for the first time in what seemed like ages. Sure, him calling me girl had... brought up a few bad memories, but I wasn't going to ruin this with him over a stupid nickname. Tommy's not going to sabotage my lovelife. "I'm looking forward to seeing you," I whispered, feeling giddy and stupid, but in a good way.

"Me too."

I smiled widely again, feeling truly happy, a feeling that was becoming increasingly more rare lately. "Bye," I mumbled, hanging up. I spun around in a circle and wound up feeling even more light-headed and dizzy, but I didn't care. I was waiting for the room to stop moving when I noticed something. A demo CD over on the soundboard. Or, should I say two CDs... I picked one up, struggling a little to read the letters... I was still dizzy.

"Walking Contradiction". There was no artist name. Hmm. I ought to listen to this. So I pocketed the CD and decided to go outside and face the music... well, the business side of music, I ought to say. Darius was going to be pissed about, you know, me punching Shay. Oh well.

Georgia and Darius were bickering as usual. Guess he still wants the label. I just hope she doesn't sell it to the big idiot. Aww, cute, they're flirting too. E.J. and Tommy looked positively ill by it as I approached, and, surprisingly, Darius hadn't even noticed his protege groaning in a nearby chair. Wow, he must really like Georgia.

"Come on, G... You _know_ you want to sell it to me," Darius pleaded, giving her a flirtatious look.

Impressively, Georgia was not fazed by this. She's a better actress than I thought. "No, Darius, I don't," Georgia snapped somewhat irritably. Okay, what's up with her? She doesn't sound happy... wonder why? Is she having money troubles again?

Darius frowned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "I'll give you lots of zeros..." Darius offered somewhat hopefully. Georgia rolled her eyes and slipped out of his grip, not looking amused.

"Not going to work, Darius. This label is my life," Georgia stated, sounding bored. She moved further away from Darius, but didn't take her eyes off him. You might be able to fool him, Georgia, but I can still see right through you.

"Come on, Georgia... You know you're having problems with money around here. You know Jude and Shay's albums are the only things keeping you from going under," Darius pointed out. I winced... Man, is he dumb. Georgia does not want to be reminded of that. Honestly, you'd think a rapper would know more about what women want to hear. Well, you know, besides the come-ons. I can tell you right now that he made Georgia even angrier, though I still don't get why she's so angry in the first place.

"Darius, don't push it. You don't insult me in my own label. I'm going to go into my office for a little quiet time right now... And when I come out, you won't be here. I am not above asking for you to be removed," Georgia growled, eyes flashing with rage. Was she mad about the single because I'm sorry about that... Or was it just a Darius thing? Though the look on Darius' face was absolutely priceless when it happened. I don't think people tell him off a lot. Kind of like Shay needed to be put in his place.

Georgia saw me on the way to her office and stopped to talk. Surprisingly, she broke out into a smile, putting her hands on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eye. "Kiddo, I absolutely _love_ your new single. It couldn't be any better if Tom worked on it. Keep up the good work," Georgia said purposefully, patting one of my shoulders and walking into her office, slamming the door behind her.

I walked over to Darius, who was staring up at her office, looking completely perplexed. His jaw was gaping open, disbelieving. Tommy was smirking. E.J., however, rushed to greet me, shoving a suspiciously thick folder into my arms. "Georgia's obviously not feeling up to going over your music video, so we'll plan it later. I'm going to go up there and try to get her to calm down, but I need you to look over everything in this folder before Under the Mike. It's got your original lyrics, the guy vocals, some ideas for the music video, suggestions for wardrobe and make-up, and various plans including choreography and camera work. We'll discuss it after the show, okay?" E.J. chattered excitedly, glancing nervously up at Georgia's office, obviously in a hurry. After this was said, she raced off after Georgia to do some smoothing over.

Just then, looking at his face, an idea popped into my head and I grinned. "_You make me feel like I'm all in love... You are the only one I think of... Quintessential love, quintessential love... You are the only one... Make me feel **so** in love... Quintessential love, quintessential love..._" I sang out with a mocking smile, wracking my brain to remember the tune.

I don't hire a manager without listening to him first. In Darius' case, that includes his rapping. Darius blinked at me, clearly surprised that I knew the song. Then his eyes narrowed; he knew I was making fun of him. Tommy smirked, getting a similar idea.

"_Her bracelets plot my game, so I couldn't seduce_," He chanted, shooting Darius a smug look. Tom was obviously proud of the way Georgia stood up to Darius. In fact, I was too. That takes an awful lot of guts. Darius' eyes narrowed, but he sighed nonetheless.

"_Liked her more than all the others... For real, she's my lady. My strip bona fide, at times, drove me **crazy**... But never think twice to make a man feel nice_," He muttered honestly, sounding frustrated. He said the last part, voice dripping with sarcasm. Well, Darius, you didn't deserve to feel nice because you were a complete jerk. Honestly, you need lessons or something. Being a jerk just comes natural to you... A trait you've obviously passed on to Tom and Shay.

What to say, what to say? There was a bit of an awkward silence. After all, Darius had pretty much just admitted that he liked Georgia in front of us, and I don't think either of us were that aware that he had genuine feelings... Tommy more than me, I guess. After all, Tom married the man's sister. Speaking of Portia's husbands... Kwest isn't back yet.

Shay! Yes, that's what I'll do. Change the topic to Shay. Perfect, Jude! I gestured to Shay. "Don't forget to take your _boy_ with you... I'll see you in a few hours at Under the Mike," I mumbled, waving him off. Darius shot me a peeved look, but grabbed Shay, who was moaning like a drama queen about how hurt he was. Whiner. Darius nodded at me, leaving rather icily.

That left Tommy and I to stare at each other. We stared and stared and stared for what seemed like ages, a million different looks crossing over our faces. Anger, sadness, betrayal, lust, love, pity, sorrow, regret, apology, rage, disgust... You get the picture. Finally, Tommy cleared his throat. I bit my lip. "Well, Jude, it looks like we've got a song to record," He began blankly, staring past me into space. He still seemed sort of out of it.

I nodded dully. Great. I get to record a song I hate with a man I hate. "Yep. Better figure out that melody," I said disinterestedly, still not moving. I exhaled nervously, tugging on a strand of my hair in annoyance. I did not want to do this. Right now there wasn't a studio in the building that was big enough for the two of us.

A nervous, almost panicked look flashed across Tommy's face. His eyes immediately darted up to Georgia's office. I knew immediately what was bothering him. "Is Studio B still, uh, trashed? I wouldn't want to make Georgia even angrier..." Tommy asked hesitantly. I didn't say anything, merely shaking my head no instead.

"Kwest and I cleaned it up to record," I explained, yawning. Tommy's eyes flashed briefly. He remembered, of course, how I'd gone behind his back and recorded a song he hates. Tough luck, Tom. You can't control everything. The world doesn't always go your way... I don't always do what you say. Rhyming a lot tonight, aren't I? Hmm, maybe that could be part of a song too. Interesting.

"Where is Kwest? We need him to record," Tommy questioned, frowning a little as he looked around, searching for his friend. This was so weird and... awkward. I shrugged helplessly.

"He ought to be off somewhere, calling his wife," I grunted, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. But at least this conversation kept us from going in the studio. Not that that was saying much. Tommy looked down at the ground, and I followed his lead. I just love these boots.

"Congratulations on your new tour... I wanted to say that before, but you didn't really give me a chance... I'm sorry, I was kind of a jerk back there," Tommy exclaimed timidly. Hesitantly, he reached out and patted me lightly on the shoulder. He was afraid to touch me now. I mean, I knew things would change after I lied to him, but I didn't think it would get this bad.

I barely nodded, tipping my head a little and glancing up, biting my lip. "Thanks... and don't worry about it. I understand completely," I said reassuringly, accidentally putting my hand on his arm. My eyes immediately shot down and saw my hand there. I felt my cheeks heat up embarrassedly as I removed my hand as if it were on fire. I did, after all, feel sparks whenever I touched him. Not that I'd ever tell Tommy that.

Nope. I don't tell Tommy a lot of things. Especially anymore... lately. Like that I didn't sleep with him... Or that I broke Sadie's nose... Or that Quinn kissed me... Or that Portia is Kwest's wife... And, most of all, that I'm completely head-over-heels for him! Tommy smiled slightly, and I could feel the nervous butterflies in my stomach. And it wasn't even a mega-watt smile... Just a simple half-smile. I'm so whipped that I make Darius look disinterested.

I looked Tommy over. He still looked the same. Only his hair was still a little wet and curlier than usual. It glittered just a little, hinting that there were still some shards of glass in it. Then I gazed dreamily at his face, cursing myself for feeling like such a fangirl. I have got to get over this moron. But he was bleeding and I felt hideously guilty; it was, after all, my fault.

Without thinking, I reached out and touched his left temple... The one on my right? It was bleeding, and I was surprised that no one had noticed. Tommy immediately stiffened under my touch, clearly surprised. I could hear his breath speed up a little bit as I moved closer to inspect the wound. I felt around, looking to see if there was glass embedded in his smooth skin. I was surprised that it felt so warm and smooth, though that might have been from the blood. The blood was sinuously slow and felt warm to the touch. I could smell the iron in it as it slowly dripped down his cheekbone, a lone drop that left smooth lines in its wake. My fervent fingers followed, lapping up the blood like thirsty cats, wiping it away gently.

I found the tiny shard of glass still in his skin. Blood had turned the clear glass red. It wasn't very big, but it was sharp, all jagged edges. I pricked my own fingers several times trying to pull it out, but I finally succeeded. It was roughly cube-shaped and smaller than the nail on my pinky. The blood flow increased after I pulled it out. It ran faster, but I was there to tenderly wipe it away... stem it, dam it, block it, restrain it. It was still only a trickle, after all, but it flowed like a river.

As I did this, Tommy said nothing, despite the fact that he remained horribly confused. I had no words either. I relished the feeling of my fingertips against his face, for it was a chance to touch him that I wouldn't have again for a long while. I fought to remember the first-aid knowledge I'd learned in my several years of Girl Scouts. Apply pressure to a wound. I lightly applied pressure, feeling my way around the small hole. I wondered vaguely if it would leave a scar... like the one on his forehead. How had he gotten that one?

By playing hockey, falling down the stairs, hitting his head on something, playing Operation with his brother, a dissecting experiment gone horribly awry, Portia scratching him? I didn't know... I didn't know anything, and that bothered me. I didn't know how he got that scar, but I wanted to, more than anything else in the world... Well, except for him to stop dating Sadie and walk up to me and go "Hey, Jude". I wanted to know everything there is to know about Tommy.

However, some force deep inside of me... Let's call it Women's Intuition... Told me that it had something to do with that mysterious older brother of his... But what?

While I was thinking about this, the bleeding slowed and almost stopped completely. I gave the injury a final, minor swipe before withdrawing my hand and backing away completely. My heart jumped nervously in my throat as I waited for him to say something... to ask the question I knew he wanted to ask. But he didn't... Not yet at least. So I passed the time by glancing down at my hands. My bandages, the very ones I had placed on my own hands to protect them and stop the bleeding, were stained with blood. It was still wet, and claret in color, looking like wine instead of blood... but the smell betrayed it.

I licked my lips self-consciously, still holding out my hands, fingers curving upwards towards the tips, as I looked up, into his eyes. Such long, slender fingers. I saw the blood coming from my own unprotected fingertips, a reminder of my battle with the rough cube of glass that was currently in the middle of my palm. "You were bleeding," I replied softly, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his office. I had him grab a box of bandaids and a bottle of cheap liquor, clear and almost empty. Then we hurried to the women's bathroom.

After all, I would be more likely to see something I did not want to see in the men's room, and Tommy walking in a girls' bathroom wasn't exactly unheard of. I smiled, remembering my performance of "I'm in Love with My Guitar." How different I'd been then... but I was still dealing with the same issues.

I let Tom clean himself up this time, as I opted to watch. I saw the frown when he saw his wound. I washed the glass offender while he wasn't looking, carefully drying it and wrapping it up in a bit of a paper towel. Wordlessly, I placed it in my pocket. Tommy washed off the excess blood, pouting, and I snickered lightly. He turned to glare at me, reminding me that this was all my fault. "You know, at least the wad of paper didn't hurt me."

I sighed, looking down and feeling guilty as I washed my hands, but my eyes darted back up as I watched him hiss and grimace as he poured some of the liquor on the wound. It was sort of funny. I began pulling the band-aids off one-by-one. It was easy now that they were wet. They almost slipped off. I saw the lacerations shaped like wide metal guitar strings and the pointy edges of the cube on each digit and frowned, remembering the pain and the blood. Tommy was done now. In fact, he'd just placed the band-aid on. It was small and circular and reminded me of the band-aids I got when I went to the doctor to get vaccinated. Except those band-aids were forest green and had little Snoopies on them. Cute. I giggled, imagining Tommy with one of those on his temple. His was just plain, flesh colored.

I was about to pour the alcohol on my soggy fingertips again when Tommy looked down at my hand and gasped a little. I looked up, feeling embarrassed, and bit my lip. I didn't say anything (I felt too ashamed for that) but chose instead to attempt pouring the liquor on my wounds. Then Tommy surprised me again, snatching the bottle out of my throbbing fingers and cautiously drizzling it lightly over my fingers, taking care to, for once in my life, avoid hurting me. But, as usual, as it always did with Tommy... it hurt nonetheless. And though I bit my lip hard and grimaced only slightly, Tommy knew it still hurt. So he dried my fingers patiently, getting rid of the liquor, leaving my fingers so cold. And then he wrapped the miniature bandages around each finger, insuring that they covered up my injuries... all ten of them. He was obviously doing it out of guilt and because he owed me, but I fell a little more in love with him.

I also felt compelled to explain. "I, uh, played my electric guitar without a pick... I didn't notice," I muttered with a foolish grin on my face, feeling my face flush in embarrassment. Tommy said nothing in response. He merely nodded, flashing me a warm, knowing smile, and wrapped the rest of my fingers like a doctor would. Except he was better than any doctor... What a great bedside manner... He knew I'd had a rough day... Yes, this was the same Tommy I'd fallen in love with, not the one I kept clashing with.

After that, he grabbed my hand lightly, squeezing it, and I felt a rush of love for him... I was finally understanding that that corny song of his meant. We walked out of the room and he tugged me impatiently towards the studio, pouting adorably, trying to coax me in. I, of course, was smiling like a complete and total idiot, which I had always been in matters concerning Tommy Quincy.

"Come on, Harrison... It's either this or E.J. will have you shimmying into outfits that are two sizes too tight and leave barely anything to the imagination," Tommy cajoled, holding open the door to the studio and begging me to come in. He knew how much I hated this song. I gave him a look, placing my free hand on my hip. The look said, and I quote, "Hell no."

Tommy frowned, but then thought up an idea. His eyes lit up, sparkling, as he tried it out on me. "At least this way, I'll be suffering with you," He declared persuasively. I mulled it over for a minute, but then pictured the slut wear they'd have me wearing, and I shuddered violently.

I bobbed my head up and down, rushing into the studio. "Yeah, better make up for lost time," I mumbled feverishly, humming "Frozen" to myself. I want to put that on this album. I ought to ask Tom about it.

_'Cause he's frozen... under an ocean of ice! His best friend... is doing his ex-wife!_

Not exactly the lyrics I was going for, but, hey! At least these ones are funny. Speaking of the best friend who's doing Tommy's ex-wife... Where is Kwest? Shouldn't he be here by now?

Nah, I bet he's just decided to slack off and let Tommy do everything as payback. Smart move, Kwest. I made my way into the recording booth as Tommy took up his place behind the glass, sitting in front of the sound board. I pulled out my lyrics, and then pulled out the copy with male vocals, at a complete loss for words as I scanned them. Well, that's... interesting.

There sure were a lot of them. I sighed, leaning against the microphone, shaking my head. "Tom, I can't do this..." I moaned, running a hand down my face. Tommy rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Yes, you can." Tommy reassured, flashing me a look. The look screamed "You are going to do this because you have to". I shrugged helplessly, glancing out at my empty arms. It was then that he suddenly realized that I had no guitar... that I literally couldn't do it. Smart, Tom, Smart. I snorted and he grabbed one, breezing into the recording booth and handing it to me. Oddly enough, he patted me on the head, smirking and saying smugly, "Practice makes perfect, Jude," before heading back into his safe seat on the other side of the glass wall. It was bulletproof... I guess a few gangsta rappers have tried to shoot recording artists while they were recording... Probably guys like Darius, though he's not really a thug. He's generally more inventive than that, with songs like Trigonometry (wonder if Shay's math genius inspired that one), Quintessential, Stick to Your Vision, Let Your Backbone Slide... Well, actually, Untouchable's sort of violent. I could list more, but I'm supposed to be concentrating on my own music, not Darius'.

Tommy knew I hated the phrase "Practice makes perfect". It was his way of making me sing over and over again... the same line... until I got it just right. Ugh. "You're a psychotic perfectionist, you know that, Quincy?" I hollered, pretending to be more mad than I really was. Tommy nodded, chuckling a little, seeing right through my little act.

"Just sing it, girl..." Tommy murmured, flipping switches distractedly.

I sighed, glancing down at the words again. I started to play a slow, seductive tune on my guitar. I knew it was going to be a make-out song... I had to do it just right, though, or else it wouldn't work. I sighed again, and started to sing, "_I confuse you... I bombard your mind... with strange sensations and things you've never felt before..._"

Here goes nothing. And that was how the frustrating process of recording "Minor Liaison" began, as it had started out as a mere idea in my head, with me and Tommy at the studio... working.

* * *

Loren ;

Hoped you liked that... And you even got a peek of "Minor Liaison"... teehee. Anyways, if you liked it, review! Thanks a lot for all of your support and praise... I love and appreciate it a lot!


	21. Too, Sexy Sadie

Okay, before you read this, something important to know... Though she went on tour with Shay, S.M.E. was with them when they were in Canada (excepting Montreal) or near the border. Because Jude does not ditch her band. Anyways, when the new season comes out, I'll try and incorporate things from it in here... Obviously she didn't do the little tour and Darius isn't going to buy G. Major. Anyways, but the songs and stuff... Which I'm sure will be killer. I went to this one site and it had titles to some of them... That was pretty cool.

Anyways, so I was downloading music the other day and I saw this song called "Transparent Lies" by Alexz Johnson... And I was wondering if it was on So Weird or whatever... It was pretty good. Anyways, not the point... I'm sure it'll pop up in some chapter, just you wait...

Anyways, I also know two things... People are going to be pissed about the Sadie song and sorta weirded outish by the end... Anyways, here's the thing about Sadie. I don't hate Sadie. I mean, she's not exactly the best sister in the world most of the time, but she's done some okay things... And her and Jude need some group therapy, but... So I don't hate her. I wish they made her a little less Barbie-ish. Because she's one of those people who wins EVERYTHING and is perfect and makes you feel bad because you're not... So, anyways, when you read the Sadie song, keep in mind that Jude was very angry, guilty, and that Sadie gets her revenge in her own special way... Oh, and take notice of when Jude calls Tommy Tom vs. Tommy. Very important there...

Oh, yeah... Don't own "Sexy Sadie", Instant Star, the sleeping/wake-up comment (there was one an awful lot like it on Jerry Springer a while back... lol), or any of the characters/songs that belong to Instant Star. I do own the made-up tabloids and "Minor Liaison", "Curly-Haired Wife Stealer", and "Too Sexy Sadie"...

Oh, and there is a reason Georgia was mean before... Her big sister's coming to town! I wanted to include that somewhere in the chapter, but I didn't... Now, since Georgia's in her early thirties ('cause I said so), and Tory's in her early forties (she was very young), Georgia's big sis is also in her early forties... Hmm. I'm not quite sure exactly when she'll pop up, but it'll be interesting. Anyone who guesses her first name gets a spoiler!

Oh, and on a side-note, I'm writing this Georgia fic because poor Georgia never gets to really have a BIG role, and I was wondering if anyone had dialogue from when she was talking to Darius at Jude's party... If you do, great, if you don't... It's cool... Oh, and another question... When Jamie was running in "Lose This Skin", what song was playing? I know it was ska, and I think it might've been by The Planet Smashers, but I dunno... Anyways. On with what you want to hear.

-

Tommy and I were headed out of the studio. Of course we didn't have the song fully recorded, but we had a jump start. It was pretty impressive for only a couple hours. We would, of course, be singing it over again, a fact that drove me insane. I still hated the song with a fiery passion, but now I hated it even more. I don't even remember how many takes Tommy had me sing, but I know they were a lot. I also know there's no way in hell that I'm singing "Minor Liaison". I guess I could just sing one of the, uh, happy songs I wrote on tour. Like "Curly-Haired Wife Stealer". That one's funny and cute.

Oh, and relax... It's not about Tommy being a slut. Sort of... um. I think. It's sort of a joke about Speed when were on tour together... I swear, if they were touring on their own, we wouldn't be able to keep the groupies away. Shay kind of sucked up all the groupies though. It's really impossible to score if you're on tour with Shay. Oh well.

"You're not the only one who hates that song, Harrison," Tommy muttered, scowling. I glared at him. What right did he have to say that? He just had to do back-up vocals, not even a full-on duet. He doesn't even join me for the chorus, and he's bitching?

I rolled my eyes at him. "You're just pissed about your vocals," I snorted, remembering the look on his face as he read them. It was a cross between an absolutely horrified look and a "this is so beneath me" look. Aside from the open, gaping stares he kept sending in my direction. I wanted to point out that I'd written the song before we supposedly slept together, but Tommy didn't ask. He never really asks about my songs. More like... tells.

"Yeah, because they sucked. Why didn't she let me write them?" Tommy grumbled, eyes narrowing in irritation. That was no lie. The male vocals, in my book, left a lot to be desired... some of them were just plain awful. I knew why she didn't let Tommy write them... He was practically an absentee around here lately. But still, he looked so cute pouting and whining like a two-year-old. That must be why he keeps whining. Makes sense, after all...

If I could do it and look cute all the time, I would.

I grinned, in a rare good mood. Truth be told, I was glad that we'd stopped recording. I believe when Tommy announced that we'd better get going, I flew at him and had to restrain myself from kissing his shoes in gratitude. Ha, and you only think I'm kidding. "Ooh, is Little Tommy Q. pissed that Georgia went over his head?" I said mockingly, smirking as he tensed at the hated nickname.

Tommy immediately stopped walking in the middle of the parking lot, turning around abruptly to face me. He looked so irritated, almost ready to burst. So angry, Tommy... So angry. Hmm, he ought to take anger management classes... No, wait, he did, didn't he? After he beat Lance Bass up the second time? Right? Or was that Bruno? Hmm.

"Don't call me that! Those were the worst male vocals ever. I mean, _I'm getting old_? Come on. I wrote better stuff when I was thirteen... for Boyz Attack!" Tommy ranted irritably, making a few angry hand gestures. I giggled at the outraged look on his face. Well, Tommy, you are almost twenty-three. You're getting up there.

He has a point, though. I mean, Boyz Attack! was... yikes, but _I'm getting old_ was just plain bad. No one actually says that, you know. People like to stay in denial about their age. Or lie. Especially celebrities.

"Well, it's true, isn't it? You **are** getting old," I stated, bemused. Tommy, on the other hand was not. He shot me a brief glare, as if he didn't want to be reminded of the fact.

"Girls _love_ older guys... It's not the same for women," Tommy pointed out, puffing his chest out a little to look... stronger? More manly? Uh... It only succeeded in making him look silly. I swear, all that fame went to his head and stayed there. Despite the fact that he's practically a has-been nowadays. Ouch, Jude, that was harsh. Well, it's not like he can hear me up here! Okay, true...

"Oh, yeah, Tom. Nowadays guys date girls young enough to be their daughters... You know, _jailbait_?" I retorted, feeling somewhat annoyed. Uh, oops. I winced at the look on Tommy's face. Damnit. Things were going so well, and I just had to ruin them. Of course. Why should it be any different? I should not have brought that up. Bad Jude.

Though... He did start it with the girls loving older men thing. There's sort of an obvious innuendo there about me. The sad thing is that he's completely right. But I can't let him know that... And I'm certainly not thinking about it! Doing that would ruin everything. My breath caught nervously in my throat as I waited for him to say something... anything.

"Don't you have some ridiculous costume to cram yourself into? You know, two sizes too small, some hideously tacky color, leaves nothing to the imagination..." Tommy questioned, smirking and giving me an appraising look. Nothing special here. My typical uniform, pretty much. Red t-shirt, ripped jeans, combat boots, leather jacket. Simple stuff. Now Tommy was the amused one. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and forced myself to relax a little. He was probably right about that too, the smug bastard. I didn't want to wear spandex or... whatever. I would, of course, have to change for my performance.

My eyes narrowed, and I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, giving him a cool look. "You'd _like_ that, wouldn't you?" I drawled, clearly making him uncomfortable. Tommy swallowed hard and looked away. Crap, I did it again! What am I, Britney Spears? I smirked, remembering the Boyz Attack! videos Sadie had once lived for. Man, the outfits they wore... "Like _you're_ one to talk. The white suit and matching bandanna speak for themselves." I teased smugly.

Tommy's jaw dropped, and he advanced slowly upon me. I backed up a little, biting my lip and feeling nervous. They had worn skin-tight clothes back then... It was a wonder they weren't busting out of them. Except, of course, they were all so skinny. "I **know** you did not just bring up Boyz Attack!" Tommy gaped disbelievingly, but in a somewhat threatening tone. He was all up in my face. It was weird, though, because for a threat, he sure said it in a funny way... I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the intense look on his face.

I dropped my hands to my hips, giving him a challenging smirk. "Well, producer of mine, I _did_. What're you going to do about it?" I taunted, holding my hands out in a crafty way, body language screaming "Bring it on". I didn't move any closer, but Tommy looked a little amused.

Tommy made a tsking noise and moved closer still. He pretended to think it over for a minute, but the grin that was slowly spreading across his face betrayed him. "Make you sing fifty takes of Minor Liaison," He said matter-of-factly, knowing exactly which button to push. Nooo! Not fifty more takes. I mean, I know I was distracted before, but that's just ridiculous. Fifty takes of that is death unless I'm high on something.

"Again? But Toommy, I did at least a hundred already..." I groaned tiredly, bemoaning my tragic fate. I pouted, batting my eyelashes up him. Maybe the womanly wiles will work again here. Do, do you think?

They didn't, however, as I was no Sexy Sadie. In fact, they only made Tommy regard me as a lunatic, which was pretty close to the truth. I clasped my hands pleadingly, as if in prayer, staring straight into his eyes, imploring him to do as I wished.

Tommy didn't give in to these more sensitive desires... that is, if he had any. He straightened up a little, grinning wickedly at me as he shrugged noncommittally. "I'm sadistic like that," Tommy murmured cockily, leaning in a little more than he probably should have. Ugh! He is so damn confident... How is that even possible?

Maybe because he's not that little Boy-Next-Door. He's not Jamie, and he doesn't worship you. He's a man, and a very conceited one at that. Because, of course, of his fame, ability, wealth, way with women, and good looks. If anybody worships anybody here, it's you. You look up to Saint Tommy as your teacher, your mentor, your helper, your friend, your muse, your inspiration, your protector... I frowned, trying to think of a comeback, and then one hit me. "Oh, so you gonna make yourself sing all fifty takes too?" I asked, getting in his face just a little.

Tommy snorted, puffing himself up, and polishing his nails on his shirt. He looked completely full of himself, but in a good way... Er, is that even possible? If it was possible, it was sure Tommy. Tommy's trademark big head and even bigger ego. "Why? _My_ voice is absolute perfection," Tommy exclaimed, exuding arrogance from every pore. I could tell he was joking though. It's good to make fun of yourself sometimes, isn't it?

"You are **so** full of it, Quincy," I mumbled disbelievingly, shaking my head in amusement. He had so much confidence. It was so hard to believe sometimes. I wish I could be that self-assured. I suppose it takes years to achieve that, I guess. Years of people telling you that you're the sun and the moon, the next biggest thing. So hot, so sweet, so alluring, so sexy, so dreamy, so amazing... All that praise gets to a person's head. I don't think I'll ever be like that, though. No, not me.

Tommy smiled warmly and lightly poked me in the side. "But you love me for it," He declared brightly, wrapping an arm over my shoulders so that I was practically in a headlock. You're right about that, Quincy. I do love you, despite your overconfidence. Some ego you've got there. He pressed a light kiss to the top of my head and I almost melted into a puddle right there in the street, as he gave my shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

I pretended to groan as if I had been inconvenienced, but I was really recording and remembering the moment. After I had forever engraved it into my mind, I ruffled his hair a little, blowing the fluffier strands around. Funny, his hair's never this loose. Tommy made a noise of protest, but loosened his grip around my shoulders slightly. I sighed, leaning against him, pretending not to notice when he sucked in a breath. "Oh, shut it, Tommy," I pouted, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Tommy reddened slightly.

But then a sneaky look passed across his face and he attacked my midsection with his fingers, tickling me. I attempted to hit him, but wound up missing, laughing hysterically. His hands were very skilled... I could easily see why all the other girls fawn over him. Then I tried to run away, but wherever I ran, he followed with a vengeance. "Stop it!" I gasped out, giggling hysterically.

Tommy gave me a devil-may-care glance. "Revenge," He muttered, shrugging, before he continued to chase me. He grabbed me around the waist and continued his onslaught. I stumbled, clutching him for what little support I could get, while still backing away.

Hurricane Tommy strikes again.

Before I knew it, I fell, landing on my ass in the grass. How we had managed to wander off to a place in Toronto that had grass, I will never know. I reached out for something to catch my fall or to use as a lever or balance and wound up grabbing Tommy's hands and pulling him down with me. He landed on top of me rather unpleasantly... Not unpleasantly because I didn't like it, of course! Unpleasant because it sort of hurt a little.

His face was only inches above mine, and our eyes were locked with an electric connection. I felt like there were magnets impelling him closer... You know, like the ones in those Lion King stuffed animals I had when I was little that made their noses touch? Except this time the magnet was set a little lower than the nose. We were so close when suddenly, Tommy pushed himself up a little. He wasn't flat against me anymore, but somehow he was straddling my hips, and, surprisingly enough, he hadn't noticed yet. How many times I've dreamed of Tommy doing something like this...

A slow smirk spread across his face as he pushed my shirt up a little. My breath hitched. Just what, exactly, was Tommy doing? It sort of reminded me of the whole Quinn fiasco, except I was vertical then and terrified. I did not just make that comparison... Ew. I could never be afraid of Tommy. And I liike Tommy.

His magic fingers danced across my bare skin... just the stomach, nothing perverted (yet!)... Hey, a girl can dream, can't she? ...And then he was tickling me with even more force. I laughed raucously, struggling to get out words and to just... breathe!

But it was hard, as he was pinning me to the ground. I kicked my legs, trying to thrash about as wildly as possible to free myself. Then I realized the oh-so-obvious fact that both of my hands remained free, and I reached up to tickle him. I had barely touched him when his darkened eyes widened a little, and he used one hand to hold my hands over my head, still attacking me with the other. I had to stop laughing. I could barely breathe.

"Tommy... Stop! Please, Tommy, I'm... Begging... Stop!" I managed to gasp out breathlessly.

Tommy's smile only widened further as he continued to tickle me. "This is your punishment," Tommy growled sadistically, but in a cute way. I glared at him, but closed my eyes, feeling the tears coming. It was the first time all day that they weren't tears of sadness. I was beginning to think there was no end in sight when I saw a shadow descend over Tommy and me. It was a man who looked angry, but I'd never seen him before in my life. My hero! Or, at least, that was what I'd thought... He wasn't really the hero type.

He frowned when he saw me. Tommy had stopped tickling me in surprise, but his hand was resting surprisingly high on my stomach, and he was pinning me to the ground and holding up my hands. Oh, and I was underage, breathless, crying, and telling him to stop. I guess I was a bit louder than I intended to be. Which meant that that guy thought...

Oh, how can he think that? Tommy would never... He wouldn't have to... You know?

"I never thought Little Tommy Q. was a rapist," The man muttered disapprovingly. You should've seen the look on Tommy's face. It was scary, sorta intense.

First he blushed a little, clearly embarrassed. Embarrassed of the way it looked. Embarrassed for getting caught. Embarrassed for me.

He bit his lip nervously and removed his hand from my stomach and relaxed and then released his grip on my hands. Nervous about what this meant. Nervous he was losing it. Nervous about the consequences. A bead of cold sweat ran down his temple.

Then his face turned cherry red from anger, and his eyes were burning and glaring through the man, silently ripping him to shreds. Angry for interrupting a good moment. Angry at being called a rapist. Angry at himself for being so damn weak. Angry at me for provoking him. Angry for being called Little Tommy Q.

A shadow of regret appeared in his eyes, but he quickly brushed it off. He felt guilty too, but he brushed that off even quicker. I felt the shame pulsating through him.

I took the opportunity to wipe at my eyes, trying to figure out how to fix this. This guy had no idea of who I was. He held out a hand for me to grab, so he could take me away from Tommy, something I did not want. I mean, you're crazy if you think I'm gonna choose you, a stranger, over Tommy Quincy, the love of my life. Whoa, why did I just say that? I'm supposed to be getting over him!

After all, that guy trying to "save" me could be some weird stalker rapist himself! I know Tommy, and he's many things... A heartbreaker, notorious playboy, manwhore, music producer, singer, boybander, great kisser, brother, boyfriend, son, lover, fighter, worker, procrastinator... But he's not a rapist (despite why he might think). So, thinking quickly, I rolled my eyes, plastering on an annoyed look. Really, I was flattered, but he had things all wrong here. Tommy wasn't like that.

"I don't know what you think is going on here..." I began. That was a complete lie. I knew exactly what he thought was going on here. Tommy did too. And, obviously, neither of us liked it. "But could you leave me and my boyfriend alone?" I asked, trying to sound as snotty as I could.

The man was not convinced. Especially as Tommy blanched when I called him boyfriend. Jeez, Tom, you have got to get used to the B word. Especially since you're Sadie's boyfriend now. Don't even try and tell me that you're not, okay, because I know you are. My would-be-rescuer rolled his eyes. "He's not your boyfriend. He was attacking you," The guy pointed out, too sober for his own good.

I like to think that I know when a guy's attacking me. Though he was sorta right... in a way. But it's Tommy, so I didn't really mind except for the fact that I couldn't breathe. I rolled my eyes again, pulling Tommy against me so fast he barely knew what hit him. "Yeah, with kisses," I retorted, trying to sound as ditzy as I could... but I came out sounding slutty, and the guy still didn't believe me. How is that possible, seriously?

It's because Tommy blanched again. Can he not see what I'm trying to do here? No, I bet he's just to freaked about the threat lurking behind my words. He doesn't want to kiss me. That's sort of offensive, but I get it. I'm not stupid. He's afraid of himself around me.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss against his lips, pulling back before he'd even registered what had happened... kind of like our first kiss... the one that shall remain nameless. A.K.A. Fiasco City. Then I flashed what I hoped was a convincing smile, staring openly and adoringly at my "boyfriend". "I just love Tommy so much," I blurted without thinking, wrapping my arms around his neck.

OH CRAP! I did not just say that. Tommy isn't supposed to know that I'm in love with him! It'll be weird and awkward, though it already is... No, Jude, relax. He'll just think that you said it to get that guy off your back. You'll be fine. Uh, I hope? Cross my fingers... Tommy's face was expressionless, but suddenly he thought of something and grinned adoringly at me. "I love you too, girl," He said soothingly. My heart skipped a beat. I was surprised when he planted a big one on me, and I'm sure if I was standing I would've collapsed. It wasn't that passionate, I guess, more of a sweet, sort of innocent thing. So unlike Tommy. I giggled, pulling back.

"Tommy, stop!" I cried out playfully, still giggling, hoping the guy would get the right idea and leave us the hell alone... to our own devices. Though I'm always up for making out with Tommy. A second after these words flew out of my lips, I attacked Tommy, reversing our positions. Now I was the one straddling Tommy. I was more insistent and passionate, hoping to show the guy, if he was still watching, just who the aggressor was here. But when I glanced up during a breath of air, he was gone, which meant I had to stop kissing Tommy. Damn it! Life's just not fair!

For a moment there, it was like he had actually, really meant it. I actually believed it there for a second. Stupid, stupid me. Tommy's a great actor, isn't he? Too good sometimes. But I had my own ways of enacting revenge. I pressed down hard against his hips, making Tommy groan. "Jude, don't do this..." He moaned, screwing his eyes closed, sounding as if he was in pain.

I rolled my eyes. "Relax, Quincy. I'm not looking to turn you on here... I'm not a tease," I told him seriously. I think I was doing that anyways, though, and Tommy knew it. He was trying to keep it all together. You get an A for Effort, Tommy.

"Well, it's not working. I'm a healthy male..." Tommy hissed, struggling to break free. I refused to move, staring down at him stonily. I cocked an eyebrow. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy... When will you ever learn? I snorted as he said healthy male. Jeez, Tommy, you sound like an after-school special. So defensive.

"With an unhealthy libido," I interrupted, unable to fight the smirk that was spreading across my face. Tommy made a face at me, still wiggling. All that wiggling won't help you any. I'm not moving. He tried to push me off, but I was like a statue. An incredibly amused statue that was shaking from laughter.

"And you're really not helping." Tommy retorted, exerting a bit more force to get me off of him. I didn't budge. He's crazy if he thinks I'll get off of him without getting revenge. Oh, and it will be sweet. Sweet.

I rolled my eyes at him. Tommy and his whining. Boy, it's not going to get you anywhere. "Oh, quit squirming already," I snapped bossily, pinning him to the ground at the shoulders with both of my hands. Tommy tried to escape, but I leaned my weight against his chest, keeping him stuck there. It was nice to have the power in this relationship... for once. Finally, realizing he was getting nowhere fast, he stopped trying and fell back, sighing. We were so close I felt his breath on my face.

Dangerous things happen when I'm this close to Tommy. And, mind you, that's when I'm not straddling him. But it's not like I'm wearing lingerie or anything... I'll be fine. I won't do anything... Just tickle him a little. Is that a crime?

It is if he's your sister's boyfriend.

Hey, I knew him first!

But she _knows_ him better, doesn't she?

I don't like the way you said that, Jude. I know what knows means. You're trying to insinuate that... you know! Just because I haven't screwed the guy doesn't mean that I don't know him better than she does. Remember, he was practically stripping down in front of me yesterday?

Yesterday seems so far away... So much has happened lately, hasn't it? It's been a whirlwind of emotions, but life's been like that ever since I won Instant Star. That was the catalyst... or was that me kissing Tommy for the first time? I don't know. Maybe I would know that if I didn't flunk Chemistry last year. Hey, it's not my fault I don't get math!

And it's kinda hard to do dimensional analysis if you don't get algebra. It's okay though. I'm a musician and a songwriter. I don't have to understand math. I just have to write songs and perform, which rocks! Getting paid to be famous and do what I love? Killer.

But it doesn't take a math whiz to know my chances of Tommy. I can tell you, even without all that probability crap... pretty much nil. Zip. Nada. Nothing... Okay, so it's slightly bigger than that. 1.5 percent tops. Anyways, that's not the point because I'm not doing anything bad. Yet, Jude... I'm talking to myself about Tommy Two-Time. I have serious issues.

Tommy was still a bit confused, but I cleared things up by mercilessly jumping right in and tickling him. He tried to move from side to side, biting his lip to try and hold back the laughter. I grinned. "Aww, is Little Tommy Q. ticklish?" I asked, talking to him as if he was a baby. Tommy grimaced, muttering under his breath, glaring at me.

"You... are... _so_ dead... So **dead**..." Tommy hissed as menacingly as he could while trying not to laugh. He was breathless, red in the face, and failing miserably. So he just came out sounding winded and hoarse. I laughed too and leaned in a little bit closer. My hands stopped moving and I just stared. Tommy's eyes opened, a little wet, and he stared back. Both of us had long since stopped laughing, and once again, I felt the same magnetic force pulling me to him. My eyes were about to close. Tommy licked his lips... not innocently.

Then, from behind me, I heard a sharp, disapproving voice. It reminded me of Tommy's mother, which was an immediate mood killer. The voice ran down both of us like ice water. "You two are in public, you know... It's despicable. Little kids come here," The soccer mom snapped, clucking her tongue. Tommy's eyes, which were lazily half-lidded, became as wide as saucers. I moved up and away from his face, so that I was just sitting on him.

Tommy pushed himself up on his elbows a little, leaning on one forearm so that he could gesture to me with the other. He shot me a disdainful look before gazing back at the lady. What, like this is all my fault? You're the one who tackled me in the first place! "She _is_ a little kid," Tommy exclaimed, annoyed. Well, gee, thanks for reminding me of that, Tom! Very kind of you.

"And _you're_ a dirty old man!" I proclaimed, feeling testy as I jabbed him in the chest. I glared at him viciously, but stopped once I saw the genuinely wounded look on his face. He was remembering his supposed guilt again. A sad look crossed his face, and he tried to convey apology on his face as he attempted to move away from me, which was sort of impossible. Great, now I felt guilty. Just great. I sighed and rolled off of him, landing flat on my back in the grass next to him.

Our legs were still overlapping. I sighed again, looking over at Tommy dreamily. I exhaled deeply, closing my eyes for a minute, and moved my head on top of his stomach. I sighed contentedly, turning my head so my cheek rested against his warm shirt. Mmm, he smells nice...

Was it really so wrong that I just wanted to stay here for the rest of my life? I mean, was that so bad? I had the strong desire to just fall asleep there against his chest, breathing in his smell. I could hear his heartbeat, steady and constant... Something Tommy was not. I sighed again, and my eyes fluttered open. "But that's okay, I love you anyways..." I murmured, snuggling closer to him.

"Oh, corrupting a minor, are we?" She muttered disapprovingly. I could feel Tommy wince against my head and rolled my eyes. Not that again. Must everyone remind me that I'm not eighteen yet? For crying out loud, that's like, what, a year and a few months away? Honestly! Tommy sat up immediately, and my head wound up in his lap, which made Tommy more than a little bit uncomfortable.

"**No**," Tommy blurted, worried about what this lady would think about him. He's always been so worried about what people will think. I think it must be ingrained into him or something. I mean, growing up around Darius and Victoria must've screwed him up good. They'd screw any kid up, come to think of it. And, crap, I'm working with both of them.

I thought it over for a second and sat up too, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his shoulder adoringly. I smiled at the woman and kissed him on the cheek, unable to stop grinning. "Actually, this was my idea," I said, giggling stupidly. I rubbed my cheek against his, smiling wickedly at what was to come. "He wanted to do it in the road, but I didn't want to get run over," I replied nonchalantly, as if I was talking about the weather. I got the idea from that one Beatles song... It's sort of repetitive, but it sure gets the point across.

And it made the woman storm off without another word, looking totally outraged. Plus, the look on Tommy's face was absolutely priceless. His eyes went even wider than before, his jaw hung wide open, his eyebrows flew up... He looked completely silly. I looked at him and started laughing hysterically. Tommy's jaw closed and then tightened. He glanced down at his watch and rocketed up. "Jude, we're late for your soundcheck!" Tommy grunted, pulling me up with him and hurrying out of the park.

It took me five minutes of silence to realize that we were not headed in the direction of G. Major.

"Where are we going?" I questioned, feeling incredibly confused. Tommy shot me a somewhat nervous look and quickened his pace. I had no choice but to follow him, practically running.

"My place... If we go back to G. Major now Georgia will have both of our heads... Besides, it's not far, and we can take the Hummer," Tommy stated briskly. I tried to nod, but he was yanking on my hand so hard I had to run to catch up. He was right, though, about it being close. Before I knew it, he was dragging me down into the parking garage.

Then I got in the car, and somehow, we wound up at the studio where they filmed Under the Mike fifteen minutes later. Which is ridiculous, as I happen to know that it's forty minutes away from where Tommy lives. It's forty-five to fifty away from G. Major, and Tommy lives close to the studio, obviously. I also happen to know that Hummers get crappy gas mileage. But I suppose Tommy can do anything when he speeds, can't he?

I was guided through the back door, and suddenly, I couldn't see Tommy backstage anymore. I saw Georgia, leaning against the wall, frowning. Darius was, oddly enough, right next to her, shoulder-to-shoulder. I praised all that is holy that Shay wasn't here. E.J. looked a bit flustered, and her eyes narrowed when she saw me. Immediately she walked up to me, bossy as can be, and grabbed me. Her manicured nails dug into my arm. "Honestly, where have you been! You missed your soundcheck! You better pray that your guitar's in tune and that your voice isn't hoarse!" E.J. snarled, pacing like a caged tiger, intermittently stopping to throw a glare my way.

I rolled my eyes, sighing. "Why would it be? I've only being singing and playing all day... In school, in my car, in the studio, recording..." I cleared my throat with some difficulty. Sure, my throat was a little hoarse, but I'd make do... And drink plenty of water. Then I'll be good. Georgia finally noticed me... At first she looked angry, but then I saw her eyes lit up and she flew over to me.

"Oh, Jude, honey, we were so worried about you! You were there one second and then you weren't... And Kwest didn't know where you were, and Tom disappeared and didn't take his cell with him... It was awful. I thought you'd been abducted or something!" Georgia shouted, hugging me so tight she almost crushed my ribs. Wow, she must really be attached to the money I'm bringing in... Nah, I know what she means. It's really sweet... I feel like I have two moms or something. Hmm, do you think she called my parents?

I frowned, backing away from Georgia a little until she finally broke the hug. "Oh, I'm **so** sorry... I was going to drive there, but I got... distracted. I was with Tommy the whole time..." I apologized, feeling guilty on a whole new level... Not just about Sadie this time. I felt bad for making Georgia worried.

Darius scowled, giving Georgia a look. "Which explains how you were distracted," Darius mumbled pointedly. I winced, but attempted to brush it off. Georgia ignored Darius and once again turned to me.

"Never do that again, okay, Jude? I mean, not with Tommy... No, wait, that's not what I mean... I'm sorry, I'm just all mixed up here. It's just, we were worried and no one knew where you were... I kept thinking about what I'd have to tell your parents..." Georgia rambled, sounding confused, tired, sad, and nervous all at once. In short, she sounded like she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Okay, so I call or leave a note next time, got it. I guess that answers my question though... The one about my parents? She didn't tell them, which is good because I'm not supposed to see Tommy. Period.

I nodded dutifully, and then Georgia smiled a little, leaning in conspiratorially. "Even Darius was worried... though he'd never admit it," She whispered, sounding happy about that. Aww, Darius cares about others... Whoa, he must really, really like Georgia. Really.

I smiled at Darius. "Aww," I drawled, rolling the W around on my tongue for a while, amused. Darius was clearly embarrassed and annoyed. This meant "G., you weren't supposed to tell her that" in Darius' language.

E.J. was not phased by any of this. She simply sighed, rolling her eyes, and nearly threw me into the dressing room, screaming at me to make myself presentable. Gee, thanks, E.J. Thanks a lot. I groaned, looking through the various choices. E.J. screeched bossily at me through the door, "Jude, hurry up and get dressed! Your ass needs to be on stage in ten minutes!"

I sighed, glancing at the clock. Okay then, guess I have to be fast. I glanced nervously at the outfits, immediately ruling out the ones which made me feel uncomfortable, which happened to be all of them. Finally, I sighed and picked the least trampy/uncomfortable looking one. That being said, it was a tight, hot pink and black bustier-corset thing (a bit too low for my taste), a black leather miniskirt, and knee-high black leather boots that I liked. I practically tore off my clothes in my haste. E.J. had yelled again, this time claiming five minutes left. I had to hustle.

First, I zipped up my skirt, which was a lot tighter than I would've liked it to be. Next came my boots. I had picked up my top and was about to put it on when suddenly, the door opened. I dropped my top in surprise. Stupid, stupid me. What am I, on drugs? How could I forget to lock the door? Anyone could've come in... Literally, anyone. Like Darius, or some creepy freak who wants to... Stupid me! Why am I so stupid? Why?

Naturally it was Tommy. If I thought the look on his face was weird before... He was gaping at me, eyes focused on my chest. I don't really get why. He acts like he's never seen me in a bra before. Well, newsflash, Tom, you have. In fact, we've supposedly slept together, remember, so you've "seen" me in a lot less... But you don't remember that, so you are surprised. I just... I really wish he would stop staring at me like that. He shouldn't be staring at me like that... He's with my sister! God! What is wrong with him! I'm single, and you're not, Tommy, so back off!

It took him a minute to collect himself. He gulped down hard over the lump in his throat, and tried to speak. Key word being tried. It came out shaky, making little to no sense. I was barely able to hear/understand what he said... But I knew Tommy, so I got the gist of it... I knew what he was going to say. "I-I... I just... Uh, I want... I w-wanted to, uh, um... wish... wish you luck on... y-your performance," He stuttered, being distracted. He was distracted because he kept staring at my chest, of course. It was sort of flattering, but again, this is the man who's dating my sister. And he's wicked old and an ex-boybander and a sex fiend and I'm sixteen and it's illegal and he's sooo unbelievably, undeniably out-of-my-league.

I didn't say anything at first, but the staring was really getting on my nerves. Do I look like a piece of meat to you? Well, I'm not! I never wanted to be a sex symbol. "Oh, come on, like you haven't seen me in a bra before..." I retorted, rolling my eyes at his stupidity. This seemed to snap Tommy out of his me-induced stupor, but not for long. There was a slightly glazed look in his eyes, but he didn't move... fortunately for me. If he had moved, even a single inch, towards me... I would have completely lost it and done something stupid... Like kiss him again, at the very least.

This time E.J. ruined the moment, appearing behind Tommy. You had to admire E.J. sometimes. She was so stressed that none of this crap with Tommy and me seemed to affect her. Her eyes narrowed. I almost thought she hadn't noticed, but then she spoke, erasing any of my doubts. "Jude, put your shirt on. You're on in 2," She practically growled, looking absolutely venomous. I was worried that she was going to pull an Exorcist on me, spinning head, glowing eyes and all. E.J. was literally two steps away from doing just that, I could tell. Then she turned around abruptly, jet black hair swishing behind her. I almost thought she hadn't noticed Tommy's weirdness, but she surprised me once again. "Oh, and Tommy, get it together. You're staring at her like you've never seen a pair of breasts in your life," She snapped icily.

She didn't even stop walking, clipboard in hand. Her heels continued to click across the wood until she was gone from sight, presumably rushing off to do something else. She didn't even close the door. Shrew. Her words, however, did Tommy a world of good. He promptly picked his jaw up off the floor and averted his eyes nervously, leaning heavily against the doorframe as he had done months earlier... after "Skin". This time he wasn't full of himself, or apologetic... No, I take that back... He was apologetic, but this time he was embarrassed. Big time.

When he didn't say anything, I rolled my eyes and decided to finish getting ready. I pulled on the shirt, ignoring him and pretending as if he wasn't there. Wow, that was fun. At least he's not staring at me. That's a relief, to say the least... I rushed to drag the red (Smoldering Passion... Yeah, I know, the irony kills me too) lipstick across my lips, not even bothering to glance at my hair. I grabbed my jacket, throwing it on in a hurry and hustling out the door. When I walked through that doorway, Tommy wasn't there. I swear, I have never worn this much leather in my life. Oh well, too late to do anything about that.

Following the sounds of the cheering crowd, I rushed onstage just as they were announcing my name. "Jude Harrison, everybody!" I remembered that Shay had said those same words when he serenaded me with another rapper's lines. Ugh. And look how badly that had turned out. I bit my lip and forced a smile, greeting the host, whose name I could not, for the life of me, remember. Oh well... Whatever. I can roll with the punches. I'll fake it.

"Hey..." I muttered, fighting the OVERWHELMING urge to frown. It was weird, but I didn't feel like performing or being interviewed... for the first time in my life. But today had been rough, hadn't it? Yes, if you call crying on what, at least four separate occasions rough. I was just worn out by this point. Somehow the guy saw my fatigue and smirked. What, did he think I'm tired because I've been screwing Tommy all night? Screwing and Tommy do not go in the same sentence, Jude. Bad, baad, baaaad Jude.

"So, Jude, you just wrapped up a successful world tour with your ex, your debut album's on the verge of going platinum, and you've started work on your sophomore album with some rockin' new singles... How do you feel?" The guy with dreads asked me in a way too chipper tone. I think he expected me to be overjoyed or on top of the world or something... Well, too bad, man, I'm heartbroken... but that's buried in the mess of this afternoon. Hopefully to be very, very, very soon forgotten, if I have anything to say about it.

I tried my best to give him what he wanted. A chipper, cheerful Jude Harrison. Except everybody knows I'm neither. I settled for a humble-looking, rather nonchalant shrug as I leaned over to the microphone he held. "I still feel the same inside even though so much in my life has changed... At the end of the day I'm still Jude Harrison, you know?" I replied simply, frowning at how melancholy I sounded. It was true, but still... I paused and continued, happier this time. "My first tour rocked! I have you guys to thank for that... If you didn't buy the tickets to my concerts or my CDs, I wouldn't be doing a second album, or, for that matter, a second tour... So thanks!" I said sincerely into the microphone, casting a dreamy gaze out into the audience.

That's when I saw it, and I finally faced the music. Tommy and Sadie, sitting next to each other, smiling and holding hands... He didn't even care about her nose. I realized then that getting over Tommy was going to be a lot harder than I thought. I saw them sitting there, so happy, and I felt cold and guilty for every childish thing I'd done. I smiled tightly at the host, glancing away from my sister and my... and her boybander boyfriend, my eyes a little misty.

"So... On tour with the Big Shay? How'd that go? Did you two hook up? Are you two back on?" He questioned eagerly. I grimaced inside, scowling by now. Gee, could you be any more desperate to know? I don't think so. I rolled my eyes, grabbing the microphone from him with more force than was necessary.

"It was fine for the most part... No, we did not hook up, and no, we are not back on. Especially as he was making out with Eden at our last stop. He made a pass at me, I said no, he wouldn't stop, and so I punched him and threw him out of the room... End of story," I stated firmly, feeling my eyebrows bunch up, and my brow furrow. Then I handed him the mike with a bit too much gusto... So what, I nearly chucked it at him? I was irritated, and he wasn't helping.

Our host cleared his throat nervously, shooting the audience a panicked glance, and looking a little bit nervous. But, then, of course, he got another brilliant idea and had soon forgotten his fear. "So... You and Little Tommy Q. ...What's up with that? Or was that just some little tour fling you two had goin' on there?" He asked, clearly amused. I didn't even have to look at Tommy to know that he was flinching and furiously apologizing to Sadie... Which made me mad and sad at the same time... Tommy tends to do that.

I groaned aloud, and Dreads smirked at me. I wanted to punch the smirk right off his face. I hated him and his innuendos. I sighed again and grabbed the microphone. "I am getting _so_ much crap over that," I muttered, and the audience laughed. I deliberately avoided Tommy's eyes, but I could tell he was seeking me out. "No, really... I hate having to explain this to people, and I've been explaining myself since, well, Montreal... But, to finally set the record straight, there is nothing _romantic_ going on there. Tom's my teacher, my mentor, and my friend... and there's a line there that you just don't cross," I explained honestly, trying to look everywhere but at Tommy. No, not quite honestly. I was lying about the nothing romantic... But everything else was true.

Dreads (I still cannot remember his name) gave me a skeptical look as he grabbed the mike. In fact, he snorted, clearly not buying it for a second. The audience didn't hear him snort... At least they believed me. Hell, I don't even believe me at this point. I leaned back in towards the microphone, somehow grinning. "Besides, he's got a girlfriend," I whispered, winking out at the audience. You know, I seriously hope that they don't think I'm that girlfriend, 'cause I just realized how that sounded...

Dreads looked interestedly at me, nodding. A slow smirk spread across his face. Well, there's no doubt as to what he believes, now is there? "And you know this girlfriend?" I hated that stupid knowing tone of his, like he didn't believe me and wasn't trusting... I could understand that, but it bugged me. I nodded, seeking out Sadie in the audience. Our eyes locked.

"You could say that... She's like a sister to me, really," I responded vaguely, plastering on the obligatory fake smile. Like? She _was_ a sister to me. Not that she acted like it even half the time. Dreads and the audience both looked a little surprised at the revelation, not that I could blame them. I mean, honestly, what girlfriend would be okay with me being friends and working close with their boyfriend who I've kissed how many times, again? Especially not Sadie. I wondered vaguely just how long she would wait before actually telling him to stay the hell away from me... I give her a week.

I snapped out of my reverie and there was Sadie. She gave me this stupid, annoyingly smug look. And then she practically jumped on Tommy. Ah, watch the slut mark her territory. I'm not even kidding, though, that's what's sad. She was on his lap in a flash and kissing him like there was no tomorrow. Even more sickening, he was groping her enthusiastically. Like he hadn't been doing the same thing to me this morning. He makes me sick.

It was like a car crash, and I just couldn't tear my eyes away. Dreads cleared his throat and I snapped back to reality. But I didn't take my eyes off Tommy Two-Time and Sexy Sadie. I couldn't. Fortunately, so I didn't look like such an idiot, Dreads asked me a question. "So, Jude, what's next for you? Can you give us the scoop?" He inquired, sounding curious. I tore my eyes away from Tommy and Sadie long enough to smile gratefully at Dreads.

"I'm doing a few shoots for two fashion lines and a cosmetics line... And we're going to start production on my next music video. Not to mention recording the rest of my album. Other than that... I don't know," I answered, shrugging, into the microphone. Somehow, my eyes found their way back to Tom and Sadie who

going at it like rabbits. I was surprised that they hadn't been kicked out. No one had even yelled at them to get a room, and they were sitting in practically the front row. I was tempted to tell them that, but telling my sister to go get a room so she can go have sex with the guy I'm in love with is just plain stupid. Though I felt like throwing up after looking at them.

Dreads asked me another question, one I barely registered. It took me a good minute to realize what he'd asked, and I was a bit surprised. "Are you dating anyone, Jude?" He asked, giving me a look that I did not like in the slightest. I hate this outfit. Dreads is so leering at me. And if Tommy's six years older than me, this guy's like... twice that. He's got to be at least twenty-eight. I grimaced and pulled my jacket over my chest, obscuring my practically nonexistent shirt. I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling suddenly cold.

What was I supposed to say to that? I had no clue, and it really wasn't something I'd expected to hear. I almost floundered, but then something came to me. A smirk spread slowly across my face. "Well, that depends on which tabloid you're asking... Star thinks I'm dating all of Boyz Attack!. Celebrity Today says I'm back with Shay. The Inquirer thinks I'm with Chaz. Oh, and, as usual, Talk National thinks I'm screwing Tommy Q.," I replied truthfully. And, even though it was, tragically enough, true, the audience laughed. I couldn't help but laugh with them. Obviously, I was never going to date any of them. I smiled, thinking of Tim. "But, in reality... I'm single. There is this one guy I'm dating, but I don't want to jinx it..." I murmured dreamily, thinking of Tim. It was definitely too soon to call him a boyfriend... Sadie made that mistake. But, hey, a girl can hope, right?

Dreads smiled at me benevolently. Well, at least he isn't checking me out. Progress, Jude, that's progress. Then he turned out to the audience. I knew I was going to sing in a few seconds. I felt a little nervous and wondered vaguely which song I should sing. I felt almost as nervous as I had at Instant Star, and that freaked me out. "Now Jude's going to sing her new single for us... Which I don't know the name of. So, without further ado..." He nearly shouted into the mike in that booming voice of his. I could feel my eyes widen and before I knew it, a guitar was thrust into my arms, Dread was walking backstage, and Speed and the guys were already set up behind me. I gulped, glancing back at them for help, but they could only shrug and offer none, looking at me expectantly. Great, just great. Some back-up band I've got here.

Speed was on my right, Wally on my left, and Kyle directly behind me. I inhaled deeply and then sighed wearily, gazing out at the crowd and not knowing what to do. It seemed like an eternity that I stood there, speechless, staring out at them blankly, but it was only a few seconds. Then, finally, last of all, my eyes returned to Tommy and Sadie. One of his hands was crawling up her shirt; the other buried in her skirt... but that didn't surprise me. No, what surprised me, what really made the rancor rise in my throat was Sadie.

_Sexy Sadie... You broke the rules. You laid it down for all to see. Sexy Sadie, you broke the rules._

_She came along to turn on everyone... Sexy Sadie, the greatest of them all. _

_Sexy Sadie, she's the latest and the greatest of them all._

Isn't she, Tom? Isn't that what you think? The latest and greatest Tommy Q. Babe. I know how you think, and it disgusts me. The latest and greatest lay, right? Yeah, that's what I thought. I know what you were doing in Italy. Her.

_She made a fool of everyone._ Especially me. Why did I ever think I have a chance with him? She's every man's fantasy, and I'm just a kid. A stupid, stupid girl. Just like the song I did a cover of.

It wasn't that, though. That stuff's all old news, and I don't care about any of it... The whole load of it. Okay, so that's a lie. I do still care, but it's none of my business really...Only... Why did they break up in Italy? No, Jude, we're not doing this... I do care, but it doesn't matter. Not as much as right now does.

It wasn't what Tommy was doing that bothered me. I expected that. I didn't expect them to be making out in the seats while I was doing my interview, but I expected his behavior... to some degree. I just... I don't like what Sadie's doing. I know she's not near as slutty as she's acting right now. Okay, so she went out on a lot of dates and had a lot of boyfriends, but she wasn't screwing every guy in town, you know? I'm feeling bad about her... Isn't that sad? Bet she doesn't feel bad for me. Oh well.

In case you're wondering... She was starting to undo his jeans... in public, when she knew I could see her... When she knew that I would know exactly what she was doing. And the funny thing is... No one cared about it at all... No one except me. She knew, and she didn't care. And I thought Tommy was the shameless one...

But here's the thing, Sexy Sadie... _However big you think you are..._

_Sexy Sadie, you'll get yours yet..._

And I was about to give it to her. Yes, I knew exactly which song I was going to sing. So I smirked, looking like a rockstar for all I was worth, and walked closer to the microphone, slipping the guitar strap over my shoulders. "This isn't my new single, but I think you'll like it anyways. I sure do," I drawled huskily, not caring how I sounded. After all, I was making fun of Sadie.

Who knows, this might just be the wake-up call she needs.

I turned to Speed and the guys, moving back and away from the microphone. "I'm not gonna play much guitar on this one, but I'll start it out... Just go with it. Oh, and also go with any movements I might do onstage, okay?" I whispered, nervously looking between them. I used some gestures we'd come up with on tour to indicate to Wally and Kyle chords, volume, and timing... I know, some gestures, right? Really, it's a lot simpler than it sounds.

I grinned, clutching my pick, and plugged the amp into my guitar. A moment later, I started playing (my guitar was miraculously in tune), returning to my position in front of the mike. I figured I'd play the first verse and the chorus and then move around. The tune was electric and infectious. I narrowed my eyes, deciding to channel Sadie, and let my jacket fall open while I was playing. There was no question that I'd be throwing it off as soon as possible.

"_When Sadie struts downtown, they all know her name... 'Cause they're used to Sexy Sadie and her little sex games. They're the ones who've taken to giving her that pet name..._" I sang, pretending to strut and swaying my hips in a suggestive manner. The guys stared at me, surprised. What, did they forget I was a girl again? That's what happens when you tour with boys.

"_Sexy Sadie, Sexy Sadie, the slutty lady down the block!_" I yelled, trying to sound like a little kid. The guys grinned, recognizing me. They chimed in with similar echoes. I was so lucky to have them as a back-up band. Really, they were the best. It was sure loud enough to snap Sadie out of Tommy.

I smirked, noticing that I had her full attention now. "_Ooh, ooh, Sexy, sexy Sadie... You sure as hell ain't a **lady**! 'Cause you keep them all coming back for more... Sexy Sadie, Sexy Sadie, you're a whore!_" I proclaimed loudly, and then the audience went wild. Sadie's jaw dropped. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish' mouth did, but nothing came out... Not that I could hear anything over the roar of the crowd and my guitar. I glanced to Speed, who nodded at me. I nodded back and placed my guitar in a nearby stand, grabbing the mike.

"_When you've got him in your sight..._" I fluttered my eyelashes at Speed, who fought back laughter. "Y_ou don't care if it's wrong or right..._" I shook my head, grinning seductively and walking slowly towards the audience. "_You take them **all** home at night..._" I got down on my knees and lazily ran a hand through the crowd, looking as seductive as I could. I was nearly pulled in the audience, so I got up and backed up a bit towards S.M.E. "_Even if you **know** you don't have the right..._" I shook my head and locked eyes with Sadie. Shame, shame, Sades. I'm sorry it had to come down to this.

In retrospect, sure, it wasn't the most mature thing to do. It made me just as bad a sister as Sadie was to me. It sure wasn't the smartest thing to do... But it was what I needed to do.

I cast off my jacket, throwing it backstage... Hey, I like that jacket, I'm not going to throw it in the crowd! I could practically see the drool collecting on the men's lips as I pivoted my hips. "_Ooh, ooh, Sexy, sexy Sadie... You sure as hell ain't a lady, 'cause you keep them all coming back for more... Sexy Sadie, Sexy Sadie, you're a **whore**!_" I bellowed, shaking my hair and swinging my hips. It was really a good thing that I couldn't dance. I would look like such a slut now.

"_Sexy Sadie, Sexy Sadie, _baby_, **yeah**!_" I screamed, the guys following me. I shook my head back and forth, frowning disapprovingly. "_You just **don't**, you just **won't** care... Sadie doesn't even care who she screws._" I walked over and leaned on Wally's shoulder, wrapping my arm around him. Wally snickered and I frowned at him. Again, forgetting I'm a girl. I walked back to the drum set, lightly leaning against one of the drums, "_She'll just do it with anyone anywhere..._" I whispered into the microphone. I got up a minute later when an irritated Kyle hit the drum. Ouch! Jeez, what's up his ass?

I got rid of these thoughts and walked to the front, swaying my hips.

"_Ooh, ooh, Sexy, sexy Sadie! You sure as **hell** ain't a lady... 'Cause you keep them all coming back for more. Sexy Sadie, Sexy Sadie, you're a whore!_" I drawled, walking up and down the stage, shooting an occasional glance out into the audience. A few people screamed, and, as I shimmied onstage, one guy fainted. I couldn't believe that I had that kind of effect on someone. Hmm, so this is what it feels like to be my sister. Empowering!

I walked over to Kyle. He was wearing this stupid tie today. I walked behind the drum set, bending down and beginning to undo his tie. "_You'll help loosen a business man's tie... and give him a little _something_ on the side..._" I put my hand on his cheek lightly, and Kyle rolled his eyes, making a big show out of pushing me towards Wally, my next stop. I grinned back at Kyle for a minute before continuing on to Wally.

"_Take off a lawyer's nice dress **shirt**... and starch it in the morning too,_" I hummed, stressing morning. Wally, the group fashionista, was dressed oddly, per usual. Today he was wearing a mostly unbuttoned blue Oxford and some distressed, pinstriped black pants with flip-flops. I unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way (he didn't miss a note! I was so proud) while I sang. Then I ran a hand up his chest, giving it a pat before he snorted and pushed me away.

Of course, all of them were smiling, so I knew that they were having a blast too. It felt fun to go out and perform and just goof off with the guys like old times. Speed was next. Boy, was this going to be fun. I smirked knowingly at him, and he nodded back at me. "_You unzip a rockstar's torn blue jeans._" You see, this is the part that sort of got me in trouble. Really, Speed just undid the top button, which is a lot better than Tommy, whose jeans were only staying on because he was sitting down. Sadie was still on top of him, but at least they weren't frenching.

I hadn't realized it up until now, but Tommy had been watching me all along with rapt attention. His jaw was clenched. He didn't look amused or happy. If it weren't for the lipstick smeared all over his face, you wouldn't be able to tell that he was in the middle of a make-out session before. Oh well, it's that damn Tommy Syndrome rearing its ugly head yet again. I expected that, right? It was half of the reason for my little act. Might as well make him feel a tenth of what I was feeling. I made a point to lock eyes with Tommy for a second to be sure he got the message before my gaze returned briefly to Sadie. She looked away, crossing her arms over her chest, embarrassed.

In case you're wondering... Speed was wearing torn blue jeans. He wasn't quite a rockstar yet, but, for that matter, neither was Tommy. He was a popstar in his prime, which is obviously long past. No, wait, that's a Shay thing to say... And I can tell his new album's going to be killer. Anyways, Speed pulled his jeans down a little, and I pushed his shirt up to expose his bellybutton. "_So **careful** to avoid his belly-button ring._" It's funny, because I never knew that Speed actually had a bellybutton ring. Trying my hardest to not burst out in hysterical laughter, I flicked his belly button ring with my finger, and Speed laughed. I plastered a fake surprised look on my face, my mouth forming a little o, as I clapped a hand to the side of my face. Then, laughing, I grinned and leaned over and licked his stomach.

Speed giggled. "Stop, Jude, that tickles!" He cried out. I let him squirm a few minutes longer and then pulled back and stopped, grinning victoriously.

The audience (minus probably my father, my mother, Sadie, and, of course, Tommy) laughed hysterically. In case you're wondering why I was slobbering all over Speed's stomach, it's because him and Shay made this stupid bet in New York. I can't remember what the rewards were, but I'm pretty sure Speed got a big, fat check from Shay. I don't know. Maybe if Shay won, Speed promised to give him my number. All I really know is what happened on the bus on our way to Toronto. Apparently the bet was to see who could do a body shot off of my stomach without me noticing.

It was a Tuesday and we were just out of our last concert in New York, and I was so exhausted I fell asleep on the couch that night. I had gotten approximately 4 hours of sleep during the whole week we spent in New York, so I was sleeping like a log. Anyways, Wally and Speed picked me up and carried me over to the kitchen table. I found all of this out from Kyle, because he has a girlfriend, and, thus, was not involved in this scheme. He was the one who also refused to let Shay carry me, so, basically, he kept the other guys in line.

I owe him a lot. He was the one who made sure Shay didn't pull up my shirt and grab at my chest. I am thus eternally in his debt. Anyways, so they pushed my shirt up about halfway up my stomach and poured some tequila on my stomach. I didn't budge an inch. They flipped a coin and Speed had to go first, only Speed knew that I wouldn't kill him... So Speed sprinkled a pinch of salt on my stomach and lapped up the liquor like a dog, lime in hand. I was in the middle of a very blissful dream that Tommy had dumped Sadie and decided to go on tour with me, so I wasn't surprised. I'm told I moaned and told him, "Don't stop!" But these are horny guys we're talking about, so they could've been lying.

I'm also told that after he sucked and licked all of that up, he squeezed the lime over my stomach and licked that up too, but again, I didn't notice, as I was asleep and thought that I was, uh... with Tommy. So when Speed pulled away, I apparently grabbed his head and planted a big wet one on him. But my memories of that are foggy at best. I think he was a good kisser though... I don't remember 'cause I thought he was Tommy, and I was focusing on that then.

A few minutes later, I woke up for good, just in time to feel Shay pouring brandy (apparently a taste he acquired from his uncle) on my stomach. It was ice cold, and he was bending down when my eyes opened. I saw him there, looking like a vampire about to descend to feed on me, and I freaked. I turned over, and all the brandy rolled off my stomach, but I turned over on my side too fast and I fell off the table on to the hard floor just as the bus lurched. Speed helped me up, but he was acting weird... Nervous. He kept staring at my stomach. It took me a few minutes to realize what Shay had been trying to do, where I was, and what was on my stomach, but then I did. I was so angry. I remember flying after Shay (Kyle blocked the knife drawer) and trying to murder him. I slapped him so hard across the face that I heard his neck pop, and then I topped the matter off by tackling him and trying to strangle him. Since Speed was acting all weird, Wally and Kyle pulled me off of Shay.

Shay, who was afraid for his life, had the bus stopped and got out and hailed a cab. Kyle told me all that had happened, and so Speed ran for the bathroom. He locked the door and slept in the bathtub that night, which was hella uncomfortable, considering how tall he is. I had to wash my stomach off in the sink, which really pissed me off. I banged on the bathroom door for a good hour, screaming at him that I'd have my revenge. Then I realized that I was still tired, so I moved to go back to bed. I didn't like the way Wally was looking at me, though, so I bunked with Kyle, who, to his credit, did not touch me at all. You know, I should give him a raise.

Anyways, that being done, I strode to the front, oozing sex appeal in a way that would've made Sexy Sadie herself proud. "_Ooh, ooh, Sexy, **sexy** Sadie... You sure as hell ain't a lady! 'Cause you keep them all coming back for more... Sexy Sadie, Sexy Sadie, you're a whore!_" I chanted, feeling like jumping up and down. I didn't, of course, because that would be stupid. I noticed that the audience was dancing along, like so many had when I was doing "I'm in Love with My Guitar". But the audience was really going wild... Not you know, smashing stuff, but they were eating it up. I grinned and walked over to grab my guitar.

It felt so good to start playing again. Better than sex... Er, not that I would know. Was supposed to know... Uh... Tommy thought... Um... Yeah, I'm gonna stop now. I slid the microphone back into the stand.

"_It doesn't matter if he's single or taken..._" My eyes bored into Sadie, who bristled and flinched a little. I didn't look at Tommy. "_And you completely **ignore** wedding bands._" I fixed a pointed look at my dad. Mom glared at him, and he shrunk down a little, feeling horrible. I saw his lips start to move and I knew he was apologizing. I looked away from him.

"_You just take him by the hands..._" I motioned, shooting a coy look into the audience, for Speed to come over. He did, still playing, and approached me from behind, moving his guitar behind his back. "_And ensure that he **gets** _in_ your pants..._" I sang, grabbing his hands and putting them on my hips. I shook my hips for a minute, then laughed and pushed him away. We both started playing again.

"_Ooh, ooh, Sexy, sexy Sadie... You sure as hell ain't a lady! 'Cause you keep them **all** coming back for more... Sexy Sadie, Sexy Sadie, you're a whore!_" I bellowed, bobbing my head to the music and really rocking out. I was having an awesome time. I looked down in the audience and I noticed that my Dad had managed to coax my mom into dancing. They looked like they were having fun. I smiled, feeling happy for them.

My smile faded just a little when I saw Sadie sulking. She looked absolutely mortified, arms crossed over her chest, one hand fingering the prominent bandage on her nose. I could tell she was absolutely miserable... which was what I had wanted, right? But if it was what I had wanted, then why did I feel so awful? Because you are, Jude... Sadie's legs were uncrossed. Oh yeah... I suddenly remembered my anger.

It should be noted that Tommy was not among those dancing, but that he was not scowling like Sadie. He was seated, and clapping, eyes bright, but a frown on his face. And then he was standing, but not clapping. He just looked conflicted, which he was, I guess. I was his artist, his job, so his boss dictated that he should support me. But she was his girlfriend, his, well... You know... You can see why he'd want to keep her happy. I forced myself to forget these thoughts, and concentrated on playing an intense guitar part.

"'_Cause you're **oh**-so, **oh**-too, **oh**-my! Sexy Sadie!_" I shrieked into the microphone, the guys accompanying me. I raised a hand as if it was a stop sign and gave the audience a come-hither glance, lowering my hand to keep playing. "_Put **up** your red light, Baby... _C'mon_, Sexy Sadie!_" I hollered, backing up a little, still shaking my hips. The audience was in a tizzy.

"_Sexy, sexy Sadie... Slutty, slutty Sadie... Skanky, skanky Sadie_," I whispered into the mike. I could feel Sadie's glare, and I swallowed, almost stumbling over the words. That damn guilt was coming back. Stupid conscience. I fought to remember what they had done to me. To try and focus on how much fun everyone in the audience, even my parents (somehow, even though they both should've been able to connect the dots), was having. "_You aren't a lady, you're just a two-bit ho..._"

I shook a finger out at the audience, shaking my head. "_So please don't entice those men **anymore**..._" I implored seductively. I pursed my lips disapprovingly, pausing to catch a breath. "_You may be sexy, Sadie, but you're a whore..._" A strap of my supposed shirt slipped down my shoulder a little and most of the men in the crowd went wild. Uh, oops.

I sped up the chords for the final line, getting ready for a musical climax... Hmm, dirty. I put everything I had into that last line, forgetting all my guilt and problems. This, this was what I lived for. Performing and sharing my music with the world. "_Sex-charged, sex-obsessed, over-sexed, sexual, Sexy Sadie_," I hissed, flipping my hair and finishing the song. There was an enormous applause for me... I got a standing ovation! I hugged S.M.E., thanked the crowd, waved, and then headed backstage. I picked up my leather jacket and ran into Joan.

"Hey, glad you could make it! Um, right now I kind of have to change, and I'm sure my producer and my parents are going to ball me out for that song, but, I think I can manage to hang out with you as long as I get back before midnight... Ugh... I don't know what I'm saying. I'll just change, talk to Georgia and Darius, and try and avoid everyone who wants to kill me," I said nervously, glancing around for any glimpses of Tommy or my family. Joan laughed, nodding. She said she was going to wait by my dressing room while I talked to Georgia and Darius.

They both said the same stuff pretty much... That the song was killer... A huge hit! I was going to be number one on the charts. Blah, blah, blah, blah... Bigger than the Beatles version... What was it called? Too Sexy Sadie... You get the drift. They both seemed proud, but my mind was elsewhere. I found myself just nodding. My mind was in so many different places... I knew there was going to be an aftermath I'd have to face. I guess you could say I was preparing myself mentally.

So it was in a self-imposed stupor that I stumbled to my dressing room. But I wasn't even half-way there when I heard the voices. Some achingly familiar voices. Tommy and Sadie, of course. They were arguing and weren't even trying to be quiet about it. That sure snapped me out of my stupor fast, and I hid behind a curtain (I know, a famous rockstar hiding behind a curtain... well, not quite that famous. I'm sorta like the Habsburgs, getting famous for who I hook up with) to eavesdrop.

"This isn't easy for me _either_, Tommy! Jude just wrote a song about me being a **slut** and sang it on national television... She didn't even **bother** to change my name. And you saw how much everyone _liked_ the song! They were all dancing along and bobbing their heads! Even _Dad_ started to!" Sadie snarled, waving her hands about wildly. She was completely losing it, and I felt a smug satisfaction at that fact. Sadie was about to blow a gasket. I felt a bit guilty, though.

Not that that stopped me from listening. Sadie went on. Drama queen. "I'm going to be more popular than Roxanne! I can see it now... Here comes Red Light Sadie! Or should I say _Too_ Sexy Sadie? I'm going to be the **laughingstock** of my school," Sadie proclaimed, making a move similar to one of the dance moves I had used while performing. The move was a sharp turn of the hips. Tommy stared, of course, and it took him a good minute to regain his concentration.

People didn't have to know that she was the Sexy Sadie in question. I mean, only people who know us can put that together. So our dad was Beatles freak, big deal... Really, though, did Mom lose a bet or something? I think they were going to name her Lucy, but Mom didn't want to name her daughter after a song about drugs. But then again, he could've named her so many other things... Anna, Georgia, Rita, Prudence (Yeah, Sadie being named Prudence? I find it hilarious too), Michelle, Lizzy, Eleanor, Julia, Maggie, Madonna, Martha, Sally (being named after a prostitute? Come on, that's just perfect), Pam (Sadie being named after a transvestite? Yeah, now that would be priceless!), or Yoko (Okay, so he would never name her Yoko. Lord, the man HATES her).

I mean, so her first name's Sadie. Big deal. Doesn't mean the song's about her. I could've just chose it because it rhymes with lady... Yeah, that's my excuse! Crappy excuse. I suppose I could've done Cady, Baby, Haiti, Jadey, Katie, Natie, Matey... Katie would've been smarter. But it just doesn't have the same ring, you know? But is anyone gonna buy that excuse? Hell no...

And, yeah, her last name is Harrison, but that doesn't mean that people will ask questions. We don't look anything alike, after all... I have cousins who look more like my sister than Sadie does. Hey, they might think I'm the bastard daughter of George Harrison, for all I know... You know, if that weren't so completely ridiculous, it would be completely cool. I wonder if anyone actually thinks that...

I mean, she's giving these people a lot of credit here. I'm pretty sure they're not exactly Einsteins over there. I mean, you know, if they can even think after the partying, drinking, screwing, cramming for tests, and crappy diets. Hmm, that sounds a lot like Tommy's Boyz Attack! days. Except you don't see a lot of teenagers getting married and divorced, now do you?

Tommy shrugged. "The price of fame..." He muttered vaguely. I couldn't blame Sadie for being mad. This was so different for her than it was for him. She looked bad, and he looked good. That's just not right. Next time I'll sing the song about him being a slut. Sadie glared at him for a minute and looked as if she wanted to slap him. Unfortunately, she didn't. Why was she such a doormat when it came to Tommy?

Why are _you_ such a doormat when it comes to Tommy? I don't know. He just seems to have that effect on normally intelligent women. Damn boybanders.

Sadie shook her head, exhaling heavily, and pacing nervously. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Whatever," She mumbled dismissively. She stopped pacing and stared at Tommy for a minute. For a few seconds it looked as if their argument was over. But, knowing Sadie... And, as if on cue, she spoke out again, furious. "It's not like it helps seeing the tabloids saying that you're **with** her!" Sadie screamed, on the verge of tears. I felt guilty for being such a threat to her relationship.

"They _also_ said that she slept with Shay and is dating **Chaz**..." Tommy pointed out wisely. Well, you can't argue with him there. And we both know both of those are lies. Me sleeping with Tommy is a lie too, but he doesn't know that. Sadie gave him a look of pure death. Well, I can see that. I'd be pissed too... I mean, that's like saying it's okay to say that. Tommy shrugged. "Just saying," He grunted, looking down.

There was an awkward silence between the two, and I briefly debated going to my dressing room. Tommy looked up, snorting. "Besides, I bet next week she'll have "hooked up" with Speiderman, or, heaven forbid, J.P. or Bruno..." Tommy remarked casually. Somehow, Sadie managed to laugh. I would've laughed too, but for two things. Number one, he was absolutely right. Number two, they could've heard me. I mean, after licking Speed, I'm sure that they'll have something about it. He's cute enough, after all. Ugh, don't tell Speed I said that. All this touring's giving him a bit of an ego... I mean, he's no Tommy or Shay, but still... getting there!

Sadie giggled and hit him on the arm. "Tommy!" She squealed, pretending to sound annoyed. I could tell by the giggle that she was flirting though... Who didn't flirt with Tommy nowadays. Tommy sighed.

"All right... I'll talk to her about it..." Tommy promised. Funny, I was afraid he'd do just that. He's already made himself clear enough about it. I can't stand anymore of him shoving it in my face like that. I'll get a boyfriend this year and make him so irritated he can't stand it. I swear, so help me, God, I'll do it. Sadie gave Tommy a look, and he sighed again. "I'll try and clean up this mess, okay, Sades? I promise you, baby, it won't wind up on her album..." Tommy drawled, and I knew he was saying all the right words. Sadie smiled.

She looked like she wanted to giggle but hastily plastered a sober look on her face. Tommy pouted, and he was so adorable that if I was his girlfriend, I would've been all over him in a second. But I'm not his girlfriend. Sadie is. And Sadie is a tease.

He put a hand on her bare shoulder, sliding it up and down the warm flesh there. I felt sick. "Come on, Sadie, baby... Who's my Sexy Sadie?" Tommy whispered suggestively, wrapping his arms around her waist. Sadie giggled again and leaned in to kiss Tommy. I couldn't stand it anymore. I turned around and left.

Or, rather, tried to leave. But me, stupid, clumsy me, tripped over a guitar stand. And I said Tommy was the trainwreck... I went down hard. I felt embarrassed, and I could feel the bruises forming on my knees, but I thought I'd be okay. Ha, ha. Good one, Jude.

For, you see, as soon as I pushed myself up and turned to go towards the dressing room, I found myself practically nose-to-nose with Tommy. I stumbled backwards, noticing the unhappy look on his face. Then I looked down and saw Sadie wrapped around him like a smug boa constrictor. Did she really have to rub it in my face like this. I looked down and moved to walk past them. Maybe if I was fast enough...

Someone grabbed my shoulder and stopped me in my tracks. I just wanted to get out of here... Was that so wrong? I wasn't amused, so I might've flicked whoever it was off and then tried to walk off. Next thing I knew, I had been swirled around and was now flat up against the wall. It was impossible to say which of them had done it, but Sadie was angrier than Tom, if that says anything.

"Were you eavesdropping?" Sadie growled snottily. Why does she care? I mean, really... She didn't say anything I couldn't have guessed. And besides, what Tommy said obviously reaffirms his decision to be with Sadie. She should be glad I'm finally... getting it. I rolled my eyes at Sadie, who was getting in my face.

"It's not eavesdropping if everyone can hear you, Sadie," I retorted, annoyed. Ooh, that was good! Sadie blinked, disbelieving. What, you don't think that I'll be smart about it? Jeez, I'm in love with your boyfriend... This is pretty much my way of fighting back... my only way. I crossed my arms around my chest and wondered how long I'd be stuck here.

Sadie pursed her lips, silent. For a few moments, she didn't know what to say. But, being Sadie, that didn't last long. "How much did you overhear?" She asked insistently. I don't know, Sadie, how much did I overhear? I wonder if I missed anything good at the beginning... Well, I suppose so. There has to be something, or else she wouldn't be so damn worried about... whatever the hell it is.

I shrugged carelessly. "Enough." Being mysterious will totally freak her out. What does she think I heard? Is it all about her being insecure about my relationship with Tommy? That's lame... I mean, I can see why she would worry, and, in all honesty, she probably should worry. I mean, does she think that Montreal was the only time we've kissed? I'm pretty sure he hasn't told her about the other times, seeing as most of them happened today, and then he was drunk last night... And making out with me in my dressing room doesn't exactly make him look good.

I wonder if he's told her about the one at the Vinyl Palace... But that was just embarrassing for all involved, so I'd say no... But it's not like he pushed me away or anything... He'd have some explaining to do. And if he told her about the kiss that never happened, well, that just makes him a hypocrite, doesn't it? That would be him going back on his word.

I mean, I know what I've insinuated... Would she believe me over Tommy? That's a tough call. But she doesn't have anything to worry about. Tommy might let me kiss him, okay, but he won't be with me. I know that... I accept that. I'm not going to try and steal him away... He's a mess, too old, and completely wrong for me. He's not what I need. I need someone I can rely on, not a flake.

But you're crazy to think that I'm telling Sadie a word of that. Completely crazy. I mean, I need to get a little revenge, even if it's only trivial. I'm just in it to freak her out a little bit... I need some time, that's all. And to not ever see them making out again...

Sadie's hands rested on her hips. She scowled, eyes narrowing as she glared at me. I wasn't phased. I didn't know what she was going to say to me, but I didn't expect it to be anything bad. I thought it would be some lame remark, not at all what she said. What she said was... like a cold shower. It just... I didn't need to hear it, and I definitely didn't want to, but it opened my eyes... a lot.

She was dead serious, too. And when she got up in my face, invading my personal space, she wasn't my sister anymore. This wasn't the Sadie I'd played with when I was little. This wasn't the Sadie who danced and did karate. This wasn't the Sadie who kissed her Boyz Attack! poster every night.

Or maybe she was... Maybe she was the same girl who'd dreamed of marrying Little Tommy Q., the eternal playboy... And maybe that was the problem.

The look on her face scared me. I didn't recognize her anymore. She might've been Eden by the way she looked at me... Like I was stealing something that belonged to her.

If I had any doubts about the depth of her feelings for Tommy, they died right there.

I looked at her, that furious, avenging, protective look on her face, and I just knew. And on some level, it broke my heart too.

"Don't you get it, Jude?" Sadie sneered viciously. She expelled each word with such fury that if she had been any closer, she would've spit on me. I remembered what it felt like to take Sadie down a peg. Was that what it felt like, Sadie?

And then, just like in the song, she laid it down for all to see... "He wants _me," _She snapped venomously. My sister was no longer my sister. She was a snake. And then she said the statement that broke me. "_I'm_ sleeping with him." She stated bluntly, a cruel grin crossing her face. She knew just how much it hurt. Did she have no shame? I reeled back from her, mouth agape, feeling the smarting sting behind her words. It was as if she had slapped me again, only worse.

I didn't hesitate to reply, blurting the first thing that came to mind. My treacherous sister was not having the last word. I wouldn't let her.

What actually came out sounded pretty stupid, but it did the job.

"Well, maybe he ought to wake up!" I countered childishly. I didn't wait for a reaction from Sadie. I brushed past her, bumping into her shoulder, and moved to leave. I had walked past the both of them and was almost home-free when Sadie spoke again.

"You need to get over your little obsession with my boyfriend, okay, Jude? It's like, so immature..." Sadie drawled mockingly. It took everything in me to resist turning around and jumping on her. But that would be even more immature. I did turn around though, feeling outraged. She has the nerve to say that? Sadie Cherilyn Harrison has the nerve to say that?

I glared daggers at Sadie, but didn't move forward any. I crossed my arms over my chest angrily, snorting. "**I** have an obsession? Oh, that's rich, Sadie! This from the girl who's wanted to marry him since she was eleven? This from the girl who kissed a poster of him ten times every night before going to bed? This from a girl who listened to his CD every day just to hear his voice? This from a girl who cried for two weeks straight once the band broke up? Way I see it, Sades, _you're_ the one with obsession here!" I snarled, finding myself shouting. Sadie looked horrified, and that made me feel good. My eyes flicked over to Tommy. He was using his mother's Botox genes again, so there wasn't any expression on his face. It's not like he didn't know about her Boyz obsession.

Sadie frowned, trying to think of a comeback. Bring it on, Sadie! She seemed to actually mull it over for a minute or two before mercifully deciding that she'd pushed it enough. She shrugged dismissively, as if I was once again no longer a threat. Like she hadn't just been afraid I was going to usurp her position. Moodswing Central. "Look, Jude, just stay away from my boyfriend," Sadie replied simply.

Once again, my sister was all prim and proper and holier-than-thou. She has some nerve. I can't stay away from him, though... I mean, he's practically my boss. I work with the guy, I write songs with the guy... We spend hours in the studio going over my sound... Melody, harmony, notes, octaves, beats, riffs, solos, background vocals, mood, lyrics, word-choice, mixing... Even if I wanted to, I couldn't stay away from him. I rolled my eyes at Sadie. Naïve Sadie.

"I couldn't stay away from him if I tried," I murmured, looking down. A moment later, I realized how that sounded and flushed to my roots, rushing to amend my statement. "And... believe me... I have." I sighed. Man, this conversation is such a buzzkill.

Sadie screwed up her face, evaluating and assessing me. I could tell my words unnerved her. To tell you the truth, they freaked me out too. "What do you mean by that, Jude?" She questioned in an annoyingly calm voice. The smile on her face was so fake. I could see right through her. Bye-bye Sadie... Hello, Stepford!

I shrugged, smirking evilly. Somehow I had the power again. Even after her little... declaration. It felt good. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" I insinuated insidiously, mysteriously, ambiguously. Tom looked panicked. Oh, so he's worried I'll blow his cover, tell her how we've kissed... No, that would make me look bad, of course. But he didn't push me away. My tongue's been down his throat, and he didn't do one damn thing about it. Oh well... Whatever. Never mind, right?

After all, Tom... Old habits die hard.

Sadie's eyes flashed furiously and she moved towards me as if to strike, but Tom held her back. What, Tom, you gonna speak now? Or are you gonna wait for me to make the first move like I always do? As if to prove my point, he said nothing. Well, it just figures, doesn't it, Tom?

I rolled my eyes, snorting. "**Please**, Sadie!" I exclaimed loudly, sounding appalled at the accusation. However, I began to chuckle softly, almost under my breath. Do you think that gave me away? "I wouldn't touch your _boyfriend_ with a ten-foot pole..." I replied smoothly, glancing at Sadie coolly through narrowed eyes. Tom snorted, obviously disbelieving. What, Tom, don't think I can stay away? Try me, Tom. Just try me. You started it... all of it, okay, Tom? My eyes darted to Tommy, and our stares met. Intense like a nuclear bomb. I licked my upper lip, feeling oddly predatory, like a hungry tiger or something. I paused, letting a slow smile spread across my face. "After all, I might catch something..." I hissed slowly, feeling my eyes flash.

Sadie frowned, hands on her hips. Poor confused little Sadie. What will we do, Sadiekins? She glanced briefly at her boyfriend, who glared at me and shrugged helplessly. Please, Tom, you are anything but helpless. This entire situation is your fault. "What are you saying?" Sadie inquired, obviously suspicious, but in a remarkably even tone.

I shrugged, walking back to the wall. I needed something to lean on. This might take a while. "I'm _saying_ that Tommy gets around, has done the whole town... You're smart, figure it out!" I returned caustically, waving it off dismissively. Tommy's jaw tightened. Well, there was some truth in my statement, now, wasn't there? To my sister's credit, it sure didn't take her long to rush to her boyfriend's defense. Not that he really deserves it.

"He hasn't done the whole town!" She shouted a bit louder than she meant to, cheeks flushed. She was a little bit breathless. I rolled my eyes, shooting her a look. Give me a break, Sadie. You can't blind yourself to his flaws forever... You're going to have to see them someday.

I put a finger on my lip and pretended to look thoughtful for a minute before nodding. "_Oh_, right..." I told Sadie, as if just recalling something. An instant (pardon the pun) later, I turned to face Tom, fixing an intense stare on his face. On my lips, the light, polite words became neither. I delivered them with a thin, grim smile and all. "Sorry, Tom. I forgot to subtract your mom and your brothers...I stressed the word brothers, taking care to especially stress the s. Tommy scowled, wondering how I knew. "The whole town minus three, then."

Sadie got sorta hysterical then. "He wouldn't do that! He's not like that! Not anymore!" She screeched desperately. She wanted to believe what she was saying, but she didn't sound that sure of it. I could only shake my head, amazed at the lengths my sister was going to. Ridiculous. Simply ridiculous.

I rolled my eyes. She can't seriously buy that, right? I mean, honestly, who would? "Okay, now you're just deluding yourself... Wake up and smell the coffee, Sadie! Tom is bad news. He's been around the block so many times he's worn a permanent groove in the sidewalk. You have no idea how screwed up he is. Dump his sorry ass already, or, trust me, you'll regret it!" I yelled, beginning a mini-tirade on him. I was sort of proud of myself. The words were great... They just kept coming, and before I knew it, there I was, telling, not asking, her to dump him.

And the weird thing is that I wasn't saying that because I wanted to be with Tommy. I might be in love with him, sure, but in that moment, I would rather have died than be with him. The thought made me feel ill.

Sadie was pretty much grasping at straws now. Deep down, on some level, she knew I was right... She also knew she had to keep arguing, or else she would wind up doing something she would regret... like breaking up with Tom. "You're just jealous of me because he's _happy_ being with me! He doesn't want **you**, Jude... Get the hell over it!" Sadie proclaimed boldly, gaining back her self-confidence. Her words stung, but then again, she knew that. I didn't know if Tommy was really happy with her. In fact, I didn't even know if he was happy with me. I knew he wanted me, though... If he'd...

I felt like she punched me in the gut, and there I was, doubled over and gasping for breath. In reality, I just stood there and took it, but it hurt all the same. It was being told to get over it that did it for me. Didn't she see that I was trying to do just that? She, of all people, should know how I'm feeling! I mean, what right does she have to tell me what to do! It's not like she's my role model or anything... I can't get over the guy in one night, Sadie. I'm in love with him, and that's not going to change overnight!

No matter how much I want it to.

I felt like I'd been sucker-punched, but I didn't stop. I bravely persisted onward. It got to the point where I wasn't even looking at Tom anymore... I didn't care! "I'm _trying_ to look out for you here, Sadie. I'm _trying_ to make sure you don't get hurt. He's going to cheat on you," I reaffirmed strongly. I knew he was going to, too. I just knew it... firsthand. If she knew he's kissed me... That, I'm sure, is the least of your woes. Why does she want a guy who'll cheat on her? Didn't Dad teach her anything? I'm sure that statement made Tom irate, but he didn't say a word.

Sadie cast frantic looks to Tom, but he obviously didn't reassure her. "He's not like that anymore..." She muttered not-so-intelligently. I wanted to smack her upside the head and make her realize the truth. How could someone so smart and so talented be so stupid? She sounded like a little kid, unsure, hesitant, quiet... Not at all like herself. Maybe I finally had my sister back.

I shook my head in awe, disbelieving. "**God**, Sadie, you're so _naïve_! He's gonna break your heart!" I growled as my voice rose an octave in fury. I had to make her see. I had to make her see him for who he really is. She was going to be heartbroken like all the other girls, and despite all of our differences, she didn't deserve that.

Sadie shook her head calmly, but the words she spoke came out as anything but. She was a little panicked, a little worried, and she knew, on some level, that I was completely right. Naturally, she decided to tempt fate with her statement. "You don't know that!" Oh, but Sadie, I do, I do... Trust me, I do. I know better than anyone except maybe Portia.

"I do..." I replied quietly, glancing down. I wondered vaguely if she'd heard me. But she had, of course. She couldn't tune me out even though she wanted to.

Sadie snorted, irritated, and that was where she lost her cool and completely went off on me. She didn't understand. "You do? You **do**! Okay then, Jude, tell me... Tell me now. How do you _know_ he's going to break my heart, huh?" She repeated numbly, a mocking edge to her tone. The sarcastic disbelief was evident in her prideful voice. Her words made me feel small, like a kid again. I just wanted to run away, but she was my sister and she had to know the truth... what little of it I could tell her.

"Why don't you ask him, Sadie?" I began, pointing at Tom. I finally looked at him. The static, stiff posture, the taut muscles, narrowed eyes, pursed lips... A thousand little signs of how angry he was. Our gazes locked silently and he made no apologies. He was still so wrathful, so enraged, so maddened... and so silent. Why hadn't he said a word our entire conversation, I wondered, why? Sadie's eyes flicked to Tom anxiously, curious about what to ask him. Tom offered no explanations to the questions in her eyes either.

I sighed raggedly, clutching my stomach and leaning against the wall. I just wanted to slide down it and sink to a sitting position so I could catch my breath and maybe cool down a little... Relax for one second, you know? I gazed up at Sadie miserably, not wanting to start crying again, but tears filled my eyes when I thought of what had happened earlier that day. I blinked back the tears, refusing to acknowledge them or let even a single drop leak out of my eyes. "Why don't you ask him how he broke _mine_!" I screamed shakily, quietly, in a whisper, feeling my voice break mid-sentence. My throat felt hoarse again. I can't do this again.

The look on Sadie's face was a look of pure shock, as if my feelings surprised her. A few moments later, she tore her wide-eyed stare away from me to focus on Tom. Her eyes were curious, but he revealed nothing... at least on the outside. Mr. Botox strikes again. That's his problem... He can't express his emotions correctly... to say the least.

Sadie looked between us, growing more nervous by the minute. She was jittery and jumpy, and, then... She just snapped. "Somebody better tell me what the hell is going on here!" Sadie hollered vehemently. Her green eyes darkened, but they weren't as dark as Travis'. The anger, however, was equal. She focused her stare on Tommy and me in turn, but neither of us spoke. I stared at Tommy. There is no way I'm explaining how Trainwreck Tommy broke my heart like... twelve times.

Tom ignored my implication, looking at me angrily. "You don't have the _right_ to interfere in my relationship with Sadie. It's **none** of your business," He growled, narrowing his eyes at me. I'm not interfering, okay? You're the one at fault here... And how can you say that it isn't my business? You're my producer. She's my sister. It is my business!

And who, may I ask, gave you the right to sleep with over half of Canada? "Nice way to avoid the question, Tom... by pinning it all on me. Real mature," I countered bitterly. Tommy shot me a glare... like saying "You're one to talk". Hey, at least I have an excuse! I'm sixteen! The decision-making part of my brain isn't fully developed yet... Obviously. So, Tom, what's yours?

"Sadie and I are consenting adults, so back off," Tom muttered irritably. Gone was the warmth in his eyes. His eyes were chips of blue ice and they bored into me like a drill. His tone was low, somewhat threatening, like he had reached that threshold and could take no more.

I snorted. Adults? Both of them? Sadie's still a teenager! Give me a break. There are college students older than Tommy. I rolled my eyes. "I wouldn't say either of you are adults yet," I retorted snidely, pausing briefly before continuing, "In fact, _you_ have the emotional maturity of a thirteen-year-old." Tom's expression darkened, and Sadie smirked a little, the first reminder all night that she was my sister.

"And you have the mental maturity of a five-year-old," Tom returned viciously. I hated what he was insinuating. That I was stupid or something... Or that I couldn't grasp the fact that he was with Sadie. I can, Tom, I will, and I do. I rolled my eyes at him, hands on my hips.

"That never stopped you from kissing me. But I guess you think sixteen's old enough for... _that_," I hissed with a smirk. Tommy looked uncomfortable and Sadie... Sadie looked mad, confused, hurt, and ready to karate-chop me. Ooh, I'm so terrified, Sadie. Yeah... You kinda lose the fear after you break that person's nose. Speaking of her nose... It looked hilarious. I mean, I hadn't seen it before, but there was this GIANT white bandage/gauze concoction on it. It made her look a lot less intimidating and a lot more like a bad hockey player.

Sadie shot Tom a questioning look, but he just shrugged it off coolly, eyes narrowing at me. He was practically saying that he didn't have any idea what I was going on about. Yeah right, Tom. I rolled my eyes again, for what felt like the millionth time all night. It probably was, too. I don't need this. "You have no right to lecture me, Tom," I grunted, annoyed.

Tom's eye twitched, but then I noticed Chaz. Oh, thank God! Someone to rescue me from this NIGHTMARE. Immediately, I forgot about Tommy and rushed at my new savior. I didn't look back. I've had enough of Tommy for one day. For about a week, if you want the truth. Chaz frowned at my enthusiasm. "Where's the fire?" He questioned, bemused.

I gestured behind me, and he nodded knowingly. Then he frowned, obviously taking a closer look at my sister. Typical males. "I've seen her before," He mumbled, sounding somewhat dazed. Oh, jeez! Not you too! What is my sister, a boybander magnet? It's funny, you know... She lusted after them so long ago. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Obviously the drugs had messed Chaz up a lot if he didn't remember the Music Helps concert... Though, really, how could he not?

"Yeah... That's my sister, Sadie. She was at the benefit concert, remember?" I explained slowly, as if I was talking to a clueless two-year-old or a drool monkey. Chaz had the nerve to roll his eyes. Dork. You asked in the first place, idiot. And then he shook his head.

"I know that, Jude... But I've seen her before. Definitely," He nodded, checking Sexy Sades out, giving her the once-over. "You don't forget a girl like that..." Ugh. Okay, now I just felt sick to my stomach.

"You do realize that she's Tommy's girlfriend, right? And I have it on good authority that she's in love with the idiot..." I pointed out sagaciously. Chaz frowned, looking a little disappointed. He muttered something about girls always going after Tommy. I thought something about guys always going after Sadie.

But Chaz looked past me again, giving my sister a contemplative look. "I've definitely seen her before... Did she ever go to one of our concerts?" He pondered curiously, grasping at straws... Hmm, let's think now, shall we, Chazzy? She was your biggest fan for like... three, four years? She went to every concert you ever had in Toronto. I nodded vigorously, and Chaz decided to elaborate. "Backstage?"

How am I supposed to know that? _I _never went to a Boyz Attack! concert. Ugh. I bet she would've bragged about it... But how am I supposed to know? I would've been like twelve... at the oldest... I don't exactly remember much. I shrugged helplessly and Chaz, being the genius that he is, walked over to them despite my warnings. I groaned, but turned around to watch from a distance. I couldn't hear what was being said, but Chaz walked back a few minutes later with a smug look on his face.

I started walking in the direction of my dressing room and he followed. I stopped a few feet before the door, curiosity getting the best of me. "So, what did Sadie tell you?" I asked regrettably.

Chaz pretended to think it over for a second, but the freaky smile on his face betrayed him. "She was backstage at one of our last concerts... Here, in Toronto, on the World Tour... She was like fourteen..." He explained, sounding a bit dreamy. Are you kidding me? Does he have a crush on my sister too? It went without saying that he remembered Sadie... She wasn't very forgettable.

So I was like... twelve. Hmm... Why don't I remember this? Sadie was probably bragging about it. It's not something I'd be liable to forget... Maybe I repressed it because she kept rambling on about it... Hmm.

Chaz was still smirking, though, as if he knew something I didn't. He knew a lot of things I didn't, so I had a feeling it had to do with a fourteen-year-old Sadie and the aforementioned concert. "What?" I questioned irritably.

Chaz' cheesy grin widened further. He was practically jumping with glee. "I made out with your sister," He blurted brightly. He made out with Sadie? Back in the day? When he had more... hair? Chaz? I mean, are you sure? That's more of Tommy's gig, isn't it? And, ewww... He was like... eighteen then. And Sadie was just an innocent little fourteen-year-old. Now I know something's wrong here with me not remembering. Sadie would not have shut up about making out with Chaz... I mean, she had a pretty big crush on him too.

I hit Chaz, looking disgusted. "Eew! My sister was fourteen! That's sick!" I frowned and hit Chaz again. Preying on innocent, obsessive Sadie. Chaz shrugged helplessly, and I gave him a look.

"I'm surprised you were able to remember that. Weren't you doing Mary-Jane in your free time?" I retorted, slightly amused. Chaz' grin fell, and he shook his head, thinking carefully. See, okay, that's why I'm not doing drugs. Chaz is a walking anti-drug advertisement.

Then he shook his head again. "No, that was Bruno. J.P. tripped out, did some experimenting... Tommy drank like a fish and chain-smoked for a while. He wasn't into the heavy stuff, but with the way Tommy does things, he makes everything intense. Actually, most of us smoked... But Darius hated it, so he made us all go cold turkey. That smoke's horrible on your lungs. I did coke, drank a little... And we let the fame get to our heads, had some fun with groupies... Wait, why am I telling you this?" Chaz rambled. I shrugged. My head was spinning. I'd forgotten what I'd even said, actually. Chaz paused for a moment.

"Anyways, I meant to ask you if you wanted to go clubbing with me. It seems like you could use the break," He offered, holding out a hand. I stared at his hand for a moment. He was right... After the day I'd had, a break sounded great. But then again, this was Chaz... who'd made out with my sister. Could I trust him? I mean, I thought I could, but...

"You trying to pick me up or something?" I muttered, fixing him with a stern look. To my chagrin, Chaz started laughing at me. I felt sort of offended. "What, is it that ridiculous that someone would want to go out with me?" My face was about as red as my hair. You know, for a girl who hated boybanders, I sure have a lot of embarrassing boybander moments... Great, so now I not only felt bad, but was also horribly embarrassed.

Chaz stopped laughing, shaking his head instead. He was smiling, and I hated him for it. "It's ridiculous when that someone is me..." He said, coughing to cover up his snickering. Great, so now I'm pathetic. Not that I wasn't before... I mean, me, a punk-rocker, in love with a boybander. Now that's humiliating. And when you add in the fact that he's my producer/co-writer... That's messed up. Now, imagine if said man is dating your sister... That's just plain sad. And when you add in the age difference, it's wrong. So here I was, screwed a thousand ways from Sunday, pretty much, and it only got... weirder. Chaz saw my embarrassed look and patted me on the shoulder. "No offense, but you're a little too young for me."

Jeez, channeling Tommy much? Did he pick that up from you? Oh, wait, sorry, weren't you the one who made out with a fourteen year old when you were at least four years older? And, no, don't give me that excuse of, oh, it's like a senior dating a freshman. Because I can tell you right now from experience that that stuff doesn't happen. And if it does, it's because the senior in question wants something from the poor, innocent, little freshman, and they can't get it from someone their old age because they have taste. I rolled my eyes. "That's crap, Chaz," I grunted, crossing my arms over my chest.

Chaz nodded. "Yeah, you're right. So... You want to go or not?" He posed somewhat awkwardly. I thought about it for a moment. Hmm, go clubbing with Chaz and maybe meet some cute guys... Or face the wrath of my parents?

Chaz it is then.

I nodded. "Okay, cool... I've just got to change and tell my friend, Joan. I'll be back in a few," I answered calmly, feeling oddly self-assured. Ten bucks says this gets in the tabloids... I wonder if Tommy's face will turn purple. I mean, I'm shooting for mauve, but violet would be nice. Ooh, and bright, screaming purple would be nice, but that's a bit ambitious for a first timer. If I really wanted to piss Tommy off I'd hang around Shay, given their mutual animosity (I really can't blame Shay... I mean, Tommy and his mom? That's low, even for Tom), but even I don't want to piss him off that badly. Ugh, Shay.

I walked confidently to my dressing room, and, as predicted, Joan was waiting patiently outside. I informed her off Chaz' offer and she agreed, oddly enough. She shrugged and said something about opening her mind and trying new things... Being able to see how the big shots live, something like that... So then we had to go into my dressing room and be girlish about the whole thing, trying on outfits... Mixing and matching was necessary, as the outfits had the general appearance of hoedom, but, after fifteen minutes (sorry, Chaz!), we were both sufficiently comfortable and ready to let loose.

Even if it was only for a few hours one night... And I was bound to get in even more trouble than I was already in (which is really saying something, 'cause by this point, that was pretty much impossible).

So, you see, I could really use the break.

Loren ;

I really appreciate your wonderful reviews... More are good too. ;) Anyways, just to clarify it here, Jude isn't hooking up with Chaz... He's going to be her friend. And you can bet the concert where Chaz and Sadie made out is going to be important and come up again...

You know what's weird? I just realized how family is such a big part of this fic... I mean, Jude's... Tommy's... Georgia's (well, okay, her sister)... Darius'... Isn't that freaky?

Lol, anyways, I think the next chapter will be called "Me Out of Me"... Or maybe "My Sweet Time", if I feel like it... I don't know. She probably won't be singing, though. Anyways, that chapter will probably be shorter... So, thanks for taking the time to read this.


	22. Some Things Are Better Left Alone

Okay, so I saw the new promo pics, which are, for some reason, very blurry on my computer. And first of all, Laura looks so much more grown-up... Her hair looks great. And Alexz' hair's cool curly like that, but I like thepeed was cute.

Lol, seriously, I love S.M.E. Tyler, Ian, and Chris are hysterical. When they were imitating Jude... Lmao. I'm making a vow to include them more because they're just so entertaining. And "Another Thin Line"... Totally awesome song. I want to see it. I mean, I know "Criminal" is supposed to be in the jail episode, but it really has nothing to do with jail. "Another Thin Line" sound cute.

Lol, seriously, I love S.M.E. Tyler, Ian, and Chris are hysterical. When they were imitating Jude... Lmao. I'm making a vow to include them more because they're just so entertaining. And "Another Thin Line"... Totally awesome song. I want to see it. I mean, I know "Criminal" is supposed to be in the jail episode, but it really has nothing to do with jail. "Another Thin Line" sounds like a better fit. Anyways, I was looking in the credits and I saw that her brother wrote it... Anyways, Alexz was awesome... I think she really likes "My Sweet Time" 'cause she got totally into that one, but then again, that might just be the song. It's really contagious. I don't know, I mean, I think she's one of those truly rare musicians that sounds great in both the studio and concerts. And Wes, how cool was he? Seriously, he was a really good host.

Lol, and isn't it sorta ironic that people almost always have big scenes with Jude in her bedroom in fics even though we've never seen her bedroom on the show and she doesn't have one? Lol...

I have a question here... Is it Spiederman or Speiderman? Because on the sites they spell it with the ie, but on the show it was ei (at the mall concert).

Oh, and Jude's not going blonde in this fic. She'll be... mostly the same-ish? I dunno. I'd say that Jamie adopted the new look, but I kinda like Jamie being a dork. But let's say it's a gradual process, and Kat sorta glams him up later. Sadie's pretty much the same looking, though. She will change gradually, I think, getting more glamorous and all... But the point is that it won't be drastic. Oh, and Darius is going to be learning the valuable lesson that you can't control everything, so he'll be... nicer and less demanding (especially as Georgia won't sell him G. Major). Hmm, oh, and Tommy gets to keep his new car... Let's just say he has a thing for cars. And he's loaded, so he can afford it... Ugh, personally, I don't understand the appeal of a Hummer. It looks like a box on wheels and they get the WORST gas mileage. Let's see... Mason, Patsy (is that the girl's name? I'm not quite sure), and that other dude will probably pop up too, but Darius will be running the contest instead.

Anyways, I saw the premiere (damnit, I meant to finish the chapter before it!)... It was totally awesome. Sadie was a little... messed up, with the whole bra thing (BTW, who else liked her talking with Kwest? I did... Lol, Kwest is like Tommy's girl counselor, I swear)? And Tommy was an ass, but she kinda didn't know when to go away... Oh well. Wonder if they'll stay broken up? And jeez, Darius, FREAK OUT. There are worse songs to do than "Stupid Girl", though... I mean, doesn't Jude like Garbage (I mean, it lists some of The Clash members as having written it)? Oh, and Jamie... Ah! I love Jamie! I mean, he was awesome last season, but this season he just... ROCKS. I mean, okay, I like both versions of Jamie equally, but aww... Like, okay, what he said to Jude... I was all, aww, I wanna marry you. Lol. See, he's finally giving Tommy a run for his money! Well, I guess we know what Portia does (she's a stylist, hehe), and she does keep Tommy's last name! She was SO awesome, plus she has really good taste, what with Jude's dress (and, now that I think about it, Tommy). Oh, I heard "How Strong Do You Think I Am?"... It was killer, like the BEST Jude/Tommy song ever...

Oh, and if I forgot to mention this... Just random facts, really... Producers usually make 3-5 of album sales on a record... Which is a lot. So let's say Tommy got twice that for Shay's record. Or, I dunno, maybe he got half of it and Georgia got the other half... Why am I explaining this? Well, not to mention the fees for even doing the album in the first place and publishing rights (because Tommy co-writes). Man, rollin' in the dough. Anyways, so I was reading this really enlightening article by Courtney Love (I know what you're thinking... But it was REALLY good). Or I should say skim. It's a very long article. Anyways, it was really great, but it was talking about how all the musicians get screwed and the corporate people make all the money (the label especially). Well, let's just say that Georgia's actually not a snake like Darius, and that she was on the up-and-up in Jude's contract, so Jude makes a decent amount off her album. I mean, she's not exactly loaded, but she's getting enough money to buy her pretty car and pay for Sadie's college...

Hmm, oh, and just for your entertainment, here's a list of the songs for this season: "My Sweet Time", "Stupid Girl" (Garbage cover), "Over-rated", "Nothing Standing Around", "Fade to Black", "Anyone But You", "Another Thin Line" (written by Alexz' bro), "How Strong Do You Think I Am?"(it's playing on this one Canadian radio station... I sorta have it stuck in my head), "Liar Liar" (this one's apparently in Jude's birthday ep... Which is supposed to be **9** or 10, I think, weird, it was 8 last time), "There's Us", "White Lines" (obviously a bit of a theme with lines goin' on), "Who Am I Fooling?", "Natural Disaster" (written for So Weird), and (maybe, I dunno?) "Criminal".

As usual, songs are in italics. A lot of songish things are used in this chapter. So, therefore, I do not own "My Sweet Time", "You're a Star", "Pretend to Be Nice", "Three Small Words", any of the karaoke songs, or "Some Things Are Better Left Alone" (It's Tyler Kyte's... In case you can't tell, I like using songs that belong to the actual actors/people/vocalists... So expect to see old Alexz songs and stuff, maybe... And Tommy doing one of Joel Feeney's songs minus the country-ness). Oh, and the little bit of a song Jude actually does write I suppose I do own, but it's supposed to be the precursor to "Another Thin Line". Again, don't own IS.

Oh, and sorry 'bout the end... I was very tired and sorta loopy, so if any of it's misspelled...

* * *

I stared down at the ring on the middle finger of my right hand. I flexed my fingers idly, watching the light reflect off the smooth surface of the silver star. I've had this ring so long. I think I was twelve or thirteen, but I don't really remember, for some bizarre reason. I'm leaning towards my thirteenth birthday. Now that's something I remember. 

I was the only one who remembered, by the way.

Sadie had some... thing... that day, and my parents just completely forgot about me. I thought there would be something big. I mean, I was a teenager, and that meant something. Or so I thought. I thought maybe there was a surprise party or something. I was so excited too. I'd never had a surprise party, after all, but I'd never been a teenager either.

I couldn't sleep a wink the night before my birthday. Normally, when I'm out, I'm out, but... I just couldn't. I was too excited. Ha, if only I knew. I expected great things... Awesome cake, killer presents, that sort of thing...

And I wound up not getting anything. Some thirteenth birthday, huh? I guess it was only a sign of the bad things to come.

I was so disappointed too. I barely saw my parents the entire day, but I kept thinking... I kept hoping, knowing that there would be a big party. Ha ha. They were just trying to fool me by thinking they had forgotten. Well, they weren't going to fool me! I was stubbornly optimistic, but they wound up fooling me anyways.

So I did my homework all night with no help from anyone. They say growing up means you're independent, but I had no idea how soon it would happen... I didn't eat dinner that night. Mom had forgotten to even go grocery shopping... She was really busy with this work project. We didn't even have popcorn. I wound up drinking a Coke... That was it.

It's funny, thinking that I was thirteen then, but I wanted a drink. A real one, like in the movies. I saw Sixteen Candles that night. I didn't care that I was up until three in the morning watching it. There was a Brat Pack marathon or something... It just struck me how the same thing had happened to me. Thinking back, the movie's sort of a metaphor of my high school life... In a lot of ways. Except in my story, I didn't get the guy.

Kat was on some sort of trip with her parents, and Jamie... I don't know what happened to Jamie that day. All I know is that he wasn't there. It was just me alone. I saw my parents in the morning, and that was it. They and Sadie were gone all day, right into the next day... And the sad thing is that they didn't even tell me. They just left me there, alone, to fend for myself, my pitiful self.

So I got fed up, went out first thing the next morning... I just skipped school to go to the mall. I figured it was only fair, after all, so I raided the place for some money. I didn't find any... I was pretty much broke. So I might've accidentally-on-purpose hit up Sadie's piggie bank. Not that there was a load in there. There was enough for a few things at the mall, and a pizza.

Mom and Dad were gone a while. My birthday was on Wednesday and... they came back on Saturday morning. Okay, so I skipped two days of school in a row. I believe I was passed out (quite literally, as I hadn't eaten anything for a while) on the couch when they found me. If I had known it was possible, I might've called Social Services. At least they would've fed me.

Anyways, I think I bought the ring that day at the mall. I made a promise to myself that they would never ever forget me again. I would be the one they remembered, not Sadie. That day, I promised myself that I would be a rockstar. I would be world-famous, and everybody would know my name. With that thought in mind, that complete, utter assurance that I would make it (at the moment I didn't have much of anyone), I spent the next days playing the guitar nonstop, writing so many songs my head spun with the magnitude of it all... But then again, that might've been the hunger talking.

I wrote the beginnings of several of the songs on my first album that day. Like, for instance, "Let Me Fall" (not saying I didn't change it). I rewrote "On My Own" for about the millionth time. I wrote a few songs like "Skin" in some ways, but they weren't necessarily so great, you know? My fingers ached and bled from playing so much, and I had my pick!

Anyways, when they finally got back... You know, after they snapped me out of my unconsciousness... I can tell you exactly what I did. I exerted all these calories I didn't even know were in me. The first thing I did was shout out an impressive string of obscenities that made my father wince, Sadie blush, and Mom try to force soap down my throat. What can I say, I'm spirited...

I shouted until I was red in the face, as red as my hair. Then I started in on a rant, berating them, insulting them, guilting them. Screaming out all of my frustration at them. I didn't cry then. I had already sobbed enough every night before sleeping. My parents felt awful, of course. I mean, they had forgotten my birthday, left me home alone for several days without a warning, food, or money, and they were just bad parents.

After I stopped screaming, Mom hurried to make my favorite meal. Dad raced to put on my favorite CD. And Sadie, well... We got in a fight. If I recalled correctly, I tackled her, bruised both of her shins pretty good, sucker-punched her a few times, knocking the wind out of her, and busted open her lip, sending a loose front tooth flying. See, pure, unadulterated rage overcomes karate in an instant.

And it's really funny, because suddenly I'm not remembering how I got the ring, 'cause I'm not sure about it and I'm probably remembering it wrong... All I can do is sit here and stare at my ring and think... Tommy wears even more rings than I do. I stare at his hands a lot when I'm singing. I mean, I guess it's kinda hard not to... They're just sitting there on the soundboard most of the time, and, you know... Strong, calloused, big... I mean, I wonder about things sometimes...

It gets me thinking about stupid things like... Like what he could do with those hands. Or how his hands feel. Or how warm and soft they are, except they're not. And I know what he can do with those hands, and I know how they feel against my skin, but I drive myself crazy thinking about it nonetheless.

Staring at Tommy's hands is a lot easier than staring at him a lot of the time. Especially when we're fighting or when he knows that the song I'm singing is about him. He gets this look on his face. It's kinda smug, and it absolutely drives me crazy sometimes. But other times looking at him just... hurts. I can't look him in the eyes a lot of the time. Like now... Well, tomorrow, today, tommay... And you see, now I'm back to thinking about him.

Okay, Jude, focus. Focus on your ring. Your sterling silver star...

You know, Tommy has a ring with a star on it...

Damnit! I'm becoming one of those girls I hate. You know, the ones who like a guy like... INSANELY. So, naturally, every little thing in the world reminds them of him, and they have to make some dumb remark about it. I mean, I'm not a gushy person. I'm not all... _girly_ like that.

I mean, just because I'm in love with the guy doesn't mean that every little thing has to remind me of him! Does it? It shouldn't, right? This definitely can't be healthy. I... I ought to get checked out.

You know, I wonder if Sadie thinks about him as much as I do. I bet not! I.. Why am I making a competition out of this? Even if I do think about him more... She's _with_ him. Not me. She's screwing him. Not me. She's eighteen, and I'm just Un-Sweet Sixteen. And me thinking about him, a stupid slutty boybander who can't make up his blonde mind (okay, so he's a brunette, but he really acts stupid sometimes)... I mean, he's my sister's boyfriend, my producer, and... And it's wrong. Wrong to think about him.

So why can't I stop?

Maybe that's my problem.

No, on second thought, there's no maybe about it. That _is_ my problem. _He_ is my problem.

And it doesn't help that I see him every day on the other side of that soundboard. It doesn't help that I work with him. It doesn't help that I know his best friends, both of them... Or that I went clubbing last night with his closer-than-a-brother-formerly-ex-best-friend last night, this morning... Whatever. Not to mention that his mom's my lawyer, and then there's the fact that I'm throwing him a birthday party to top it all off!

Why am I thinking about him? I mean, I was doing so good before. After I left with Chaz and Joan, I didn't think about him all night. Until now, sitting here, staring at my hands as Mom and Dad yell at me, not even listening to a word they say. Snippets float out of the air and come to me, but they don't mean much. I know what they're saying anyways.

They've been at this since I got home ages ago. Chaz himself left two hours ago. He barely managed to sneak out, but I distracted them. Don't remember how. I might've tried to say that Sadie's sleeping with Tommy or something stupid. It was crazy, whatever it was. Maybe I said that I was in love with the idiot. Or, then again, maybe I said I was in love with Chaz. I dunno, I'm not thinking clearly here.

I've been up so long off so little sleep I'm a wee bit delirious. But that's okay. I'm rather surprised my parents haven't gotten hoarse yet.

Blah, blah, blah... "You do not call your sister a whore on national television!" Blah, blah, blah... "We're a family, and we need to stick together..." Blah, blah, blah... "Where's your familial loyalty?" Blah, blah, blah... Yadda yadda yadda... It's all stupid anyways.

I should be nicer to Sadie. I should be a better sister. No, in fact, I should be an actual sister. I need to get used to the fact that Sadie's dating Tom. Sadie's actually happy with him, and I shouldn't screw up her happiness. Besides, Tom's too old for me anyways. He's pond scum, and Sadie shouldn't even be dating him. She wouldn't be if my dad had his way. And, as usual, blatant Sadie-favoritism from Mom.

Well, don't you guys care about my happiness?

Obviously not, because you think Tommy's happier with Sadie.

The only reason he's happier to be with her is that she's almost nineteen, and she's been legal a while. He's just happy he isn't in jail yet when it comes to me. Because it's a sin to look at me, things could get messy, he'd be viewed as a predator, he'd have that on his conscience. They're just excuses, and Tommy has a million of them. Well, gee, Tommy, it wouldn't be my fault if you went to jail. It's not my fault that you can't keep it in your pants. Honestly! So stop blaming me, punishing me, for your lack of control.

Maybe if you hadn't slept with half the world already, we wouldn't have this problem. If your reputation was a little better, maybe I'd have a chance. Maybe if you weren't Tommy-Two-Time, Peeping Tom, Little Tommy Screw, Tommy "Heartthrob" Quincy, Thomasheartbreaker Quincy... I could go on forever here.

But, you know... Fat chance of any of that happening. Because, remember, guys, Fate hates Jude. It's funny, really. How much Fate detests me. I'm like the Juliet in this story. Or am I Romeo? Nah, I think I'm Romeo. I mean, I'm unlucky in love the first time around because I fall for some chick who aspires to be a virgin for the rest of her life (Shay, I guess, only it was sort of the opposite... He aspired to be a slut), then I fall for my enemy. I mean, and it's not like we've been feuding for centuries or anything... It's probably millenia. Then we somehow manage to get hitched (let's equate Kwest with the lyin' Friar here, shall we?), but I'm a pansy, my best friend dies in my honor, and I kill my wife's cousin... All in one day. So, as a murderer, I have to run away to some little shack in the 'hood and hole up there for the rest of my life. Then the Friar, who is obviously tripping on LSD, concocts some stupid plan with a potion that doesn't work, faking my beloved's death. And then, his messenger (no, wait, I'll make this Kwest) screws up, so I hear through the grapevine that my love is dead. And then, Melodramatic Me, I go out and buy poison because the world isn't worth living in if Tommy's not in it... Even I'm not that pathetic, okay? Then I go kill myself, but my love wakes up two seconds after I do it and stabs herself because s/he loves me so. Yeah, I can totally not picture Tommy stabbing himself for me.

He's too vain for a death like that. It'd be pills if it was anything at all, and, of course, hedonist he is, he wouldn't kill himself. He'd go out and screw Benvolio, way I was going here. Hmm, Tommy and Kat. I don't see that. Wait, does that mean Jamie died in the fight? 'Cause, lemme tell you, he wouldn't have lasted a second. Not one. But that's okay, Jamie, I love you anyways!

Only... Not like that. I mean, it would be so much easier... But... Sorry, man, you can't fake chemistry, you know?

I hope he forgives me. Like... soon. I mean, I just can't go without talking to Jamie. He's still my best friend... Him and Kat. I'm just not the same without them. I need someone to talk about music with... Jamie was my first co-writer, you know? My first inspiration... Practically my first everything... You know, that didn't come out the way I meant it to. And Kat's great... You can talk about anything with her and she'll tell you the truth. Okay, sure, most of the time you won't like what she has to say, but she's always right... and sometimes honesty can be really refreshing. I mean, who else am I going to talk to about hot boys and crushes and that sort of thing?

Oh, and I'll give you a clue... You're on crack if you suggested Sadie or my Mom. Georgia, maybe... Or Joan. I don't know, I mean, Georgia's my boss, so that's sort of weird, and I haven't really known either of them that long...

I felt something cold and wet sweep across my ankle, and I giggled involuntarily. Scruffy's nose tickles. Scruffy's the family dog. Or, uh, I think that's his name... I can't quite remember. Sadie probably gave him some prissy-ass name, but I don't remember it. So I call him Scruffy. He sort of reminds me of me sometimes. A little rough around the edges, no frills, warm... I love Scruffy.

Anyways, my parents aimed their twin looks of death at me. Okay, so maybe giggling hysterically in the middle of a conversation about how having sex with Tommy is bad and wrong and illegal and stupid wasn't exactly the best thing to do... But, hey, it's not that I think it's funny or that they're joking. Obviously not. At the moment it's sort of ridiculous and ironic to think of it, you know, considering what I told him today, yesterday, whenever... I rolled my eyes at them. "Scruffy licked my toes under the table," I giggled lightly. I was a little loopy, but he was licking my feet, and it tickled! A lot!

This time Mom and Dad rolled their eyes and resumed their big talk. I might've stopped paying attention some hours ago (a little before Chaz left), but I do know a few things... Like the fact that... Big gasp here, okay? Okay, you ready for this...?

They're getting back together! Can you believe it! I mean, I thought they would never resolve their differences, but... They did. I mean, sure, they have a long way to go (Dad), but they're going to get back together. He's going to move back in eventually, and he hasn't seen Yvette since, well, since he told Mom about the affair.

He was looking through some family albums a while back, and he missed us all so much. And so he was listening to some old records and reading his old diary (I know, Dad doesn't seem the type)... And he just remembered how he fell in love with Mom, and how he was completely crazy about her. Both Sadie and I were gone when this happened, by the way. He came here and begged for mercy. I mean, the guy was desperate, begged for hours and hours. Mom decided to give him a second chance, but she was smart about it. A lot of rules... Stop seeing Yvette, take things very slow, not tell the kids until we're sure about things, go to therapy on his own and as a couple, apologize until he was blue in the face, and a rule about going on a trip together, just the two of them, every year. Dad even got a new travel agent, so I think he's serious.

At least, he better be serious... Or I'm just gonna have to kick his ass.

They told Sadie and me together. It was weird... Like we were actual sisters and didn't hate each other. We hugged... had this huge family moment. Which is... sort of unfamiliar. After all, we had issues even before the whole Tommy thing.

I reached down lazily and scratched Scruffy behind the ears. A slow smile spread across my face as I remembered his "meeting" with Tommy. The weirdest things... I swear.

Anyways, Tommy was coming over to pick me up to go to the studio one morning. Naturally, as it was before the crack of dawn (nine-thirty), I wasn't up. I can sleep through an earthquake... literally. We went to some unstable tropical paradise when I was little, and there was this huge earthquake. I didn't wake up... It lasted for two hours. Tommy was calling my phone like a madman, but my phone was downstairs, so I heard neither hide nor hair of it. I ought to say that this was a Saturday, and my album was pretty close to being done.

Tommy was more than a little desperate. The album was driving him even crazier than me. Then again, mixing is a lot more boring than singing. So, in his infinite wisdom (it surprises me sometimes that I'm the one who's sixteen here), Tommy decides to break into my house. I think he learned a few tricks back in his Boyz Attack! days... He did some pretty smooth lock-picking on my door. I think it was a Swiss army knife, but then again, knowing Tommy, it could've been a Bobby pin.

Tommy's very lucky we don't have an alarm.

So here's the thing about Scruffy... He likes to think of himself as some kind of guard dog, which he's really not. Being a dog, Scruffy heard Tommy's none-too-subtle entrance (he might be good at picking locks, but he is one of the noisiest people I have ever met). And then, bless his little heart, he comes running upstairs, quiet like a fox, and wakes me up. He was pretty good about it, actually... Didn't drool, didn't bark, didn't bite. He sorta dragged me out of bed and made me follow him downstairs.

Kind of like Tommy himself sometimes. Not the point, though... Scruffy was the first one down the stairs. That meant that me, in my frizzy-haired, bleary-eyed glory, got to see Tommy first. It was quite possibly one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life.

Scruffy started barking and running around Tommy in circles, between his legs, you get the picture... Tommy kept turning around. He was so dizzy. I was holding in snickers by then. But little Scruffy decided to become better acquainted with Tommy. Which was... priceless.

It started out friendly enough. Sniffing his hand, Tommy was cool about it. But I knew my little Scruffykins, and I knew that he was a devious little dog (blame Sadie). So, to lull Tommy into a false sense of security, he licked his hand... It was so cute. Tommy scratched him behind the ears just like I did and then... BAMMO. Little Scruffy kicked it into high gear. He jumped up and sniffed Tommy's butt. Okay, I'm cracking up just thinking about it!

Poor Tommy never knew what hit him. He himself jumped about a foot in the air... He made this unforgettable noise. It sort of sounded like a scale... But a scale of that one singer who had an eight-octave range. Minnie Ripperton, I think? I only have a four-octave range. His voice cracked at the end. Oh, and then, while he was still in the air making that bizarre noise, Scruffy jumped again and bopped him in the groin. Tommy screeched sorta like a banshee and fell backwards.

Wait, why do I like him again? Anyways, Scruffy climbed on the felled Tommy and started jumping up and down, barking at the top of his lungs. Hearing poor Tommy groan, I went out to help him up. Needless to say, he dragged me to the studio that day in my pajamas without food or coffee. It was the lack of coffee that killed me.

Speaking of the studio, I had to be there in a few hours. It was four right now...

Nowadays, for the most part, Tommy and Scruffy get along just fine. I had to explain that Tom wasn't a mean man... That he was just a crazy boybander, and the booze had messed up his brain. In fact, sometimes I think Scruffy likes him more than I do. He jumps him a lot, you know, not that you can't say that about a lot of women and Tommy... Like Sadie, my very own sister, for instance.

But I promised myself last night after the gig that I wasn't going to think about them. I promised... But it's so damn hard. Nothing's ever easy with him, is it?

It was close to midnight when we got here. Joan was dropped off earlier. Chaz and I didn't really do anything. I mean, I'm not going to tell anyone that... Which makes me sound like a slut... But hey, I want to piss Tommy off, and, well, if Mom and Dad don't trust me... You wanna hear what we did?

No, not each other. We didn't go to an orgy, or, for that matter, even a party. We didn't see a movie, and we definitely didn't make out. He drove around for a while, telling stories about the past, and we went to a drive-in. McDonald's. I was sort of craving French fries, and they do have the best French fries in the world. I mean, come on, French fries? Do the French look like they eat fried food? No, obviously not. They ought to all them oily baked potatoes or something... But that doesn't have the same ring, does it?

Oh, we went to a bookstore. I got some coffee. I had a feeling I would need it... Go figure.

They pulled Chaz in to talk, and he was trapped there for about an hour. Until, that is, I freed him, uh, somehow... Again, don't remember. I think I was on a sugar high. Or delirium again. I do remember him shimmying out the window. That was quite amusing... He needs to lose a few pounds if he wants to speed up his getaways. This is so boring. I'm so tired of getting yelled at.

I remember exactly how it started out. Mom said some stuff before, you know, about where I was (I did call!). It began predictably ominously.

"What is the _meaning_ of this, Jude? Calling your sister a **slut**!" Mom's voice was sharp. I winced a little at her tone, but I'd had a few sips of Chaz' rum at the bar... In retrospect, just a few too many. But it's not my fault it looks exactly like Coke!

I tried to be smooth about the whole Sadie thing. As to where Sadie was exactly... I had no clue. I rolled my eyes and put my hands on my hips. "No, _silly_, that song wasn't about her..." I drawled, giggling a bit idiotically.

Mom gave me this doubtful look that seemed to say... BS. "Oh, so you know _another_ Sadie?" We get our sharp tongue from her. We also get our ability to think fast on our feet from her. Both skills have helped and hurt Sadie and me in the long run. Sadie keeps her mouth shut better, and she just has this natural talent for getting on top, having her way.

In this case, it didn't help me either way. "It's an acronym... Sexy Lady Under Twenty. Sadie, see?" I remarked bravely. I couldn't keep a straight face.

Mom rolled her eyes and looked slightly amused. "Nice try, Jude. But you're **so** busted." She was right, of course, but at this point, there wasn't much more she could do to me. I mean, life was already so fun. Fun, yeah, right...

Lately, I'd been feeling a lot like a wrestler. I mean, I felt like I was always fighting everyone. Or I was that guy, you know, the one who looks like he's winning... But then, of course, someone bashes him over the head with something. That something usually happens to be one of those uuugly steel chairs. I saw a person get hit in the head with a crutch once. Well, that's how I feel... Except, unfortunately for me, unlike real wrestling... It's not fake, it's real.

And I'm rhyming again...

I glanced over at the clock, suddenly feeling very tired. It was almost four thirty in the morning. Am I ever going to get to sleep tonight? Uh, today? I blinked, feeling hungry too. You know what, I'm just going to ask them... It can't hurt. "Mom... It's four in the morning. I have to be at the studio in a few hours... I need to sleep," I grunted sleepily, leaning against my hands and closing my eyes.

Mom snapped her fingers, and I was immediately jolted back into reality. "You are not sleeping, Missy, until you understand what you've done!" Mom snapped irritably. Okay, so maybe she was pissed at being up this early. What, would she rather be doing Dad?

EW! Oh, jeez, I did not need that visual. Ew, ew, ew, ew... My eyes...

I rolled my eyes, groaning irritably, and began counting them off on my fingers, "I'll call next time I go anywhere. I'm not supposed to hang with Chaz because he's a sexual predator... Having sex with Tommy is wrong. I shouldn't break him and Sadie up because they're both happy. Oh, and I shouldn't embarrass my sister on public television." They'd probably said more, but I figured that was sufficient.

But my parents refused to let me sleep. I tried to learn how to sleep with my eyes open, but, alas, I failed miserably. I guess I need practice. So I sat at that table for another four hours... They let me get up to go to the bathroom, but, paranoid stalkers they were, they stood outside the door. Probably thought I was going to run off and join the circus... or, even worse, with Tommy! Oh, the horror!

I barely opened the door before they dragged me out and marched me over to the table for a round of questioning I don't quite remember. My eyes, they were a-closin'. My phone rang at nine forty-five. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. "Mm... 'Lo?" I muttered scratchily. I coughed in a futile attempt to clear my throat.

It was Tommy. Crap. I can't deal with him this early in the morning. He sounded more than a little mad. "Jude, where the hell are you! You were supposed to be here forty-five minutes ago! We have a lot of work to do on this album, you know! We're not even halfway done with "Minor Liaison" yet, and that's just the vocals! You need to get your ass down here, Jude... We're behind already and I can't have you-" Tommy growled irascibly. I cut him off, feeling pretty pissed myself.

"I'll get my _ass_ down there when I'm good and ready, okay? And maybe we'd be finished with the damn song yesterday if you weren't such a perfectionist! By the way, Tom, how's it feel to be stood up?" I interjected frustratedly. My parents had been grilling me all night, and I hadn't slept, eaten, or showered in far too long. Tommy took a short breath, and I knew what was coming. He was going to have some outburst on me. Great, just what I need.

"That song has a deadline, you know... We start planning on Monday, filming on Tuesday," Tommy pointed out, exhaling hard. Jeez, why is he so annoyed? He's stood me up a lot more than I've stood him up. Did he have a fight with Sadie tonight? Bet he didn't get laid. That's got to be it.

Great, the music video... I wonder if Sadie knows yet. I mean, let's face it, it's not just a make-out song... It's a song about sex. Having lots of it. Crazy wild hot passionate stuff. I need some sleep. Anyways, she can't be okay with it. She just can't. "I don't even know if my parents will let me go, for one thing..." Cue the yawn here. I blinked blearily, covering my mouth, and promptly yawning again. "Secondly, I'm so tired I can barely move..."

Now I knew Tommy was really pissed. He barely waited a second before responding loudly in a mocking tone. "Oh, did _Chaz_ keep you up all night?" He sneered, green with jealousy. I think it was jealousy, at least. He sure was mad... Obviously he'd seen the tabloids. I hope he didn't see one where I was dirty dancing with Chaz... Not that I did... Okay, I did, but it was just a dance. Or two... I don't know, I lost count.

I rolled my eyes, but I didn't dignify that with a response. I didn't have much time to either, as Tommy continued. "I mean, I know Chaz likes them young, but really..." He remarked, a scathing edge to his tone. I couldn't take a remark like that lying down.

"Funny, Tom, I thought that was you," I retorted sharply, eyes narrowing. I heard a sharp intake of breath over the phone and knew immediately what Tom was thinking of. I almost felt guilty, but he started it. He started it, and so he gets comments like that. Tough luck.

Tommy was silent for a minute. Guilt is a strong motivator for him. He sighed wearily. "Okay, fine... I'll be down to pick you up in a few. You better be ready when I get there," He muttered sternly.

I tried to take a shower, but they wouldn't let me. I pointed out that hygiene was good, but they argued that going without a shower for a day wouldn't kill me. What little they know. I begged to change, but I guess they thought I'd pull a Chaz and sneak out the window. Honestly! I was wearing something not so... me... I mean, it wasn't that bad, but it showed more skin than I was comfortable with in the workplace. A lot more.

Frankly, it surprised me that they weren't okay with me showering but were okay with this little (and I **do** mean little) ensemble. I grabbed some extra clothes and stuffed them in my bag along with my notebook and my guitar. I could hear Tommy honking. Uh oh... He's doomed if Mom and Dad get to him first... I have to interfere. I ran to my window, throwing it open hurriedly. Phew, he was still in his car.

"TOMMY!"

Smooth, Jude. I think they heard you in Georgia.

Which Georgia? The one over by Russia or the one in the U.S.?

Does it matter? They're both really far away. Really. Now is not the time for a weird Geography moment.

Tommy pushed down his sunglasses. Wearing the leather jacket again, I see... Nice. Dressed to impress. What, gonna try and steal me from Chaz? Okay, except I'm sorta kinda really not with him. Whatever.

"Jude?" He questioned, cocking an eyebrow. Sure, look at me like I'm crazy now. It's an electric blue Viper. You can't miss it. They're going to see.

"Tommy, I can't come down the front way so I'm going to come out the window, okay?" I stage-whispered so that it was only loud enough for him to hear. Tommy frowned but nodded anyways. And then, before I knew it, I'd chucked my bag into his car... I have good aim!

Luckily for me there's a tree outside of my window. I hesitantly bent out of it, leaning over to grab the branch. I carefully moved my feet to the ledge, swallowing and not looking down. I gently eased myself into a hanging position on the branch. It was then that I realized I was stuck. Great. Well, let's see, do you think I'll fall to my death or will I just break a leg?

Hmm.

Just then, a moment later, the branch decided for me.

The damn thing snapped in half. I muttered a quick prayer and crashed... Into something warm. That something warm happened to be a very winded and now very battered Little Tommy Q. Aww... Was he trying to catch me? I think so... But I saw my parents coming and immediately yanked Tommy up, throwing him into the drivers' seat and jumping in the car. I motioned forward frantically. "DRIVE!" I screeched.

You didn't have to tell Tommy twice to hit the gas, let me tell you. I didn't just have wind in my hair... I had wind everywhere. Not the point, though. Tommy was... stiff. He didn't say anything about the song. So I reached over to turn on the radio.

Tommy hates it when you touch anything in his car. I mean, I saw the looks on his face when he was driving with me... It was literally killing him. Literally. So, when I touched the dial, he reflexively slapped my hand away. My hand burned, but not from the swat. Tommy frowned a moment later, and, rolling his eyes, he turned on the radio. The station he turned it to was, not surprisingly, considering his boyband status, a pop station. Oh, and they were having a Boyz Attack! Marathon...

"_I don't just want to be **that** guy... I want to make you mine, **all** mine... You need to be **here** by my side... all _night_... Can't you see that I **don't** feel _fine_? 'Cause I want to be _more_ to **you** than **that** guy..._" I crooned somewhat psychotically, giggling and glancing over at Tommy.

I barely had enough time to finish the first line of the bridge (_I love you, love you, it's **so** true_... if you're wondering) before Tommy roughly changed the channel, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles and an intense look in his eyes. I snorted, amused, and Tommy shot me a glare. He was speeding a little faster than usual today.

The next channel he changed it too was hard rock. I was pleasantly surprised to find that they were playing "Dirty Old Man". Tommy was also surprised, but it was much less... pleasant... for him. I wasn't even done with the first line of the song yet! Lightning fast reflexes, I suppose. We were breaking traffic rules left and right here, and I was slowly but surely beginning to fear for my life. It'd be just like Tommy to get both of us killed in a car accident.

Nah, on second thought, he'd cling on to life in a coma and then make a miraculous recovery three years after the fact. I'd be the dead one... But, then again, my seat belt's fastened. More than I can say for him. Tommy "Danger Man" Quincy, I'm sure. Okay, I really have to stop; I'm laughing too hard here. That'll only piss Tommy off more anyways.

The next channel was halfway through "Too Sexy Sadie". I think it was safe to say that both of us were floored by that development. Tommy's face turned red, and he quickly punched the radio dial, effectively turning it off. He slammed on the brakes at a red light (funny, I thought only I did that) and turned over to glare at me. For some reason, he didn't feel the need to say anything. Oh, the silent treatment, Tom?

Wow, I think our little Boy is turning into a Man. Cuute.

Technically, though, he probably became a "man" when he was like... fourteen. But, you know, semantics... What really makes a man anyways? I mean, if you're Jewish, it's your bar mitzvah. Baptism, sometimes, maybe... When you turn eighteen... Being able to smoke, drink, vote, and get drafted... Thank God we're not in a middle of a war. And, then, of course, there's the obvious...

There was something completely unnerving about the way Tommy was looking at me now. I could tell it wasn't a glare anymore... It was more than that. There was something this staring reminded me of, and it left a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach... but I just couldn't place it. Maybe I didn't want to. It was almost like... Like he wanted to jump me or something. But that's completely ridiculous, right? I mean, he's with my slutty sister and obviously getting... enough. Is he? I am not having this conversation with myself.

I squirmed uncomfortably under his stare. It seemed like we were marooned at that light for an eternity. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, but the longer Tommy stared at me, the more I felt myself flush and sweat. I tried to smile, but it didn't work as planned. I bit my lip nervously and suddenly realized that this was going to be a LOT harder and a lot longer than I thought... This whole getting-over-Tommy-thing.

I guess it's sort of like popping a zit. I mean, you wake up, look in the mirror, and it's there... Staring back at you like some huge volcano about ready to blow. You can see the yellow pus collecting underneath it... You would think I'm grossing myself out here, but after touring with Speed, nothing disgusts me anymore except Tom and Sadie's sexual escapades. And Shay, but that's obvious... So you think about it for a long time, and it bugs you more and more every second until, finally... you SNAP. You go in and squeeze the life out of the little mountain.

You feel all satisfied when all the crap comes out... You wash it down the sink, get rid of it, bury it... Forget about that baggage. And then you see the blood, and your stupid face is red. This giant red spot on your face. And then, to make matters worse, the next day it's infected again and the vicious cycle continues on...

It's like that with me and Tommy. We're constantly on edge... one of us is always ready to blow and give in... I agonize over it, thinking and thinking and thinking until I'm half-insane. And then I go and do something stupid like pop it, and then it gets messy and painful. And the cycle repeats itself only with new crap this time. Vicious cycles...

But I had to do it for my own sanity... And, sure, it'll take a while, and he'll complicate things, but this is something I've got to do. For me.

But Tommy won't make things easy. I won't make things easy.

Oh well... One step at a time, Jude. Hmm, I think Chaz learned the same thing in his twelve-step program. I ought to ask him. You know, Chaz is pretty okay once you get to know him. I can see why he and Tommy are such good buddies. I mean, he's a good dancer, and sorta cute, I guess. Plus, he can sing. He does some pretty awesome karaoke. We weren't out at the clubs all night. We left the club and spent the last thirty minutes before taking Joan home doing it... By it I mean karaoke!

Let's see... Joan and I sang "Rebel Girl" by Bikini Kill and Joan Jett... Joan sang a few Joan Jett songs (not that surprising, considering her name)... You know, stuff like "Dirty Deeds" and "I Hate Myself for Loving You". Man, can I sympathize with that one. Oh, and then she did some Janis Joplin. "Piece of My Heart", "Mercedes Benz", and "Me and Bobby McGee". Hmm, I did "Bad Reputation", "I'm Only Happy When It Rains", "You Oughtta Know", "Down on Me", "Boulevard of Broken Dreams", a sad "Train in Vain" (my theme song as of late, don'tcha think?), and a rather eerie version of "Lithium" that sort of creeped me out. Chaz did "I Fought the Law" (it was incredibly convincing and oddly heartfelt) and a very rousing version of "All Apologies". All together we did "Smells Like Teen Spirit", "Blitzkrieg Bop", a bunch of Beatles songs ("Here Comes the Sun", "A Hard Day's Night", "Help!", "Love Me Do", and "Eight Days a Week"), and "Should I Stay or Should I Go". It was kind of totally awesome. Seriously, most fun I've had in a while. Although Chaz needs work on his Joey Ramone impression. Speed's was so much better back in Moosejaw. Moosejaw, man, that was fun. We took a little side-trip on our way to the Shay Tour's next stop in Vancouver. Okay, so it was a day trip... Whatever. It sure was fun.

As soon as the light turned, Tommy floored it.

We didn't speak for the duration of the trip to G. Major.

That being said, with the way Tommy was driving, that was only about two more minutes, but still... I felt dizzy and sort of... whiplashed, but other than that... Mostly fine. Though my hair was a wreck. Tommy opened the car door for me, but continued to act like Frankenstein. Except, you know, Frankenstein's creepy and just... not as hot. Sorry, Frankie.

When we got to the doors of the building that housed G. Major, he opened the doors for me yet again. But he didn't say one word... not even about me being late or one of the songs. Maybe he was growing up, but was not talking to me really that mature?

Well, maybe he's realized that bad stuff happens if we talk too much... But then again, who is this guy and what has he done with Tommy? I mean, sure, I'm used to his moodswings, but they're usually more predictable than this... I mean, I got away with calling him Little Tommy Q. yesterday, for instance. Usually I can't get him to shut up about how I sing, how I should sing, how the lyrics should be worded, what the bass should be like, what the backbeats should sound like, blah, blah, blah, boss, boss, boss...

This silence is driving me crazy. But, lugging my bag (He might've been charitable and chivalrous enough to open the doors for me, but he wasn't a saint), I could only follow him helplessly. He made his way to our usual studio, where S.M.E. was already waiting, playing some song I had never heard. The plan was to record "My Sweet Time" today. Or, at least, that was my plan.

I felt fairly confident we could do it in a few takes... Plus, it was always really fun to sing. But Tommy probably wants me to work on that stupid song. Ugh, "Minor Liaison". S.M.E. started playing another song. It was sort of slow, but I liked it. Tommy turned his back to them, much as he had when I'd recorded "I'm in Love with My Guitar"... That was so long ago.

I know now why he did that. Thought I could read lips and wanted to make sure that if he said it was crap, I wouldn't hear. Sweet in a not wanting to get busted sort of way. Which really, when you think about it, makes it completely not sweet at all, but whatever.

I didn't, though. I mean, we weren't going to talk anyways, so I figured I might as well watch. They always gave a very good performance. Unsurprisingly, Speed was singing lead vocals.

"_You've never been this distant... Since the day we first met. Now you're standing here, tongue-tied... I know you're hiding something, And you keep it blinded... I can see it in your eyes._"

The words hit me like a mack truck and I glanced involuntarily over at Tommy... Well, if the shoe fits... But he wasn't tongue-tied. More like the cat's got his tongue. And I suppose he's probably hiding something, but Tommy always is, so there's no real difference there. Besides, he won't even look at me most of the time nowadays... Because dangerous things happen when he stares at me.

Speed's eyes were closed, and he didn't even notice I was there. I never knew he was that good of a singer. Then again, this isn't their usual style of music. Weren't they metal before? Or just hard-rock? I don't know... I'll ask Jamie... who hates me. Okay, scratch that.

"_And oh, ohh, oh, you're suddenly clouded... And the deeper I go, the more I'm drowning..._"

This time I was the one with closed eyes. He's really a lot better than I thought he was. How did I not know that he was this good! I mean, he's in my back-up band... You know, do you think Georgia would consider signing them? That would be so awesome. I guarantee that they would be huge. I mean, think about it... They're hot, funny, good singers, they take direction well...

I opened my eyes as the latter verse soothed my battered eardrums, and surprisingly, found myself only inches away from Tommy's face. His eyes were darker than usual, and they reminded me of the ocean during a storm. I blinked, but the intensity of his gaze was too much. It left me breathless.

The deeper I go... The more I'm drowning.

Drowning in his eyes? That's so cheesy! I'm not cheese! _If I was drowning in the sea, would you dive right in and save me..._ That's cheesy. You can **so** tell your producer's a boybander, Jude. Besides, he wouldn't save me anyways. Mr. Right, where are you?

"_If what you don't know won't hurt you... Oh, maybe this is better left alone, Until you figure out what's wrong... But if you choose to leave today, I won't be standing in your way; I can't wait here anymore... Some things are better left alone..._"

The lyrics reminded me of yesterday... I was so much more naïve then. God, it makes me sick. Well, what Sadie doesn't know would hurt her, and what I know now hurts worse. She's gonna flip about the video. Oh well, not my problem... Blame it on the label. Yeah, sorry, Georgia. At least I didn't have to figure it out, right?

Well, duh, 'cause Tommy already knows that you have no deductive skills. So he wouldn't count on you, the densest person on the planet, figuring much of anything out.

He's still here freelance. Georgia hasn't made him sign a contract. And I jumped through all those hoops to make him stay before... Why? It was so stupid... Beyond stupid. We're talking drool-monkey here. I mean, I'm stuck with Darius managing me for who knows how long... Fiasco. And Tommy can still leave. I know he's a great producer and a good songwriter... but... He runs at the first sign of problems.

"I'm in Love with My Guitar" tanking, for instance. And the end of the album... And threatening to leave after the kiss that never happened. Do you think he drives so fast to run away from his problems?

Or is it his mysteriously dark past?

On second thought... It's probably his family, and, well, I can't blame him.

I mean, I'm one to talk, right? I called my sister a whore on national television last night and made out with her boyfriend on TV earlier this week. Bad Jude.

You know, sometimes I wish he would just leave. Things would be so much easier then... But, man, would it SUCK out loud. My album would too. I would miss him like crazy. So, okay, maybe it's good he's here.

"_You could lie to me, But that won't change a thing... 'Cause the bigger picture's gone. And, oh, it could be a misunderstanding... But the deeper I go, the more you're hiding, yeah..._"

My eyes locked with Tommy's, and a flash of understanding passed between us. We were both thinking of the same thing... The kiss... That first real one at my birthday.

Lie to me, tell me it was just a pity kiss... You could lie to me. He did lie. I lied. Vicious cycle.

Tommy looked away before that line was finished. He knew the second part was true, and I knew it too. Neither of us said anything though. Some things are better left unsaid... for everyone's sanity.

Could be a misunderstanding? Could be! Sometimes I think our entire relationship is a giant misunderstanding, and I'm the one always left looking like the fool. I remember the first misunderstanding. Ugh, I never should've kissed him in the first place... I mean, my first gig. Ever. And I kissed a stupid boybander before it. What am I, twelve and Britney Spears?

I kissed him because I thought he liked... me. Me. Stupid, immature little me. Why would Tommy ever...? But he does, sorta, I think...

Then again, hasn't everyone kissed Tom? The verses I'd scrawled earlier about his sluttyness resounded in my head. Hmm, I was going to have to get him out of the studio for that one.

Talk about hiding... One of us was always hiding something, right? Always. Most of the time it was him, because, remember, I know like... next to nothing about the guy.

"_If what you don't know won't hurt you... Maybe this is better left alone, Until you figure out what's wrong... But if you choose to leave today, I won't be standing in your way; I can't wait here anymore... Some things are better left alone..._"

Tommy tried to busy himself by fixing things around the studio. Not things he broke... Just housekeeping stuff. Picking up the random trash, organizing CDs, sorting papers, stapling things... Pointless busy work. That's how desperate Tom is to avoid looking at me. Yeah, I know... Sad.

Though I don't know which one of us is sadder because of that fact... Him or me?

"_Some things are better left alone..._"

Well, you've got that right, Vincent...

That's Speed's first name, by the way, in case you didn't know. His mom called when he was touring with us... 'Twas quite amusing. We had a very long and interesting conversation... Apparently coolness runs in their family. Kind of like how ice runs in the veins of Tommy's family members. Just wait until you meet the whole clan. I bet they're a Botox family if you ever saw one...

"_If what you don't know won't hurt you... Maybe this is better left alone... Until you figure out what's wrong, yeah, yeah, yeah... But if you choose to leave today, I won't be standing in your way; I can't wait here anymore..._"

The tempo was speeding up a bit, and I knew the song was close to ending. They are so playing that song at a gig. I don't care if I have to tie them down and make them... Why am I so crazy over it?

Maybe because you're crazy over Tommy, and this song happens to remind you of him and apply to him and all that good stuff... Shut up.

"_If what you don't know won't hurt you... Maybe this is better left alone... Until you figure out what's wrong... But if you choose to leave today, I won't be standing in your way... I can't wait here anymore..._"

That song would be stuck in my head for the rest of the day.

I took the opportunity to glance at the other guys. Oddly enough, their eyes were closed with some of the same reverence as Speed's. Weeeird. They seemed so relaxed. Ha, that must be nice. The song slowed further. This was the sort of song that made a person fall in love with the singer. Tommy, take notes. I smiled a little at the thought.

Yep, they too were on the verge of stardom... And they didn't even know it.

"_If what you don't know won't hurt you... I said some things are better left alone... Some things are better left alone..._" Vince finished singing and the chords slowly started to die out. I wanted to applaud, but Speed immediately turned back and motioned to the guys using the signals.

"Let's Talk!" He said brightly, running a hand through his hair. "Let's Talk" happened to be a song (this I found out later). However, Tommy the spoilsport he was, must've seen the look of calm relaxation and adoration on my face. It just figures. He called out to ruin the nice moment of peace.

"Look, _Spiderman_, Jude's here now, and we're already behind. Now stop playing that whiny folk crap. We've got some platinum tracks to lay down here," Tommy sniped bitterly, between gulps of bitter, steaming hot coffee. Jeez, he was pissy today. Why?

Come on, it can't be because of the Chaz thing... I mean, talk about immature. Speed looked a little hurt, but I rolled my eyes, shrugging, and flashing a genuine smile at him. "Ignore him. I love that song, and let me tell you, when you play it, you'll have so many girls you won't have time for all of them," I interjected, feeling unnaturally cheery about that. Well, what do you know... That song made me feel better.

I winked and grabbed the mug of coffee out of Tommy's hand. I swear, I had downed about half of it before I realized it was boiling hot. I burned my tongue, but I didn't care. After all, a good portion of the bitter liquid was already burning its way down to my stomach. Can you get second degree burns on your esophagus? The other half I accidentally spit all over Tommy. Hehe... Oops.

He didn't look amused, but oh well. He had it coming. Tom glared at me darkly, picking up a napkin (how it was in there, I'll never know...) and cleaning himself off. I rolled my eyes once again, feeling my tongue still steaming. "Oh, he's just pissed because Sadie didn't give him any last night..." I retorted wickedly in what was supposed to be a whisper.

However, it was obviously not a whisper as Tommy heard it. Crap. On the bright side, however, Speed and the guys started snickering. This time Tom got up in my face, looking somewhat threatening. "This from a girl who's dressed like a streetwalker?" Tommy snapped back irritatedly.

I cannot believe his nerve! Calling me a streetwalker! Me! I'm the virgin sister here, you know... I mean, I'm not the one who was practically having sex in a live television audience where everyone could see me! No, Tom, that was you and Sadie. Ugh. He makes me so MAD. "No, actually, Tom, you've got the wrong Harrison sister. You've confused me with your skanky-ass girfriend," I growled through clenched teeth.

Tom's eyes flashed angrily. That would've warned a normal person to back off... But I'm not exactly normal when it comes to him, now am I? Tom's jaw clenched, and he forced himself to relax a little, leaning against the soundboard. I knew he wasn't going to back down... The malicious look in his eyes betrayed that fact. "Speaking of sluts, Jude, is Chaz a good screw?" Tommy drawled viciously, eyes narrowing. He said it in this smooth way though, so it sounded like he was just being conversational about it.

"Why, Quincy, want to get a piece of that action?" I questioned, crossing my arms over my chest, smirking at the look on his face. You can take that in so many different ways... I grinned further as I heard Speed snicker. Tom gave him a look of death, and we returned to our argument. Since when has he actually read those tabloids?

For a moment, he seemed stumped. He wasn't, of course. Tom is never speechless for long. "I read the tabloids, Jude." I snorted and rolled my eyes. Oh, give me a break, Tommy! You're in them half of the time! If my parents could send you to jail based on rumors alone, you'd be doing life. I mean, what, is that supposed to scare me or something?

Unless he thinks I'm actually hooking up with Chaz, and that's sort of a... Have you ever met Chaz and me? I mean, because I can't really picture it. And you know he can't. Tom rolled his eyes, invading my personal space a little. Funny, I hadn't noticed how close he was. It's weird how you miss things like that.

"You were plastered to his side without an inch between you, okay? And you're wearing the same clothes you wore last night, Jude... It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out," Tommy pointed out bluntly, face slightly flushed with ire. He raised his eyebrows, and I hated the implication. Ugh, please... I have taste!

I rolled my eyes, scoffing. "Well, you're right about one thing... I can't think of _anything_ further from a rocket scientist than **you**! I mean, it's a well-known fact that you only think with your-" I shrieked, outraged. Tom interrupted me before I could finish that sentence by grabbing my shoulder with a solid iron grip, giving me a severe, stony look.

"Don't finish that sentence," Tom ordered sharply. He practically shook me, and not in the fun way. I blinked, staring up at him incredulous. What, Tom, can't handle hearing about how you sleep around anymore? That was sudden, wasn't it? Or how you're vacuous and shallow and only think about sex, sex, sex, alcohol, cigarettes, sex, rock 'n' roll, sex, and drugs? Guess some people do change in an instant. My eyes slid down to where his hands dug almost painfully into my shoulders.

Getting a little too physical for our own good, aren't we, Tom? He didn't seem to get the message however... I noticed that he was breathing a little heavily, but, for that matter, so was I... This needs to stop. I rolled my eyes, put my hands on his chest, and pushed him back hard. He looked a bit dazed and a bit surprised, but only stumbled just a little... But it was enough to get far enough away from me. Far enough for me to stay sane.

He didn't say anything.

"Well, maybe, Tom, unlike **you**, I don't screw every _Dick_, Tom, and Harry who comes around... Did it ever occur to you that I got home late, and that my parents were yelling at me until you called?" I growled furiously, feeling the fire burning in my eyes. I narrowed my eyes at him further. He didn't have the right to insult me. Not him, of all people...

That's like the pot calling the kettle black. Tom snorted, leaning in a little. He really wanted to stick it to me. "Funny, I thought you did," Tom said in a low hiss. My jaw tightened, and this time, I leaned in.

I was gonna shake things up a little. Not like he did me. I got a bit closer... Tommy started to squirm. "Nah, only the **Toms**, right?" I whispered huskily in his ear, leaning in so close that my perfume wrapped all around him, leaving his head in a tizzy (or so it would have if this was a noir film, and I was that kind of mystery girl... which I wasn't). I did, however, lean in close enough so that he could feel my breath on the back of his neck. I'd be lying if I said he was the only one affected by our proximity.

"Jude..." That was my cue. I pulled back, plastering an innocent, clueless look on my face, blinking, eyes wide, as if I hadn't done anything. Tommy was just a little bit confused, but he said nothing for a second. "Chaz... He isn't good for you..."

I rolled my eyes at him. So many remarks came to mind. I mulled it over for a moment and opted instead to say nothing. I turned around and bent down, pulling my guitar out of my bag. Feeling a smirk spread across my face, I headed into the recording booth. I readily hugged all of the guys as if I hadn't seen them in years, chattering on excitedly about our performance the night before.

That is, until Tommy cleared his throat. I motioned for them to start playing "My Sweet Time". We all smiled simultaneously, bobbing our heads to the song. Happy tour memories floated over me. You know, I traveled the world this summer, but for some reason, I liked the concerts with them on the continent the best. I don't think I could find a better back-up band...

Though, come to think of it, a girl group might be nice. You know, just for sanitary purposes, if nothing else.

I concentrated on the playing the song... Riff, chord, and tab.

"_Late at night, hear the song spinning in my head... Heaven knows I can't sleep at all. I'm thinking about all my stuff, missing my own bed... and all my friends, but it's too late to call... Hanging out all day at the Holiday Inn... Waiting's such a drag until the band kicks in..._" I began, grinning. Tommy looked confused, and he was rapidly leafing through papers, looking for something I couldn't see. I wrote off his erratic behavior, shrugging and leaning into the microphone.

"_Well, I don't know where the next road goes... But I feel the wheels roll down below me. Take my sweet time in getting it back again. What matters most will ca-_" I continued, bumping hips with Speed and Wally and just generally having a blast... That is, until, once again, Little Tommy Q. interrupted, looking quite vexed. He banged on the glass hard with his fist, but I tried to ignore it.

Then he sighed and pressed the little red button for the speaker. "Jude... Bad news... Someone forgot to take the tape for Minor Liaison out after our session yesterday. We accidentally recorded over part of "Minor Liaison", and we're going to have to do the whole thing all over again. It's going to be a long night..." Tommy muttered, slumping in his seat.

But, trust me, there was no one in that room more tired, frustrated, and generally pissed off than me in that moment. I hadn't slept in God knows how long, and the last "meal" I'd eaten consisted of a few sips of Chaz' rum and coke in the club, some peanuts in the karaoke bar, an order of French fries, and a cup of coffee from the bookstore. Nothing substantial. Yep, I was pretty much running on empty. So, okay, I might've had a slightly minor little... thing... Well, I guess you could call it a flip-out, but that's a bit extreme. I mean, it wasn't that bad. I was just blowing off a little steam, that's all...

"Correction, Tom... _You_ forgot to take the tape out. And _you_ will be the one staying here all night because **I** need to get some sleep," I sniped bitterly, reaching that point. The thought of staying up all night, singing that accursed song over and over and over again... much less doing it all alone with Tommy... horrified me. The waves of weariness hit me then, and I sluggishly pulled my guitar off of my shoulders, blinking tiredly out at Tommy.

Tom glanced up at me irritably from the soundboard. "Well, maybe you wouldn't need sleep if you weren't out consorting with Chaz at all hours of the night," He countered snappily. Oh, seriously, he's still going on about that? Jeez... And I'm not even dating Chaz. I fixed a hard glare on Tommy.

"You know, maybe I should've kissed Shay onstage instead, huh?" I remarked incredulously, shaking my head and feeling regretful. Tommy paled a little, but boldly met my stare. The guys sucked in a breath. Neither of us spoke.

"Yeah, Jude..." Tommy muttered quietly. "Maybe you should have."

I don't know why I felt so offended, but I did. I wasn't just going to back down. I've never been a shrinking violet, now have I? "Hey, if it weren't for you, my parents would trust me. If it weren't for you, Sadie and I might actually talk... If it weren't for you, Jamie, Kat, and I would still be best friends! And, damnit, if it weren't for you, I would have my second album done by now," I shouted angrily, gripping the neck of my guitar with white-knuckled hands, holding it like an ax above my head, unplugging it from the amp and advancing on towards him threateningly.

There I was, a rock 'n' roll goddess brandishing a guitar as my weapon, advancing on the mediocrity-producing boybander. Tommy wasn't afraid, unfortunately. A briefly pained look crossed Tommy's face, and he rolled his eyes, obviously seeing the insanity in me. "Jude... go in Studio C. Write some lyrics. We'll record the beat for the song, okay? We'll get you if we need you," Tommy explained efficiently, pushing me out the door and handing me my bag.

Confused, I wandered, still somewhat dazed, into the vacated Studio C. Still as messy as ever. I sank down unto the broken couch. Had it been here where I had kissed Tommy only yesterday? Or was I imagining things? Was it all an incredibly lucid dream of some sort? No, I thought as I touched my lips; it was very real.

With that thought, I sighed and curled up on the couch, guitar in my lap. I gently dragged the pick across the strings, a slow tune coming to mind. I didn't care if I was playing it like a funeral dirge. I envisioned a strong bass and drum beat in the background, and an almost eerie sort of singing. Musical thoughts floating around in my head, I straighted up, strumming the strings more seriously. Every now and then I would stop playing in favor of scrawling out the composition, tabs, chords, and notes.

Before I knew it, the tune was entirely written out. Apparently I am learning a few things in Music Theory. Then I started to sing words as they came to me, jotting them down at a frenzied pace, line after line.

"_Once again, I'm straddling this thin line... Too far ahead to know that I'm behind... I'm waiting for someday. I'm in the middle of a crime... Taking all that I find, as I run away, run away..._" I crooned in a dark, low voice.

It needs some work, but I'm sensing the beginning of something good here. This could easily be a hit. I mulled it over for a minute, thinking. The silence of my guitar seemed to fill up the room, and I couldn't take it anymore. I started playing again, hearing the music playing in my head. This one would have a strong bass and some strong drums. This one was all about the beat.

"_It's so very late now, the sky is black... I'm burning the midnight oil again... Running off no sleep, senses out of whack_," I continued, as if in a trance, hurrying to scribble down the lyrics in my notebook. The lyrics were true... Confusing, but true. I need some sleep. Maybe it'll make sense if I have some sleep. Get some sleep...

Words echoed in my head. Past conversations, future conversations... Something from a while ago... I don't remember, maybe I didn't know... Now I'm rhyming. Fantastic.

_What, have I crossed a line yet? You know me, I love crossing lines. Oh, wait, sorry, I think that's you..._

_Jude, you are walking on a very thin line here..._

_Where the fools keep on thinking I'm blind!_

Or maybe... Maybe that hadn't even happened... Maybe I was thinking about everything else that had happened and my mind was... creating things. But right now, that didn't matter... Not as long as it inspired me, which it continued to do. The music blasted on in my head.

"_Where the fools keep on living a lie! Another narrow line I will not cross... Another small step I will not take... Another border to hold me back... Another first move I will not make..._" I croaked, hitting some impressive notes. I painstakingly wrote those lyrics down too, and would've continued... but... The music faded in my head, and the sense of weariness overcame me.

You know... I should be sleeping. My chords slackened and then faded away entirely as my fingers slipped on the strings. I yawned, pushing the pick under the strings, and then put my guitar down. Then I leaned back on the sofa, sinking into the couch, sighing blissfully. Comfy... And then my eyes closed, and I was out like a light.

Unfortunately, I was rudely awakened when someone sat on my stomach. "OUCH!" I screeched as my eyes flew open. The would-be sitter happened to be Chaz, who started laughing and got up. I glared at him, irritably rubbing my eyes. Then I knew what had happened. They did what they always did with new artists.

This is what they do to new artists... They pretty much throw you in the crap studio to come up with something. There are exceptions of course... Sometimes they let you work in the lounge. Usually, however, they tend to avoid that, as that means that anyone could hear you caterwauling, messing around with an unpolished sound. They send you here when Tommy's got a project, and he's too busy to work with you. Or if he's ego-tripping and pissed. It's basically a nice place where they don't have to deal with you. Like a holding cell.

I smirked at Chaz, rubbing my stomach, even though I was still irked. "Ah, they sent you to the crap studio to write, didn't they?" I sneered mockingly. Chaz nodded, and I moved my feet so that he could sit down. "Either that or Tommy's in a snit. Last I checked he was working with Speed and the guys, but what do I know?" I shrugged, sitting up and then bending over to pick up my notebook and my guitar again.

Surprisingly enough, Chaz had a guitar in his lap. It was one of the studio's, of course. I'd played that one a few times. He too had a notebook... Guess they're pressuring him to write a hit too. It's a good thing I don't have to worry about that. "Dirty Old Man" is already a hit, and everybody loved Sexy Sadie... There's not a chance in hell Tommy will let that one on my album, not to mention recording it. But Darius has a studio and thinks in profit margins... He'd probably make me. Or Georgia might insist... And I can always recruit Kwest to help. I think.

"Did you know it's not even soundproofed in here?" I said randomly, trying to make conversation. Chaz looked around the place with a look of disdain on his face and nodded. I could see why he'd make that face. It was a dingy hole-in-the-wall-studio. There was a single, swinging light bulb to illuminate the entire room. It had been cleaned up since I'd first been in here, but it was still messy, cluttered with unused equipment. The other studios were much nicer.

They had framed records hanging on the wall (one of them happened to be mine... gold. My CD hadn't gone platinum yet. In fact, sales were just starting to pick up!), pictures of the talent, signed photos of celebrities... All people who'd stopped by and maybe laid down a track or two. All this studio had was an old record player, boxes of old LPs... Boring supplies like blank CDs, old concert posters, tour memorabilia that remained unsold (including some tour t-shirts). There was even stuff left over from my birthday fiasco... Not that I wanted to think about that. This studio was what G. Major was really like. A fledgling indie studio trying to become... a major label.

"So... What's the song going to be about?" I asked, ruffling my hair. Ugh, it was probably still static-y. Ugh, why hadn't I changed? I had the clothes in my bag, but I was still wearing my slutwear from last night. Jeez, no wonder Tommy was giving me lip today... And yesterday. Okay, no... I'm not supposed to think about that. I'm... I should be forgetting who he is. But with the way he kissed me yesterday... That's going to be very, very hard to forget. And my birthday? I have never remembered something so clearly that never happened... If that makes any sense.

Chaz smiled weakly, holding up his guitar. "A girl," He muttered, looking gloomier by the moment. Then he sighed, leaning heavily against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. More than a few pencils had been hurled into it, and some spitballs were stuck up there. "It's... not really going well." He sighed again, but it came out as more of a groan. I nodded knowingly.

Writer's block sucks. Completely. "Blocked, I see... Well, what did you do when you were with the Boyz?" I asked sagely. I felt very confident in my song-writing abilities nowadays. Chaz frowned, looking over at me, then he chuckled mercilessly.

"Tommy took over. He was good at that..." Chaz mumbled vaguely, staring into space. I wondered what he was thinking of. He's right about Tommy, though. When you're blocked, Tommy steps in and, well... He either inspires you or takes over. He tends to do that more on lyrics than on melody.

I was about to point out that Tommy could help now, but Chaz gave me a look that suggested that he was otherwise occupied. So I sighed, looking down at my outfit. Ugh... I can't believe I wore this! No, actually, I can't believe that this was the least slutty outfit I could find in all those clothes. Oh, and I have that photoshoot today. Great... And then there's the one tomorrow and... And the big second date with Tim!

I frowned, thinking of all of this, trying to advise Chaz. I mulled over the words for a little while and turned to face him. "Okay, first things first, you've gotta think of a girl... or a guy, I guess, if you swing that way... A really memorable one... I'd prefer if it wasn't my sister, by the way. It helps if you had deep feelings for them," I began wisely, speaking from a little too much experience here. Chaz glared at me for the insinuation, which amused me to no end. Then he returned to staring moodily out into space. "You got a girl in mind?" I questioned, fiddling with one of my bracelets.

Chaz nodded without saying a word. He looked unhappy. Now I understood why you weren't supposed to date an older guy... They carry more baggage. I nodded slowly. "Okay then... Now think of a particular thing about the girl... A certain topic to focus on, if you will," I continued, making a hand motion and feeling suddenly mature. Chaz looked over to me, a scared look in his eyes.

"What if I just want to talk about the girl?" He asked, a sad look on his face. I couldn't help myself... Heartbreak appeals to me. Hey, once you've gone through as much as I have, you've got a whole new appreciation for it. I shrugged and let my curiosity take over.

"Look... Why don't you just tell me about the girl, maybe then I can help you write it?" I suggested helpfully. Chaz snorted, then looked down. Man, touchy subject... He sighed again.

"I could... but you'd be here all day. Besides, shouldn't you change? Those clothes have got to be very uncomfortable," Chaz said dismissively, trying to change the subject. I rolled my eyes at him, fixing him with a look. I strode over to my bag, pulling out the clothes I'd snagged from home. I slid my jacket off, and it hit the floor with a dull thud. I glanced over my shoulder at Chaz, who fixed me with a confused look. I smirked and shrugged.

"So I'll change... Keep talkin', Blackthorn," I retorted, turning around, jutting out my hip, placing a hand on it. Chaz frowned, looking uncomfortable, but I merely bent down and unzipped my boots. That was a lot harder than it looked, especially as I was trying to make sure that Chaz didn't see up my skirt or down my shirt. I pretty much had to slowly squat down, keeping my back arched perfectly straight, chest out. It was very uncomfortable, but at least I got my feet out of those death-trap boots. I immediately straightened, clutching my jeans.

I flung them out, shaking them. Then I unbuttoned and unzipped them, holding them out to step into them, which I did with minimal wobbling. I pulled the jeans up, carefully slipping them underneath the skirt, and turned around to button and zip them up. I turned around once again to unzip my skirt, tossing it into the bag and tugged my jeans up a little. Just the way I like them... I sighed, swiveling my hips. It felt good, having motility again. That skirt was so restrictive.

Chaz was staring at me, awestruck. I grinned at the look on his face. It was absolutely priceless. I probably couldn't have done the same thing with Tommy in the room. No, second thought, I definitely couldn't have. Then I turned around, picking up my t-shirt, which happened to be a concert t-shirt my father had gotten before I was even born. The Clash, of course. Without even thinking, I ripped off the uncomfortably skimpy shirt, shoving my head into my favorite t-shirt. Once that was done, I turned around and rolled up the bottoms of my jeans a little, like I had before my first gig.

Chaz fixed me with a surprised look. His eyebrows were both raised. "You coming on to me, Miss Harrison?" He asked curiously. I rolled my eyes. No, Chaz, you'd know if I was coming on to you. I saw the opportunity here to get him back for last night.

"Sorry, I don't date guys as old as you..." I replied mockingly. Chaz scowled at me, looking annoyed. We were both lying about the age thing. I mean, Chaz made out with my sister when she was fourteen. And I was in love with Tommy. You see the irony. Chaz rolled his eyes, clearly unembarrassed.

I smirked, walking over to him. "So, come on, Chazzy... You know you want to tell me about her," I drawled, plopping back down on the couch. He gave me an annoyed look, but then his face softened. He sighed again, looking down.

"I guess I can tell you... You, of all people, would understand..." He muttered distractedly, still staring into space. This wound was deep, I could tell. Then he sighed, taking a deep breath, and turned to look at me. "Her name was Ruby."

The story that followed was too long, emotional, and exhaustive for me to give in Chaz' own words... But I'll summarize. There were parts where he had tears in his eyes... and there were parts where I was crying too. It was good to cry about someone else's problems for once. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

Ruby McCartney was her name. She had red hair, blue eyes, and lots of freckles. I was slightly freaked out, as, well, I had red hair, blue eyes, and a few freckles. Her hair was a totally different color than mine, though. Hers was darker, brassy-er. Her eyes were lighter too... He said she reminded him of Little Orphan Annie, which doesn't exactly seem like the fodder for a grand romance, but it was...

That was why he sought her out at that concert that night in Vancouver. She was only eleven, and he was barely sixteen. The band was just starting to get popular. He never meant to fall in love with her, and he didn't think of her like a groupie. He just went over to sign something for her, and they got to talking. She talked to him like a regular person and was really a breath of fresh air. He couldn't believe she was only eleven. She looked eleven, though. In fact, she looked ten.

Anyways, they talked for a while (Chaz missed curfew, which was okay, as Tommy covered for him) and wound up exchanging email addresses. Ruby emailed him first, and he was struck by her good spelling and perfect grammar, not at all that of a ten-year-old. She was so nervous, he told me. His eyes still light up when he talks about her. Chaz emailed her back faithfully, more faithfully than even a girlfriend (he had a few of those). The emails didn't stop when the tour ended. He loved how he could talk to her about anything...

Girls, songwriting, how Tommy was the biggest prima donna, how controlling Darius was... They could talk about anything, which is truly a rare gift in a friend. Chaz never once thought about her in a romantic sense then. She was Ruby, his best friend, his pen pal, practically his little sister... Only she wasn't, and that wound up being the problem.

Chaz and the Boyz came back to Vancouver a little more than a year later to lay down some tracks for their next album. They were absolutely huge now, and had taken over the entire continent. They hadn't yet reached the zenith of their popularity (that came after the World Tour, around the time when Tommy was 18), but they were well on their way. Chaz looked her up. He didn't tell her he was going to be in town for a while... He wanted to surprise her.

You can bet that he did. He showed up at her house in this red Ferrari (apparently Darius taught all the Boyz how to drive... Explains a lot, doesn't it?), and picked her up. They went to this carnival in town and had a bunch of fun together. Ruby was twelve by then, and Chaz was barely seventeen. Tommy was rather blocked, so they weren't exactly having the most productive session, but Chaz didn't care.

Every day that Tommy's block lasted meant another day in Vancouver, which meant that he could see Ruby every day. They hung out all the time, more and more frequently. It got so familiar that Chaz pretty much woke up, went to work, got some food, went out with Ruby, and went to sleep. Sometimes he went out with the guys, but he found he didn't have eyes for any of the girls.

Eventually Tommy got unblocked, so they had to start laying down the tracks. Chaz said he found himself accidentally messing up takes on purpose... Just to stay there. And then, on one weird trip with Ruby... He suddenly realized that he was holding her hand and walking her home. They were a long way away from Ruby's house, walking along the beach... It was freezing outside, but he didn't care. He gave Ruby his jacket, and then he realized how cute she was.

Everything just sort of spiraled from there. One minute he was staring at the sea... The next he was staring at Ruby. And that's when it hit him... That he was head-over-heels, crazy, mad-in-love with Ruby. He was surprisingly not panicked about the whole thing. He just did what any normal guy in love would do. He leaned over, swooping down to kiss her. Poor Little Ruby was confused by the whole thing.

Honestly, after what I've been through, I can't blame the girl. Boybanders aren't known for their sincerity. They're known for telling a million different girls the same lines. Ruby thought Chaz was trying to pick her up, screw with her head. She didn't kiss him back. She just pushed him away and started shrieking at him. That would probably be the difference between Ruby and me. But Chaz was very persistent.

He immediately blurted out that he was in love with her. Another man might've waited... A smarter, older, wiser man, yes... But this was Chaz of Boyz Attack! at seventeen. He was sincere, and he actually meant it. I don't know how, but somehow Chaz managed to convince Ruby that he was sincere. I think he showed that he would wait... That he didn't want to rush things.

Needless to say, Chaz wrapped his arms around her all the way back to her house. She kept his coat, and he got a kiss goodnight. Needless to say, Chaz was in good spirits for the next week. He and Ruby continued to date, but moved very slow. A week after they first got together, the Emperor of Hip-Hop decreed that they had to return to Toronto to finish the rest of the album, mixing, promotions, that sort of stuff... Chaz was crestfallen and Ruby immediately started to worry. After all, how could a twelve-year-old compete with much older girls... groupies and supermodels?

So they said their goodbyes, and they fought about whether or not they should break up. Ruby wanted a clean break... She knew Chaz would cheat on her and didn't want to have to face that... I wish I'd broken up with Shay when I had the chance... But Chaz swore... On both a Bible and an electric guitar... That he wouldn't cheat on her.

The scary thing is that he meant it...

And, even scarier?

He actually kept his promise.

He snuck out a few times to go see her. Finally, he got a two-week break after the album was done (until the World Tour). Let's just say things didn't move so slow then. Chaz visited a few more times, which was pretty much whenever he could get the time. They still emailed like crazy.

And then one day, Chaz came down to surprise her. It was his eighteenth birthday, and the whole thing was her idea, but he was really looking forward to it. Her parents were out for the weekend, and, well, you get the drift... But something went horribly wrong. Her parents had forgotten one of their suitcases at home, so they came back, and, well... Kind of found their daughter scantily clad in Chaz' arms.

They kicked Chaz out immediately and filed charges against him the next day. Statutory rape (the consent age here is 14... hehe... Not that I'm thinking about it or anything). Everyone involved in the situation was horrified. Poor Ruby felt so guilty. And Chaz, well, he wasn't in the best place. Tommy helped him out... they were still best friends back then. He got his mom to defend Chaz in court... Let's just say she never loses. I don't think she's quite as adept in protecting people from the paparazzi, but maybe she tries harder if she likes you?

The story was very drawn out and very, very public. It's a wonder I didn't remember hearing of it, as I was only a year younger than Chaz' girlfriend. Then again, I don't remember much of what happened when I was twelve. I remember my parents ditching me, and I remember having a thing for Jamie... And I remember the first guy to break my heart... But we aren't talking about me here. We're talking about Chaz.

Long story short, Tory won her case... But Chaz' image wasn't quite the same after that... It didn't matter much, though, because Ruby was thirteen by the time the trial ended. The Boyz lasted a little longer, but they broke up when Chaz was about nineteen and a half. It was a bad break-up. There was screaming, yelling, Tommy punching people... Your classic bad blood brewing. Chaz and Ruby were still talking, though, so it didn't hit him that hard at the time.

He was still madly in love with her. I mean, you would think something like that would tear them apart, but it only brought them closer. So one day Ruby ran away from home and went to live with Chaz. Chaz was ecstatic, and Ruby had never been happier in her life. Then Ruby got pregnant. They were both really freaked about the whole thing, because she was SO young, you know? Chaz said he'd support her in whatever she wanted to do, as long as she was safe and happy... The gynecologist told her that she'd be fine, as long as she took it easy and delivered her baby in the hospital.

Apparently, both she and Chaz got really excited about the baby. They went crazy like first-time parents always do... Sonogram pictures all over the fridge, baby-proofing everything, painting a nursery, lists of names miles long... Chaz lit up for a moment in memory, but then his face turned sad, and he looked down again. He was sniffling. I knew something bad had happened to the baby then.

They were going to name her Charlotte. But when Ruby was like... six months along... she started bleeding. They tried to get her to the hospital, but then they did, it was already too late... Chaz broke down here and started crying. He couldn't help it, and I found myself crying with him... It was just so terrible! But Chaz only cried for a minute or two. He valiantly took a breath, voice still shaky, and continued on. Ruby was never the same afterwards, he said. She was... broken.

And then one day, for no reason at all, he came back home from buying the groceries, and she was just... gone. She left a note, but it was lame. I can't do this, blah, blah, blah... I'm safe. Don't come find me. She was only fourteen. Chaz was heartbroken. In fact, his eyes were once again misting up. He furiously wiped at his eyes and proceeded to tell me about his downward spiral.

He started partying heavily... Drinking himself into oblivion, getting high every day (he had experimented while he was with the Boyz, but he wasn't a heavy user then)... Doing anything he could to forget the pain of losing Charlotte and Ruby. But he couldn't, of course... He could only numb the pain. His twentieth birthday passed in such an oblivion. He doesn't really remember that year after she left... He just remembers being bitterly unhappy and unable to play his music. To me, that's the same thing.

He almost didn't make it to his twenty-first birthday. It was the anniversary of the day Ruby left him, and Chaz was messed up. To this day, he claims not to remember how much coke he snorted, but it was a lot... He overdosed. He almost died, and he would've too... If it hadn't been for Tommy.

Now, I know it sounds absolutely crazy... That Tommy would have saved Chaz' life. I mean, they weren't even talking then. Tommy was trying his hardest to forget about Boyz Attack, and Chaz was, well, trying his hardest to just... forget. But Chaz knew something was wrong, so he pressed two on his speed-dial (number one had been reserved for Ruby, but she'd had the number disconnected)... which was still Tommy.

The phonecall wasn't very long. Chaz says all he could remember was saying Tommy's name, and, then, well... He passed out. Tommy knew something was seriously wrong (as Chaz had called), so he raced over to Chaz' place. Fortunately, they didn't live far from each other, and Tommy still knew where Chaz kept his keys. Tommy raced in there and found Chaz laying on the ground, blood pooling around his head (from his nose). Fortunately, Tommy had a lot of experience with fights, so he stemmed the bleeding of Chaz' nose while dialing 911. Chaz even stopped breathing at one point, so Tommy had to give him CPR.

I guess the bonds of friendship are still stronger than hatred. Tommy was there when Chaz woke up in the hospital bed. Well, Tommy gave Chaz a very stern talking-to, but Chaz was depressed and bitter. He brought up Tommy's own shortcomings... Like how he drank too much or never got attached. That pissed Tommy off, but he forced Chaz into rehab and therapy. He's okay now... But okay's a relative term. And thus, the exhaustive, emotional story was over. I hugged Chaz tightly, and then we went to work on the song.

An hour later, we had a new hit song written... And a bonding experience to reminisce over. He wanted me to do some of the vocals... I figured I'd at least ask my people, and then probably go ahead and do it anyways. It was good for publicity... You see, I'm getting the hang of this star thing...

I frowned, picking up my guitar. Something had just occurred to me. I knew Tommy despised the majority of Boyz Attack! songs, but he got so pissy when I was singing More to You today... I decided to ask one of my many reserves of Tommyknowledge, a.k.a. Chaz. "Hey, Chaz... "More to You (Than That Guy)" was on the radio today... Tommy got really mad when it played. Do you know why?" I questioned interestedly. Chaz smirked in spite of himself, then nodded slowly.

"I think I know why... We wrote that song, Tom and I, when we were just starting to get popular. The funny thing is that it was a total joke. I mean, by that time, Tommy was already starting to be known for having a new woman in his bed every night... He was so young then too... It got so bad that we all started calling him Trojan. So it was sort of a song dedicated to all those one-night stands... Really, more of a PR thing than anything else," Chaz explained, chuckling at the fond memories. There was a slightly flinty look in his eyes. Which meant... Maybe Tommy did take that song seriously... now... about Sadie?

Or maybe he just didn't like being reminded of his past? Well, with a past that checkered, I wouldn't want to be reminded either... I sighed, leaning against the couch, staring moodily up at the ceiling. Tommy hadn't come to get me... He couldn't have possibly been working with S.M.E. this long. Hell, even I don't work with S.M.E. this long, most of the time, anyways... Jeez, the jerk didn't even say anything about lunch. Chaz saw the look on my face and somehow understood... I was beginning to wonder how familiar he was, exactly, with helping the girls Tommy had thrown away.

He put a hand on my shoulder lightly, looking me straight in the eyes. "Look, Jude... I've known Tommy for about half my life, and he's still the same kid I met at twelve... Aside from some stylistic details, he hasn't changed much. He was a moron back then, and he's still a moron now. Don't let him get to you, okay?" Chaz said reassuringly. While it did make me laugh, it didn't do a thing to make me feel better about it. Ugh, I need to stop whining about it and pining over him and just... GET THE HELL OVER IT.

Because, let's face it, I'm not gonna be able to date Tommy until I'm at least eighteen, if I date him at all. I mean, the guy has too many hang-ups over it, obviously due to the thing with Chaz and Ruby. Plus, it's sorta illegal if, you know, we went out and things got physical... which they would, of course. I mean, this is Tommy "Trojan" Quincy we're talking about here.

Not to mention the fact that we work together so well, and that could easily get so awkward (and it has... It really can't get more awkward right now). Or we would be too busy making out to get any work done. I'd have to see him everyday... Long hours, late afternoon, midnight, and early morning... You see the problems, don't you? But like Kwest said, he wouldn't be the first producer to cross that line... I mean, take Celine Dion (one of my musical idols), for example... She married her manager who's like... thirty years older than her or something (and she was, correct me if I'm wrong, fourteen when she met him)? Tommy's only six years older and... hot. Soo hot.

And that's assuming that things with him and Sadie don't get really serious. They could wind up... married. Now there's a scary thought! They would have beautiful children though... And you could bet Auntie Jude would spoooil them. Especially if they looked like Tommy. But I wouldn't count on it. After all, it's Tommy Q., champion of not committing, we're talking about here.

But then again, if there's one thing you can count on Tommy for, well, besides being a flake... And having moodswings... It's his unpredictability. The guy just can't make up his mind... And then he changes back, once he does... He's confusing. All those games and I'm sick of playing.

"Too late," I groaned, running a hand through my hair. Chaz frowned, and his grip on my shoulder tightened a little. He leaned in a little closer to me, and the look in his eyes intensified. He wanted to make me see something. However... I was majorly freaked out. Past experience with Tommy had taught me to fear such moments. So, instinctively, I backed away a little.

"Jude... If there ever was a girl Tommy wrote "Pick Up the Pieces" about... It would be you. Trust me, he'll wise up eventually... He'll see it. I know, I _was_ that guy a few years ago... He's head over heels for you, Jude, whether he chooses to admit it or not. Things will work out," Chaz declared boldly. He so sure of it. I wish I could be that certain... But I know better.

I was suddenly strumming a tune on my guitar... quite accidentally. Lyrics flew to me. _Can't you just pretend to be nice? If you could just pretend to be nice, then everything in my life would be all right..._ Okay, that's it! The last time I am ever watching Josie and the Pussycats! Besides... she didn't date a guy like Tommy. He was... more Jamie-esque. And her band was all-girl, unlike good ole S.M.E. Eh, that's okay though. It means I can flirt with them and tick Tommy off.

I wish I could believe Chaz, but I get the feeling that the Tommy I know and the Tommy he knows are two entirely different people. I mean, Tommy being in love with me? That's preposterous! I snorted, forcing myself to stop playing that evil song. It didn't work, but it was worth the effort. Now it's official, I'm cursed! "Yeah, see, that's funny... I'm pretty sure you don't date the sister of the girl you're in love with," I retorted acerbically.

Chaz frowned, but then shrugged. "I told you Tommy was stupid," He muttered, rising to his feet and picking up his guitar. By this time I'd moved on to yet another song from Josie and the Pussycats without my knowledge. _And those three small words came way too late... 'Cause you can't see that I'm the one... _Damn. I tried unsuccessfully to stop playing.

I rolled my eyes, still playing. "Well, gee, isn't that the understatement of the century," I mumbled sarcastically, a sour look on my face. I was playing a different song now. _I stopped complaining all the time... You'll get yours, and, baby, I'll get mine... Yeah, so don't be fooled by what you see in movies, magazines, and on TV... 'Cause what do they know about you and me? _Ugh, I wish I could be like that. No, second thought, I wish I didn't have these songs stuck in my head. I blame Molly for making me have a Movies That Rock! Marathon the days before Montreal. Chaz smirked, fingering the guitar, but then grew serious.

"You don't see why he's really dating her, do you?" Chaz asked disbelievingly, practically gaping at me. I rolled my eyes. Because she's easy, blonde, curvy, and in love with him... It's like... Hero worship, and that's flattering to anyone. Besides, vain, shallow people with giant egos are attracted to each other by their own gravity... Those big heads just stick to each other. Chaz shook his head. "You really don't know, do you?" He chuckled, sounding so smug and surprised about the whole thing.

Without realizing it, I was playing the chords to "Dirty Old Man". Finally, one of my own songs... How ironic. "Go ahead, Chazzy, enlighten me!" I snapped, feeling rather annoyed. Chaz fixed me with a look, shaking his head. He looked a bit vexed.

"Tom's rubbing off on you..." He said disapprovingly. My eyes narrowed, and I strummed harder. The tune morphed into the song from before. I could feel the anger rising slowly beneath my skin, tickling and buzzing.

"I wish he did... Then I wouldn't have to deal with human emotions. I could just plaster on that Quincy family poker face all the time," I grunted moodily. I was a teenager. I had the right to pout and angst and pine from time to time. Chaz tried not to smile, but he did anyways. He sighed.

"Jude, he's only dating Sadie because he can't have _you_... **There**, I said it! She's the closest thing..." Chaz blurted, but I interrupted, rolling my eyes and standing up. I stopped playing the song for real this time.

"Everyone's always liked Sadie better... Tommy's no different. He can't like me anyways. It's _illegal_, something **you**, of all people, would know," I snarled, glaring at him. Chaz looked like he'd been sucker-punched, and, come to think of it, I really couldn't blame him. He looked sort of hurt, and I immediately felt awful, but he refused to let me apologize.

"On second thought, I'll _cut_ the vocals," Chaz replied icily, clutching his guitar and notebook with white knuckles as he exited the studio. I sank back into the couch. Great, something else I've ruined. Might as well go get lunch, and see if I can't piss Tommy off even more. I unplugged my guitar from the amp, cramming my clothes into the bag. I didn't feel like putting my Converse on, so I threw them in there too. I walked into the lounge in search of food, but there wasn't really anything edible there. So I headed off to our studio. Tommy was still in there with S.M.E., but they were all eating lunch. Lucky bastards.

I had a plan... It was called Make Tommy Sick With Jealousy. A fun plan. Let's just say it involved Speed and the guys. I grinned, sneaking up behind them and sliding easily unto Speed's lap. Everyone jumped, and Tommy clutched his heart. I smirked. "What, is a Boyz Attack!er getting heart attacks already? Funny, I didn't know you had one..." I said mockingly. Tommy's eyes narrowed, and the few snickers were immediately silenced.

"I see the eternally-angsty broken-hearted pop princess has decided to grace us with her presence," Tommy remarked coolly, slurping some lo-mein noodles. He was very hard to take seriously doing stuff like that. I rolled my eyes, glancing to Speed.

"This from the poster boy of teen-angst?" I pondered, disbelieving, then turned to face Tommy. "You practically invented it, Tommy... Besides, you know better than anyone why I'm always broken-hearted... So, unless you'd care to elaborate and inform my dearest friends, S.M.E., of why that is, I'd suggest you cram it," I hissed in an absolutely frosty tone. Tommy's eyes widened a little, and he looked down wisely, opting to do as I asked and shut it. Smart boy. That way you can't go to jail. You know, blackmail is fuun.

I smiled sweetly at Tommy then, turning to face Speed a moment later. I wrapped my arm around his neck, plastering a pout on my lips. "Oh, Vincent, can I have some of that sandwich?" I implored, batting my eyelashes and moving a little too close to him. Speed made a face at my use of his real name and held the sandwich away from me. I reached for it, and pretty soon we were sort of wrestling over it. "Come on, Speed, just gimme the sandwich. I don't want the whole thing... Just a bite or two," I whined, reaching for it again. Speed jerked it out of my reach.

"I was on tour with you. I've seen your idea of a bite," Speed retorted, clutching his sandwich protectively. I ignored him, making another pass at the sandwich. Food... Mm, food... I was a bit crazed by then. Speed finally saw I wasn't going to give up. He sighed. "Okay, fine, I'll give you the sandwich, but only if you do what I ask you to do..." I nodded eagerly.

"Whatever you want, just give me the sandwich!" I screeched, reaching for it desperately. Speed nodded, smirking at Wally. Okay, what's their perverted little plan? I hope it doesn't involve me naked... Tommy would intervene then. They exchanged glances and nods once again.

"Okay... Kiss me," Speed stated. I blinked at him. Seriously, is that all? That's way too easy. I shrugged, ignoring Tommy's protests.

"Is that all? I'm pretty sure we already covered this on tour..." I drawled before I could stop myself. Speed gave me a "yeah, right" look, and Tommy just looked pissed. I shrugged when no one elaborated further and leaned in and kissed Vince without batting an eyelash. I counted silently in my head to thirty seconds, and then I realized what he was up to. He slid his tongue in my mouth, and... I'll give him the fact that he's a good kisser, and that he's cute, but I have enough boy issues to pursue it.

Then, once the thirty seconds were up, I broke the kiss and chomped down the sandwich in a record three bites. I looked up to find everyone staring at me, so I stared straight back at them hard. "What!" I snapped, an edge in my tone.

People spoke surprisingly less after that. Finally, we all started to get along. Tommy has issues. But, as I had predicted, we finished recording "My Sweet Time" in only a few takes. I was going to enjoy the relaxation for a moment. "Minor Liaison" would not be so easy.

I closed my eyes, and next thing I knew I was being rudely awakened (only ten minutes after). Love from Tommy. However, as the fashion shoot approached, I couldn't help but wonder if Chaz had been right. Did Tommy really like me after all? Was he really in love with me like Chaz had said?

I didn't know if it was true or not, but I vowed to find out. What can I say? After all, people will do crazy things for love.

Loren ;

If you liked it, review!

Wow, 22 chapters... My fic's as old as Tommy!


	23. My Sweet Time

I warn you, very long author's note here, so feel free to skip these three paragraphs. Anyways, after this random stuff, there's a "schedule" of what's gone on so far. It might be a little long, but I'm not the best summarizer ever. Anyways, I love to give out spoilers. It's my way of bribing people for long reviews. Anyways, grr, I'm writing this little Georgia one-parter deal (poor G gets no love... Picture it as Georgia Bevans: Behind the Music), and transcripts of any conversations between her and Darius would be INCREDIBLY appreciated (esp. the one in Un-Sweet Sixteen). You would have my ETERNAL gratitude because I just wanna get it out... post it, fun stuff like that... Whenever I get around to writing the rest of it and whatnot.

Oh, and two very freaky things I realized. Number one... I've been writing this fic for a little over six months... That's like... sick. ;) Hmm, 22 chapters, 6 months. Well, that's not bad at all. That's almost a chapter a week. Number two... I have the longest IS fic on the site... Of course, a lot of those words are author's notes, but still... It's mind-blowing, really...

Okay, so I tried to read an Instant Star fic in Spanish... Es un poco dificil. Maybe I'll try again when it's not so late. Anyways, that got me to thinking... What does Tommy call her then? Because I can't picture him calling her chica or muchacha or nina. Maybe nina (ugh, too tired to put on all the proper tildes and such)... Does he call her linda? I mean, I know that means pretty, but I saw it in there, like... Jude, linda. Oh well. Ugh. I should understand more, especially since I wanna major in Modern Languages... Ugh. Oh well. I probably could if I tried slower. Oh well. Apparently Portia's in it, so hey... You would think there'd be on in French first, 'cause o' Quebec, but whatever... Oh, and what's up with the jeje... Wait, I think I figured it out! That's like our version of hehe, isn't it? Wow, I'm smart if it took me that long to figure it out. ;)

Okay, so I took the Which Jude Song Are You? Quiz... Apparently I'm "Skin". Isn't that happy? Second time around I'm "Let Me Fall", which is what I thought I was gonna get anyways... 'Cause that's how I feel most o' the time. Apparently "That Girl" is rather rare. A lot of people get "Waste My Time"... 18+18+18+31+13 98. Not very many choices... Not even "24 Hours" or "Time to Be Your Twenty-One" or "Your Eyes" or "Temporary Insanity" or "Stupid Girl"... I hate how I try and make lists of all the songs and always forget one or two. One of them's almost always "Skin", for some unknown reason. Oh, and then I took the Who's Your Instant Star Boyfriend? One... Mine's Tommy. ;) Well, what can I say? I like my alone time...

And apparently Tim is from Montreal! I knew Tommy kept bringing it up in the beginning for some reason ("Montreal's horrible this time of year anyways.")! So I was sorta right about him speaking French and everything. Actually, I think Tim's really calm and all that, you know, not at all like Tommy (the whole no alcohol and drugs thing... Definitely way different than Tommy). I read this really cool interview on him and he sounds really nice! Like it was talking about how he wants to write an episode and other random cool stuff like that... And with the writing thing, I was like Ah, I love you! I mean, seriously, how can someone so cute not have a girlfriend, I mean, really?

Anyways, I am firmly convinced now that Tommy's cheating on Sadie with Portia... or someone else. 'Cause there was a spoiler that said he was "getting a little something on the side". Plus the Lisa thing (way to backtrack fast, man!)... And Portia grabbing his hand... There was that guilty sort-of don't-wanna-get-caught-look on his face. Well, if he is, and I suppose he is just because of the whole Jude thing anyways. Plus the aloofness towards Sadie... Sadie doesn't deserve that. I mean, I might not always like her, but she doesn't deserve that. Lol, if Tommy cheats on her, she should so go karate on his ass. Her and Jude should team up... Anyways, he won't be cheating on Sadie in this fic... Uh, not with Lisa/Portia, at least... Let's just put it this way... He won't be sleeping with other people. I'm going to have to find the perfect moment to use that song about him being a skank. Well, I keep calling it that, but I forget that it has a name. Two perfectly lovely names in fact... "S.T.D. Walking" and the much tamer "Playboy".

Anyways, the schedule of the fic...

Tuesday: The last concert of Jude's tour. She kisses Tommy onstage in Montreal, and they make out in her dressing room afterwards. Shay tries to come on to Jude, but she gives him a black eye and throws him out.

Wednesday: Jude comes home from the tour. She and Sadie have a bitch fight over (what else?) Tommy, and Jude winds up breaking Sadie's nose. Jude flees and winds up meeting the oh-so mysterious "Tim" after he saves her from some creepy pervert in a karaoke bar. Jude comes back and gets grounded until she turns eighteen.

Thursday: Jude's first day of school. Jamie and Kat aren't speaking to her, and two of her teachers (Mr. James? and Mr. Quinn) hate her already. She talks to Tommy in class; they sing; it's cute. She opens her locker to receive hate mail, and runs to the bathroom. She falls asleep in the bathroom, effectively missing lunch... and History class. Joan wakes her up, and then they meet. Jude's car is vandalized, as is her locker, while creepy paparazzi call her asking incredibly personal questions. Quinn sings "Skin" to make fun of Jude and later kisses her. At G. Major, Jude sings Boyz Attack for Tommy, discovers that Georgia likes Darius, finds out what's next for her, fights with her dad on the phone, and meets with Tommy's mom (buzzkill). Jude writes "Minor Liaison" and then finds out that Tommy ditched songwriting with her for dinner with Boyz Attack, so she sets out to find him, ambushing him in an Italian restaurant. Tommy and Jude go back to his place to talk, but he's wasted, so he winds up coming on to her. Jude turns him down and tucks him in.

Friday: Jude drives home in Tommy's Viper at 3:00 in the morning and runs into Jamie and Kat on her driveway. They make up and help her sneak in. After listening to a song by The Who, Jude decides to end things with Tommy. Jude goes to school, and Tommy calls again, this time about his car. They arrange a deal to exchange cars, and Jude begs Tommy to destroy the lyrics to "Minor Liaison". Jude tries to make a stand in Media. She talks with Kat and Jamie. Quinn gropes her in the hall, and that gives her the inspiration to write "Dirty Old Man". She and Tommy exchange cars and almost kiss. Then she gets in a fight with Jamie and Kat at lunch because they don't believe her about the Tommy thing and winds up having an emotional breakdown. Jude skips History yet again to cry and rewrite "24 Hours". She sings "Dirty Old Man" in class; everyone loves it.

Then she meets Tommy in the alleyway, where Jude comes unto him and admits to herself/realizes that she's really in love with Tommy. He, of course, proceeds to break her heart by telling her he's back with Sadie. Jude runs off and writes a bunch of songs about it, and then Tommy shows up again, asking her about Thursday night. Jude lies and tells him she slept with him; Tommy FREAKS, but they work out an agreement. She kisses Tommy accidentally, and then she yells at him about his self-interest. Jude sings "Over Me" to try and make him get it and then walks in on Kwest/Portia making out. Tommy storms in, trashes the studio, and sorta gets wet and drunk. Jude records "Dirty Old Man", which becomes a hit to Tommy's dismay. Tommy records a new single of his own. There's a meeting about Tommy/Jude's relationship (who bicker nonstop), and both agree to do the "Minor Liaison" music video. Jude lands herself a HUGE summer tour. Jude also is so pissed that she chucks an ashtray at Tommy's head, but she later helps fix it. Chaz tells her the story of Tommy, Boyz Attack, and his nonexistent older brother. Jude calls Tim and schedules a date for Sunday. Jude finds out that Darius likes Georgia back.

Jude and Tommy start tickling each other, and, naturally, people get the wrong idea. At Under the Mike, "Dreads" asks Jude some very revealing questions. Jude sees Tommy and Sadie making out in the stands, and that prompts her to give the performance of her life singing "Too Sexy Sadie", which everyone loves. Tommy talks his way out of trouble with Sadie, despite Jude's best efforts at trying to convince her that Tommy's gonna cheat on her. Sadie admits she's sleeping with Tommy, knowing it hurts Jude. Jude culminates the evening by deciding to go clubbing with Chaz and Joan. (Damn, Friday is a long day!)

Saturday: Jude has a great time with Chaz and Joan, but her parents aren't thrilled. They keep her up for hours yelling at her and generally being paranoid, but they're getting back together! Tommy calls her, green with envy about the Chaz thing, and so she climbs out her window to go to the studio. They walk in on Speed singing a great new song and bicker about the Chaz thing yet again. Jude, however, manages to record "My Sweet Time", but they have to redo "Minor Liaison". Tommy sends Jude to the crappy studio to write something, and she comes up with some lyrics for "Another Thin Line" and takes a nap. She helps Chaz write a song after he tells her the tragic story of Ruby. Chaz tries to convince Jude that Tommy has feelings for her, but his words fall on deaf ears. Jude flirts with Speed to piss Tommy off.

And that leaves us at Sunday...

Oh, and on a random side-note, did anyone notice how before Darius took over the studios were labeled by letters, and then after he took over by numbers? Oh, so I was rereading Jude's diary on the CTV site... Apparently she hates blood and gore.

And, as for the vocals Jude sings in this chap, they're to "Tonight", which is a song by (Bad Boy's) Da Band, and either Alexz actually sings them, or the girl who does does a really good Alexz impression. I'm leaning toward the second one, but either way... Whatever. Oh, and song lyrics are in italics. I don't own IS or the featured song(s). By the way, how awesome is "Over-rated"? I kept listening to it over and over again. Lol, now I have the chorus stuck in my head... What can I say? It grows on you... And, since I've heard the full version now, I can say that the first version of "Transparent Lies" totally sucked (not her voice... Just... You could NOT tell what she was saying... And on the full version you can and it's longer and it's cooler-sounding). Totally awesome. It's like... taking a song and shoving SAT words up its ass. Except hers is lighter on the SAT words. It's funny, really... People spend so much time on those words when they're not even a factor on the test anymore. Though if you don't know what the word insinuate means or intense or speculate or scholar (their definition: learned scholar... isn't it a rule that you can't include the word in the definition?), then maybe you have a few probs.

* * *

Georgia didn't look good. In fact, she was pacing like a madwoman (while conducting a rather vehement argument with Darius). She was paler than usual, and her face was puce-colored. She was practically shaking. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was sick. She wasn't sick, though she might as well have been, by the erratic, insane way she was acting. She had been acting off for a while, but it had slowly been getting worse. Obviously everything was coming to a head today. 

Georgia sighed wearily. "Assuming I sold G. Major and let you buy it, Darius... What would you call it?" She breathed, sounding absolutely exhausted. She probably was exhausted too because it looked like she hadn't gotten any sleep. She was also a week late paying the studio's bills, so she was mega stressed. In fact, before this conversation, she had just fired two engineers and five studio musicians she couldn't pay (she stayed here all night doing all the extra work). It sounded like she was so desperate she was almost considering it. That would be the lack of sleep talking. You do a lot of stupid things off of no sleep.

Like flunk your Chemistry final... But really, would I have passed that anyways? Even if I was fully cognizant?

Yeah... Didn't think so.

Darius smirked. He was wearing those stupid bubble shades... Ugh, I hate them! "You're _going_ to sell, G," He drawled cockily, arms crossed coolly over his chest. As if there was no doubt about it. Like she was just going to give in like that. Georgia wasn't going to, of course.

They were here for a meeting on my career. I really didn't see what I had to do with anything, as all they seemed to talk about revolved around the label... How Darius wanted it, Georgia had it, and how, of course, she was going to sell it to him... In your dreams, Darius! Well, that's not true. Georgia had pressured me to get another hit, and Darius had demanded that I properly record "Too Sexy Sadie". I'd agreed to record it (as long as they got Tommy out of the studio for that one) and said I'd work on the single thing, but that "My Sweet Time" had just been recorded. What can I say... Georgia wanted, no, needed the money.

I didn't know then why she was stressing about it. We'd been late on the bills tons of times before. I mean, my G. Major was perpetually running on empty. The place had been glammed up a little. Actually, as I glanced around now, I noticed that it had been glammed up... a lot... since yesterday! That cemented it for me. Something big was definitely going down.

Georgia's eyes narrowed, and she shot Darius a dirty look. "That's not the point, and we'll see. Now, I asked you a question... What would you call it?" Georgia snapped, perhaps a bit more fiercely than she intended. Georgia was very frustrated, and, as usual, Darius wasn't helping... So I couldn't exactly blame her.

Darius grinned like the cat who had just eaten the canary. I could tell he'd been waiting to say this for a while. Grreat. Georgia, you've unleashed a plague unto this world. He made a sweeping motion with both of his hands as he spoke... He's sort of a big picture kinda guy. "I'm thinking..." Insert dramatic pause here, because you just know that what he has to say is sooo important; it's just gonna rock your world! "**D.** Major."

Wow, D. That was so creative. No wonder you pay people to write rap for you. I mean, honestly. D. Major? That just... doesn't have the same ring to it, y'know? That's like... A bad grade. And it rhymes.

"Hey, I think I got that grade in Math last year! Or was that Chemistry? Or was that this year, for that matter?" I interjected brightly, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Georgia snorted but still smiled. For a moment, she stopped pacing, as weird as that sounds. Sadly enough, though... I think I did get a D Major in either Chem or les Maths (that's French for Math, in case you couldn't tell... Does it make me sound more sophisticated? No? Damn, I didn't think so...).

Darius turned to look at me, frowning and shaking his head. "And you're my _talent_?" He asked, sounding absolutely incredulous. I glared at him and sulked. Gee, thanks Darius, for making me feel stupid. You know what I think is stupid, Darius? You liking Georgia and not telling her. I mean, Tommy at least knows I like him. But then again that's sorta obvious. But hey, at least Georgia feels the same way you do... You know, maybe I ought to help them out? Give them a push in the right direction... towards each other? Bet they'd be a whole lot nicer to me if they were both getting lai-... EW! Bad visual!

All of a sudden, Georgia's phone rang. My cell soon followed suit. A very familiar face showed up on my screen. Quincy. Well, that's not what it said. I'd changed it yesterday when Tommy was annoying me, so it now read Little Tommy Q. I'd changed the picture too (snapped one while he was eating lo-mein. It's hysterical). That being said, he was still smokin' hot... I'm not gonna lie. Georgia raced to answer hers (the receptionist, some new girl named Lisa, was calling about a visitor... The old receptionist quit because Darius made her cry). Rolling my eyes, I pressed the green talk button.

"Yo, T, 'sup?" I said, giving my best Darius impression. Darius stared at me like I was some sort of alien, but I've learned to ignore him, so it didn't bug me. Tommy snorted. He knew Darius' voice by heart (one too many "image talks" will do that to you), so he wasn't fooled for a second. Come to think of it, he knew my voice by heart too... Well, that's what happens when you listen to the same song on repeat, over and over again...

"Funny, Jude... Anyways, I was wondering when the sharks are going to let you out... Hopefully alive. You know, as we've still got a lot of work to do on Minor Liaison... I'm not feeling the seduction. We gotta turn it up a notch. Especially on the chorus," Tommy asked smoothly. Ugh, not again! My throat is totally raw from singing that crappy song.

"Oh, and like you sound naturally sexy..." I retorted, feeling annoyed. That's a lie, of course. Tommy always sounds sexy. He doesn't even have to turn up the charm to do it. I mean, really. The man could sound hot reading the phone book. I mean, if he was my Science teacher last year, maybe I would've passed. Just because of his voice.

Tommy scoffed. "You **do** know who you're talking to, right, gi-Jude?" Tommy countered, sarcasm obvious. Yeah, Tom Quincy, seducer of thousands upon thousands of women. Well, a girl can lie once in a while, but he's right, it has to ooze sex-appeal. His voice does that naturally, but even he ought to take it up a notch. E.J. wants people to, and I quote, "quiver with desire".

"Yeah... But remember, we want people to "quiver with desire". And, Tommy, as "hot" as you think you are, even you're not at the stage where I would quiver at your voice. Especially with vocals like "I'm getting old". That doesn't exactly make a girl want you," I pointed out, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my tone... Not that it worked, but I downplayed most of it. "I think we just need to get in the studio and do it," I stated emphatically.

Both Georgia and Darius turned to gape at me. I flushed to my roots. Uh, oops. I could tell Tommy flinched, because it took him a while to respond (his throat had mysteriously gone dry).

"Uh... Yeah, you're right. And find some inspiration..." Tommy muttered, sounding very distracted. Like what, Sexy Sades herself? A quivering pool of jello, that's what we're aiming for... In women. In men, well, quite the opposite. But that's a story for another day.

I rolled my eyes. "How, Tommy? By watching porn!" I exclaimed irritably. Seriously, though... I mean, how does he expect me to be inspired? Unless I make out with him, which, hello, I can't do 'cause of Sadie... And it's not like I'm getting any on the side, if you catch my drift. I hadn't realized how loud I was until I noticed both Georgia and Darius staring at me open-mouthed. Tommy was also silent. I rolled my eyes again. "Please, that song is _all_ about sex, and you know it..." I mumbled, running a hand through my hair.

Tommy went on the defensive. He's not going to let me accuse him of perversion... I've been doing that a little too much lately. "Hey, you wrote it, not me!" He pointed out a bit louder than he meant to. Well, I have to admit it... He had a point there, all right. But I wasn't the slut. Nope, Tommy, that's all you. Ugh. I wish I had never listened to Quinn. You know, I haven't thought about him much all weekend... How nice is that?

"I'll be down soon... I promise, Quincy," I sighed, yawning. I was still tired. I hadn't gotten much sleep last night either. Tommy the Slave Driver kept me in the studio until three. Working on tracks we have to redo today anyways... Ugh, it's so pointless! I don't get why he has to be so anal-retentive about the whole damn thing. Ugh... And with that, I hung up on his not-so-sorry ass. Georgia looked, well, sorta hungover.

Wordlessly, she grabbed me by the wrist... Her grip was so weak; it was like all the will had gone out of her. I was beginning to worry. She didn't look any better as we descended the main staircase. In fact, Georgia was leaning on Darius (who was, to his credit, following attentively) like he was a lifeline. Darius didn't mind, of course. He was happy as a clam about that, mainly because it was really rare that a strong woman like Georgia would be so dependent on him.

And there, in the lobby, stood the reason. I didn't notice at first, as she was bent over, staring at a crate... Darius sure did, though. Georgia and I both hit him, snapping him out of his booty daze. Ugh. The reason for Georgia's despair was tall, leggy, and blonde. As we stepped down into the lounge, the woman straightened and turned around to face us.

She had hair like those women in the Herbal Essences commercials, long, shiny, luxurious platinum blonde curls. Her eyes were icy blue towards the outer edge of the iris and darkened to an almost navy color towards the pupil. She had full pink lips, immaculately tweezed eyebrows, high cheekbones, and perfect, flawless skin. Her skin was lightly tanned and extremely toned. Her clothes were obviously designer, and she had money written all over her (bling-bling). She looked at least ten years younger than Georgia, maybe more, yet there was something similar about the way she carried herself (without the shoes she was a little shorter than Georgia).

Her eyes lit up, and a flinty look appeared in them once she spotted Georgia. "Gi-Gi!" She screeched, holding out her arms for a hug. Georgia and I winced in unison. She forced herself to take a deep breath and shrugged Darius off, her grip tightening on my wrist as she stepped forward awkwardly. It took her an incredible amount of willpower to do that, not that I knew it at the time. Georgia tried to fake a smile, but failed miserably.

"Hi..." She muttered glumly to the woman, hugging her woodenly. She backed hurriedly out of the hug, turning to me in a flash. Her eyes pleaded with me as she gestured to the mysterious woman. "Jude... This is my sister, Paulina," She mumbled nervously. Poor Georgia looked like she was about to pass out. Darius was checking her out, and I felt sick to my stomach.

Paulina looked familiar, and then it hit me... Paulina was a supermodel! She did extensive runway, haute couture, and lingerie shoots. She was also a very popular spokesmodel. I would later find out that she had worked for Victoria's (ironic, I know) Secret and had been a covergirl for numerous magazines, including Sports Illustrated. She was HUGE in Europe. But aside from that, Paulina also had a successful career as an actress and fashion designer. She was, in fact, almost a decade older than Georgia, but plastic surgery, hair dye and good genes had accounted for that (as well as the money to pay for them). She was everything Georgia was not, in essence. Not that Georgia wasn't pretty... But she wasn't rich or nasty like her sister.

Paulina looked me over, and I could see the disgust on her face. So sue me, I wasn't dressed like a skank. She pursed her lips, grabbing my hand instead of actually shaking it. Very dignified, of course, but sort of impolite. "Hmm... So this must be my godson's little girlfriend... You look so much _younger_ in person," She remarked, a certain, familiar ice to her tone. Nice dig, there, Paulina. Ugh. This time, I was the one who had to force a smile.

I shook her hands, tightening my grip. I hope her stupid manicured nails break. "Well, it has been a while since you were my age. I guess you've forgotten what it's like," I replied back with faux politeness. Her smile fell a little at the obvious sting. Georgia looked very smug. I paused for dramatic effect, grinning at Georgia. "And Tommy's dating my sister, by the way... Wouldn't want to be behind on the news, now would you?" Paulina rolled her eyes, looking rather annoyed with me. She immediately dropped my hands, faking a smile and turning to Georgia.

"Fabulous... Anyways, Gi-Gi, there's a huge crate over there... Shouldn't you, like, check it out?" Paulina questioned, sounding bored. Say hello to "Stupid Girl" personified, folks! I began to hate Paulina more and more with each passing second.

Georgia swallowed, and was about to say something when Tommy walked down the stares and checked out the giant crate. There so happened to be a crow bar sitting on top of it, so, well, Tommy being who he is (insatiably curious), he decided to open it. He had it open in like... Not even two seconds. It was a bit awe-inspiring, to tell the truth. Under different circumstances, I might've let out a dreamy sigh, but alas, now was neither the time nor place for such foolishness. The box read "Clothes to Piss Shay Off". Naturally, Tommy was intrigued, so he opened up the box.

That was when I remembered that, hello, that was my handwriting, and, hello, that was my wording, and, again, hello... Those were my clothes! My jaw dropped open a little as Tommy opened the box with his keys and pulled out the very first thing on top... Which happened to be a thong I'd bought for Sadie when I was in one of my more charitable moods. There were eight boxes in that thing, and, of course, he picks out one of the ones filled with lingerie. He turned to Georgia, pursing his lips. "Uh, I think this is wardrobe..." He muttered, still staring at the thong.

Georgia blinked, very confused, so I took it upon myself to straighten it out with Tommy. "Actually, Tom, that's mine..." I replied, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Tommy's jaw dropped. He kept looking at me and then at the thong... The vicious cycle continued until I walked up to him and grabbed the thong, tossing it back in the box; Tommy peering over my shoulder to glance at some of the contents of the box. Pervert. Well, maybe if he's lucky, he'll see some of it. Ooh, dirty... yet fun!

"Shay was footing the bill, so I figured, hey, what better way to stick it to him?" I rambled by way of explanation while closing the box. Then I leaned in close enough to whisper in his ear, "I got _that_ for Sadie." Then I patted him on the shoulder and kissed him on the cheek, saying smugly, "You're welcome." Saying that, however, made me feel somewhat sick. Tommy's eyes widened, and I bent down to pick up the box. I might as well put these in my car now.

However, fate had other plans as the bitch known as Georgia's sister strutted over to us, pulling Tommy into a hug so tight he couldn't breathe. Tommy looked very uncomfortable. In fact, he was radiating "save me" rays. It was a sight so pathetic that it warmed my little heart. I almost dropped the box. Then she pulled back, and, I swear, shooting me a smug look, she leaned in and forcibly planted a rather... ardent kiss on poor Tommy's lips. Tommy was frozen in horror. I decided to help him out, so I stealthy put the box down while they were still engaged in a lip-lock (Tommy was NOT kissing back) and snuck up on them.

I grabbed Tommy's arm. "Come on, Romeo, we've got to go record something..." I murmured, trying to drag him away from the wretched woman. Tommy looked like he was about to fall down and worship me... Hey, I could get used to this!

Tommy managed a weak smile. "_Hi_, Aunt Paulina... It's good to see you too..." He said, clearly lying, fidgeting nervously. Aww, that's so cute. Poor Tommy. I'm his hero now! Super Jude! Hey... This is actually kinda cool! I get to repay Tommy for all the nice stuff he's done for me...

Paulina scowled at me, fixing me with a challenging look, hands on her hips. "I thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend..." She posed suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. I clutched Tommy (he really, really didn't seem to mind) closer to me instinctively, shaking my head defiantly.

I shrugged casually. "I changed my mind," I grunted, pulling Tommy off in the direction of the studio before she could make another nasty comment. At least, before I thought she would...

"Thomas Jean-Jacques Quincy! You come back here this instant!" Paulina whined loudly, taking on a bit of a Quebec accent. I didn't know his middle name started with J... Interesant. That didn't make me sound sophisticated either, did it? I figured... Tommy literally froze, looking absolutely mortified. I turned around slowly, wrapping my arms around Tommy, snuggling into his side.

I blinked at Paulina dazedly. "Tommy, come on, we need to finish recording... That way we have time for other, more _fun_ things, if you catch my drift..." I drawled flirtatiously, pouting and half-dragging him towards the stairs. Paulina rolled her eyes.

"I'm supposed to be fooled by you bribing your sister's boyfriend with sex?" Paulina snorted, clearly disbelieving. Ugh, she makes me sound like a slut. Well, I'm not! I've never even had sex, unlike that supermodel bimbo over there. Honestly, I bet she never closes her legs for anyone... Poor Georgia. Paulina really makes me appreciate Sadie. My eyes narrowed, as did Tommy's.

I hadn't even noticed it, but his arm had slipped around my waist. His grip tightened slightly as he protectively pulled me closer. This isn't so bad... Maybe she should insinuate that I'm a whore more often... Honestly, what the hell am I saying here! I must be really desperate...

Or really in loooove...

Shut up.

Make me.

Jeez, I'm fighting with myself in my head. How frickin' cool am I? I'm a rockstar... So tops.

"I'm not _that_ kind of girl," I got out with a remarkable amount of civility. I was radiating hostility for miles, however. Then I smiled, playing with Tommy's hands, memorizing the moment. "As for you, well... I can't be so sure," I countered coolly.

Paulina's eyes widened a little, but not from the insult. It was the whole me being not-a-sex-fiend thing. What, is that really so surprising? I mean, I know I'm a redhead, but, really, all the blondes in my family are sluttier. Except Mom, of course, but she had numerous boyfriends back in the day... "Why on Earth is Tommy with you then, if you won't give it up? You're **sixteen**. What can he _possibly_ see in you?" Her voice was sharp, bitter, and piercing. It really cut through me. What did Tommy see in me, why would he ever... I have no chance. I really have no chance.

I leaned on Tommy a little more heavily than before, but I kept a brave face. "What are you, twice his age?" I snapped, rolling my eyes. Paulina's eyes narrowed, and she was about to reply with something nasty when Tommy, seeing how what she'd said had hurt (how, I will never know... Usually his head's too far up his ass for him to notice much of anything), intervened on my behalf.

"When I look at Jude I see... A beautiful, smart, amazing, mature musician who has had to put up with a lot and still writes killer songs... Songs that move **me**. I see a girl who brightens up dreary days in the studio and brings light and happiness to my life... A girl I've fallen head-over-heels for... One who knows exactly how to push my buttons and how to pick me up off the ground. I see the girl of my dreams; a woman I could easily spend the rest of my life with. And if you _ever_ say one bad thing about her again, you'll have **me** to deal with... Is that clear, _Paulina_?" Tommy declared boldly, staring Paulina down. His arm tightened around me protectively, but I found I could only stare up at him in awe. Had he just... said all that? I mean, it's nice and sweet and it makes me want to either cry or kiss the living daylights out of him, but... It has to be lies, right?

Tommy didn't look at me, so I couldn't tell, but there was that intense, almost insane look in his eyes... The same look he'd had when he broke down and kissed me that night in the alley. Paulina looked floored and for a minute or two, she floundered around for something to say. "Your mother will be hearing about this!" She shrieked... The best she could come up with. I rolled my eyes. His mom didn't care as long as I didn't give her grandkids, and my parents didn't sue him. Really, she could care less.

Tommy glared back at Paulina. Apparently, here and now with me, he'd reached the breaking point of his patience with her (in some respects, Tommy was very patient... in others, not so much). "Let her," He dared, feeling empowered. It was then that he finally looked down at me. His eyes softened a little. "Come on, girl, we've got a song to record," He said softly, smiling, as we began to walk to the studio. I could barely breathe, let alone walk. But Paulina wouldn't let Tommy have the last word.

"You know, if you're so in love with her, then why don't you kiss her with that smart mouth?" Paulina shouted after us. We turned around slightly. Tommy smirked smugly.

"If I did that, I wouldn't ever be able to stop, and then we'd _never_ get anything done..." Tommy drawled, casting a glance over at me. The look made my stomach flip. Really, what would be so bad about that? I'd be perfectly fine with never recording another album again, just as long as I got to kiss Tommy all the time... That'd be downright nice, which is, of course, why it will never happen. Damn.

I sighed dreamily at the prospect, and then, as if to prove his point, he leaned in and kissed me, innocently at first. The innocence dissolved about five seconds in, and then we were stumbling up the stairs, attached at the lips, headed for the studio. Oddly enough, no one said anything about this. We broke apart only after we managed to run into a wall about five feet away from our intended target, and not by our own choice.

We avoided each other's gaze, looking down at the ground nervously instead. I licked my lips, remembering the feeling of his against mine. When I finally glanced up, I noticed people were staring. My eyes darted to Tommy's and then back down again. I smiled weakly, looking to Tommy for support. Tommy shrugged sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "Practicing for the music video," He mumbled, as way of an excuse.

I'm pretty sure just about no one bought that, especially after what he said down there. That being said, we raced into the studio, faces flushed partly from the kiss and partly from embarrassment. And we walked right in on Kwest and Portia making out... AGAIN. Fortunately, Tommy didn't see, as I tackled him to the ground, pinning him on his back and motioning for Portia to get the hell out (the loud sound snapped them out of their love session). Jeez, Kwest, you can't make out with her at your apartment on your lunchbreak like a normal person? Honestly... So I have to cover your stupid horny ass because you can't wait for it until you get home... Jeez!

Portia scrambled out and I fixed Kwest with a glare while getting off Tommy. You know, Tommy still has Paulina's overpriced lipstick all over his face... Which means so do I! Oh, ew, ew, ew... I wiped frantically at my own lips and then at Tommy's... Way to lose my breath. I mean, if I wanted to get distracted, I couldn't think of a better way than to... "Auntie Paulina's lipstick," I explained. Tommy nodded, making a face. He then got up, wiping at his lips. We went back into the recording booth and started singing, with Kwest manning the soundboard. He adjusted it just the way Tommy wanted, but we were both distracted... I couldn't remember it ever being that hot in the sound booth.

I took off my sweatshirt, which left me in a thin, slightly see-through white tank-top. I had been too lazy to change this morning. Tommy noticed and kept staring, distractedly rolling up his sleeves. He rolled his eyes, looking down at the lyrics, and finally just broke down and changed them around a little. No more "I'm getting old". Bummer, now I have nothing to make fun of him about anymore.

The song was better. Kwest yelled at us to focus, and, well, we did... On each other. Tommy was only inches away from me. It took a lot of practice and a lot of staring (I memorized Tommy's eyes), but we finally nailed it in one take. It was hot, raw, enough to make anyone melt into an incoherent puddle of goo. In essence, it was gonna rock the musical world. Kwest got up to get us celebratory sustenance, which, in this case happened to be Cokes and some pancakes. Almost as soon as he left, Darius breezed in, smirking.

"Judey, Judey, Jude... Just the person I wanted to see!" Darius rambled, grinning widely. The smile fell right off my face, and Tommy and I exchanged worried looks. I dabbed my arm against my sweaty forehead, feeling hot and slightly dehydrated. My throat was annoyingly scratchy. I groaned, covering my eyes with my hand.

"What do you want, Darius?" I questioned warily. He obviously wants something if he looks so happy to see me... Something I probably don't want to give him. On second thought, I _know_ I don't want to give it to him. Man, that sounds dirty! Uh, whatever he wants... Anyways. I bet it involves music; I bet it involves...

"Shay's new album. I want you to do some backing vocals on it, this hot little track, "Tonight". It's Shay's producing debut, and he specifically asked for you, girl. I told him you'd say yes... Anyways, here are the vocals..." Darius stated bossily, handing me a sheet with lyrics and notes on it, as if I had no choice in the matter. I blinked up at him, and he shoved the paper into my hands.

I started reading. Hmm, I can't decide which one sounds more pornographic, this song or "Minor Liaison"... Nah, still "Minor Liaison". Though I could do without all the drug stuff. He wasn't kidding about the back-up-ness of it all. So many yeahs, oohs, ahs, ohs, and das... Rather repetitive, don'tcha think? I took one look at it and shook my head... Unbelievably, the other vocals were... worse.

"How about not, D?" I snapped, shoving the paper back into his hands. Darius followed me across the room, looking very, very, very angry. He was all stiff lines and fury.

"You will do this, Jude. You will do this or face the consequences. My wrath ain't pretty, okay? So you _will_ record those vocals, and you will record "Too Sexy Sadie", and you **will** be happy about it," Darius growled, leaving no room for opposition. Who is he to tell me what to record? He doesn't own the label, and judging by the way he was checking G's sis out... He won't anytime soon, if you get my drift. Darius paused, his face a picture of cool order. "Well, I've been running the Instant Star Competition over the summer... The finale happens to be tonight. You're going to perform with the finalists tonight. You will be there to announce the winner, help judge, and host. Got it?" Darius ordered, giving me a hard look.

Instant Star 2? I have to do a dance number? With the finalists? I don't even know who the finalists are! And why do I have to do it? Stupidly for me, I voiced this thought aloud. Somehow Darius had a copy of both of my contracts... The one for G. Major and the one for his management. It's some clause in the G. Major contract. Maybe Georgia thought she was going to run it again. You know, on second thought, I bet Tory came up with that. Witch.

But how does Darius expect me to record two singles, one with my evil ex-boyfriend, and learn choreography in like... A few hours. Plus, I have a date tonight! I was about ready to start hyperventilating. "But Darius, I have a date tonight!" I cried desperately. Darius fixed me with a look so severe I almost stopped breathing. Damn, the man is scary!

"Then cancel it! You have two seconds to get in the studio with Shay. You have an hour to do your vocals. Then you will meet with Trey for choreography with the finalists in the lounge. Just so you know, their names are Angie, Chris, and Mason. Angie's the sassy girl type. Chris is the rap-R&B guy... He's like the next Usher. If the kid doesn't win, I'll sign him myself. Mason's your type... Moody guy with a guitar. You got all that? Good, now get moving... or else!" Darius barked, getting a little in my face about it. Next thing I knew, Darius was physically pulling me out of the room and into Studio A with the Big Shay. Great. Okay, I just have to focus on the work. Then I can do this. I think. I hope...

I sighed, taking a deep breath, and started to sing. Tommy had somehow managed to get out of this. Darius' people were in here. Greeat. Clutching my headphones, I leaned into the mike, took a deep breath and waited for my cue. Beat, beat, beat, beat... Now! "_Something happens when you touch me..._" I hit every note perfectly. I got a thumbs up. Hey, maybe, you know, if I ignore the fact that Shay's in here too... This could be pretty cool.

"_I get open, and my leg starts quivering..._" I continued, smiling. I was nailing it. Maybe I could finish this fast. After all, a lot of this was just me going Ooh, Oh, Yeah, Uh, Ah... Yeah, this could work.

Then my phone rang. Damn it. The engineers shot me some very peeved looks, so I went out to take this call. I was a bit peeved myself, having all this crap dropped on me. "Hello!" I snapped, leaning against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. I really didn't have the time for this. Really.

"Julia?" Oh my god. It's Tim! Tim! I was just mean to Tim... Tim, who quite possibly could be the love of my life, Tim... But we're casual. Not serious. Casual. Hehe. Right. Can I even do casual? I sighed, and then took on the sultry voice of my alter-ego.

"Hey... Tim... I'm sorry, but I don't have much time to talk," I muttered despondently, curling a strand of hair around my finger. I sighed again, leaning dreamily against the wall. Is it weird that his voice makes me swoon? Ah, Tim, Tim, Tim...

"Yeah, me either... I was just calling to say that I can't make it tonight... This work thing came up and, well, I'm sorry. I was really looking forward to it," Tim sounds disappointed. Hey, I think that means he likes me! A guy likes me... This is great! But he can't come. But I can't either, so it's okay...

I laughed nervously. "Oh, Tim... That's fine. I was just about to call you about the same thing. Anyways, it'll be tight, but maybe I can make it," I replied in a sultry tone. Am I seriously licking my lips? Maybe I'm taking this whole thing a little too seriously. Or maybe all these trampy songs are getting to me.

Yeah, that has to be it. I mean, it's either that or I'm becoming Sadie at her worst. I knew Tim was smiling over the phone line. "Sounds cool, but it'd probably have to be late... Tell you what, I'll call you once I'm free, okay?" Tim posed nonchalantly. He was... so cool. So calm, so mature, so collected. And so very unlike any guy I know.

I could only smile and nod, trying to make sure my voice didn't sound too eager. "Okay... That sounds great. Bye, Tim..." I drawled, sighing dreamily. I heard Tim chuckle a little... Not at me, I don't think, anyways... Oh, I don't know! Why am I second-guessing this? Tim is good for me, isn't he? Well, let's see... You know next to nothing about the guy.

That's not true! I know his parents are divorced, that he has two brothers, and that his favorite color is blue. And he's old enough to drink. And he has dark brown hair and he's sorta tall, I guess... On second thought, I think I know more about Tommy.

Because I don't know how old Tim is. I don't know what color his eyes are... Or what kind of car he drives. I don't know his friends... I don't even know what he really looks like! And I don't even know if he's got a girlfriend already, which he probably does...

"Bye, Julia..." Tim said, and a moment later, he'd hung up. I ended the call and turned my phone off, sliding down the wall a little. I took a deep breath and stayed there for about a minute before I turned back and went into the studio again.

"_Something happens when you touch me..._" I sighed, trying to get through it fast. I had another single to record, choreography to learn, a photoshoot to shoot, a performance, and a date. I didn't look up. "_I get open, and my legs start quivering..._" I really need to stop singing such sluttylicious songs. Okay, no slutty songs. None. Period.

"_This sensation, emotions take control of me..._" I sang out loudly. Man, sounds a lot like how I feel around a certain producer who shall remain nameless because I'm not supposed to think of him. I mean, come on, he's my sister's man, and I really do need to back off. He's no good for me. Besides, I have Tim now... Sorta... Kinda... Maybe... Oh, I don't know!

"_It's a temptation... I don't know what's come over me!_" I cried out, closing my eyes, hitting the notes perfectly. Okay, now that IS how I feel around my idiot boyband-refugee producer. After my notes died out, I scrambled out of the chair to lean against the wall as the Big Shay and some of his buddies took the mike. Shay, some other guy, another girl. I moved close enough so I could step in and do my vocals when necessary.

"_Yeah... Yeah... Ooh..._"

My ears blocked out the other sounds. I knew when my cues were, so I could step in, but the words didn't register. I was just reading off the sheet. I ignored Shay as best as I could, which was a lot harder than I intended, as we were bumping shoulders.

"_Tonight is the night... Ooh, ooh, ooh..._" I really can't get into this, but I have to nail this in order to get everything done. I can't get distracted. Miraculously enough, everyone else seems to be nailing it too.

"_Yeah... I'll be your Mary Jane... It ain't a game... I'll get you high..._" I crooned... This was sort of my little chorus. Some da-da's, tonights, all right, sure, yeah, ah, oh, ooh, ohh stuff followed before I repeated the chorus part again. I repeated the da-da section and then repeated the opening.

"_Getting married tonight... Ooh... Ahh..._" I felt Shay's stare burning through me. Man, I hate this song. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! Then I repeated the stupid little vocals and the lame-o chorus of mine.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, I was done! I nearly vaulted out of the studio, not staying to hear the imported producers arguing over the backbeat. Shay would've probably tried to talk to me again... Ew. I despise Shay. And then I was running for the lounge at breakneck speed. Unfortunately, at breakneck speed... Well, let's just say they don't call it breakneck for no reason. Me, being my clutzy self, breezed past Trey the choreographer, tripped, and sort of faceplanted. Oh, you think that's bad? Well, on my way down, I crashed into Mason, which caused a domino effect that knocked all the finalists off their feet and unto the floor. Hehe... Oops.

I heard hysterical laughing in the background. Only I recognized that laugh. Stupid Quincy. I tried my best to get up. The finalists followed, dusting themselves off and looking none too amused. I laughed nervously, holding out a hand. "Jude Harrison, Instant Star..." I muttered weakly, my plastered-on smile drooping a little at the end. Angie just stared at my hand like it was beneath her to even look. Chris gave me a weird look, but he seemed friendly enough. Mason was the only one who shook my hand. Naturally, I liked him immediately.

"I'm Mason Fox. It's nice to meet you Jude," He replied kindly. I smiled at him. Eerily enough, he sorta looked like Chaz... a lot! But cuter and with hair. Speaking of Chaz... I have got to apologize to him. At some point. Er... Whenever I see him or have free time... Which is really never today. I have to learn this dance stuff... Only I suck. Great. I took my place next to Mason and turned around to glare at Tommy, who was still doubled over, clutching his side.

My eyes narrowed in frustration. Trey gave me a dark look, obviously seeing that I had no dancing ability. Then he looked back and saw Tommy giggling. His eyes lit up really bright. I realized that this choreographer guy was sort of... gay. Hmm, interesting. I bet he _likes_ Tommy. I mean, really, who doesn't like-like Tommy? And since I'm supposedly hooking up with Tommy, he hates me. Plus I'm a klutz who has single-handedly managed to knock over three people. Trey pushed through us... Yowch! Who would've thought a choreographer had that in him?

He immediately made his way over to Tommy, and I watched, amused, with rapt interest. "Tommy! How've you been? It's been too long... How long has it been exactly? Well, Tommy, it's great to see you!" Trey exclaimed, engulfing Tommy in a huge hug. I snickered. The look on Tommy's face was priceless. He looked about as mortified as he did when "Auntie Paulina" showed up. He smiled a strained smile and broke the hug as best he could.

Trey grabbed Tommy and pulled him up with us, smiling and chattering on excitedly. "So, Darius told me you'd be in the number... It's gonna be great to work together again!" Trey chirped brightly, beaming. Tommy looked absolutely miserable. Whoa, wait, Tommy's doing the number with us? Excuse me while I laugh my ass off. Hey, speaking off asses... That means he's gonna have to shake his booty a la Boyz Attack! Ooh, this is gonna be good.

"Who's laughing now, Quincy?" I retorted smugly. Trey let Tommy go, and Tommy slipped into place next to me. Tommy fixed me with a glare, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Aww, he's so cuute. You could just pinch his little cheeks... The finalists peered interestedly at Tommy, looking somewhat confused. I grabbed Tommy, pulling him out of line with me so that we could face the candidates. I smirked, waiting for them to recognize him (though they probably already did).

Angie was the first to respond. Let me just tell you right now; I hope that girl doesn't win. She let out this unearthly wail that echoed throughout G. Major and almost broke my eardrum. "Oh my God! It's Little Tommy Q.!" She screeched enthusiastically, starting to jump up and down. And I thought Sadie was obsessed. Yikes. Tommy immediately flinched like he'd been thrown in a vat of ice water. I really couldn't blame him. Her voice made everyone shudder. Hmm, I'm guessing that means that she can hit some astronomically high notes.

In a flash, I turned to Tommy. "Go get some water," I ordered, and Tommy was only too happy to oblige. After all, he knew better than anyone that my voice and patience had been taxed a lot lately. Plus he was also really thirsty. You know, I never got the celebratory pancakes and Coke Kwest went out to get. Damn, now I want pancakes. I had to take care of this and make sure no one calls him Little Tommy Q.

"Um, guys... Okay, here's the thing. If you win the competition, Tommy will be your producer. And, well, here's the first thing you gotta understand, okay? You never call Tom "Little Tommy Q.", unless you know him really well... Or if he likes you... And only if he's in a good mood," I explained in a rush, as I could clearly see Tommy approaching. I didn't wait for a response. I merely grabbed the water bottle from Tommy and started to try and open it.

Chris was the first to speak. "Lil Tommy Q. as a producer? Are you kidding me? I didn't sign on for this!" Chris muttered, disbelieving. Tommy's eyes narrowed, and I smacked myself in the forehead, glaring at Chris.

"Honestly, do you listen with your ears!" I groaned frustratedly. I sighed. Angie was starry-eyed, obviously thinking of how GREAT it would be to be in the studio all day with Tommy. That's pretty debatable, actually. I mean, sure, sometimes it rocks... But other times, it sucks 'cause he's such a damn perfectionist.

Even Mason looked a bit apprehensive. "Uh, there are other producers... Right?" He asked warily. He shut up when Tommy focused the full brunt of his glare on him. Oh well. I nodded, turning to smile at Tommy.

"Yeah, but why would you want one of them? Tommy's the best producer we've got. He's the hottest thing in producing right now, seriously... I mean, I thought the same things that you did about him in the beginning, but look at us now... We get along great," I said passionately, throwing an arm around Tommy's shoulder. A faint smile appeared on Tommy's face. I shrugged nonchalantly, something I've learned from Saint Tommy. "But if you don't want him... Guess he's all mine," I said in a somewhat suggestive (not on purpose!) tone, a slow smirk spreading across my face.

Angie did not look happy on the prospect of him being all mine. Mason still looked somewhat unsure, and Chris was giving the both of us weird looks. Not that I can blame him really. I'd be giving us weird looks too. Hell, I do that already! Uh, did that make any sense?

Then we all settled down enough to start dancing. Trey did the routine and the finalists, who had been practicing for weeks, already had their parts down. Well, for the most part. Of course, after Tommy watched the routine (only once did it have to be done for him), he put them all to shame. Apparently, he'd somehow signed a contract for his involvement in the Instant Star Competition... I dunno when that happened, and, well, all I can say is that he must've been drunk or something. The point, however, is that he's freelance. He couldn't ever leave, though, even if he wanted to. Anyways, so Tommy's a dance god, of course. He caught on so fast... And he dances twice as fast as anyone, even Chris, who's obviously the best dancer out of these three.

Me? Well, okay, I have to give Shay some credit for teaching me some moves... But it's pretty much just me and Mason off to the side, sucking. We're really that bad. I mean, we have to sing this stupid "Superstar Satellite" song... I don't get what that really has to do... Oh, the Star! Instant Star... Satellite... Space theme! Oh... Hehe. That makes sense.

Anyways, Tommy has the hardest part to do. We start dancing and then he sorta breaks through us and takes over. It's confusing. My part is too... Step, step, punch, punch, high kick... Jeez, I feel like a cheerleader. I finally nailed it... Except then Trey yelled at me 'cause everyone else was behind me. Hehe. Oops? Well... It took practically all day, but I had it mostly mastered. Mostly. Uh oh... I have that fashion shoot in like... An hour. I grabbed Tommy's arm. I need someone to help me put those boxes in my car.

"Hey, Tommy, I've gotta go to the fashion shoot. It's halfway across town. Anyways, can you help me load all the boxes in my car? I don't have much time," I pleaded, making my eyes wide and watery. Tommy rolled his eyes at my theatrics, but helped me carry my boxes nonetheless. I was hot and still sweaty, ugh, feeling icky. Tommy, on the other hand, was still perfectly morning fresh. Damn him.

I mean, I know why he can dance. It's the whole being in a boyband thing. Though I have to admit that Mason asking him to do a Boyz Attack routine (as a joke) was hysterical. And then Trey practically made him. I made a comment about asking Chaz to join in... Tommy glared at me for that one, but somehow he managed to get out of it. Unfortunately. I think I would've paid to see him shaking his booty. By the way, he's doing that during our routine. I busted out laughing when I saw that. I mean, I know I like his butt, but seriously, that was hilarious.

We somehow managed to get all of the boxes A. into my car and B. in record time. But Tommy was smirking over one of the boxes in my back seat. I walked over to see just what he was looking at. He was holding a rather extravagant royal blue push-up bra with diamond and sapphire accents. Ridiculously fancy, I know, but Shay saw it and insisted that I have it. A "birthday present", he claimed. It's nice, but I probably won't ever wear it. Still, it was worth it just to see the look on Tommy's face as he stood there, holding it. Hey! Tommy's holding _my_ lingerie! Mitts off, Quincy.

He raised an eyebrow, shooting me a look. "Isn't this a bit much?" He questioned, wide eyed, wiggling it around in the air. I fought to keep the smile off of my face, leaning against the car.

I shrugged, stretching. I'd forgotten how sore I was. "The saleslady said it matched my eyes," I mumbled, yawning. I hadn't gotten much sleep last night either. Parents yelling at me and all. Sleep would be good right now, but I've got a fashion shoot to do and then all that IS crap. I feel like I'm running a marathon with no end. Everything's going by so fast. I'm out of breath. I'm dehydrated and hungry and exhausted. But I can't stop. Even though I want to.

Tommy smirked, holding the bra up to my chest so he could see how it would look on me. It'd make a nice contrast with my red hair and white skin. Tommy's eyes lingered on my chest just a little too long. I'd forgotten that I was only wearing that skimpy white tank-top, which was probably all see-through from all the sweat... as if it wasn't see-through enough before. I was wearing a black bra underneath, so it was sort of obvious. I'm going to have to change when I get home. And maybe shower, that is, if I even have enough time for that... "She was right..." Tommy said appreciatively, but I knew he wasn't looking at my eyes.

Besides, blue is his favorite color, and I think we both know my eyes are more of a turquoise-y blue-gray... depending. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the bra out of his hand, feeling slightly uncomfortable. I was blushing just a little. I didn't look up, focusing on putting the bra back in the box and closing it. "Well, Shay sure seemed to like it..." I remarked casually, as if I was talking about the weather.

I didn't even have to look up to know that Tommy's jaw was wide open. I smirked at the thought. He was so easy... To push his buttons. But, in the other categories... Yeah, pretty easy there too. I looked up to see the absolutely priceless look on his face. "Not that he'll ever see me wearing it," I whispered, leaning against the car again. Tommy looked incredibly relieved. All of a sudden... He just... relaxed... in a way he hadn't since I'd talked to him on Friday.

Then I decided to be a little more evil. Who knew being bad was so much fun? Oh, right, Tommy, Shay, Eden, other people... "Maybe _you_ will... if you're lucky," I whispered with a wink. If I thought the look on Tommy's face was priceless before... If it was possible, his jaw dropped even more than before. His eyes were huge and bulbous. He looked like some kind of demented rodent. Except he's cute and... mannish. Luckily for me, my car was locked up, clothes secured. So I didn't have to wait around for the awkward discussion that would've followed. I just peeled out of there at full speed, either making Tommy proud or scaring the crap out of him. My driving tends to do that. Okay, so I'm not the best at turning... Or stopping. And, sure, sometimes break sounds like gas to my ears... Well, that's not true. My brain hears "Break! For the love of God, BREAK!" My foot's the uncoopertive one. It has a mind of its own. Just drops down and floors it. I think I've been speeding with Tommy at the wheel a little too much. Hence the Mario Andretti foot.

After that it's all sort of a blur. I remember making it home fast (driving at the speed of sound tends to do that), running into the house. I stripped my sweaty clothes off in a blur and threw on the first clean ensemble I could find, as well as some deoderant and mysterious spray (cologne, I learned later) to "freshen myself up". I didn't have time to even splash water on my face. I blew out of that house so quickly I almost forgot my shoes, and then, like a bullet, I was off again, swerving around hairpin curves and bobbing on and off shortcuts. Tommy knows some great shortcuts. It's more of a trial and error thing. Like, okay, I just discovered a shortcut around the bridge... And no, it doesn't involve me waterskiing or drowning.

It involves driving recklessly to the point of getting lost or bustED by the cops. I'd say almost, and this is really the key word here... Almost... getting into four, five, six wrecks... That's usually a good one. Seven's okay, I suppose, but really, a bit risky for me. Especially as I almost get into that many wrecks under the speed limit. Now Tommy will think nothing of cutting off half of the greater Toronto area. He's a great driver, don't get me wrong... That's why we haven't crashed. He likes to cut it close though... Some male adrenaline thing, I think...

Damn it. Thinking about him again. Well, hey, at least I'm not swooning. That would make it even harder to drive, and I need all the help I can get. Man... It was only one dog!

I managed to arrive at the studio (?... uh, shoot place, I guess?) without a major incident. Somehow. It was cooler than I thought it'd be. They let me wash up a little for starters. They had all these people there to do my make-up, which wasn't really new, but, considering I wasn't wearing any before... It was necessary. The make-up wasn't that bad, really. Sure, not as glamorous as it was at the shoot with Simon yesterday, but this was more of my thing. It felt more... real. I got to wear stuff I normally do. Actually, I think I'm becoming sort of a trend-setter, which really freaks me out. All I know is that I wore legwarmers with skirts and boots before they were popular... And suddenly everyone's wearing ripped jeans.

I've worn a bunch of pairs of jeans. Dark, light, beat-up, tight, baggy, bleached... You name it, it's been on my ass. They had some nice stuff too... Some black ones with pinstripes, just black ones. Some of the stuff's a bit more glam than I'm used to, but hey, it could work... I mean, I'm a rockstar now... I have to update my style a little now and then. I can't be normal Jude all the time. I'm becoming older... more mature... more sophisticated. Ha! Mature. That's a good one.

Though them making me wear leather pants was a bit much. I don't know... They said the pants make me look really skinny and all Grrl Power! Rockstarish... But I think it's sorta... cheesy and sleazy. You know, a little too Ricky Martin for me. Actually, a little too Christina Aguilera for me. She wore a very memorable pair that night she went out drinking with Tom (with disasterous consequences... They both wound up in jail, absolutely wasted). Let's see... I think she was teenybopper girlfriend number one. They were together a little while, then sorta off-and-on when she had that wild streak a couple years back.

I like it though. It's sorta alternative-y... Lots of styling and playing with my hair. They keep saying I'm a natural... The camera loves me... Blah, blah, blah. They're all lies, I tell you! Anyways, they're hooking me up with about half of it anyways... And, sure, I might not be the girliest girl, but even I won't turn down free clothes! Like this AWESOME belt and these boots and this jacket and this red sweater and the funky necklace... A girl could really get used to this.

And the setting was pretty cool too. Places I could actually imagine myself being... Real places, not just colored screens behind me. Like the inside of this warehouse... Or the park across the street... Or the alleyway out back... The fire escape too... The roof. I lost count of how many times I changed and posed. Snap, snap, snap, flash, flash, flash. I was half-blind and dizzy, trying my hardest to just follow their directions. I'm lucky I wasn't cross-eyed in all of my pictures. Or blinking. I blink a lot in pictures, come to think of it.

And then, before I knew it, I was being pushed back into my car. My head was still spinning, so I sat there in silence for a moment (until I gained my bearings). Then I shook my head and raced to the building they were housing the Instant Star Competition in this time around. I was a little late... When was I ever on time for anything, though... I mean, really?

Portia was there, oddly enough. I was kinda freaked at first... But then she told me it's her job. She's a stylist, apparently. She took in the outfit a little, but not too much, seeing as it was already skin-tight. Honestly, I couldn't believe what Darius had us wearing! Silver "space-suits". Okay, except last time I checked, there weren't space-kinis. I mean, a bikini top? How old does he think I am?

Darius came by... Said I looked hot... I was more than a little freaked by that development. Oh, and then he made me wear a short blonde wig. "Platinum... My favorite color." Ugh, gag me. Well, at least it wasn't itchy acrylic hair. And the boots were sorta cute. The look Tommy gave me was priceless, but he'd been having a lot of those absolutely hilarious jaw-dropped, eyes bulging out of his head moments lately. His eyes were fixed on my chest for a good five minutes. I had to clear my throat six times (count them... SIX!) before he snapped out of it.

He pursed his lips, taking in the costume and the wig. I felt my cheeks heat up. Then Tommy frowned, muttering almost underneath his breath, "Yep. 'Cause nothing says legitimate talent competition like space prostitutes."

I felt sorta offended. I mean, sure, I did look like a space hooker, but he didn't need to say that out loud! And it's not like it's my fault I look like a spacial streetwalker... Skywalker? No, I'm not in Star Wars... Well, actually, I sorta am. Especially if Angie's the next winner.

Hands on my hips, I gave him a challenging look. I looked him over none too subtly, of course, Tommy didn't mind. The man sucks up attention like the vacuum that is outer space. He's like a black hole, I swear! "Oh, and what does that make you, my sleazy alien client?" I retorted smugly. Tommy's eyes narrowed a little. I've said something wrong again, but you know what, I don't care. I'm just tired.

Of course, he was similarly attired... Actually, seeing as Tommy was not managed by Darius and had not signed a contract as binding as mine... He got to wear different clothes. Less cheesy. That being said, his get-up wasn't much better. Beats the white jumpsuits, though... That's all I've got to say. Oh, and the bandanas! I still laugh hysterically whenever I see one.

I mean, really, what were they thinking? Were they going for this sort of karate guy vibe? I don't know... It's like they were Zoolander wannabes or something. The intense looks and everything... That whole weird pouty thing.

But no, seriously... He was wearing that one leather jacket of his... The shiny one. My favorite one, of course. I've had designs on it ever since I first saw him wear it. Not that he's ever going to know that. I'll just... Steal it when he's not looking. Wow, I know! Jude the klepto. Who woulda thunk it?

His hair was styled to perfection as usual, and the ever-present rings were on his fingers. He was wearing pin-striped black pants with black work boots, not to mention his favorite pair of shades. I guess they were going for the super-producer look. Though I don't see why they won't let either of us wear shirts. I mean, I know sex sells, but this is just ridiculous... And we're not selling a product! I think it's because of Darius' inability to properly button a shirt. Like, okay... When we were filming the "Waste My Time" video?

Yeah... His entire shirt was unbuttoned. And it's not like it was hot in there!

I'll be the first to admit that Tommy looked hot. Totally banga- I did not just think that! Oh, crap... I did! Damnit. Damn... Grr...

Anyways, so Tommy looked hot. Period. Apparently they'd tried to make him wear bling. If I'm correct, it was a huge platinum chain with a giant diamond-encrusted music note. Tommy had a little diva fit about it, so that was shut down... And it looked really cheesy, so I can't blame him.

We went on shortly after that. Somehow both Mason and I managed to pull it together, shockingly enough. Especially since my would-be former choreographer (for the "Waste My Time" video) said... "Jude has the grace of a wounded thing." That really wounded my pride there. I mean, I'm really not that unteachable. It just takes a lot of determination and patience... On both sides.

It turned out great, I think... I mean, the song obviously sucked. The lyrics read like a two-year-old had written them. So immature. I wrote better stuff when I was six... and that's when I started writing songs. That being said, we were all fantastic and deserve medals. I think Tommy single-handedly fostered a renewed interest in the contest just by showing up shirtless... Not exactly the way to make possible clients respect you, but still... It is the way to make girls try out.

Tommy did the sweetest thing after the number. He muttered something about my outfit being cold and inappropriate, then he draped his jacket (and his arm) around my shoulders and walked me back to the dressing room. Then he caressed my cheek. I froze in anticipation. And then he gently tugged the wig off, and all my hair came spilling down. He wasn't used to seeing it curly like this.

After that, I opened the door, my hands shaking so badly that Tommy had to open it for me. Yes, he really is that heart-melty. He pushed me inside gently, smiling and giving me a kiss on the cheek before he was off on his way. I slowly closed the door behind me, watching him leave. Nice butt, by the way.

Then I swooned a little... Stupid girl... And slid down the wall. Portia promptly killed the moment by pulling me up and handing me another costume. This one was a rather fancy, floaty red dress. That happened to be so low-cut I was surprised you couldn't see... everything. Seriously, you could see this birthmark-freckle thingie down around the cleavage area. I didn't even know I had cleavage! Don't get me wrong... I love the dress. Literally. I'm in love with it. I'd wear it to my seventeenth birthday party. Not that I'll be having one of those ever again. I have bad luck with birthdays, you see. I mean, my sixteenth... Terrible. My thirteenth? Total bust. It's always the ones that are supposed to be big deals, too. They that wind up the worst. Like my tenth birthday... my presents were stolen! They were in mom's car... and it was kinda jacked.

Hmm, and then there's the pedophile clown who ruined my fifth birthday (don't worry... He didn't come on to me. He just... looked at me funny and kept trying to touch himself... Ew!). Oh, and on my fifteenth birthday, all of my presents were late (a lot of them were imports. Totally awesome when I got them though!). They lost the presents for my sixth birthday. Oh, my seventh birthday? No one came except Jamie and Kat. Eighth birthday... Sadie went all "food-fight" on me and smashed a cake over my head. Ooh, the ninth birthday... Let's see... Well, this mean kid at school bullied me all day. And then he pushed me in the dirt and gave me a swirly. On my eleventh birthday, I liked this one kid... And I don't know how, but somehow he found out. He found out and rejected me stone-cold. If I recall correctly, his exact words were; "I don't like you! That's gross! You're ugly and no one will ever like you!" Way to build up a girl's self esteem. Oh, and then there's my fourteenth birthday, where Sadie threw a party for herself and made me stay in my room all night and all day. I'm just a bit bitter...

But back to the dress. The ex-Mrs. Quincy (though she still used it professionally from time to time... Interesting fact, no?) gave me about two seconds to go behind the screen, strip, and put it on before dragging me out, fixing my hair so it curled beautifully in loose waves. She redid my make-up (the woman was very good and knew exactly how I liked it... Smoky eyes and crimson lipstick) and then sent me on my way to wait for my cue.

I watched the candidates perform. I try and be musically open, so I was okay with the r&b-ish hip-hop stuff. I mean, okay... A lot of hip-hop (including some of the ex's stuff) makes me want to rip my head out... Oddly enough, I like Darius' stuff. Seriously... There are days when I can't get "Let Your Backbone Slide" out of my head. Not that I'd ever tell Darius that... But I love Missy Elliot! She's like... one of my idols! I just think it's so awesome that she started out writing and producing and then just... Decided to have her own career.

Maybe I ought to try my hand at producing sometime. I mean, Kwest and Tommy have showed me how to run a lot of the sound equipment... And I have just as good an ear as they do! I think I could swing it... Maybe experiment a little...

I have a lot of musical idols, though... The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Rickie Lee Jones, Joe Strummer, Radiohead, Patti Smith, Kurt Cobain, Gwen Stefani, the early Diana Ross, Sid Vicious (wait... You know, on second thought... I like him before the Nancy thing and the heroin... Musically), Joey Ramone (I would've said Tommy, but, well, you see why, don't you?), John Lennon, George Harrison, Paul McCartney... Ooh, and Ringo! That is such a cool name! I'm probably leaving like a gazillion people out, but that's how it is. I mean, remember, I've dated rappers, hung out with boybanders, and jam with a garage band. Country... I sorta draw a line there. Most of the time.

Really, they were all great, but, since I liked Mason, I was drawn to his performance. Plus D was right... It was my style. Besides, there's no competition with a guy. Tommy would compete with a guy. I also happened to go on directly after Mason, so it was sort of a trying-to-calm-down, Nervous!Jude sort of thing. Not that it really worked. I was still really nervous. I felt like they were judging me again. Joy.

"And now, here's a special performance from our first Instant Star... Jude Harrison!"

That would be the ever so smug host.

That would be my cue.

Ugh, kill me now.

Hmm, this is new. The first time in my life I DON'T want to perform. Come to think of it, I'd rather be out on a date with Tim... Ah, Tim. Maybe if I hustle, I can still make it? Do you think?

Okay, stop thinking about boys. Girl, you have work to do. Great, and now I've got my demented, perverted producer's hot, sexy voice talking in my head. Well... That's what happens when you spend hours locked in the studio with him, going insane singing a song about sex, sex, sex. Okay, stop thinking. Stop...

Here I am, ready to rock you out.

I walked out into the blinding light, remembering how terrified I'd been when I was last here, in front of this crowd. My life changed that day... In an instant. I could feel it then... But it had changed so much since. I'd had my world turned upside down this year... in both a good and a bad way.

I felt the breath catch in my throat as I looked out at all the people. Even now, I still felt nervous. My nerves vanished when I saw my band behind me. Speed and the guys... My trusty boy sidekicks. I gestured to the band, nodding. Yeah. "My Sweet Time". They got the message and started playing.

I stepped up to the mike, counting beats in my head and beginning to sing. "_Late at night, hear the song spinning in my head... Heaven knows I can't sleep at all... I'm thinking 'bout all my stuff, missing my own bed... and all my friends, but it's too late to call. Hanging out all day at the Holiday Inn... Waiting's such a drag until the band kicks in..._" I drawled, kicking the song off. With each word, I got more into the song.

It is my favorite after all... Right after "24 Hours". I bobbed my head to the music, glancing at the guys and grinning. I couldn't stop, and right now I didn't want to. I didn't want to come down off this high... "_I don't know where the next road goes, but I feel the wheels roll down below me! Take my sweet time getting it back again... What matters most will carry me... through the night to where I wanna be, baby! Take my sweet time... But I'll be home again... in my own sweet time!_" I sang brassily, feeling my apprehension melt away with each word. Before I knew it, I was almost going crazy out there.

I felt a smile curling across my face, tossing my head back and forth, hair sweeping up and down with me. I took the mike from the stand and started to move around the stage a little. "_Pour it out every night, and it's just so good! How it works is a mystery... But I believe in my heart I'm doing what I should... with all these lost souls following... Waiting all day until the next begins... I love how it feels when the band kicks in!_" I crooned passionately, crouching down low and then moving abruptly back upwards. I gave my hips a little shimmie, and the skirt fluttered around my legs a little.

It sort of tickled, so I giggled a little. I licked my parched lips. Speed walked up towards me. He was big on the whole being-alive and dancing during the performance thing. I wrapped an arm around his neck, feeling giddy with the adrenaline rush. I glanced at Speed and then out at the audience. "_I don't know where the next road goes, but I feel the wheels roll down below me! Take my sweet time getting it back again... What matters most will carry me through the night to where I wanna be, baby! Take my sweet time... But I'll be home again... in my own sweet time... Yeah..._" I moaned loudly, but not in the same way I had in "Minor Liaison". These words were as natural to me as breathing.

With a coordination I didn't know I possessed, I moved away from Speed and spun around in a circle. Once again, the skirt of my dress flared up around me... A whirling red tornado... That's what I was. Before I finished the verse, I leaned in and kissed Speed on the cheek (while he was doing the guitar bit, which was pretty long) and mussed his hair a little. Speed puffed out his chest a little.

I fought to keep a straight face, but I wanted to laugh hysterically. Speed's not exactly the most macho guy. He's more the ADD, gross-out, doesn't-take-anything-seriously, yet still sweet sort of person. He's so laid back... Kinda like a hyper puppy. But he's _my_ hyper puppy friend, so I'll babysit him... Most of the time. 24/7 Speed is... Like being on speed (the drug). Or maybe another drug. I don't know. You just see it all in a weirder light, you know?

I charged back to the mikestand at the front of the stage and replaced the mike. I knew my moment... And there it is! I leaned into the mike, feeling my breath catch and my eyes closed. "_Maybe when this is over, I'll understand... Ohh..." _I murmured in a soft, sweet tone. After the last strings of the Oh died out, my eyes flew open and I got serious. "_What I've got right here in my hands... Yeah..._" I sang, building up the volume in a harder tone. I held my empty hands out and then brought them down, clenching them into tight fists at my side.

Then I grabbed the mike with both hands, glancing back at both Speed and Wally. We exchanged wicked grins. I was feeling really pumped, so we all started jumping, except Kyle, of course. It was awful fun. "_I don't know where the next road goes, but I feel the wheels roll down below me! Take my sweet time... I'm getting it back again! What matters most will carry me through the night to where I wanna be, baby! Take my sweet time... I'll be home again... in my own sweet time... Yeah, yeah... In my own sweet time... Yeah, yeah... In my own sweet time, yeah.._." I screamed, ending it with a bang. My feet hit the ground with a thud just as the the chords died out.

I know I'm not very athletic. In fact, I'm about as far from athletic as you can get. Athleticism, as well as healthy crap is more of Sadie's thing. There is one thing I do better than her physically. Well, that's a lie. I've gotten kinda buff from lugging all that equipment around (I insist on pulling my own weight). But, anyways... I've always been a better swimmer than Sadie. Ever since I can remember... You stick me in the water, nine chances out of ten, I'll do better than her. I'm not so hot at that artsy stuff... Like synchronized swimming and crazy diving. I can, however, swim faster than her. It just comes to me really easily. Like singing. Oh, and I can hold my breath ridiculously long.

At least three times as long as Sadie. It really helps with the singing. Or maybe that's why I can hold my breath so long. Who knows? That's why I wasn't really out of breath from all that jumping. But the shoes... Ouch. Each click of my heels against the stage hurt. My heels throbbed and walking off the stage (amidst thunderous applause, might I add), I almost tripped twice. My evil ankles tried to give out on me. Damn things.

Luckily for me, my boy posse was on me like a second skin... That sounds wrong... But anyways, they were surrounding me, so when I started to fall, they grabbed my arms to help steady me. Great friends I've got here. I had just made it backstage when I heard the annoying announcer again. I knew the judges were still deliberating... It wouldn't be long now. Who were the judges, exactly? Oh, simple... E.J., Georgia, Darius, and Kwest. Yeah, I know, way to go, Kwest!

My heart thudded in my chest and almost stopped beating when I heard what he had to say.

"And now, as a bonus surprise for you all... Give it up for Tom Quincy, singing the first single from his new CD!"

The applause was LOUD, and I do mean loud. There was so much screaming. I glanced at the guys, who looked as surprised as I did. And then, suddenly... There he was, onstage just as I'd first met him... minus the leather jacket. White t-shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a guitar. He started playing, and it became clear he wasn't being all Boyz Attack! about it. Not that I'd expected he would. Remember, I'm one of the few people to ever hear "Frozen".

His words barely registered in my head. I could only stand there, slightly wobbling and staring at him with wide doe-eyes. He could barely take his eyes off me the entire song. I felt the breath stop in my throat, and I felt like I was going to pass out right here, right now. I didn't, of course...

I realized that he was saying girl a lot... And that the song was about love. It was really catchy, but none of it stuck in my head. I was too busy focusing on... him. Something about innocence and romance? I don't know... I don't remember, but the tune would haunt my sleep at night. Not that I'm getting much sleep lately. Especially tonight when I go out to see Tim. Oh, great, I'm going to have to use temporary dye to make my hair... auburn-yish. And the contacts... Wait, if I'm wearing sunglasses, why do I need contacts?

Tommy's eyes stayed on mine throughout the last line of the song, like he was aiming the meaning at me... He barely took his eyes off me one time the entire song. Oh, I'd forgotten that he hadn't seen me in this dress. I don't really wear dresses often, you know. I guess it's a bit va-va-va-VOOM for me... Tommy's really not used to the whole idea of Jude the Sexpot.

Actually, come to think of it... I'm not used to the idea of Jude the Sexpot. Because Jude is not a sexpot. She's just had to sing a lot of really slutty songs lately. I do look hot, though, don't I? Portia's got good taste, I have to say. Well, hello... She married Tommy. First sign of awesome taste.

And then the song was over and I was applauding like a madwoman. I stopped eventually, but he turned back and smiled at me before walking off stage. My stomach did a flip, and I felt my knees buckle. I fell heavily against Speed, who groaned a little. "Jude..." He whined, pouting. I didn't respond, still too dazed from my Tommy haze to think. I was still sort of slack-jawed... Well, not slack-jawed. I had this absolutely moronic smile plastered across my face.

I was oblivious to the looks the guys shot over my head. All of a sudden, Speed picked me up and practically threw me over his shoulder. Let's just say I noticed that. Especially since one of his hands had a very firm grip on my ass. I think he was enjoying it just a little too much. I started living up to my fiery redheaded temper then. I started beating on Speed's back, but that didn't phase him.

I worked harder to make my punches bruising, but it didn't seem to be happening. "SPEED! Let me go! Set me down this instant! I mean it! I have to go on there and crown Mason in like... two seconds! Do you want Darius to kill me!" I shrieked, flailing about randomly. Wally snickered, tapping my tormentor on the shoulder.

"Does she know that we can see up her dress when she does that?" Wally whispered, purposefully loud enough so I could hear. I glanced helplessly at Kyle, trying to push myself up a little and failing miserably. Kyle merely shrugged... There was nothing he could do. Speed was a lot taller than him and much more muscular.

"Don't worry, Jude. Wally's lying," Were the only words of comfort Kyle offered. Well, gee, thanks! I glared at him and continued my assault on Speed. Speed reached his other hand over, and for a second, I thought he was actually going to let me down! Stupid, stupid Jude. I soon discovered that he was not, in fact, going to let me down, but was playing with the end of my dress distractedly. I sucked in a breath as his fingers brushed against skin a little too high on my thigh for my liking.

"Vince, damnit, get your hands off my ass!" I snapped, trying to move his hands. It didn't work, as I couldn't bend my hands up that far. And of course, I looked up and there was Tommy. He was smiling at first, and I couldn't help but smile back, but then he saw my positioning. The smile fell right off his face... and the look he gave me... Absolutely horrible! I waved somewhat awkwardly, rising up a little. I blew a strand of hair out of my face haphazardly, offering Tommy a weak smile. "Hi, Tommy... Great perfomance!" I managed to squeak out.

I was a bit unnerved by the way Tommy was looking at me. Before I realized why his eyes were bugged out. I glanced down and immediately flushed redder than my hair. Tommy could see clear down my dress. This time my eyes bugged out and I pressed the dress against my chest so he couldn't see anything, feeling terribly embarrassed. I didn't look at Tommy, and Speed just randomly dropped me on the ground. Assholes, the both of them.

I got up, feeling angry, and dusted myself off. I had to change. I hurried back to the dressing room, which was blissfully empty of occupants. Knowing my time was limited, I pulled the first outfit I saw (a little black dress) off the rack and threw it on without looking. I pulled the zipper up blindly, almost painfully, and flew out of the room. I raced all the way to the front of the stage... off to the side, though. The host guy looked so happy to see me. He started talking... blah, blah, blah... Gave me my cue.

In a daze, I made my way on stage, fake-smiling all the way. The annoying host guy thrust the envelope into my hand, practically chucked the microphone in my face, and left without a word. I chuckled nervously. For some reason, it felt like they were all staring at me. They were, obviously. I struggled with opening the envelope. This was a very unfair amount of pressure to put on one person. Especially one person already stressed to the max.

"Okay, here it is... The moment you've all been waiting for. The moment that's going to change one of your lives," I said, feeling the magnitude of the moment hit me like a brick. I directed the latter statement towards the finalists. I had been in their shoes only a year ago. Man, what a scary thought! I took a deep breath, trying to give them all a reassuring smile. Then, without further ado, I opened the envelope, pulling out the card with the name on it.

I was neither surprised nor disappointed. "And your next Instant Star is... Mason Fox!" The confetti dropped down from the ceiling like snow, and Mason looked like he'd just won the lottery. I guess he had... They popped out the big contract for him, framed, of course. Everyone was clapping for him, including me. In fact, I found the obnoxious host practically shoving me towards Mason.

I didn't have any qualms with this. I held a hand out for Mason to shake, wrapping an arm around him for a hug. "Welcome to G. Major, Mace," I murmured, kissing him on the cheek. Mason's face lit up with a smile.

To my surprise, he kissed me on both cheeks with a bit more gusto than was necessary, but I sorta expected that. I mean, hello, the man just got his dream fulfilled! And besides... Mason's sorta cute. But he's no Tim. Naturally, I was a bit surprised when he leaned in, breath curling around my face. We were sorta having a moment for a second there. Then he spoke and ruined everything. "Just thought you might want to know, Jude... Your dress is on inside-out," He whispered, eyebrows slightly raised.

It was a polite way of insinuating something. I immediately drew back from him, almost as if burned. Tommy shot me a weird look... Smug, yet somewhat worried. I looked out at the crowd, and I saw all of them judging me. Every last one. That being said, I practically flew off stage before anyone could stop me.

With Tim, I didn't have to be Jude Harrison, screw-up. I could just be... me. Anonymously, minus all the drama. That being said, my hair was auburn until the next wash, and my eyes were green like Sadie's. I wasn't aiming to really impress this time. I pulled on a green spaghetti-strap top that happened to be sorta skimpy first, and putting on a black jacket with white stripes along with black pinstriped pants and high-heeled boots, a plain black ski-cap on my head. I took off my star ring for what seemed like the first time in forever. I had a tan line from it. Of course.

I was ready. Time to see just where this little thing is going. If it's actually real... or if it's all in my head.

Loren ;

Okay, just saw the new episode... No idea what to do about incorporating it in the story, really... I think if I do anything, it'll be the vandalism, and not the getting drunk (though the Tommy/Jude comments at the end were nice). Anyways, Patsy. I love her. She's my idol, lol... Her song? Killer. Her fashion sense... Could use a little work. Is she going to be recurring? Oh, and I love her habit of calling all the record execs Dinks. Lol. She cracks me up. Poor Jude, though. It was awesome that she made it through that concert... The next ep doesn't look so great for her either. Four months off her contract? Do they enjoy jerking her around? That's obviously not going to happen in this fic.

And Kat being mean... I mean, I understand Jude was kinda frosty in the bar, but she went with Kat when Kat asked her to. And Jamie dumped her, so he's open for the taking (she also has to see him all the time... at work and 'cause he's her next-door neighbor). That reminds me. Jamie looked really hot this episode. Plus she had toilet paper and other crap chucked at her, and did a stint in jail. Not to mention bad sales, and Darius running her life. As far as I can see it, Jude's life is sorta down the crapper, so what successes does she really have?

Oh, random side-note, my inner hair-color is brunette... and then pink. Both of which I've actually had. And I have "Over-rated" completely stuck in my head... which sucks 'cause I can't download it... And I don't know all the words, so it's even funnier. Anyways, on said random note... Reviews are greatly appreciated.


	24. Me Out of Me

How many vehicles does Tommy have? Let's see... Cobra (or so I've heard), Viper, Hummer (guess he likes cars named after snakes), and then a motorcycle? Expensive tastes...

Lol, you know... "I'm going back to my maiden name." One of the best lines, lol.

You know, I think Jude pushes Tommy into the hot tub pretty soon... 'Cause pretty much all the other clips from the (Season Two) promo are either season one or stuff from the first three episodes or the next one. Well, I dunno about the Spiederman bit or the cameras or the weird part with the Jamie/Jude/Tommy look thing going on (that might've been in one of the first two though...). And all the quotes are pretty much from the first two episodes. Speaking of which, guess J/T were fighting when she shoved him into the hot tub, 'cause they exchanged pissed/outraged looks before-SPLASH! By the way, what's up with Sadie's hair in that scene... it's like... to the side and ICK? Tommy looks way underdressed, by the way...

Hmm, Jude and Speed... I dunno why I was all shocked when I saw that. I mean, obviously it's coming... But hmm... Jamie and Patsy. Ew. I mean, hilarious, for sure, but I just don't see it (I swear, the girl runs away more than Tommy!). You know he's gonna get back with Kat. Or he ought to. I blame that stupid makeover, even though it makes him look a lot hotter. It made Nice!Jamie appear at sporadic moments. I mean, he's a hypocrite. He says that Jude's changed, but she really hasn't. He, on the other hand, has.

That reminds me, what the hell is up with Kat? It's called Just-Because-You're-Pissed-At-Your-Friend-Who-Has-Already-Had-A-Year-Too-Sucky-For-You-To-Even-Comprehend-Doesn't-Mean-That-You-Have-To-Kiss-Her-Dad! I mean, EW! What's wrong with her? Has she been hanging out with Patsy lately? Lol, I mean Patsy almost gets Jamie fired and gets Jude arrested, lol... Even though I love her, she's a swirling vortex of doom for any character who comes in contact with her 'cept Speed. I realize that Kat feels threatened, and ignored, and that she's not this huge part of Jude's life... But the way to become a bigger part of her life is not by becoming her stepmother (Hopefully Stu pushes her the heck offa him)! Lol... And you thought Jude and Tommy were illegal! Such a bummer I'll be out of town and miss seeing it.

And, seriously, how cute were Tommy and Jude? The whole standing on her head bit where he was tickling her feet. Aww. And the piggy-back part? And the jam session in Jude's new place was awesome... Did anyone notice that Mason was there? What, they shelving him too? Ugh, and Liam. I hate him. I mean, you just want to punch him SO bad, you know? I think he's got designs on Darius' job... because he acts like what he says is automatically what Darius thinks. And Darius is really a bit nicer than Liam... 'Cause Darius can at least seem nice, you know... Like giving Jude flowers, saying she looked pretty (however creepy that was)... You know, basic human courtesies... Whereas Liam's 100 jerk all the time. He needs to grow a personality. There was like one second, when Jude was trying to talk to him, where I was thinking, okay, maybe he's going to act human for once... But I was disappointed. He's like a robot, I swear. He's only around to make brutally blunt, totally tactless statements that Jude sucks (is it just me, or does he really have it out for her?). It's like he thinks in profit margins. I don't even think he likes musicians. There was something a little off about that whole conversation too. I dunno, just sorta creeped me out a little. "I don't want to come in between you and Tommy." "Then don't." You know, if you take that out of context, it could be a Sadie/Jude convo. I don't get how Tommy's supposed to be insecure about Liam. Sure, the guy's creepy, but he doesn't know anything about music (yet). I mean, he should be counting his blessings that he's not like Liam, who currently seems to be devoid of a soul. And Tommy's a VP too, so if anyone should be freaked... it's Liam. I mean, he's what... 22-23 and a Vice-President already. Plus he has a past with Darius (both good and bad).

Augh, sorry, I meant to get out more, but alas, it wasn't meant to be.

Sadie is such a pest. She's hogging the bathroom and singing... Boyz Attack! or something at the top of her lungs. And it's bad. She's completely butchering what might've actually been a good song. The lyrics sound vaguely familiar, but her tone-deaf singing throws me off a little.

"_Girl, I've got it badly! I'm loving you so madly! Girl, I'm in so deeply! It's really not seemly!_"

How does she call that music? Right... I'm up early because I have to show them I mean business. I'm going to detention today, and I'll be damned if anyone stops me! But you really don't want to hear about my sister caterwauling or me going to detention, now do you? You want to hear about the date with Tim. Well, too bad. I'll save it for detention.

"_I want you to know how I feel... Girl, I'm in love with you! I need you to know my feelings for you are real... Girl, I'm in love with you! You ought to know how to deal... I'm in love with you... I'm in love with you... Girl, I'm so in love with you!_" Sadie continued. Okay, that's it. I've got to shut that woman up. Ugh, my sister's a woman. Ew.

I walked over and banged down hard on the door. "SADIE! Shut up and, for the love of God and all that is holy... Stop singing Boyz Attack! songs!" I screeched irritably. Sadie stopped "singing" and immediately opened the door, looking more than a little pissed off. She glared at me viciously for a minute. Didn't say a word. And then, out of nowhere, she was smirking!

"What, Jude, were you too busy doing Spiederman to catch Tommy's performance last night?" Sadie questioned coolly, her eyes narrowing evilly. Doing Speed? What is she on! Speed's cute and all, but when you've seen someone in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pajamas... It doesn't pan out. I mean, things would be so much easier if I was dating Speed. He's funny as hell... Always good for a laugh. He's a great guitarist, and I mean GREAT. He's so laid-back, and he gives surprisingly good advice about the most random things. But Speed's just a friend. Like Jamie.

I rolled my eyes at Sadie, crossing my arms over my chest. Okay, let's see... Did the tabloids have pictures from last night or Friday? Probably both. Ugh, great. Well, there are worse things than being Speed's "girlfriend", I guess... Like being Tommy's flavor-of-the-week, for instance. Good to know that at least I'm a constant in his life...

"No... Considering Tommy's eyes were on me the whole time," I retorted with a smug, satisfied grin. Sadie looked about ready to strangle me. I wasn't phased. If she'd just been singing Tommy's song... There's no way in hell that song's about Sadie.

"That song's about me," Sadie crowed proudly, puffing out her chest a little. As if she needed to. That reminds me... Did you know that "Sexy Sadie" is about one of Charles Manson's followers? Yeah, I thought that was ironic too. And now my big sis is gonna be a radio joke. I'm laying down the track today. I raised an eyebrow and looked her square in the face.

"Name one time Tommy's ever called _you_ "girl"," I snapped a bit harsher than intended. Sadie frowned, trying to think of such an occurance. She was, however, coming up quite blank. Too bad. I decided to continue in spite of her non-answer. "Plus... Madly? Yeah, it's crazy. Badly? Yeah, he's screwed. Unseemly? A relationship with you is the safest thing he could do. Face it, Sades. Not everything's about you... Least of all that song," I stated bluntly, feeling my lips curl up into a smile. It felt good to tell her off.

Sadie looked like she wanted to give me a throwdown showdown. Instead, she merely shrugged. Very mature, Sades. I applaud your grown-up-ness. Really, I do. I'm so proud of my ICKle sister, Sadie. So proud. "Remember who's with him, Jude. Me. And regardless of who that song's about... He's with me, and that's all that matters," Sadie hissed, fixing me with a look before strutting out of the bathroom. She bumped into my shoulder hard on purpose! The witch!

That being said to Sadie, I raced to get ready almost blindly. Hey... No clothes inside out this time... Progress, my friend, progress... Let's just say there are a lot of things Sadie doesn't know... Like that I've kissed Tommy more when she was with him than when she wasn't. Or that I've kissed him more than the one time. Or that Tommy just can't keep his hands off of me sometimes. Oh, and the fact that I have to kiss him for work because of the music video...

Oh, that reminds me... My aunt and my cousins are coming to stay with us for a while. Supposedly a week at most, until Aunt Sandra finds a place in the city, that is. I don't get why they couldn't stay at the farmhouse, but I suppose that's a bit of a commute. Aunt Sandra used to live waay out in Saskatoon. You know, we, as a people, (Canadians, I mean) tend to give places very weird names. Saskatoon, Winnepeg, Moose Jaw, Nunavut... Stuff like that. Why don't Americans have any funny place names? Oh, wait... Never mind. They do too... Like Walla Walla and Kalamazoo.

Aunt Sandra has two kids, Fiona Anne and Josie. She's a single mom, as her rake of a long-term boyfriend left her just after little Josie was born. Jerk.

Actually, it's pretty weird though. They're the side of the family with red hair. So if you don't believe the do's natural, take a look at them... Flaming red hair! Well, Aunt Sandra and Fiona at least. Josie has brown hair. She's four and the most adorable little thing you ever saw. Everyone loves her to death. She looks more like her prettyboy rake of a father, who needs to be castrated for what he did to Aunt Sandra. Actually, Fiona and I look a lot alike... Red hair, pale skin, blue eyes. And, since she's only a year younger than me, we're about the same age. We've also got some things in common... Namely music.

I remember when we had family reunions down at the farm. I would always find Fiona and we'd write songs together, or listen to music, or play songs we'd written. It was nice. Well, or we would play pranks on Sadie and our prissy cousin, Audrey. Hehe, that was fun. I think I'm gonna like seeing them again. Yep, putting glue in Sadie's shampoo sounds good. Or switching her perfume with mace or pepperspray. And then there's always turning off her alarm clock. Or sabotaging one of her dates...

Anyways, I snagged a Poptart and was good to go. Headed for the car, sped to make it there on time... Who knows, maybe I won't cut history today? I better not. Or the 'rents would go all nazi on me. Wow, you know, I've never been at school this early. It's so... empty.

I made my way to the front door, which was open (to my disbelief). I decided at first to head for Mr. James' office, but, naturally, he wasn't there. So I went to the office, and... after signing an autograph for Penny the secretary... I asked her where the detention room was. Some teacher I've never heard of on the third floor. Whatever.

I shrugged and trekked up there. As no one in the world wanted to be up at this ungodly hour of 7:15, I wasn't surprised to see so few students here. I glanced around at my all-too brief options and decided to go with the only person in the place who didn't look completely disgusting... This girl with brown hair and a torn shirt. The girl glanced up and peered over at me curiously. She frowned. "You look familiar..." She muttered curiously. She had the air of being completely bored out of her mind.

I sighed, holding out a hand for her to shake. "Jude Harrison, Instant Star," I replied, wondering vaguely if she was a stalker fan. I didn't think so. She sure didn't seem too excited. In fact, she waited a while before grabbing my hand and giving it a firm shake, a smirk lighting up her face.

"Patsy Stuart, Office Smash," She drawled mockingly. You know, I have to say that I like her taste. Cool clothes. I nodded and stared at the class room. Boring, boring, boring. Everything was in Spanish, which I couldn't read anyways. I groaned, looking at the teacher. Obviously, she didn't care. So, for lack of anything better to do, I turned to Patsy, who was staring at me contemplatively.

"You friends with Vince?" She asked gruffly, as if examinating me. Well, duh, I'm friends with him! He's in my back-up band! We've toured together! I've kissed him! The tabloids think I'm screwing him! The list goes on... I merely nodded, frowning. She knew Speed? Wonders never cease.

"Yeah, why?" I inquired, about ready to keel over and die of boredom. I needed to talk to someone, and Patsy seems cool... I think. Or she could be totally hardcore or something.

Patsy laughed. "He talks about you, you know..." She said amusedly. Whoa, wait... Speed talks about me? To other girls? Okay, now we're just entering weird territory here... My brow furrowed from the complexity of it all. Patsy smirked again, clearly getting what she wanted.

"You're friends?" I implored hesitantly, still feeling confused. Patsy nodded a bit excessively. Are they THAT kind of friends? No, you know what? I don't think I wanna ask or know. 'Cause, ew... EW.

I frowned, thinking about Speed. He was funny and all... But I didn't appreciate last night. I turned to Patsy, feeling slightly irritated about the whole situation. "Well, then..." I muttered frankly, crossing my arms over my chest. I made sure I had her attention before continuing: a dramatic pause. She turned to look at me. "Could you tell him I'm pissed about last night?"

Patsy raised an eyebrow. Suddenly the aloof boredness was gone, replaced by an insatiable curiosity. "What'd he do wrong in bed?" She deadpanned so bluntly I winced. Patsy started laughing, verging on hysterical. I scowled at her and sighed, putting my head down on the desk. I decided to just ignore her comment. Smart move, Jude.

"Well... He screwed up big time. He grabbed me, touching my ass, and wouldn't let go until BAMMO, he drops me on purpose. And because of him, I practically flashed my producer and now all of Canada thinks I'm sleeping with Speed," I groaned irritably. I really needed to vent. So sue me! I'm pissed at Speed and rightly so.

Patsy snorted. "Aren't you sleeping with your producer anyways?" She asked, frowning contemplatively.

This is one of those moments where, if I had my coffee with me, I would've spit it out completely. Instead, I stared at her like she was a three-headed alien with green skin. My eyes were about as wide as Tommy's were... before. Not thinking about it! What did Speed say to her? I vocalized that thought aloud, a lot of confusion and frustration in my tone.

Patsy smirked. "Well... He says that you two bicker like an old married couple and flirt like there's no tommorow. Oh, and your dink of a producer gets freakish jealous? Oh... And he saw you two making out yesterday," Patsy rattled off, clearly amused. She was getting way too much enjoyment out of this. I fixeed her with a glare... Crap. Speed saw that? Uh oh...

I hate to say it, but she's pretty much right. Scowling, I crossed my arms over my chest. "Oh, what's _his_ explanation for my dress being inside-out?" I growled, feeling very peeved. Speed is so gonna die. I take back all the nice stuff I said about him before. You know, next time I use a pawn to make Tommy jealous, I'll pick Wally or Mason... Though, if I apologize to Chaz, there's the added bonus of them being friends, and Chaz historically liking younger girls.

Patsy's smirk widened even further, and she leaned in a little closer. She had so much energy. "He thinks you and Li'l Dink had a quickie in the dressing room... then were so busy getting dressed you didn't notice," She whispered conspiratorially. My eyes narrowed. Okay, that's it. Speed is going down.

Down. Down. Down.

I mean it!

I made a face at Patsy, sighing exasperatedly. "But his ex-wife works in the dressing room!" I muttered frustratedly. Honestly, I felt like pulling my hair out. That fact, at least, seemed to come as a surprise to Patsy. She just shrugged. Well, it's not like it's her theory. I sighed again and continued on my little tirade. "And he's dating my sister!" That also floored Patsy a little.

Then this uneasy look crossed over her face. Most likely about the weirdness of it all. Yeah, you and me both. I pouted, and Patsy started laughing. She had a loud laugh. Loud and raucous. Not annoying, though. I guess... "You **have** been hanging around Teenybop way too much lately," She replied, trying to calm down a little. It didn't work, but then I stopped pouting. It was all good...

She had a point, though. I'm not gonna lie. I have been spending too much time around Tommy lately. Then she retreated to her boredom (throwing her pencil at the ceiling), and I retreated to my thoughts. Which revolved around a certain date with a certain hottie... Tim, just so you know. Tim.

The date last night was... great. One of the best dates I've ever had. Actually, I haven't been out much. You know, on real dates. Chaz, Jamie, Speed, and the guys don't count. That's sad, though. To think that Shay's been my only date. Ugh. Well, that's over with.

We met at the bar as planned. He bought me a drink. Something ridiculously girly. I don't exactly remember, but it was pink and sweet. I was practically giggling like a madwoman. Yeah, I'm not the best at handling alcohol. Hence why I don't drink.

Then we left the bar a little while afterwards (someone was singing a very bad version of "Slave 4 U"... Yeah, I hate Prince spelling too...). Okay, more like ran out. We had a race, and naturally, he won. It was sorta cute actually... Me being my clumsy self, I tripped, as usual. I was expecting a pretty hard fall... You know, concrete and all. But it never came. Tim managed to catch me.

He was so warm and... real. Well, as real as a guy can be if you can't see his eyes. He smelled great too. He knew how to put on cologne. Jamie doesn't know how to put on cologne. When he does, you can smell him from a mile away. Kat and I can always tell. We sniff the air and we just look at each other and go, "Jamie's wearing cologne again!" That degenerates into us arguing over who ought to tell him and how we ought to teach him to fix it. I don't know why I'm thinking about Jamie. Comparison, I guess.

I mean, Jamie was my first crush. I don't exactly publicize that information, but it's true. Kat didn't even know. I'm sorta skittish around guys. Yeah, I know that sounds ridiculous that I say that, considering how soon I kissed Tommy after we met... But, you know, gut instincts. Let's just say I've been burned before I ever got mixed up with Shay and Tommy. But that's a story for another day.

Tim, though... Tim knows a thing or two. It's probably because he's older. He knows how to put on just the right amount of cologne... Just the right amount of hair gel, well, at least I think... From what I can tell anyways. He just seems like that. So together, so cool...

Honestly, even though he was wearing shades... We were both wearing shades... I sort of got a little lost there. We were a few inches apart and then... and then we weren't. Next thing I knew, we were making out in the middle of the sidewalk. And I didn't care.

I'd forgotten how good of a kisser he was. Mmm... Better than Tommy, I think. No, wait... Tommy's better. Mm, oh, that was nice though... You know, on second thought... Well... Let's just call it even, okay? Comparing Tim to Tommy is not healthy. At least he can compete, though.

Unfortunately, some yahoo yelled "Get a room!" That ruined the happy little moment. We broke apart embarrassedly. At least on my half. Tim's not the kind of guy to get embarrassed. His hands were still on my hips, and we were only a few inches apart. Tim looked like he was actually contemplating the suggestion.

I'm not that kind of girl, despite what the tabloids and... everyone... may think. So I rolled my eyes and grabbed Tim by the lapel and tugged him along behind me. He fidgeted a little and grabbed my hand so that his shirt could be spared. I laughed and we walked drunkenly (though we'd each had only one drink, so it was more of a buzz for me. You couldn't even tell he'd had one) down the street for a while.

I don't know how exactly it happened, but suddenly, there we were... Of all places... Standing in front of a record store. Just more proof that even when I'm someone else, I can't escape music. It's my life. Tim and I exchanged incredulous glances, but then shrugged (almost like we were a real, normal couple! Even though we're not... Obviously) and went in anyways.

I don't normally go into record shops with strangely hot guys I barely know. This is more of a Jamie and me sorta thing. I have to know you and trust you. I just don't shop for music with strange guys. I take my music very seriously that way. But it's okay, 'cause I don't think Tim's strange... Not that strange anyways.

What? I can hang out with guys I barely know!

It's a record store. I'm safe. Not like it's a dark alleyway or anything. Been there, done that... Or didn't do that... Are we acknowledging that this week or not? I mean, Tom's really got bigger fish to fry. Remember, he thinks he's slept with me. A tiny little kiss is the least of his woes right now.

So Tim and I split up for a bit and started looking around the store. It had some really old records, eight-tracks, tapes... Those sort of things. That's what it's known for. I know all the record stores within a 50 mile radius of Toronto. What can I say... Music's my thing. I was just wandering around the store aimlessly. Checking out that one Ramones CD I don't own... Rummaging through the CDs, looking for something good.

I was suddenly hit by the realization that I was staring at the (mostly empty) Q section. Before I knew it, my eyes were scanning the labels. Quark ex Machina, Quasar Firestorm, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy Soundtrack, Quentin, G... Querry Berry, Quillz, Quincy, T... Quinlan, V... Quinn, J... Quizzy Xanophean Daze... Wait! Quincy... T? As in Tom Quincy? But I thought he hadn't released a solo album...

I've got to check this out... I picked it up, looking at the back, and, sure enough, there was a guy who very much resembled the Tommy Quincy I knew to this day. In fact, he WAS a much younger Tommy Quincy. He was so skinny... How old could he have been when this was recorded? It had to be somewhere around or just before the later nineties.

My eyes slowly scanned the list of songs. There weren't very many. "Generational Gap"... "Rivals"... There were some others I don't remember... and then, the final track... "Student/Teacher Thing". I just about had a heart attack there. This is something most people don't know, but the order of tracks on a CD is no accident. Usually. Unless you're burning a mix CD and screw up.

But in the biz, it's almost always done with extreme care. They spend at least a couple days deliberating the order. It's done mostly depending on a lot of things. What kind of music it is... Songs with similar themes... And if your CD has a song with the same name as the CD, it's pretty much a given that it's going first. If there's something like that, the following rule doesn't apply, but in all other cases, you generally start out your album with one of your planned singles. Sometimes it can be both. Usually the song isn't one you've released to the airwaves yet.

Every album needs a strong opening and closing. So if you want to just throw away a track, you stick it somewhere in the middle. And that's why having "Student/Teacher Thing" as a final track's a big deal. Anyways, so when I saw that track, I just about had a stroke... It reminded me of Quinn in the most unpleasant way. My stomach twisted uncomfortably, but I was still curious.

I was going to buy it just for kicks when Tim came over, smiling. Without even looking at it, he placed it back in the bin and tugged me along to show me some old boxes that were full of discount stuff... But not just records, tapes, and CDs... There was also a lot of concert merchandise. I smiled gratefully at Tim and started digging through the dusty boxes, looking for some cool stuff. But not disgusting stuff. There's a difference between vintage and just plain old, you know. We both managed to find a lot of awesome stuff in the boxes.

Good cheap stuff. See... This is the normal stuff I just don't get to do anymore. After we both bought as much as we could, we went back to looking at CDs. I wanted to go back towards the Q section and pick up that CD, but, mysteriously, I found myself drifting towards the Bs. Yep, you guessed it. Boyz Attack!

Well, a girl's entitled to be curious about her... friend's past. Right? Yeah... That's it. Next thing I knew I was staring at the CDs blankly and all of a sudden, arms encircled my waist. I stiffened reflectively, but then relaxed as I realized it was Tim, not some stranger. The hair on the back of my neck stood up when he pressed his soft lips against the skin at the top of my shoulder. I sucked in a breath, and my eyes fluttered closed involuntarily. He was so close, and it was killing me. Feeling only slightly weak in the knees, I collapsed a little against him.

"Closet Boyz Attack!er, Jules?" Tim whispered huskily, driving me up the wall without even knowing it. Does he always sound this hot? Then he laughed, a deep, throaty laugh that I felt reverberating through me. I couldn't help but laugh back, feeling more nervous than you would believe. Me, nervous! I've performed in front of huge crowds... On live TV... I've been publicly humiliated at my own birthday party. If there's one thing I have... It's nerve. I'm not generally a fearful type.

I snorted, sliding my hands over his and turning around to face him. We weren't that far apart anymore. I grinned at him. "Hot guys in tight little outfits who sing and do lame dance moves? How can you resist?" I replied smoothly, trying hard to keep myself from laughing. I kept a straight face for... all of two minutes. Then I was a hopeless case, half keeled over backwards (a very uncomfortable position, mind you), laughing hysterically. Tim's hands on my hips and my grip on his hands were the only thing keeping me from crashing into the CD racks. Tim snickered and helped pull me back up.

I ran flat into his chest (which is flat also, by the way) and suddenly it wasn't all that funny anymore. The look on his face unsettled me a little. It was mysterious and dark... I didn't exactly know what he was going to do, but I didn't care... At least, not much anyways. My skin was buzzing with anticipation. Tim broke the somewhat awkward moment by smiling and turning me around, gesturing at one of the CDs. "Which one do you like best?" He posed, giving me a look that suggested that he already knew who I would choose. The sad thing was that he was probably right.

I fixed him with a look, crossing my arms over my chest. He frowned a little, missing my hands on his. This made me smile... He likes me. I think. Maybe. Probably... "I know what you're going to say, so save it. I'm not a Little Tommy Q. fangirl like the rest of them," I said with a bit more anger that I had intended. Tim looked a little taken back and rightfully so. But then I smiled, trailing my fingers up and down his arms. "Besides, I've always thought that Chaz was the better singer anyways," I whispered, laughing slightly.

I'm sure if I could've seen his eyes, he would've been rolling them. He scoffed. "Please. That's like comparing Jude Harrison and Eden Taylor," He muttered sarcastically. I was pleasantly surprised at the name check. A stupid smile crept across my face at the compliment. Another Eden hater.

"That's not true... Chaz can hit some unearthly high notes. More than I can say for Eden," I countered with a smug smile. Tim laughed at this, his hand on my arm. I felt my skin heat up. I looked him over, feeling strangely flirtatious. "So, you're a Jude fan?" I asked, trying to force the smirk off my face. Tim smiled earnestly, but looked down, somewhat embarrassed. Aww, that's so cute!

"Yep. It's my deep dark secret," He whispered, pretending to glance around the shop like he was a secret agent or something. I giggled in spite of myself, and laughed even harder when he pulled out a concert t-shirt with my face on it. I don't even have one of those. I have a stupid one autographed with Shay's signature. His signature's big and showy. Befitting of "the Big Shay". He frowned a little, looking a bit put off. "Can we keep the depths of my fascination just between us? Seeing as she's a sixteen-year-old and all..." Well, gee, thanks for reminding me of that... I wonder what he would do if he knew just who I am? How old I really am?

I knew then that I couldn't let him find out who I really was... Well, not yet anyways. He'd be bound to have a fit of the Tommies and run off scared. I've had enough of that for one lifetime, trust me. I nodded, smiling coyly. "Okay," I promised, holding out a pinky so we could pinky-swear. He stared at me oddly for a second before slowly reaching out towards my hand. We were about to shake on it when something occurred to him.

He frowned. "Ah, ah, ah... I told you something embarrassing about me. Now it's only fair that you tell me something embarrassing about you," He demanded calmly. Well, what the hell was I supposed to tell him? I somehow had a feeling, call it a gut instinct really, that telling him I was in love with Tommy would sort of blow the whole mood. The same goes for saying that I'm head over heels for my sister's boyfriend. Well, I don't know about that one... I nodded suddenly (what was I thinking!), and we shook pinkies.

Oh, crap. I sighed, surrendering. "Okay... But if you ever tell anyone I told you this, you're toast," I began nervously. Tim nodded impatiently, leaning forward a little to hear. I sighed again and looked down, feeling my cheeks flame up. "I know all the words to every Boyz Attack! song," I said, as a way of beginning.

This smile broke out on Tim's face, and he started laughing. Way to make me feel embarrassed. I didn't say, of course, that I only knew all of the words because of Sadie. He stopped laughing after a respectable period of time because he's a polite gentleman. "I knew it! I knew you had a thing for him!" He exclaimed knowingly, basking in the glow of being right. I shot him a glare, rolling my eyes.

"Hey, at least I don't crush on a sixteen-year-old!" I retorted childishly. Tim was so silent for a moment that I thought I'd actually offended him or something. Believe it or not, I was about ready to apologize when he started laughing. The little punk was faking me out! I started laughing and, together, we stumbled out of the store, deciding to go for a coffee.

That part of the date was great too. Sobered me up a little while still giving me that delightfully necessary-for-survival caffeine buzz. We had some yummy pastries (apparently it was some fancy little Montreal-style café). There we were, telling weird stories from our childhood. He told me about how his brother had, at the ripe age of 3, thrown him out of a one-story window. I remarked glibly, "Well that explains a thing or two..."

He glared at me, and I told him about how Sadie had once pushed me down a flight of stairs (no, this was not some stupid thing she did on accident or because she was too young). That was painful. I had bruises all over. She was seventeen and the golden girl. Mom and Dad didn't believe me, even though I had so many bruises one of the teachers tried to call Child Services. He winced, nodding like he knew exactly how I felt, which he probably did.

Then we were talking about first crushes. He talked about how his first girlfriend (he was 3) wanted to have babies with him. She was six. I talked about how the first guy I liked had totally rejected me. It was a nice bonding experience. We got on to the truly awkward moment next. Somehow, I don't quite know... But we started talking about boyfriends and girlfriends.

Well, it just so turns out that my Tim... Sweet, innocent... Okay, so I don't know him that well. But the point is that he had a girlfriend. I swear, I just about walked right out of the place. He rushed to backpedal. "Before you freak... Things with me and my girlfriend aren't that serious," He said, grabbing my hand in an attempt to pacify me. It didn't work. Those were some bad first words, my friend. I jerked my hand away and glared at him... but I didn't move.

I fought the urge to ask if his girlfriend knew things weren't that serious. "We have this mutual friend... I guess you could say I'm a bit too close to her, well, according to my girlfriend. Frankly, I don't think she cares who I see as long as its not that one person, and it doesn't get serious," He muttered, trying to explain. I wasn't buying any of it. I gave him a look. Cut the crap, babe.

"So then what are we doing? Hmm? Are we dating? Are we just hanging out? Either way, I think you're cheating on your girlfriend, and no one deserves that," I found myself snapping. Okay, and now I'm Jude... Again. Great, just what I was trying to avoid. Tim winced.

He squirmed a little and tried to make me see. "We're hanging out." I sorta wanted to slug him for a second there, but I reminded myself that I liked him. And then I went word-psycho on his fine ass.

"If we're just hanging out, then why did you kiss me? I don't **date** cheaters. I am _not_ going to be that other woman. Because that's not fair to anyone. And don't say you'll break up with her because I know you won't. I'm not standing around and waiting for you to make up your mind about whether you want me or not. Just let me know if I'm wasting my time here," I stated brusquely, getting up and in Tim's face, slamming my hands down hard on the table. Some strands of my hair came undone, but I didn't care. Some relaxing evening.

I waited for one minute. He was speechless, jaw hanging open. He didn't have one friggin' word to say to me. So I didn't have one word to say to him. Not even goodbye. Once again, Tim surprised me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back to him. I didn't sit down. Maybe I would've believed him if he'd taken off the shades, if I'd seen that pleading look in his eyes.

"Julia, don't go. Please. I'm not the kind of guy who says things like this, especially to someone I barely know, but... I've never felt this connected to anyone in my life. I like you. There, I said it. I want to pursue something with you, but I want us to be friends first... everything else second," Tim said sincerely, laying it all out in the open. I sucked in a breath and found myself nodding stupidly. I wanted to believe him so badly, and he made it so easy.

What freaked me out was that I felt exactly the same way. Here I was, in some mysteriously vague relationship, and we were on the same page.

"And, yes, I do have a girlfriend. There are going to be other women in my life; I'll admit that. You're free to have other boyfriends if you want... Guys who will be more serious with you. But just know that I'm not even half as connected to them as I am to you, Julia. I'm not asking for exclusivity here... I'm not asking for a steamy affair. I'm just asking if it would be okay for us to hang out maybe once a week. It doesn't even have to be romantic. I just want to see you and be with someone who understands for a few hours," Tim asked, not sounding as desperate as I would've liked. I wanted to hit him at first, but then the second part of what he said sunk in.

And then I had all but thrown myself across that table, capturing his lips with mine. He didn't seem to mind. "Wednesday," I whispered as I came up for air, reminding him of our next date. He smiled at me, pulling me into other kiss. We got out of there, still attached at the lips, a few minutes later. He held my hand all the way back to the bar. I kissed him goodbye and watched him drive off on his motorcycle. My eyes followed him until he was long-gone, and then I leaned against my car and swooned.

I think I'm falling for Tim.

Yeah, and I thought all this Tommy drama was messy.

I had no idea.

Wait, so what does that mean, exactly? I know we're dating... But does that mean that he's my boyfriend? Or is he just a friend that I might make-out with a few times? I guess... Unofficially... He's sort of my... quasi-boyfriend. Or not. After all, then my boyfriend would have a girlfriend. Okay, I give! I'm confused...

So not thinking of Tim is paramount.

"_I wanna be an airborn ranger! I wanna live a life of danger! Before the day I die... There are five things I wanna ride: bicycle, tricycle, automobile, virgin's mother, and a ferris wheel!_" I hummed quietly to myself. Patsy perked up a little at this. Figures.

We managed to bond over our sharing of Speed and love of the same music. She was pretty cool actually, when you got down to it. Anyways, we parted ways (we're going to hang out sometime later on), and I headed for class. Quinny time number one. Yay.

That class was impossible. I tried to apologize to Jamie. He took one look at me and pulled out a tabloid. Not just one. A lot. There's one from Tuesday... Me with Shay... Me with Tommy... Me with Boyz Attack!... Me with Chaz... Me with Speed... And then me with Mason. He fixed me with this cold look. "Wow, Harrison... You really do get around... Who're you doing next... _Darius_?" He said frostily. Kat made a face and smacked Jamie in the shoulder. Apparently, she appreciated the effort. She shrugged helplessly. I had a feeling Kat and I would apologize soon.

Needless to say, I made a quick retreat. But eew, Darius? No way.

The day dragged on by (yes, I did go to History, for like... the first time all year. Real shocker). This has been the first day where Tommy hasn't called me.

I spoke too soon. Well, I actually had to get to Quinn's class now... From lunch. Not much time, really. I sighed. Little Tommy Q.

"What do you want this time, Tommy?" I asked rather shortly. Tommy waited all of two seconds to answer.

"What are you wearing?" He blurted curiously. Jeez. Is he coming on to me? Again? I thought he only did that when he's drunk.

I blinked, but continued on my not-so-merry way. "You are such a perv, Quincy. But, since you asked... Not the overpriced blue one you saw yesterday," I replied smoothly. I swear I heard Tommy choke a little. Envisioning much?

"How many of those do you have?" He asked incredulously. You know, that is a good question. Far too many probably. I shrugged, making my way through the halls. Okay, so they'd spraypainted my locker AGAIN. And there were tabloids on it... AGAIN. I chewed the Vice-Principal out about it at lunchtime, so if I'm cranky, it's 'cause I skipped lunch to yell at the fool.

"I don't know. But that honestly can't be why you called..." I muttered distractedly, putting my things down in the room. I was right. And I was wrong. Sort of. Um, if that makes any sense...

"I just wanted to give you a heads-up. They're planning on taking some candid film stuff... You and me working on a song. I figured you might want to wear something nicer than the usual ripped jeans and concert tees this time around," Tommy advised, like he thought I didn't look good in normal clothes. That's really the vote of confidence I need right now.

To be fair, actually, I wasn't wearing jeans. I was wearing a simple blue t-shirt (one I've recorded in a lot... "Your Eyes", "Time to Be Your 21", a bunch of stuff...), a jean skirt with black leg warmers underneath (yes, the very same I wore when I won Instant Star), and my trusty black Converse. The guitar pick necklace too. I looked totally normal, really.

"That reminds me... Have you told your girlfriend that we're going to be making out today?" I questioned, a certain edge in my voice. There was silence on the airwaves. It just figures. The classroom was empty, so I rolled my eyes, pacing slightly.

"What? You think she'll never find out about it?" My voice rose. I leaned against my desk. Once again Tommy said nothing. I rolled my eyes again, throwing a hand in the air.

"Honestly! It's a music video! She's gonna see it on MTV or something... You saw how "Waste My Time" was plastered all over the news even after the break-up. And with you, of all people, in it? Do you honestly think it's not gonna blow up huge? And Sadie's sure to follow," I practically shrieked, exasperated beyond belief. I collapsed a little against the desk. Tommy sighed over the line. Aha! A sign of life!

There was a moment of silence, and then he spoke. "I know she's going to find out. I just... I have to tell her in the right way... at the right time. I have to make sure she understands that this is just business," Tommy answered, far more calm and detached than he had any right to be. Just business. My own words thrown back at me. I guess I was wrong about it being just business on my end because it still stung. I sorta jumped the gun a little there, huh?

I nodded dumbly, feeling a little numb. I'm rhyming in my misery. Well, that's just peachy. I rolled my eyes and then came back alive. "Why haven't you told her already? You could tell her today or tomorrow..." I suggested, feeling somewhat odd about the whole deal. I had a feeling I was missing something.

Tommy sighed. I knew he was running a hand through his hair. Bet he looks hot right now. I sat down on the desk, crossing my legs and waiting for an answer. "I would... if tomorrow wasn't our three-month anniversary," Tommy replied darkly, exhaling deeply. Their... three-month anniversary? Does that still count if you've broken up as much as they have? I fought the strong urge I felt to say this and instead leaned back, flat against the desk.

"So let me get this straight. You'll be making out with your girlfriend's little sister on your three-month anniversary? How messed up is that!" I gaped incredulously. I cannot believe his nerve! Tommy sighed unhappily. Well, gee, Tom, don't sound too excited.

"I know, Jude, but... It's not like I really had a choice. They pretty much forced this on both of us," Tommy mumbled tiredly. Well, that's true, but you don't see me whining about it, now do you? He's just being stupid about it. Excuses, excuses. He's known that we were gonna do this since Friday. He had three days to tell her. Four if you count today.

I contemplated for a minute what to say. Then I felt a slow smile curling on my face. "So, Tommy... What are _you_ wearing?" I giggled. Tommy snorted over the phone, which only made my smile widen.

"Seriously?" He asked, disbelieving. What? It's only fair after he asked me.

I rolled my eyes, playing with a strand of my hair. "Seriously," I said mockingly. I waited impatiently for his answer.

He sighed once again (recurring theme), sounding vaguely irritated. Oh, like he has the right to be annoyed? Some guys would actually want to kiss me, you know? But he answered nonetheless. "Jeans, white t-shirt, leather jacket, Nikes," He stated in a totally bored tone. Good. Bet he looks hot.

I frowned. "Can't you wear something blue? It goes with your eyes... Or red! Red is a great color on you... Oh, where's Portia when you need her?" I chattered on somewhat excitedly. Portia was great at coming up with outfits.

"Excuse me!" Tommy exclaimed, somewhat alarmed. Probably from the mentioning of Portia. Oh well. Wonder what he'd do if he knew she was married to his best friend? Hmm, interesting.

I rolled my eyes. "You know... She's a stylist? Who do you think picked out that dress for me?" I muttered, wondering how stupid he was. How could he have not seen her? Oh, wait... He's a guy, and he got his own clothes so... yeah. Still, you would think he'd see his ex-wife... You know, ex radar or something?

And where Darius is, Portia and Shay-Shay are sure to follow.

"Ah..." Tommy was obviously nodding and remembering something from his days with the Boyz that indicated that I was right. There was a pause... Not an awkward one (wow, that's a bit of a first), though. Then he spoke, and I could hear the grin in his voice. "Which one? The one you wore inside-out? 'Cause you know, if she told you to wear that, I'd suggest a new stylist," Tommy joked, trying unsuccessfully to fight back laughter.

I rolled my eyes. Honestly, has no one worn something inside out before? I don't get why it's such big news. "Actually, I was talking about the red one," I grunted, frowning as he laughed harder over the line. Then he stopped laughing, probably thinking about the dress. I waited with bated breath. I hadn't been around to see what he thought about it.

"I guess I should be thanking her then... You looked amazing, girl. The most beautiful I've seen you since your sixteenth," Tommy said softly, in a slightly breathless tone. He immediately winced at the mention of my sixteenth. How do I know he winced? 'Cause I winced. Then I flushed, feeling all warm and tingly. Tommy thought I looked beautiful... I was smiling like an idiot, but I didn't care.

"Thanks, Tommy... So, I've got this idea for a song... Can you help me work on it?" I replied shyly. Bits and pieces of the song had been floating around in my head last night after my date with Tim. What can I say? He inspires me. Though, to be fair, a great deal of it was inspired by Tommy. But it's like that with everything I write, really.

Tommy perked up a lot after I said this, effectively getting us out of Awkwardland, Population: Jude and Tommy. Ah, music. Where would any of us be without it? I mean, what would I be doing if I wasn't a musician? I'd probably be a poet or something... That's like songwriting... A little bit, uh, I guess.

I guess things were getting a bit too mushy. "What's the song about? Do you have a name for it? Have you got a chorus... some verses? Or is it just an idea right now? How's the melody? Do you know how you want to incorporate the backbeats? Have you got a hook yet?" Tommy questioned excitedly, mind racing with the possibilities. Jeez, Tommy needs to chill.

"Hey, Question Mark, how about you take a breather?" I retorted somewhat irately, sitting up abruptly. Jeez, where was everyone? It felt like I'd been talking to Tommy for ages. I was in the right classroom. People's things were here. There was no note on the door, and it's not like Quinn had a secret plan or anything. And then the ten-minute bell rang the second I entered. I sighed, relaxing a little and sinking back down on the desk. "_You're the sweetest forbidden fruit... In the great Garden of Eden. It's only **your** branches that I wanna loot... I am here, eating from your luscious tree, Waiting for the Knowledge of Good and Evil... __To come to me, to come to me..._ How was that for a chorus?" I sang in a lower, more sultry tone.

I waited with bated breath for his opinion. The silence seemed to last forever... It was deafening. I heard a slight chuckle over the line. So he was alive. But why was he laughing? It wasn't meant to be funny. Was there anything funny about that? No... Did I sing it weird? I don't think so... So, so what's the deal? Why's he laughing? "Girl, you continue to amaze me. That was... There aren't any words. It gave me goosebumps, but that's exactly what we want here. I'd be happy to work with you on it. It'd be a nice change. Things have been so **boring** today," Tommy told me, sounding a bit awe-struck. I knew how he felt about the boredom thing. He made me smile.

You know, he sent me a note when I was on tour. It said I was his favorite artist to work with. "Looking forward to it," I exhaled slightly dreamily. I was a little dazed at the prospect of what was ahead of me, so I screamed and jumped about a mile out of my skin when, suddenly, there was Quinn's face leaning over me... Only a few inches away. As I said before I screamed bloody murder, and not just because Travis had snuck up on me. I never know what this nutcase is gonna try and do.

He didn't even look phased by my screaming. Tommy, on the other hand, was quite alarmed. "Jude, are you okay!" He sounded a bit panicked. It warmed my heart a little to know that he cared. Was I okay? Well, that's one doozy of a question. Quinn glared down at me.

No, I was most certainly not okay. I gulped hard, feeling very vulnerable and uncomfortable with my overly argumentative music teacher hovering not five centimeters away from my face. Especially since I was laying flat against the faux wood surface of my desk. Last time I was pinned against something, this guy made out with me. At least I could run away then. Now I'm horizontal!

"Yeah... I think I'm gonna have to call you back, Tommy..." I stammered, feeling my heart race from fear. Quinn radiated pleasure. His smirk widened when he heard that I was hanging up on Tommy because I was afraid of him... Quinn, not Tommy. Tommy seemed cool with it.

"That's fine... I have to go back to producing Chaz anyways... Seriously, this is _painful_... The guy doesn't even know backbeats from bass," Tommy muttered, in a tone I assumed was either intended for private soliloquy or just talking to me... Muttering under his breath. Chaz had obviously overheard because Tommy didn't even say goodbye. There was a click and then... It was no more. And I was stuck there, face to face with my least favorite person.

We remained in silence for one long, terrible moment that seemed to stretch on without end. Quinn broke the silence. "How is the little boyfriend?" He asked, leaning back and finally giving me some space. I sat up abruptly, inhaling fresh air, and rocketed away from him. I gave him a decidedly hostile look before answering.

"Probably doing about as well as yours," I retorted snidely. Travis' eyes narrowed in mild annoyance, and he walked up to the front of the classroom and began scribbling something on the blackboard. Why do they call them blackboards? I mean... They're green. Seriously...

He didn't speak for a while, so I took it upon myself to ask him why there was no one else in the classroom. "Um... Quinn, where's everyone else?" I inquired dumbly. He gave me a look that indicated how peeved he was by the simple question, one that also showed how stupid he thought I was. He glared, so I had no choice but to glare back. And I was glad to.

He shrugged finally. "How am **I **supposed to know that?" He answered sharply, returning to his masterpiece. I rolled my eyes, getting up and scoffing. How is anyone supposed to read his terrible handwriting? It's small, messy, and in cursive. He should be fired! Technically, you know, he should... But no one would believe me, least of all now.

I sighed and pulled out my guitar, staring fondly at my bandaged fingers. Apparently Tommy had a magic touch (tell me something I didn't already know!) because they were all still there. I smiled at the bittersweet memory and expertly plucked the pick out from underneath the strings. Grinning, I pulled out my notebook and a pencil to scribble down chord arrangements and notes. I started strumming what I thought was the general tune to "Forbidden Fruit" as I had aptly decided to title the song I'd just told Tommy about. Fitting, isn't it?

Quinn abruptly stopped to turn around and stare at me. He scowled, putting his hands over his ears. "Stop, you're hurting my ears!" He groaned. I, however, wasn't phased. He didn't mean it. Besides, I wasn't even singing.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Tommy said the same thing the first time I played "24 Hours" for him. I'm afraid you'll have to do better," I countered brightly, knowing the comparison would piss him off to no end. I was well rewarded for my valiant efforts. He scowled.

"I am not like your moronic producer," He snapped bitterly. What does he have against Tommy? It can't be the boyband thing. I mean, once you get past that, it's pretty much the philandering/girlfriend-stealing. Could it be that? You know... Maybe he's jealous. I mean, he's a music teacher and Tommy's a producer. Maybe he wants some of that fame for himself.

Can't argue with him about the moronic part, though.

I rolled my eyes, blurting the first thing that came to mind. "Yeah, you're worse," I countered quickly. Apparently that really riled him up for some reason. I don't know... I insinuate he's gay when he's obviously not ('cause hello, he made out with me!), and that doesn't bug him. But if I compare him to Tommy? He's like a pistol waiting to go off. It makes no sense.

He dropped the chalk, striding towards me purposefully. Oh, great. I'm on the edge of another Quinn lecture. Great, just what I need. I rolled my eyes. "Well, he's a walking sexually transmitted disease," He snarled, eyes narrowed. I rolled my eyes again. I called Tommy that myself.

"Nice try, but I told Tommy the same thing the other day after he informed me that he was screwing my sister," I remarked coolly. To his credit, Quinn didn't look surprised at all. Guess he knows Tommy's type. He shrugged, fighting back a grin.

"I guess being easy runs in the family," He stated smoothly, shooting me a smug look. I dropped my guitar with a clatter. He is so DEAD. I raised myself to my full height and advanced upon him murderously.

"Likewise," I growled, starting towards him. His reaction was a bit strange. He paled immediately, and then stammered around for a bit. Wow, I've got him flummoxed. Now that's awesome.

"Hey! That makes no sense! You don't know my family!" He declared, sounding more than a little bit crazy. Obviously 'cause he was. Freaking lunatic. I rolled my eyes, smirking, hands on my hips.

"I was referring to your mother," I said in a tone so frosty that even my evil lawyer would've been proud. Ooh, now I'd really pissed Travis off. He looked about ready to strangle me. I told you I love crossing lines... Crossed one. Oops. He suddenly grabbed my arm.

Panicking internally, I stiffened reflexively. He shifted, leaning in a little closer to me because he knew it made me uncomfortable. I grew more nervous with every millimeter closer he came. Fortunately for me, Joan walked in the classroom. "Hey Jude... Uh, what's Mr. Quinn doing to you?" Her voice echoed in the mostly empty room, resounding loud enough for Quinn to shoot away from me as if I was on fire. Or he was on fire. Him, probably, as he's going to hell...

I shrugged helplessly. That's a good question, Joan. Let me know when you find out the answer. "I couldn't tell you if I tried," I sighed wearily, bending down to pick up my guitar. I picked it up and saw something unusual. There was Quinn with that "I'm-Hot-And-I-Know-It" smug-as-hell look on his face, leaning against the chalkboard.. You know, the one that's supposed to radiate sex appeal? He was staring at Joan. She didn't even look strange, really.

She looked, well, about as normal as a girl with brown-and-pink hair could. Baggy jeans, old Nikes, a red shirt. It showed some cleavage, but not a substantial amount. Trust me, I know about substantial amounts. Ugh, and they always make me so friggin' uncomfortable. Like the Instant Star thing.

I didn't like the way Quinny was staring at her at all. Mega creepy. Joan, however, seemed pretty oblivious. A slow grin swept across his face. Okay, now I was really getting perturbed. It felt like I was intruding on some freakishly weird private moment... Only it's so private even Joan doesn't realize what's going on. "Please, Joan... Just call me Travis. I insist," He drawled mysteriously, running a hand through his hair. Joan frowned, obviously confused, but she shrugged anyways.

"Uh, okay, whatever... Travis..." She mumbled, shooting me a look. I had no answer for her. What did she expect me to say, seriously? Like I know this guy any better than she does. In fact, I know less since I was late to the first class! Quinn grinned further. Okay, now even easy-going Joan was starting to get freaked out. She backed up, still looking at him, until she ran into her desk. That reminds me of when I ran into the trashcan while I was looking at Shay. Ugh, Shay.

Then Quinn looked at me, seeing that I knew something was up. His eyes, which, when directed towards Joan, had been decidedly warm, now turned cold. I was used to this, though. His eyes narrowed further. "So, Mrs. Quincy, I couldn't help but notice you seemed sort of flustered when you were crowning the next Instant Star. Was your dress even zipped up?" He interrogated, words carving me up like knives.

I glared fiercely at him, glancing briefly at my guitar. I contemplated bashing Travis over the head with it, but, you know, that might ruin my guitar. And we can't have that happening. I mean, sure, it might not be a Gibson... or even my Fender. But it's my Telly, my first, and I love it. So I won't let my sweet, smooth, innocent little baby suffer for _his_ idiocy. Damn it! Where's a drum when you need it?

"It was, but I bet **your** pants were already unzipped by that point. Not that they're zipped that often during school, am I right? You like to have your _liberties_, after all," I hissed, a bitter smile on my face. His eyes blazed at the brazen insinuation, but after all, I, of all people, have a right to insinuate that he's a pedophile. He was shoving his tongue down _my_ throat after all, and pinning me against _my_ car, and grabbing _my_ ass. So he shouldn't look so damn shocked.

'Cause the bastard's got it coming. Period.

"Yeah, just like you have _liberties_ with every male that comes within a five foot radius. So who warmed _your_ bed last night, huh, Jude? I'm going to say Mason... Fresh meat," He sneered, crossing his arms tight over his chest. A clear sign that he was still ticked over my comment. Well, let's just see how far I can push it, shall we?

My eyes narrowed, and I fixed him with a challenging look. This had to be good. "And who've you been bedding lately, sixteen-year-old virgins?" I jeered, glancing briefly and knowingly at Joan, who looked very freaked and confused by this whole fight. Travis paled a little and deliberately looked down and away from the both of us.

"What would you know about sixteen-year-old virgins? Everyone knows you aren't one!" He shouted, suddenly very upset. Why was he pissed? I was only telling the truth based on what I'd seen. And I'd seen that he liked to touch me in a way that could send him off to jail for the same reasons as Tommy. Plus there was the totally out of line way he was checking Joan out. Ew, creepy.

"Do you believe everything you read? And hey, since I supposedly screw every male that comes within a five foot radius, wouldn't I have done you by now? I haven't, of course... and yet, you couldn't be more desperate to jump my bones if you tried," I retorted confidently, using logic against him. He is so desperate. Damn sexless teachers. If it was at all possible, his glare intensified, all traces of embarrassment gone from his countenance. His eyes stabbed and burned through me, but I stared right back stubbornly.

"Please... If anyone's desperate here, it's you, you manufactured, plastic boybander-loving Barbie doll. Everyone knows you've got a thing for older guys. I think it's really quite the shame that you have to hit on me to fulfill those perverted ideas," He stated calmly, completely self-assured. I wanted to bash him over the head with something. Who is he to call me fake? Who is he to call me plastic? Who is he to call me a Barbie doll?

I gritting my teeth, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. It might not have been the best or the smartest, but it was good. "And I think it's an even bigger shame that you have to stare at Joan's chest to indulge in your **sick** pedophilic fantasies. I really ought to turn you over to the schoolboard for what _you've_ been doing," I snapped viciously. Yeah, I can threaten you too, asshole! Didn't you get the point with the song I wrote about your sorry ass? You are so dead if I give the word. In fact, why am I keeping him here? Fear? Fear that people won't believe me?

Well, it's not like my reputation can get much worse! Thanks a lot, Tory! Stupid bitch can't even do her job right. Must be a family thing. What am I paying her for? You know what? I think I'll fire her. That sounds nice and gratifying. Yeah, that'll do.

Joan looked ABSOLUTELY horrified. She was sputtering like she didn't believe me... It didn't help that Quinn wasn't looking at her, confirming what I'd noticed. Can we say awkward? Oh, and can we say "Hi, you've been used as a pawn in the daily Jude/Quinn battles." She immediately pressed her books over her chest, trying to cover up so he wouldn't stare.

On the other hand, Travis looked absolutely murderous. Can't exactly blame him though. "That really means a lot, coming from Little Tommy Q.'s **whore**!" He screamed back loudly. Joan's jaw dropped, as did her books, but we both ignored her. I couldn't believe he'd just said that. No, wait... I could. But it wasn't true. I didn't know what to say as I was so angry words could not express my frustration.

"And that means so much coming from a dirt-poor, washed-up, never-has-been, girlfriendless _loser_ like you," I sniped back sarcastically, throwing in every insult I could possibly add. He shrugged casually, as if what I'd just said was nothing and then just...

He shut up for once. You know, I was floored. It didn't affect him at all. Stupid idiotic moron of a jerk.

Joan stumbled into her seat, mouth still agape, and she gave me a look. He had turned his attention back towards the board, so we were safe for the moment. After checking to make sure he was occupied otherwise, she leaned in to whisper to me. Her eyes still darted to the front of the classroom nervously. "What's up with him?" She whispered nervously. I shrugged. Again, why does she think I know? The guy hates me, remember?

The rest of the students poured in a little after that. Quinn's formerly absent teaching drive decided to kick in, and suddenly, he was the "nice and normal" guy that everyone else knew. Not that nice, though. He gave us a songwriting/performing challenge. Well, technically you could write your own song or do a cover (though you had to have choreography, instruments, costumes and other stuff if you were doing a cover). The theme was: "Sixteen". I know, cruel much?

And it's due tomorrow, which is wicked insane. Unless you're writing your own song, they get to go last. Or if you're so lucky you don't get to perform. With my luck, I'll be lucky number one. Oh well.

Naturally, I knew right from the get-go which song I was gonna do. Which song? "Un-Sweet Sixteen". Wakefield. It's gonna be killer and I can wear the stuff from my very own sixteenth birthday bash. I hope I won't be drowning in memories.

I had planned out my outfit (the dress with maybe some jeans underneath?), hair down and straight. I knew what limited dance moves I was going to do... So that only left the practicing, which I did repetitively. I wonder, you think I can talk Kyle into drumming for me? I kinda need a drummer for this song. Okay, making a mental note here...

I glanced over at Joan, who looked stumped. She was writing her own song (I'd offered her the chance to join me, and then listened off about a billion songs with "Sixteen" as a theme... She'd turned them all down). Very stubborn girl. That's probably why we're friends. I peered over at the lyrics and even offered to help, but she once again turned me down. She wanted this to be all her own, not a professional songwriter's. Whatever...

So she called Quinn, of all people, over. You would think she'd learned her lesson! He came over like a cheetah running after a zebra. Seriously, I think he jumped a desk and pushed some freshman out of his way. Enthusiasm I have never before seen from him, might I add.

I mean, sure, I get that he's a teacher... Our music teacher. I realize that it's his job to help us with our music (hmm, kinda like Tommy's, eh? And we all know how he doesn't do his). But he was checking her out and... It's not like he denied it! Well, maybe she's braver than I am... Or maybe she doesn't know as much. Or maybe she's just stupid.

I was just playing around with my chords, so I decided to be a good friend to Joan and look out for her. After all, if anyone knew what he was capable of, it was me. So, I watched with eagle eyes as the freed tiger approached his prey. His trot across the room and over to her was neither fast nor slow. His gait was long and casual with a belied cool, but there was still a trace of flight in his steps. He was far too assured to not have that, I suppose.

He approached her, a casual grin sliding across his face, baring those blindingly white fangs. Hello, Mister Big, Bad Wolf. She smiled somewhat awkwardly, obviously a little embarrassed. "So, what do you need my help with?" He asked in a deliberately low tone. It was low, but I could still hear him.

Joan sighed and looked very relieved. She started strumming a tune. It was sort of slow and sweet, but... I don't know. Hard to explain, really, but I liked it. "Well, I need a little work with the melody... And I've only written one verse and the chorus... Oh, and I'm completely blocked!" Joan ranted, saying it all a bit louder and a bit faster than she meant. But she was obviously frustrated, and that was to be expected. Hell, after being in a room with Quinn all hour, I'm not exactly the nicest person in the world either.

Quinn was amazingly zenitive about the whole situation. Had it been any other student, I'm positive he would've had just a bit less patience. Had it been me... He would've crucified me. I'm being literal here. He made swanlike (kind of HILARIOUS, really) arm motions wildly, gesturing for her to calm down. She did, of course, being a naturally calm person, with little encouragement. But there are moments when you just want to scream, you know? That being done, Travis put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked just the slightest bit uneasy, but took a deep breath and ignored it as best she could.

"First of all, don't say you're blocked, 'cause that only psyches you out. Secondly, I can help you with the melody and the lyrics, so don't sweat it... Now, why don't you play what you have for me and then we'll talk, 'mmmkay?" He suggested in a kind tone. Wow, how's that for something new? Then, his hand trailing down and off her shoulder, he went back to grab a chair. He lifted the chair over his head (who does he think he is, Superman?) and carried it all the way over to her, placing it with a loud thud on the floor. Hehe, oops!

Joan started playing and tuning her guitar accordingly. It was weird... I've never seen him regard a student with such interest. There were about a million people calling out his name, but he didn't seem to hear. He was focusing solely on Joan, who was oddly comfortable under his piercing gaze. Probably because she didn't realize, you know? Of course, in my opinion, anyone who doesn't recoil in terror when he looks at them is far too comfortable under his gaze. Or maybe he's not the only one with poise.

Her tempo sped up a little, and it became obvious that she wasn't just tuning her guitar anymore. I could tell that she was practicing by the lilting, somewhat hesitant chords. Quinn gave her this look I won't forget. It was sort of a pitying, guilty one that urged her on... To actually do something. She caught the look and almost immediately started playing for real. Like she was afraid he'd flunk her or something.

You know, considering some of the burn-outs who are in this class... I don't think she's got much to worry about. In reality, I don't either, I guess, despite his personal vendetta against me. I mean, I'm a _rockstar_ and he's a **music** teacher. He can't flunk me unless I do nothing. He can, however, make it as hard as possible for me to pass. Well, I won't give him the satisfaction of me flunking. Period.

Joan started singing. Sure, I'd heard her sing before. On the same day we all did. But I dont think that day really did any of us justice, you know? Not even me. That being said, I've performed more than anyone else. Remember, I don't get stage fright? I mean, sure, there's the occasional worries when I'm debuting a new song, but that's generally just a butterfly or two. Nothing big.

She seemed more than a little nervous. I say this because her eyes darted all about the place like that of a scared deer. Of course, that could've just been because it was Quinn and our teacher, but whatever. "_Sweet Sixteen, please, don't be mean..._" She began brightly. I looked down, feeling a knot forming in my stomach from the memories. My "Sweet Sixteen" had been mean. Man, that day kicked my ass.

"_All I want is some sugar, not spice... I need something simple, something nice_," Joan continued, and I found myself wincing. Not at her voice, though. Her voice was great. A lot clearer and more folk-ish maybe... I cringed at the words. I hadn't gotten sugar or something simple. And my boyfriend's present sure as hell wasn't nice. But I wouldn't say spice is the right word. Maybe... Salt. That's better.

There was a far-off look in her eyes. "_But deep down, all I really want and all I really need... Is for you to be with me... Be with me tonight, just be with me tonight_," Joan sang softly. I have to say my eyes bugged out when she said that. There was a sort of dirty undertone to it. Well, I wasn't the only surprised person in the room. I swear, Quinn had about the same look on his face that Tommy has whenever I hit on him or wear something skimpy.

Joan grinned, giggling a little bit like someone who was mentally imbalanced. One to two hours of sleep was the norm for her, so she was 'bout halfway there already. Not that Quinn knew that. Music wasn't exactly the kind of class you could fall asleep in. Especially with the lovely debates between myself and Mr. Q. Then, oddly enough, her eyes locked with Quinn's. I guess that was the chorus.

"_Why won't you stay with me tonight? Can't you just **love** me for the night?_" She begged and implored, looking Travis in the eyes unaccessibly. I have to give it to her. She's a pretty good actress. Almost has me believing she's making goo-goo eyes at him. I think she's got him convinced too. Then again, that has a pretty sexual connotation too. Was that really an appropriate thing to be singing to a teacher?

Then she grinned, kicking up the tune a little, making it a bit... faster? Jazzier? I don't know. "_And I know it really **isn't** right..._" She drawled, letting the note drag for a while. Then, almost immediately, her tone slowed and her tune became a bit sadder. This dark look passed over her face and she sighed before continuing. "_But still, there goes my Sweet Sixteen... Swirling right down the toilet_," She crooned, her voice wavering a little. I have to give her credit. She managed to make that last verse not sound like a line from some terrible country-western song. But then she blinked, licked her lips, and the bizarre little moment... Whatever it was... was suddenly gone again.

Then she went all blues-y tinted rock. "_All because of you, one **sad** little boy... Who's made me feel so very blue... On this, my not-so-Sweet Sixteen..._" She cried loudly, channelling Janis Joplin for a few moments. Then the chords died out, and an approving, almost adoring smile stretched across Quinn's face. He clapped proudly. Seriously, his chest popped out a little bit. I wanted to clap too, but that would've been drawing undue attention to myself.

"Great job! I really liked what you did at the end... Make it a bit more like that... More bluesy," He advised enthusiastically. He was almost ecstatic about it. Kind of... Kind of like Tommy was when I had a new song for him. Like I was continually amazing him. Joan smiled, obviously glad he liked it so much. Then Quinn did something that surprised me a little. He leaned in and over closer to Joan. Joan didn't seem to notice at first, but she flushed when she saw he was peering down at the lyrics. He frowned and gave her a light swat on the arm. Well, aren't we informal?

"Why didn't you tell me you had another verse?" He scolded, pursing his lips. Joan rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair.

She sighed. "Because it sucks," She retorted, blowing a strand of her hair and sinking down in her chair a little. Quinn gave her a look that suggested quite the contrary, and against Joan's protests, decided to read it aloud. Joan looked completely humiliated. She shot me a helpless glance and then covered her face with her hands.

"_I always wanted a killer party for my Sweet Sixteen. Ideally, it would be a total surprise... That is, until I met your deep blue eyes,_" He read aloud, sounding excited at first, but then oddly wooden. His face hardened a little at the mentioning of blue eyes. Hmm, history maybe?

Joan shot him a questioning look. He shrugged. "Just reminded me of an old girlfriend, that's all," He muttered. Yet, somehow, I had feeling he was lying. Then he decided it would be fun (and smart) to change the topic. "So, who's the song about?" He interjected, a sneaky look in his eyes.

Joan paled and looked down, embarrassed. "Nothing! No one! Just... Just a guy at school. Back home at school, I mean. In the U.S. Far, far, far away from here. Far away. And I... I l-l-l-liked him, I guess you could say. 'Cause it's true, of course. And... And he didn't really know, and there was just this... l-longing that I... Wait, why am I telling you this?" Joan babbled, her words practically indecipherable. She was biting her lip and wringing her hands. Despite her general calm, Joan is a bit of a worrier.

Travis chuckled and motioned for her to come closer. She gave him an apprehensive look, but he rolled his eyes and continued motioning for her to come still closer. "Come on, c'mere... I don't bite. Scout's Honor," He implored, holding up the appropriate sign. Joan got up slowly, frowning slightly, but did as she was told. He was, after all, still her teacher. So she was more than a little surprised when he pulled her down into the chair with him. She wasn't quite sitting in his lap, but she was pretty damn close, sitting inbetween his legs.

This time, she looked frickin' uncomfortable. No way around it. Travis, on his part, was as cool as ice. He didn't look affected in the slightest, but I knew he had to be, given the way he was staring at her earlier. He adjusted the strap of the guitar and pulled it around the both of them without batting an eyelash. Even after the adjustment, they were practically glued together. He reached down and placed her hands on the strings. His hands were soon to follow. He told her then, in a soft voice, to pick up the tempo, straight quarters... And to watch the finger noise.

It should be noted rather memorably that I've heard Tommy say both of those... And not just to me. In fact, it really reminded me of the first time Tommy and I worked together... Really worked together. Out on that pier... When it was like we were the only two people in the world. And, of course, the paparazzi to capture the moment, not that we knew.

In fact, it was almost the same thing. Except I wasn't exactly sitting in Tommy's lap, and they sure as hell weren't alone. Not to mention the fact that the "paparazzi" (i.e. The rest of the class) was composed of many more people. Mostly very jealous girls who were shooting Joan scathing looks, obviously because she had his total attention. Joan didn't notice, too wrapped up in staring at Travis and following all his instructions... And there's the falling. But a teacher? Ooh, that's even worse. But hey, if he'll kiss me... I figure she's got a shot.

Anyways, I made a point to mostly look away from them after that... 'Cause it was like seeing history repeat itself. But I did catch a few glances. He spent most of the class going over the song with her, ignoring everyone else. I'm impressed. Not even one dig at me. He reluctantly pulled away, patting her affectionately on the shoulder, when there was about fifteen minutes left, and got up to help everyone else. His last words were a happy: "I think you've got it, girl. You'll do great tomorrow." Yep, he's SO channelling Tommy. And he thinks they're nothing alike!

Anyways, they (the rest of our class) were going crazy. I'm talking two steps away from a meltdown here.

I took the opportunity to walk over to Joan, a curious look on my face, hands in my pocket. I approached her slowly, appraising her. Was she really falling for Mr. Q's act? She's seen the way he's acted around me. She knows what he's capable of. But then again, I, of all people, know exactly what it's like to like a guy you shouldn't... for so many reasons.

I tapped her on the shoulder, and she jumped. Dazed and confused, I'm telling you. I felt the smirk spreading across my face. "So, couldn't help but notice how close you two were... You falling for this guy, Joan?" I asked straight-up. Okay, a bit blunter than I meant it, but it'll do.

Joan's eyes widened. She glanced briefly at Quinn's back, but looked away, panicked. She immediately shook her head no. I didn't buy it. I shrugged, trying to make her understand that I wasn't going to judge her for liking him. Which she probably did. I mean, half the school does already, and she actually stands a chance. I mean, I'm in love with "Little Tommy Q." Quincy, the man I swore to hate all of my adolescent years. Ha! Fat chance. I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Joan. You really expect me to buy that? I saw the way you two were looking at each other, and I know how you feel. I've been that girl... Hell, I _am_ that girl. I know you feel like you shouldn't feel this way because of... a million different things. But you do, and that's okay," I explained, trying to reassure her, trying to make her come clean.

But Joan was even more stubborn than me. She shook her head hard. No, no, no, no, no... Again and again, over and over. "No, Jude... I _don't_. He's just a teacher and like... a gazillion years older than me. Plus he's _always_ insulting you. How could I **ever** like a guy like that?" Joan stated firmly, scowling slightly. This time it was my turn to be sad.

"Look... I saw you two, and it was like watching me fall for Tommy all over again. And I know that he's an authority figure... And that he's older than me... And that he's a totally lame boybander... And he's had an ex-wife... And he's slept with half of _Canada_... And, for God's sakes, he's dating my **sister**! And he _hates_ Jamie, who happens to be quite possibly my best friend in the whole friggin' world. But I'm still in love with him. I don't know why. I don't want to be. I don't have to be. I never asked to be. Believe it or not, I **hated** him when I first met him, and I _hated_ him before I met him. But that doesn't change how I feel. No matter how much I want it to. No matter how much **easier** it would be if I didn't. I am, and that's not going to change overnight," I exclaimed passionately, but not so loudly that anyone else could hear.

Joan gave me a somewhat surprised look. Like she was surprised I would admit to being in love with Tommy. Yeah, I'm surprised too! I don't normally admit it, you know, but she was in exactly the same place as me. And I felt her pain. It's time I finally own up to it.

But she shook her head again, declared that she had no feelings whatsoever for the evil professor, and picked up her things and was on her way out (the bell rung). We didn't speak of the topic (either her obvious infatuation for Quinn or my proclamation of love for Tommy) again, predictably enough. That was that. Music Theory was easy. I just learned a little and worked on my composition, wondering if Tommy would like it. For some reason, I was sick with nerves.

I left early, heading straight to the bathroom to touch up my eyeliner and freshen my eyeshadow. I applied some more blush and dragged the thin pink gloss across my lips. I ran my hand through my hair, trying to flatten it or make it less frizzy. It didn't work. That being done, biting my lip, I grabbed my backpack and ran out to my car. Well, at least IT wasn't vandalized. Maybe they'll vandalize Quinn's car instead? Oh well... A girl can dream.

Loren ;)

I really didn't want to end it there... But sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Hope you liked it!


	25. Forbidden Fruit

Ahkay, so since I didn't see Viciousness (makes me wanna cry, I know) as I was in Mexico, some of the stuff about Tommy's education (I was reading posts about it and apparently that was in there?) might be contradictory, but whatever... Lol, at least I got the fighting right. Lol. Wait, actually, that sorta makes sense, 'cause he started Boyz Attack when he was thirteen... Lol. And he's not stupid, he just thinks he is... I'm not making sense here, but once you learn a bit more about how things worked in Tommy's family (coughHISMOMTHEPSYCHOcough), it'll make sense. It has a lot to do with his mom. I mean, I'm sure you've seen how she gives Jude an inferiority complex, now just imagine what she'd do to a poor, innocent child. And let's just say Tommy wasn't her favorite son.

Seriously, though, you thought Jude was crazy rambling chick before this chapter? She's mental in this one... It's very... random, but I like it a lot. Just warning you, though, I think as of now, this is the longest chapter in the fic. And I loooove it so much. Seriously, this is my favorite chapter. And it's sorta weird and fluffy and kinda funny, I think... Seriously, count all the Boyz Attack! Jokes and the dirty jokes and stuff... It's fun.

Oh, just a thought... Is the whole skull-and-cross-bones-pirate-thingie like S.M.E.'s thing? 'Cause they were all wearing it. Speed and Wally's shirts (Speed's worn that shirt before too!) and then Kyle's wristband. Aww, Pirates unite!

Oh, and since I've been back, I wrote a bunch of songs... Most not so great (two Patsy songs, I think, which is good, 'cause I don't have the lyrics to what she sang in the club in I Fought the Law). And I finally got around to writing "Ruby". Yay! I feel a supreme sense of accomplishment right now.

You know, to get back at Tommy, Sadie should so hook up with Kwest (plus Kwest actually likes her). Though Kwest needs an intervention because somebody seriously has to tell him that facial hair is not his friend and that it makes him look completely ridiculous. Sort of like Santa Claus except not as cool, 'cause Santa can pull it off... Ugh, I wanna rip the mustache/goatee off! Blegh, it looks bad... He's not gonna get any action with that beard. Not that Kwest EVER gets any action, but still... You know, maybe that's why he never gets any air time. That beard is sure ugly enough to break the cameras. Lol, okay, enough mustache bashing. It's gonna be a while 'til the next ep, but at least the soundtrack'll be out by then! ;) Or not. But hey, this chapter ought to keep you busy 'til then. ;)

Ugh. So apparently the theme of this season of Instant Star is: And you thought men were all assholes last season? I mean, okay, we know Liam and Darius are asses. And, sure, we expect Tommy to do something terrible. But jeez, even Jamie and Speed becoming asses? Does Jude attract assholes or something? I mean, let's see... Shay cheated on her and dumped her at her birthday party. Tommy leads her on and then goes behind her back, dates her sister and then has the nerve to cheat on her sister. Jamie breaks up with Jude for a trivial reason and then dumps on her. Oh, and Speed wants his own girlfriend to lose and again, gets all buddy-buddy with her sister. Who's next, Kwest? Kyle? Wally? Of course, I shoulda seen the Speed thing coming, considering how much of an ass he was in the ep they hooked up in.

You can even tell in the Stranger in the House Web Exclusive that Kwest is whipped. Ahem, so here's me reading between the lines of it. I mean, first, he was leaning forward in his seat (he was very interested in the show... and maybe Sadie). Secondly, he stood up, clapped, and yelled enthusiastically, and he was the only one doing so for anyone (he liked the show. He thought Sadie's performance in it was worthy of a standing ovation. When Kwest says anything, it's usually important, 'cause he's not the most talkative guy, so Kwest thought Sadie needed to know that. He also did a big gesture by standing up, showing he is not afraid to express how he feels, even if he's embarrassing himself). Thirdly, he complimented Sadie on her kick (he was paying attention to the performance and Sadie's part. Plus, he has prior knowledge of dance either through Sadie or from somewhere else, 'cause he knew what type of kick it was. And it's a good way to avoid commenting on her singing), which was the only successful compliment she received from anyone. And fourthly, he looked kinda peeved at Tommy (He's jealous of Tommy and doesn't approve of his actions. He thinks Tommy's a jerk for being late and missing her performance, and he maybe knows more than we do. Maybe he wants a girlfriend... or maybe he wants Sadie). And did you see the looks Tommy and Jude were giving him? Jude's was like... Man, you are crazy (She's confused, but supportive)! And Tommy's was like... Man, why are you applauding _my_ girlfriend (Tommy's jealous)! Therefore, I think Kwest likes Sadie. A lot. Hmm, go Kwest. He should steal Sadie away from Tommy. But he can't do that with the beard... Oh, and that was a good look for Sadie... Nice make-up, and she should totally wear her hair in a bun more often! That was also a very nice thing Jude did for Tommy the hole. Man, though, it's sad that Kwest was the only one to compliment her...

Oh, and something you should totally do... Listen to two Alexz songs at one. Waste My Time/It Could Be you go together pretty well. All you've got to do is have two programs... Like Windows Media Player and iTunes. Though it kinda blows your mind a little sometimes, so I don't recommend it late at night when you're on no sleep and jumpy as hell. Lol. I speak from experience, my friends.

Anyways, it's five in the morning, but I'm up because I wanted to finish it and I'm SOOOO in love with this story I make Jude's torch for Tommy pale in comparison. ;) The things we sacrifice for our writing... Anyways, seeing as this chapter is the one I've been working on virtually nonstop since I got back from break like three weeks ago or something... Yeah, reviews are REALLY SOOO appreciated. I put SO much effort into this one. 150. Really, seriously, I think I wrote 4-5ish pages today. Which takes skill, my friend. And I wrote 8 episodes of Spanish summaries, did most of my math homework, and my chemistry worksheet. Lol, as Bruno would say: Je dominate! Lol, why he would be looking at this I have no clue...

Anyways, don't own IS, do own any characters that aren't on the show or any stories not on the show... Do own "Forbidden Fruit", don't own "Me and Bobby McGee". Don't own any TV shows or movies or books that may be mentioned (Lost, Brokeback Mountain, and Oliver Twist, to name all the ones I can think of). I'd go ramble on about Janis, but I'll do that at a later date when I'm less tired... Anyways, thanks.

* * *

The drive to the studio was boring and uneventful. I only got into about two wrecks. My driving must be improving. Or the cars saw me coming and got off the road immediately. Heh. Whatever. Either way, I was at G. Major with time to spare. I walked in, looking for Tommy, but naturally, of course, I didn't find him anywhere. That would be too freakin' easy, of course. And things can never just be easy for Jude Janis Harrison.

First of all, I ran right into Chaz. He looked pissed BEFORE he ran into me. I gulped and scrambled back up to my feet. "Have you seen Tommy?" I blurted in a single breath. I'm no masochist. I don't want to prolong this torture. He hates me now. I'd better apologize.

Chaz pulled a Tommy and acted Frozen. He nodded, gesturing towards the kitchen area. I hadn't been back there yet. "Yep, he's back there, helping Mason with his Chemistry," He replied wearily, turning away from me to leave. But I couldn't still have him mad at me. I frowned and reached out and grabbed his shoulder. I'm not letting this just end. There was a flicker of surprise in those brown eyes. He almost looked like he wanted to brush my hand off, but I kept my grip.

I took a weak, shallow breath to calm my fried nerves before the words came rushing out of me. "Chaz, I'm sorry! I had no right to say that, and I really didn't mean to! I was in a bad mood, and I didn't believe you. And I'm sorry again... So sorry. You have no idea how sorry. Just... Don't hold a grudge against me! Can you forgive me? Please!" I begged dramatically. Obviously, I was severely mentally unhinged... But what else is new?

Chaz started chuckling and then smiled. I, naturally, took this as a positive sign. It's only logical. Then he ruffled my hair and pulled me into a bear hug. He smelled nice, but not like Tommy. He was so... warm. Hmm, reminds me of my comfy bed. I buried my head in Chaz' shoulder a little bit more and inhaled. He smells like fresh laundry. "It's okay... I missed you too," He whispered, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I smiled. Then he frowned, moving a little further away. "Tommy is driving me **nuts**. How do you put up with him all the time?" He groaned, glancing around for the subject... So he didn't get fired or something.

I smirked, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "I just picture him naked whenever he's pissing me off," I murmured, and I could feel the laugh coming from deep within Chaz, down his throat. He looked a bit perturbed, but much more amused. I grinned proudly. Sad thing is... That's half true. Hehe. Bad Jude... Bad. Doubt that'll work for Chaz, though...

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and I wrapped an arm around his. Together, we lumbered sloppily into the kitchen like drunks. So maybe we were both a little loopy from our long days. When Tommy (I'd forgotten he was helping Mason with his homework!) looked up from the papers, he saw Chaz and looked mildly peeved. I rolled my eyes and plastered on my dopiest smile, waving frantically. Mason gave me a curious look, but Tommy merely shook his head, disbelieving.

I pouted, scowling at Tommy. "Where were you when I was flunking Chemistry?" I complained loudly. Mason was a college student. He could always go for another year. I was not. And I had my parents always on my case.

"You never asked for my help," Tommy grunted irritably, crossing his arms over his chest. Oh great. Now I've gone and pissed him off. Like this was all my fault, you ass?

But I felt a need to defend myself. Not that I could do it properly. I had barely began when Tommy interrupted me. "Only because I..."

Tommy walked closer to me, his hands dropping downwards. "Because you thought that I'm a moron just because I didn't go to college," Tommy practically snarled back at me. In truth, that was a little bit of it, but he's never shown off his "brains". Then again, even Shay skipped a grade. I just hate feeling like a moron compared to hot guys.

Speed, now there's one hot guy who'll never make me feel stupid. Whoa, wait a sec... Did I just say Shay was hot? 'Cause he's so not hot. Seriously. I mean, Tommy is like... a gazillion times hotter. So is Tim, and I've never even really seen his face.

But even the smartest guys can do stupid things. Like take Jamie, the smartest guy I know, for instance. I mean, sure, I realize he was young, but really... Okay, so he wasn't that young. Try twelve or thirteen or something. Anyways, so he was that old and I was twelve, I think. Kat was designing something, so she sent us into Sadie's room for a few things. Now, you have to understand that a fourteen-fifteen-year-old Sadie's room is really a death trap. No, really, it was more like a jungle.

The clothes (sweaters, jeans, dresses, feather boas, that sort of thing) being the foliage, and a dense, thick combination of perfume, pointless body sprays, and ridiculously tropical shampoo hung in the air. It was even a little dark (as Sadie had thrown scarves over all her lights). It was also a gooey, girly mess. So Jamie and I were making quite the journey when we trekked through it.

Anyways, you know how girl stuff, like nailpolish and make-up looks edible? To make you want to buy it and think it's sweet. So Jamie finds one of these things (a nailpolish, in case you were wondering) and since my moronic sister actually kept foods of a similar sort all over her room... Sadie, of course, knows the difference. Poor Jamie drank a whole bottle of very toxic nailpolish. I was barely able to wade my way through the jungle to stop him. I yanked the bottle out of his hands (at first, because it was Sadie's!) and then... When I saw that it was poisonous... I dropped it and screamed, then dragged Jamie down the stairs... We both tripped and fell, rolling painfully down the stairs. And then I ran to the phone and dialed the number for the Poison Control Center that Mom taught me when I was three and Sadie accidentally-on-PURPOSE-damnit! poisoned me.

Sadie claimed it was an accident, and oh, it was just too bad! What a shame! But I could see through her lies. She was a vindictive little six-year-old. But it's okay 'cause I almost strangled her when I was ten. I discovered I was stronger than her. Heh, fun discovery. Jamie was okay. They just pumped his stomach and gave him laxatives to purge his body of the toxins. Not to mention holding him overnight for observation. Poor kid could've died.

Mom and Dad, needless to say, had a talk with Sades. Her room's been clean as a whistle ever since. But really, a thirteen-year-old should know better. Even a thirteen-year-old boy. Especially since I know that Jamie has a very high reading level. Maybe he should've read that. It's a good thing he's okay. I don't know where I'd be without him... I'll try again tomorrow.

I miss him.

Well, I'm not standing around. That's my new motto, you know. I'm not just going to wait for things to happen to me. I'm gonna make them happen. Whether the consequences of whatever I do will be good or bad... I'm hoping good, but knowing my luck... I'd better cross my fingers. That way, it'll only be my fault if it all goes awry. Hey, wait, how is that different? Or, for that matter, how is that better?

Chaz decided to help me out. "He doesn't like to make it public because it'd be bad for his rep, but... Tom over there was a straight-A student in school. Our tutor's favorite," Chaz interjected brightly with a smile. Tom made a face, and I rolled my eyes. I was about to make a remark asking about the sex of said tutor when Tom decided to say something.

He sighed. "No, remember, I got a B in Math," Tom corrected with some bitterness. I would kill for a B in Math. Seriously. I don't get how Chaz is so... sunny now. That must've been some good rehab place. Hmm, you know, I was bored during... I dunno, Quinn's class. Not the music one. The boring study hall one. Anyways, so after I tried fruitlessly to make up with Jamie, I went to the library.

Yeah, I know, the one place the old Jude Harrison would never go. I went to one of the computers and googled Boyz Attack! One of the first things that came up was this message board. It had all sorts of stuff there. Tons of tracks, personal info, lists of girlfriends (Tommy), various scandals, criminal records (Tommy), family junk, failed marriages (Tommy, Tommy, TOMMY!), demos... Pretty much a teenybopper paradise. No idea how they got it all. Even I've never heard some of those tracks! "Frozen" wasn't on there... Some of mine are, though! The ones he's credited with cowriting. Yeah, I know... Weird.

I was looking through the threads and found this massive one on Break-Up Theories. Most of them were the standard ones... You know, Tommy was a prima donna (which he was), the band was jealous of Tommy... There were a few different ones. You know, like, Tommy had slept with everyone's girlfriends... Probably true. Darius kicked him out after the Portia thing... He was voted out... He walked for a solo record... Chaz wanted a solo career. They tried to kill Tommy... Blah, blah, blah.

But I did a lot of sorting, 'cause reading them amused me a little. Anyways, I found this one post that was so radically different. There were only a few like that, you know. I think Chaz would laugh if I told him. Tommy, not so much. The way the theory was presented was impressive. I mean, it took all these minute little details, random things that really don't make a monumental theory, and it... It made them all support this basic idea.

That's what made it sound credible, the heavy basis on fact. Aside from that, it seemed well-researched (unless you've met the guys... Then it pretty much all goes out the window). It was also very well spelled and pretty long. I printed it out. It was really that funny. Really.

Let's see... Where do I start? Well, where don't I start?

Anyways, she (the theorist... I'm assuming the screenname's female because, HELLO, it's Boyz Attack! And you don't really see guys on the web as much as girls... Unless it's a porn site) pointed out first of all that a good portion of the songs are not gender-specific. Which is a pretty good point. However, that can easily be attributed to an attempt at universalization, which a pop song always needs.

Then she emphasized the closeness within the group, especially on the bond between Tommy and Chaz, which was clearly central to the band's success. Tommy the loner, and Chaz the spokesman for the rest of the group. They were the two divas of the group, after all.

Not to mention that Tommy and Chaz were, and... still are... the closest. Not that that means they're all Brokeback Mountain or anything... Though that would be sorta hot. Hey, as long as it's not Sadie... Seriously.

And then it was a bunch of random facts thrown together, like all the romantical writing they did together. Clearly she doesn't realize that they didn't go out on a pier for that stuff. That writing was done in some cramped studio that smells like feet, or on the tour bus, with a girl on each leg, or, oh, I don't know... In Darius' basement, or just sitting in the lounge, goofing off. Experience in the record business kind of rules most of that stuff off.

There was a bit of a story too. Let's see if I can do it justice. Really, I think they should make a movie out of it. It would sell out like you wouldn't believe... I mean, boy-on-boy-action (not the dirty explicit stuff... It'd have to be PG-13 or maybe R, at the most) is one thing. But boybander-on-boybander-action is in a whole other category. And rightly so! Bet there's entire sites devoted to that sort of bandmember slash thing. I'd look, but I'd find some scary things, of course. Tommy's the guy who's had a few sex tapes... So they expect NC-17 from him, naturally. Oddly enough, they're apparently rather classy? I don't know... I've heard things.

Okay... Would you believe me if Sadie ordered a copy off the internet under Mom's name? No, seriously, I am not kidding! She watched it for a long time. It was the only thing that could cheer her up for a while after the break-up (of the band). I thought it rather creepy. When it was on (trust me, you really couldn't forget those moans and groans. Really. I had nightmares there for a while. I knew when it was on), I immediately fled. But I was only an innocent fourteen-year-old then. She only watched at night when she wasn't... Doing whatever. Whoever? Or when Mom and Dad were out of the house. I'm still surprised that Mom never found out about Sadie buying it online.

After all, she used MOM's credit card. And Dad's an accountant! I don't know what Sadie did to that bill, but she worked some magic, lemme tell you. He made one with Britney Spears, did you know that? This one wasn't the one with Britney, though. I don't remember the girl in the video with Tom (the one Sadie has, of course), but I think she was some bendy supermodel. She was blonde, though, so Sadie could fantasize... It didn't show her face a lot, I guess... Whatever. Where was I going with this? Oh, right!

Okay, it's story time, kiddos! This'll be fun. I'll amuse my inner children. Little Julia, Kurt, and Georgia. Not really half-bad names. What a nice dream... Though I like the dirty ones better. Of course, then it really sucks to wake up. Ew, I'm acting like Sadie! Back to story time... Hey, maybe I'm the A.D.D. one, not Speed? Yikes. That's sad.

Ahem! Gather 'round for Auntie Jude's tale, kiddies! No, I am not some crazy old bag lady, thank you very much! Now, where to begin... I am not old! That would be Tommy! Jeez, get with the program! He's the old man! But I act like it! You little punk! No, that is not a compliment! For heaven's sake, I'm not comparing you to Joe Strummer or Sid Vicious! How about I throw you out a window? No, in the studio with Darius. That's your punishment. Or how 'bout Tommy, since you obviously don't like him!

What, you like Tommy now? You've always loved Tommy? Oh, I get it, now you're mocking me and my feelings! You think you can do that! You're serious? Really... Then why do you sound about as sincere as Jamie McAssface? Yeah, I wondered about that too...

Yeah, that's what I thought, you friggin' unruly kid! You listen to me, 'hole! Yeah, I'm talking to you! What, do you think I'm talking to the other kid with blue hair? That's 'cause he doesn't exist! Man, kids these days... So damn stupid! Crap, where was I in my damn story? Damn kids made me frigging forget. Die, you little bastard! Oh, you think that's funny, do you?

Well, that's too damn bad, as I'm gonna have to remove you, okay? You know what? I've had it! That's it! I'm kicking you out. Giving you the boot.

Oh, don't believe me?

Well, there's my foot up your ass. How's that for believing?

Ah, finally. And I am DONE!

Once upon a time, there were two boys who were very close friends. They took the next step, and, long story short, formed a band with some kids from the projects and one boy's big brother. Only the brother dropped out because the kid was getting all the spotlight. No musical integrity. Blah, blah, blah, we're skipping that part. There are a lot of issues there, you know? So Jojo joined the band. Or whatever his name is. Not my problem. I just can't remember. I'm adding my own information from experience here...

Moving on... So the boyz (the z is very important here) grew up a bit and they BLEW up a bit. Their manager was a strict asshole completely consumed with profit margins, which unfortunately stifled the creative process... But that didn't stop the two boys from writing cheery little pop love songs. The kind that make me ick. Only they realized that they were falling in love with each other. Man, how did I manage to say that with a straight face?

They angsted over it for a while, which is how pouting and sulking became Tommy's thing. And they filled their beds with loose young women, so that they could try and forget about their true loves. And they bragged and the-

Okay, I'm laughing hysterically here. I have to stop for a minute because that is so corny I can't breathe! HA! Okay, had to get that out of my system...

But eventually, one night, they gave in. After that, they both realized the feelings were mutual. And their music got so much better because of that. They were each others' muses. They picked up the pieces and put each other back together again...

Excuse me children... I'm dying here. That's so corny... Am I reading this story off cue-cards? Next thing I know, I'll be quoting the song again. So corny! And Tommy and... This is priceless! I should tell Chaz this way. That way we could both laugh insanely at the look on Tommy's face.

Tommy's exploits continued, however, much to Chaz' chagrin. He had a reputation to keep up after all... But he was just overcompensating for... Okay, breathe! I'm not gonna finish that sentence.

Tommy continued to sleep with all of Canada, and Chaz continued to avoid girls and pray that he wouldn't get a venereal disease. A prayer we all need, I fear. He's highly contagious, that Tom Quincy. He's wormed his way into my heart, after all. Eventually, Tommy's playboy attitude pissed Chaz off.

He married Portia, and, well, Chaz was just crushed. It was disgraceful. So that's her theory. Boyz Attack broke up because Tommy and Chaz broke up. Which is sorta true, only not romantically. Tommy broke Chaz' heart. Chaz broke Tommy's heart. Either way. It'd probably be the first way. He's still the heartbreaker, after all...

It would make sense. The avoiding each other and not being close anymore. But Tommy's close with ex-girlfriends, and, damn, I just proved the girl's point again... Tommy's that kind of guy, you know? He's the kind of guy who'd be getting action on a deserted island. Come to think of it, that's quite possibly the one place he'd actually give in and... Bad, dangerous thoughts, Jude.

You know, deserted islands don't seem so bad. I mean, they're hot guy magnets. Seriously, have you seen Lost? So many hot guys on one little island. It's awesome. That's one island I wanna land on, lemme tell you... Or just any island alone with Tommy. That'd be nice. You know, I don't even care if that island's Nova Scotia. Not that 'Scotia really counts... And it'd be cold... I don't care just as long as civilization was far enough away and we had food, clothes, liquor, and blankets. And a medical supply or two would help.

"Jude? You there?" One of the boybanders... or maybe both... asked impatiently. I snapped to consciousness. Lack of sleep's getting to me, go figure!

Anyways, back to reality... Which is so boring and NOT fun. Tommy rolled his eyes at me as Mason closed his book. Chaz was still hanging all over me. I sighed, scowling, as something occurred to me. "You've seen me all over the place with books, doing homework. Did it ever occur to you even once to help me? No! Not even after Sadie told you I got a **six** percent in Freshman Math!" I snapped irritably, angry at his utter lack of help.

Mason shook his head sadly, and both he and Chaz sent disapproving looks at Tommy. Tommy scowled, his mouth set in a firm line. As I said before... I'd kill for a B in Math. Even at the beginning of the semester. Yeah, I've got a D right now... Don't ask me how. I flushed with embarrassment, and Tommy exhaled sharply. "I suck at Math," He muttered under his breath. A B does not equal suckage!

I shot him a dirty look, crossing my arms over my chest. The perfect snarky remark to top it off. The cherry on the sundae of a fight we were having. I looked at him indifferently, frowning. "I _bet_ you suck," I grumbled indignantly, in a tone that was supposed to be under my breath. It wasn't, however, as everyone heard it. Chaz giggled, yes, giggled! Mason snickered quietly. Needless to say, Tommy glared daggers at the both of them and then at me.

He wouldn't take that lying down. No, wait, on his knees! That's a good one! I snorted at the thought, a smug smile curling on my lips for a change. Unfortunately, Tommy had a similar look on his face. He grinned widely, getting up from the table. We were all waiting for it. The other shoe to drop. He merrily walked past me, getting a coffee mug from the cabinet, and turned around to give me a cheeky smile. "You know, there is **one** subject I can help you in," Tommy drawled, dragging each and every word out. He poured himself (and myself) cups of coffee and then turned around. He took care to hand me my cup.

His fingers brushed mine. Not accidentally. This was purposeful. He gave me another enigmatic smile, leaning in to whisper in my ear. "Sex-Ed," He murmured huskily as his breath tickled my ear. Goosebumps rose on my skin. By the time I'd understood what he'd said, he was halfway across the room, leaning against the table and smirking at me from behind a cup of coffee.

My jaw hadn't even dropped yet when he spoke again. "I practically wrote the book for that one. If you ever need a lesson... I'd be **happy** to teach you a few pointers," Tommy said in a sultry tone, pretending to be innocently offering advice. Now my jaw really dropped. Did he just...? He couldn't have... But he... Did he...? I don't...

What!

A few pointers? Is he offering to... to... Give me a lesson, eh? What kind of lesson does he have in mind, exactly? Is it Quinn's kind of lesson? It's just...

What the hell!

Tommy can't have just said that. I mean, that's like... Hitting on me. That is hitting on me. And I have nothing to say! So I'm just standing here, eyes wide, jaw gaping open like some kind of bubonic yokel and... I have nothing to say! I must look like a moron! I swear, I stood there, gaping, for well over at least two minutes before I got to my senses.

It took me another three to think of anything particularly intelligent to say. But I got my plan soon enough, and I reached in one of the jars for a cookie I'd saved for Tommy. They were his favorite. I smiled and walked over to him, a confident, somewhat crooked grin plastered on my face. "Actually, Tommy, I could really use your superior knowledge in Science class... We've just started this new unit, and I'm **completely** clueless," I began, feeling proud as a supermodel as I shashayed over to him. Yes, I can walk sexily, thank you very much. Tommy peered at me interestedly, leaning against the table.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. His eyes narrowed a little. "Oh, really?" He asked, but he didn't sound surprised. I nodded widely, stopping right in front of him. Does he know I'm not really in Science at all?

I stood there, leaning in a little, and pressed the cookie into his hand. "Yeah." I leaned in so close my lips brushed his neck. Apparently he likes to be kissed just below his ear, did you know that? Hmm... I blame Sadie. His breath sped up a little. I put a hand on his shoulder and leaned up a little so the onlookers couldn't hear. I wanted to say, well, something a lot more blunt, but that wasn't the way it happened. This time, my breath was on his neck. Crap, did I use a breathmint! "Anatomy," I whispered seductively.

Then I abruptly moved backwards, and Tommy fell back unto the table with a THUNK. A laugh bubbled up inside of me, and soon, a peal of bell-like laughter reverberated from my throat. Chaz and Mason joined in, obviously wanting to know what I'd said. Neither Tommy nor I told them, however.

"I'm sure you could help me get a better **grip** on the subject. I'd really love to _practice_ with you..." I drawled suggestively, winking in his direction. If you thought his jaw dropped before... Really...

The irony of this is that I am in neither a science class nor sex-ed. They don't have that at my school. Well, actually, they teach it in Study Hall. Much less Anatomy. I'd rather shoot myself than do that, personally. And, obviously, I suck at science too.

A moment later, a rather cross Tommy got up from the table. He had popped the cookie in his mouth when I decided I wanted part of it. So, me being me, I did something a bit impulsive. I bit into the part that was still sticking out. Let's just say that our lips were close. Very close. Kiss close. But that was for later.

For a moment, we both just gawked at each other awkwardly. I barely had time to register the feeling our close proximity gave me. A crafty look appeared in Tommy's eyes and he pulled back a little, lips tugging on the cookie. The motion separated the two halves and, well, us... Tommy gulped down his cookie greedily in a few minutes. I stood there, still a bit confused, until Tommy gave me a look like "Are you gonna eat that?" Then I swallowed the cookie slowly. Mm, good piece of cookie. I licked my lips, satisfied. Food is good.

I looked up to notice that Mason and Chaz were giving the both of us weird looks. Mason frowned, getting up slowly from the table. "Are they always like this?" He asked, gesturing to us, incredulous. He was addressing Chaz. Chaz looked hard at the both of us and then at Mason. He frowned, pursing his lips.

"Ask Kwest about that. He's seen them more," Chaz replied thoughtfully, shrugging. He returned to his place at my side, and I glanced between them. Do they know who they are? I mean, I know they do. But they haven't been properly introduced. I frowned and decided to take the task upon myself.

I glared at the both of them, but I didn't really mean it. "Yeah, we pretty much are," I said succinctly, truthfully. Tommy gave me a look. What do those words really mean anyways? I turned to the two guys. "Hey, have you two been properly introduced?" I questioned randomly. They shot me rather surprised looks, but shook their heads. You know, they really are a lot alike. It's freaky.

I smiled brightly, gesturing from Chaz to Mason with a flourish. They looked at me like I was an escaped mental patient. It was beautiful. "Chaz Blackthorn meet Mason Fox," I introduced elegantly, waving my hands about. The two smiled somewhat awkwardly and shook hands. Okay, now that that's done... What next? I plopped down at the table, motioning for both guys to sit with me. I smiled and sipped my coffee. Tommy must've made it this morning. I swear, the guy can make a cup of joe like no other. If he wasn't a producer or a singer, I'd guess he worked in a café. But it makes sense. I bet he's had a lot of practice making coffee in the morning... For obvious reasons.

"So, if I know Tommy, and I like to think I do, just a little... Not in a carnal sense or anything, which I'm sure just about half the planet can claim, but... Let me guess... He's been driving you boys nuts all day," I remarked casually, taking another sip of my coffee. The looks on their faces were priceless. They were wide-eyed with agreement. Both nodded enthusiastically, and we launched into a conversation on... what else? Tommy.

"Yes! He kept making me play "I'm Gone" over and over again. My fingers were starting to bleed," Mason complained loudly. I glanced briefly at Tommy, who scowled evilly. His eyes narrowed. But, you know, Tommy never worked me that hard. Except towards the end of the album. But we were all working our asses off then.

Chaz nodded emphatically. "You're telling me! And I thought he was bad when we were in the band! I had no idea it was this bad..." Chaz exclaimed wildly. Tommy didn't look happy. In fact, he looked downright murderous, but I was the only one who noticed. I shuddered and practically jumped when Chaz put a hand on my shoulder, staring at me head on. "I have a completely new respect for you now," Chaz muttered, shooting me a pitying look.

He patted my hand, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tommy glowering at him. A smile spread slowly across my lips. "Yeah, sometimes I think I spend more time locked in the studio with him than he does with his girlfriend," I joked, laughing lightly. It was nice having people to commiserate with.

This time, Tommy took offense. He was being all TDS again... Tall, dark, and sulky. He crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. "Well, maybe if you didn't need so much help..." He muttered crankily in an undertone. I wasn't supposed to hear that. I turned to glare at Tommy, and Mason continued the discussion.

"Seriously, if he says one more word about chord progressions, I'm going to kill him," Mason grunted, mouth in a firm line. His lips were white with irritation. Tommy continued shooting us all violent looks. Then I just stopped looking at Tommy. I nodded, knowing the feeling. I wondered vaguely if he'd told Mason to rewrite his song yet.

"You're telling me! He won't stop talking about how the backbeat's all wrong for the melody. And then, to make matters worse, he keeps yelling at the studio musicians. The poor guys are so nervous their fingers slip on the strings," Chaz proclaimed boldly. There was an intensely angry look in his eyes. He probably looked like that in Boyz Attack! But that was all Tommy's show with the others just floating in. This is Chaz' deal, period. He wants control, and there's Tommy, acting like Darius! Uh, or not Darius... Bad. I shouldn't think like that...

"I was so frustrated with him the other day that I advanced upon him with my guitar, ready to bash his head in... But then again, I hadn't gotten any sleep that night... Thanks a _lot_, Chaz!" I continued, starting out with the dreamy recollection. Then I remembered that the reason I was so tired involved Chaz and Tommy (and not in a fun way!), so I remembered my fury. This time, I sent Chaz a bold glare, sending waves of hot wrath into his eyes. I was like a magnifying glass in the sun, and he was the ant I was burning.

Chaz frowned, looking down, a little embarrassed. Mason just looked at me, confused, trying to figure out what piece he was missing. Then Chaz finally got the guts to look at me... But not in the eyes. I could tell Tommy was feeling awfully smug right about now. Chaz sighed, and his whole face drooped. "I'm sorry about that, really, Jude, I-" He apologized penitently, trying to grab my hand. But I was far too mad for that.

I pulled my hands out of his grip with lightning fast reflexes. My eyes narrowed further in disgust. "Easy for you to say, Chaz! God, you shimmied out of my kitchen window, for crying out loud! I had to sit there and listen to them bitching at me for like... eight hours," I roared, banging my hand down hard on the table. Mason jumped, and Chaz moved back a little, obviously trying to give me my space. Well, that's just too damn bad. 'Cause it didn't help me at all.

Jeez. Men are such asses, all of them. And they think that apologizing will make you forget. They think two words make up for being an asshole. Well, "I'm sorry", they don't! UGH!

Chaz' face fell a little, and he looked sincerely sorry. I didn't doubt the sincerity, or the fact that he was sorry. If I was him, I'd be sorry. I'd be groveling at my feet if I was him. He frowned and rubbed his stomach, obviously remembering the shimmy. I snorted and waited for him to say something. Then his face stupidly broke out into this wide smile. Moron.

"I still remember what you said," He managed to choke out, clearly far too amused. Oh, crap. I said something stupid, didn't I? He grinned, shaking his head, but didn't say what it was I said. I felt a cold chill run down my spine.

"Chaz, what did I say?" I implored in desperation, feeling the fear well up in me. Chaz looked relieved, but that moronic smile stayed on his face still, like he was some sort of warped clown without the make-up. Chaz looked me over, deliberating for a moment whether he should tell me or not. Then he leaned in to whisper it in my ear. Let's just say I was more than a little incredulous. He swore it was the exact wording, but I wished he'd paraphrased.

It was awful. It took a few minutes for the words to sink in... And then I had a heart attack. My face turned redder than it ever had before. I was horrified and mortified that I had actually said that to my parents. No wonder they didn't want me to go out! I looked to Chaz with wide, disbelieving eyes, silently asking him if I'd really been that stupid. How could he find that funny? I hoped against hope that I had hallucinated that entire conversation, but alas, it was not so.

Chaz put a hand on my shoulder, which happened to be bare, as my sleeve had slipped down a little at some point. I felt an involuntary jolt, like a lightning bolt. Not a romantic one... My hormones are... messed up. More like a jolt of me having a panic attack. In accordance with that theory, I sort of started to hyperventilate. "Are you okay?" Chaz inquired softly, leaning in a bit too close for comfort.

I looked at him with wide, horrified eyes and frantically shook my head no. No, I was not okay! "I think I'm gonna faint," I mumbled weakly, burying my head in his warm shoulder. This could not be happening. It just... Couldn't! But it did... I sighed raggedly and Chaz wrapped his arm around me. Ah, that's warm. I relaxed a little and decided to get some sleep.

"Cozy, aren't we?" Tommy remarked snidely, clamping his hand down on Chaz' other shoulder. Unfortunately, I had to lift my head and open up my eyes. I was too tired and embarrassed to glare at Tommy anymore. My brain was on vacation as of two minutes from now. I stared pointedly at Chaz, waking up a little, gesturing at Tommy.

"And then **that** one makes comments like that," I pointed out, nearly cross-eyed by now. I blinked a few times and looked up at Tommy lazily. He was as usual, a man of stone. Chaz frowned, and Tommy shrugged, nonchalant and unrepentant.

"It wouldn't be the first time he's had inappropriate relations with a minor," Tommy countered coolly. He was so casual about it... Like he didn't even care about Chaz' feelings. Briefly, a hurt look spread across Chaz' face, but then he seemed to have realized something. He smirked, playing with my hair and looking as confident as Tommy Screw himself.

"Whatever, Authority Figure," Chaz retorted carelessly, waving off the insult. He locked eyes with Tommy, who visibly flinched. I wonder what Mason's thinking about all of this... Probably that we're all loonier than a dollar. He dropped his tone an octave and then continued. "You're the one who'd go to jail, after all..."

Tommy glared at him, annoyed that Chaz had turned the tables on him. "Honestly, you're like six months _older_ than me," He sighed, getting tired of this game. Chaz fixed his cool gaze upon Tommy. They just stared at each other for a minute, and it was sort of freaky. Mason and I exchanged glances, clearly not understanding what had passed between them. I shrugged helplessly. I might be friends with the both of them, but that still doesn't mean I understand them.

Then, all of a sudden, the silence ended abruptly. They started laughing and exchanged some sort of macho Boyz Attack!-era handshake. Pretty standard stuff. The tension in the room went down fast. I smiled and leaned in, pressing a kiss to Chaz' cheek. I tried not to notice that part of my lips rested on the corner of his mouth and pulled back quickly. I could feel Tommy seething behind me. "So, C, am I gonna record "Ruby" with you?" I chirped bemusedly.

Chaz smiled slightly. You could tell it hurt a little to hear her name, even after all this time, but he looked genuinely happy. "Of course! The song wouldn't exist without you. Besides, I'm sure Tommy can testify that it was going terribly without you. Oh, and tell you what, if they decide to make a music video out of it... You're playing Ruby, okay?" Chaz declared, sounding excited by the prospect. Man, I've been recording a lot lately. After "Too Sexy Sadie", okay? Georgia will be happy about that... The recording. Because more recording equals more moolah. And more money equals less of a chance of a hostile takeover by Darius, which equals confidence for Georgia and the good studio for me. I smiled back lazily.

People think your life changes when you become famous. And I suppose that's partly true. In some respects, my life's completely different from how it was before. But there are always those people who keep your life from changing too much. They make sure the fame doesn't get to your head... Friends and family. In my case, mainly my family.

Sometimes, it's good to have people treat you like a normal person. Like going to regular school (really, being famous and all, you'd think I'd have more phonies trying to befriend me). Other times, you wish they would treat you differently. Like chores.

I'm still the same Jude who lugs in the groceries. Mom's even made me scrub the floor once or twice (making me feel like Cinderella). That's what she's been doing lately. Make Jude clean for punishment so she won't hang out with so many guys. More like make Jude so worn out she passes out during a set. Caffeine pills, of course, or at least coffee, will prevent that from happening. I sighed and hummed the chorus to Ruby. Chaz smiled distantly, and Tommy visibly cringed. I gave him an odd look. Why wouldn't he like the song? It was a damn good song, if I do say so myself, but then again, I'm a bit biased, being one of its writers.

"What's got you down, Tommy? Still pissed that Nsync beat out Boyz Attack! for Best New Artist?" I questioned warmly before I dissolved into a fit of irrational giggles at the irascible look on his face. Guess that's still a sore spot with him. Then again, the guy's an elephant. He never forgets anything, especially a grudge. So pretty much his whole past is one giant sore spot. So... does he have sore skin then, or what?

Tommy shook his head, a far-away look on his face. "Nope, just thinking of all the things I still have to do to make tomorrow perfect for Sadie," He stated plainly. He continued to think to himself on this and well... That sure as hell shut me up. I blinked, still somewhat surprised that he would be so blunt about it. Chaz rolled his eyes. I bet he's still clinging to the foolish illusion that Tommy's in love with me. I rolled my eyes at the thought.

You would have to be delusional to believe that. I mean, I hate to say it, but if you're in love with someone... It's just impossible to date their sister, period. It's one of those things you just don't do. Really, makes everything very awkward. Chaz frowned and turned to ask me about Tommy's remark. I told him that tomorrow was their three-month anniversary, gag, gag, choke, choke. I couldn't stop that. I tried to explain it to him without bitterness, but I don't think I was entirely successful. Chaz looked a bit surprised, as long-term relationships are about as foreign to Tommy as monogamy. For Tommy, one month is long-term. In fact, that's how long his entire marriage lasted.

He gave me a look that seemingly asked me whether or not I wanted to make Tommy jealous. After bringing up Sadie, there was nothing that could make me happier. I chanced a glance over at our target, who was still staring off into space, to see if he was watching. He wasn't. So I turned to Chaz and nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly. I had no idea what he had in mind, but I was sure it was something good. "At your signal," He whispered so low I barely heard it. His lips barely even moved.

I glanced over at Tommy (still off in his own world) for a second, then suddenly banged my hand down hard upon the table. Tommy's eyes immediately focused on me, and I barely had to time to turn my head before I felt Chaz' lips crashing down on mine. It wasn't exactly what I was expecting... But what was I expecting anyways? But it wasn't exactly a surprise either.

I didn't even have time to kiss him back because about two seconds later, Tommy physically yanked Chaz off of me. This was no gentle tug. This was painful. I mean, he literally threw Chaz out of his chair, and then the chair crashed into the ground. It broke. Tom will be paying for it, naturally. Tom was furious, his face bright red. "What the **hell** do you think you're doing, man?" Tom snarled viciously, clenching his fists.

Chaz was obviously used to dealing with a pissed-off Tom. Wonder how many fist fights they got in back in the day... Chaz sat up slowly, and Tom really got down in his face. But Chaz leaned up a bit and got right back in Tom's face. I could only imagine what poor, innocent Mason was thinking about all of this. I, however, was completely mesmerized. It was like a scene in a movie... Or a really great wrestling match.

Tom glared daggers at Chaz, who returned his stare. Not that Chaz was even half as angry as Tom. When Chaz finally spoke, his words were measured and weighed carefully. He spoke slowly in an even tone. "Something _you_ can't," He snarled hoarsely, bumping heads with Tom just to piss him off even more. Like when Tommy almost beat Shay up on my birthday. Same concept.

Honestly, that was a great comeback. And Tom had absolutely nothing to say in return. But here's the thing about Tom Quincy... He doesn't always speak with his mouth. As they say, actions speak louder than words. And a lot of the time, he likes to speak with his fists. Which is really sorta worrysome.

Tommy firmly pulled Chaz up by the collar with ease. Chaz dangled a few inches off the ground. For a second, they just stared at each other, not quite knowing what to do. Then, out of nowhere, Chaz took a swing at Tommy's midsection, as his arms were still free. But Tommy was faster. Chaz didn't even see it coming. Obviously Tommy's had a lot of practice fighting... If you blinked, you would've missed it. But in a flash, Tommy punched Chaz square in the eye... The right one if you're wondering. Then, a second later, he dropped Chaz fast and stalked out, slamming the door behind him so hard that it rattled the pictures on the wall.

I shot a glance over at Mason, who was gaping in awe, mouth wide open. Okay, 's what I expected. A minute later, I scrambled out of the chair to help Chaz, who was on the floor, groaning and rubbing his eye. It was red now, but I didn't doubt that it would soon be a spectacular purple, probably within the hour. He glared at me for a second, but I could tell he didn't really mean it. "You know, I got a black eye for you," Chaz muttered, scowling a little.

I frowned, wincing. Yeah, forgot my role in that. Hehe. Oops? I looked down and sighed. "Sorry... Nice comeback, though," I replied somewhat awkwardly. Chaz grinned, looking somewhat proud at the compliment. He got up about a second after that, somewhat sore, but mostly okay. I felt sort of guilty. After all, he was just sort of doing that to help me and cheer me up... And he got punched. This must've showed on my face because Chaz smiled reassuringly and waved it off.

"Hey, relax... It's not your fault. Besides, it's not the first time Tom's given me a black eye and it won't be the last. It's all my fault. I didn't have to make that comment or try and punch him. I should've known better than to push my luck. I mean, after all the fights Tom's been in? The guy could have me flat on my ass in a second if he wanted to," Chaz drawled, oddly cheery for someone who had just gotten a black eye. I snorted at the... ambiguity of his last statement... Then I broke out in hysterical laughter, remembering the rumor I'd read.

"What's so funny?" Mason questioned, still confused and surprised. I smiled and just barely managed to stop laughing. I gestured towards Chaz to start.

"The fact that he just said something that sounded very homoerotic, for one thing..." I guffawed, peering over at Chaz. He made a face, but that didn't make me forget to notice that he was blushing. Mason obviously saw this too as he snorted, clearly amused. Well, at least the awkward tension was gone.

That is so ironic, really. I got rid of the awkward tension by... I laughed hysterically once again, and after a good few minutes of us all laughing, continued bravely. How I managed to keep a straight face for the duration of our speech is really beyond me. "And I heard a rumor that Boyz Attack! broke up because Tommy and Chaz were in love with each other, but they broke up because Tommy broke Chaz' heart," I rambled excitedly all in one breath.

Mason burst into laughter, both at my enthusiasm and the story. After saying all that and catching my breath, I immediately joined in. Chaz frowned moodily, channeling Tommy and practically confirming the theory, which only made me laugh more. He gave me a look, his mouth set in a grim line. "Ugh, I know... My **mom** actually asked me if it was true! And why does everyone assume _I_ can't be the heartbreaker?" Chaz lamented, head in his hands. Mason and I exchanged glances. He tried to cover up his snicker with a cough, but failed miserably.

"Because he's _Tommy_, that's why," I said immediately, rolling my eyes. I couldn't help but smile, amused with the whole conversation. I paused deliberately and then continued. "And he got married and divorced shortly before the break-up," I pointed out wisely. No arguing with me there.

Chaz took his head out of his hands, still grimacing and squinting a bit from the punch. "She still looks at me funny sometimes, you know... And then she asks if I have a boyfriend. Ugh. I think my mother actually wants me to be gay... She always did like Tommy an awful lot," Chaz grumbled, sounding somewhat bitter. I smirked. I bet she liked Tommy. Though why she would want him with her son was still a mystery. She had to know about the Ruby thing... She just... had to, especially if it was all over the papers like I'm sure it was.

I giggled a little, and Mason snorted once again. Chaz looked a bit put-off for a second, but eventually he came around again, a grin sliding across his face. He winked at me and asked for a favor. "Be sure to tell Tommy about it. Bet you he turns purple," Chaz suggested good-naturedly. I grinned wickedly.

"Ten bucks says he turns bright red and has a fit," I countered, holding out a hand for him to shake. Chaz smirked and shook my hand, taking the bet. Mason cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly.

"Oh, like he was about two seconds ago?" Mason interjected, grinning evilly. Ah, he too enjoys others causing Tommy irritation. Well, after being cooped up with him in the studio all day, who wouldn't? Mason gave me a shrewd look, eyes hard and flinty. He nodded to me. "So, what was that exactly?" He asked, gesturing towards the door, obviously referring to what had just happened between the three of us.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Chaz spoke up without noticing. His stare was focused on Mason, who squirmed a little. "Oh, Tommy's in love with Jude, but he's unfortunately dating her very fine sister... In case you haven't noticed, he's a bit overprotective," Chaz elucidated, unbelievably nonchalant. My jaw dropped. He spoke as if he was talking about the weather.

Mason's eyes widened in shock. Ugh, man, I have to correct this. Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I sighed, shooting a glare at Chaz. "Don't believe a word Chaz says. He doesn't know what he's talking about. Tommy is, however, dating my sister... and Chaz happens to have a huge crush on her. Tommy's a hypocrite, you see, so whenever another guy shows interest, he gets jealous. You get used to it after a while," I corrected matter-of-factly, feigning disinterest and waving off Chaz' accusations. Chaz flushed a little, and Mason looked between us incredulously. It's probably the last comment.

"Jude enjoys reminding him of what he's given up. So she flirts a lot... It really sets him off," Chaz explained casually. I glared at him petulantly. Mason smiled at my behavior, and then got up to find something to eat. All the good food was gone already. You snooze, you lose here at G. Major.

I smiled absentmindedly and just about died when the door was suddenly flung open, almost falling off its hinges. He charged across the floor in a few strides, making his prescence known. I hadn't even turned around yet when he grabbed my wrist and roughly yanked me up, pulling me practically flat against him. I think it would be redundant to say that he was Tommy. Chaz shot me a smug look, smirking. He didn't need to say "I told you so" because it was written all over his face. I didn't mind so much, considering I was practically glued to Tommy's side. Not a bad place to be, let me tell you... I couldn't stop the dopey smile from spreading itself across my face.

Tommy moved away hastily after seeing the way Chaz was looking at us. A determined look crossed over his face, and his fingers slid down to my hand, tugging me along behind him and out of the room. Then suddenly, he was moving faster than I could keep up with, so I had to start running. Surprisingly, we went into Studio C. By the time we got in there, I was laughing and a bit breathless. "Tommy, why are we..." I began, but then stopped when I saw the cameras. I immediately stopped laughing and abruptly dropped Tommy's hand, feeling panicked. I exhaled hard, feeling myself droop a little. "...here."

Tommy frowned at my sudden moodswing, though, really, he should've understood why. But, without even asking, he turned to the camerapeople and began dictating. "Okay, first things first, we're never going to be able to write a song or act candid if we can see you. So make yourselves scarce. Secondly, Jude and I are going to need a second to talk in private... alone, so, if you don't mind, can you go outside for a second?" Tommy requested in an eerily polite tone. He sounded impatient, though.

When Tom Quincy tells you to clear out, you clear the hell out. They went out, muttering about setting up and fixing their cameras, blah, blah, blah... The second that door closed, Tom was off, talking again. However, he was also pacing very distractingly. "Okay, Jude... This is the way it works. They're going to be filming us candidly, so you have to watch what you say. We can't talk about anything that might give them the wrong idea..." Tom directed, acting like I was some sycophantic employee.

I rolled my eyes, hands on my hips. "Don't you mean the _right_ idea, Tom?" I retorted sharply, not amused. My anger from Friday flooded back, and I fought to shut it off. Tommy's eyes narrowed, and he gestured to me, frustrated.

"See! Stuff like that!" Tom argued irritably. I rolled my eyes, knowing what was coming. I knew exactly what kind of remarks he was telling me about. But I can't just shut off my brain. I think like that! And I rarely think before I speak. I swear, I have foot in the mouth disease. Not fun.

I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. No, wait, on second thought, I decided to count them out on my fingers. Just to be sure, I'd say them out loud for Tommy to verify. "Okay, so nothing about when we kissed... Nothing about you being a jerk... Nothing specifically naming Sadie as either your girlfriend or my sister... Nothing about Boyz Attack!... And no sarcastic remarks. I think I've got it, Quincy," I stated bluntly, a wry smile on my face. Tommy smiled back hesitantly, and then called the cameras back in. One person came back in. Tommy led me to the couch and draped my guitar around me, bending down to pick up his own guitar. I reached over to grab my pen and notebook, which I threw open to the page I'd written a few verses to this song I was working on. Somehow my bag had wound up in here... Weird.

Tommy and I shifted around a little, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy couch, and then we got down to business. Tommy motioned to my notebook, his guitar in his lap. "Show me what you've got, girl," Tommy requested, reaching out for it. I rolled my eyes and handed him the notebook. He scanned the precious few verses I'd written, nodded approvingly, and threw it back into my lap. "Okay, now play it for me..."

I rolled my eyes at him. He's not the boss of me. Well... sorta. I began to play the chords I'd carefully planned in my music classes. I sighed, tuning my guitar and making sure the chords sounded just right. "The hook needs a line or two, I think... And I've only got bits and pieces of the other stuff mostly... Except for the chorus and one verse I've got all written out..." I explained, glancing over at Tommy before I launched into the song for real. I barely noticed him nod.

"_You've led me **smoothly** into temptation... I was already all too **willing** to fall..._" I began softly, fluidly. Then I strummed the rest of chords for that verse, and, after that was done, I stopped abruptly, glancing over at Tommy, waiting for a sign to see what he thought of it. But, as usual, his face was impassive, and he was concentrating hard. He frowned for a moment, muttering rhymes under his breath. Then, a second later, he grabbed my notebook and jotted down two lines. He slid the notebook back over to me, and I peered over what he'd written. Pretty good.

"Oh, and change your chords towards the end of the verse to _this_..." He ordered authoritatively, setting his guitar on the couch next to him and moving in closer to me. I inhaled deeply as he wrapped his arms around me, placing his hands over my fingers and showing me how to properly end the verse. It really did sound a lot better.

With his fingers still on mine, eyes locked, we sang and played the second part together. "_I fell victim to that sedating sensation... Here on my knees, **fallen**, I crawl..._" We chorused, the tune taking on a rather bittersweet feeling. Though to be fair, that last line could seriously use some work. I looked at Tommy to tell him just that, but the way he looked at me... I just couldn't. I gulped hard, and one of my fingers slipped, letting out a loud twang. I flushed down to my roots. And they were capturing all of this on film...

Tommy smiled slowly and licked his lips. I smiled nervously and relaxed a little in his grip. He was so warm... I sighed and bit my lip, worrying. Then he leaned his head slightly on top of mine. I sucked in a breath and forgot how to breathe. His eyes bored intensely into mine. "You smell nice," I muttered distractedly.

Tommy's smile widened, and he buried his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply. "You do too," He murmured softly. And then he kissed my hair gently. Suddenly, the door flew open and E.J. barged in. Tommy and I both pulled away at the same instant. A wide grin stretched across E.J.'s face. I think that's the only time I've ever seen her smile. Or it's the only time I remember... Pretty freaky, really. It sort of creeps me out.

She clapped her hands excitedly. "Ooh, am I interrupting a _moment_?" She chattered on excitedly. Tommy and I immediately shot to separate sides of the couch. We didn't look at each other.

"NO!" We both shouted at the same time. E.J. looked a bit taken aback. Then we glanced at each other, and I flushed and looked away. We were obviously having a moment. But at least I was breathing now. That's progress.

I sighed and looked up at E.J. "What are you doing here, E.J.?" I asked with as much civility I could muster. I realize she kept us from doing something stupid like making out, but still... It wasn't appreciated. Hey, if Tommy shows me love... on the rare occasion that would be... I'm not exactly going to turn him away. E.J.'s smile fell, and she rolled her eyes.

"We _are_ in the middle of something here, you know," Tommy remarked, impatient and rather annoyed. I shot a glance at him, somewhat disbelieving. He gave me a look that suggested I was a moron for assuming he meant anything other than the song. E.J. raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip, and fixing the both of us with a suspicious glance. I fought the urge to groan aloud.

"I'll bet you are," She said suggestively. Tommy stiffened. E.J. rolled her eyes. "Getting some files... Honestly, relax!" E.J. said sharply. Relax? She's telling me to relax? E.J.'s the most stressed person I know. I think she needs to get laid, personally. I gave her a look. Who's she kidding?

E.J. huffed and walked over, bending down to grab the file. Then a moment later, she walked out briskly. E.J. always walks fast. As soon as the door shut, Tommy put his hand on my shoulder. "So," He posed, bright-eyed, "Where were we?"

I laughed for a minute. Where were we? Well, the first verse had been written... Oh, yeah... The chorus. I started strumming it again. "_You're the sweetest forbidden fruit, In the great Garden of Eden... It's only your branches that I wanna loot... I am here, eating from your luscious tree, Waiting for the Knowledge of Good and Evil to come to me, to come to me..._" I sang the same way I had on the phone. Tommy nodded approvingly, and I smiled. He motioned for me to go on, but I had other plans. I stopped playing, and Tommy looked annoyed.

"Hey, did you save me a brownie?" I inquired with a pout. Tommy knows how much I like the brownies. Unfortunately, so does pretty much everyone else, especially Georgia. Tommy doesn't get how they can like brownies so much. But then again, Tommy hates chocolate of any kind. I blame it on his Boyz Attack! days. They had those poor guys on such strict diets. He would, however, sell his soul for some red licorice. He likes any of the red flavors, but his favorite is raspberry, which is really hard to get. I mean, you can't just go out and buy raspberry licorice. It has to be imported. Eh, got him some for Christmas last year. He hugged me so hard I couldn't breathe. Man, I ought to get him raspberry licorice more often.

Though Tommy's face was turned away from mine, I could tell he was trying hard to fight a smile. He didn't fight it very long. He chuckled and turned slowly to face me. "No," He said slowly, drawing out the word. He was also obviously lying. I snorted and smacked him in the shoulder.

"Quincy, you are **such** a bad liar," I laughed, smiling. Tommy smiled back and sighed, as if he was unwilling to give up the information. But then he nodded, making a vacillating hand gesture.

"Okay, okay, fine. I'll give it to you... but only after we finish the song," Tommy promised, trying to compensate by fixing me with a stern look. I didn't buy it one bit. I just laughed at him. He scowled, muttering under his breath, "See if I give you the brownie with _that_ attitude."

I pouted. Not giving me my brownie? How cruel. But I sighed. Well, at least I had the next verse written. I dragged my pick across the strings, starting up again. This part was a bit more jagged. Tommy bobbed his head along to the tune, waiting to see what I would do with it. "_You gave me knowledge of my **sin**... Made me **wise** to see beyond my own skin... Because of you, I'm aware of the life **I've** been living... It was you who proved to me that **evil** could win... While I was sitting here with you, drinking cheap gin_," I drawled darkly, giving Tommy a wicked grin.

Tommy seemed to like my tone. "I like your tone... It's fitting. But, seriously... gin?" He responded, breaking into a smile. Okay, so maybe he didn't exactly like my lyrics. Well, it was late and I couldn't really think of anything to write. I had been up for twenty-three hours... Naturally, my brain was a little foggy.

I frowned and started playing the chords to "Dirty Old Man". Luckily for me, Tommy didn't recognize it. Ew, why I was I playing this song? It just made me think of stupid Quinn. Ugh. Seriously, and what was up with the hitting on Joan? I mean, she so likes him... I don't know who she thinks she's kidding. I glowered at Tommy. "It was late and I couldn't think of any good rhymes. So sue me," I grunted, narrowing my eyes in irritation.

Tommy fixed me with a look and started counting on his fingers. "In, within, bin, shin, din, fin, Flynn, hen, pin, pen, Ben, when, kin, Lynn, Yin, twin, tin, wren, Zen, spin, thin, grin, chin, been, vin, berlin, begin, akin, wherein, has-been, chagrin, men, min, Kuan Yin, violin, Huckleberry Finn, marchand de vin, Allen, herein, elkin, alpin, Atkins, motor inn, loony bin, next of kin, and heterocercal fin," Tommy stated smugly. Okay, I get it... I could've rhymed it with a dozen other things... And I don't even know what some of those are. And I sure don't know how many rhymes he just came up with.

Ugh, I am so going to flunk math. Tommy, however, didn't know when to stop. "And besides, _you_ can't drink yet," He continued. I glared at him viciously and really wanted to make a good remark about it.

But I settled instead for hitting him hard on the arm and saying with a sneer, "Thanks for reminding me." Tommy grimaced, so I figured it was enough of an insult. He frowned at me, rubbing his arm. My punch actually hurt? Or is he just faking to pump up my ego? Wait, this is Tommy we're talking about. He doesn't want to pump up my ego right now. He does that when I'm on the verge of a breakdown, and then it's well appreciated.

I ignored him and started up again, playing the chorus I'd worked on. Man, I could do this in my sleep. Ugh, I wish I was asleep. I'm so tired... "_You're the **sweetest** forbidden fruit... In the great **Garden** of Eden... It's only your branches that I wanna **loot**... I am here, eating from your **luscious** tree... Waiting for the Knowledge of Good and **Evil**... __To come to me, to come to me..._" I hummed, staring out into space. Two seconds later, I had to stop, of course, because I didn't have anything after that. I turned and looked at Tommy expectantly.

There was a thoughtful look on his face. I rolled my eyes and picked up my pen and notebook, waiting to write something down. I stared at Tommy, waiting for some brilliant answer to my problem. He didn't have one, so after a while, I grew impatient and distracted. So I started looking around the room instead. That made it so that when Tommy finally did say something, I was a little floored. The twang of a guitar snapped me out of my daze. Tommy was playing. "_The forbidden fruit tastes **too** sweet..._" He began softly, looking straight at me. I felt my breathing speed up, and I couldn't help but feel that he was talking about me.

By the time I realized that I was supposed to be writing this down, Tommy was already playing the chord over again, impatiently staring me down. I flushed for what felt like the millionth time and scrambled to write out the lyrics. Once he saw I was done (as he was peering over my shoulder), Tommy started in on the next line. "_I couldn't muster the strength to resist..._" He sang in a low, throaty voice. I wasn't looking at him this time; I was frantically writing out the lyrics. But I had a feeling he was looking at me anyways, and a chill ran down my spine.

He obviously wanted me to go next. So I stared off into space for a second. Then, getting a bit of an idea, I handed Tommy the pen and notebook. I launched right into the next part, following Tommy's lead. "_There you were..._" Oh, crap. What can I say here? I faltered, holding out on "were" as long as I could... Pretty much until I couldn't hold it any longer. My lungs were about to burst from the pressure. I locked eyes with Tommy, who motioned for me to go on.

As luck might have it, by some miracle of God, I glanced up, away from Tommy. The first thing I saw was a giant teddy bear on one of the shelves, hanging out of a box. That was all the idea I needed. I exhaled and took a deep, gasping breath, smiling awkwardly at Tommy. "_**Bare**... without a..._" I continued, still struggling to think of what to say. I was tempted to say bare without a care, but that didn't make too much sense. I glanced down at the piece of paper Tommy was writing on. The pen wasn't moving. I focused on the paper. Paper. Piece (of paper). Notebook (paper). Lined (paper). College-ruled (paper). Wide-ruled (paper). Sheet (of paper)! And it rhymed with sweet! "._..**Sheet**!_"

Tommy shot me a skeptical look, raising his eyebrow at me, but he wrote it nonetheless. I smiled triumphantly and continued. I kicked that line's ass. I was about to start into the next one when Tommy randomly tapped my shoulder. "Hey, Jude..." Here I grimaced, and Tommy smiled apologetically. He loves saying "Hey, Jude." Says it never gets old. But he's gotten out of the habit ever since I responded by asking him if he'd ever seen the musical "Tommy". He flinched. "...What the hell does that even mean?" He asked, looking confused. He scratched the back of his neck, which is something he never does. Okay, Tommy's acting strange...

At first I just shrugged, but he looked dissatisfied. And we always have to satisfy Li'l Tommy Q., don't we? I rolled my eyes, as if whatever I was going to make up on the spot made sense. "I'm just creating a scene, Quincy... What we're pretty much saying here is that the girl likes this guy who's forbidden, right? And our girl can't resist him. Especially as... _There you were, bare without a sheet_... You were naked in front of me... Nothing to cover you up... See, Tommy?" I told him, gesturing with my hands, trying my hardest to explain.

However, I was pretty surprised when Tommy paled and looked even more bamboozled. What, is he dumb or something? I just spelled the whole thing out for him. Man, guess he's not as smart as I thought. I impatiently wanted to go on. A rhyme with resist. Okay, I can do that in a snap. Resist, kiss. There I go. And speaking of there he goes... "There I was, naked in front of you? Um, Jude... Where... Where do you c-come up with these things?" Tommy stuttered, looking a bit green with worry.

My cheeks reddened. Oops. So much for it being objective... And not suggestive. Where **do** I come up with these things! I looked down and did my best to act normal and ignore the remark. I couldn't ignore, however, the fact that my fingers were shaking. Not that it stopped me from starting to play again. This was smoother... "_And I could only daydream of your kiss_," I cried dreamily, glancing surreptitiously at Tommy while I said this. He noticed and grinned at me.

Then he finished writing. We both knew the chorus was coming next. Though we both played the same tune, Tommy started us out. "_You're the sweetest **forbidden** fruit..._" He hummed, looking straight at me not that innocently. I smiled back hesitantly, and then it was my turn.

I cleared my throat, feeling a bit nervous at the way he was looking at me. The way I was probably looking at him. "_In the great Garden of **Eden**_," I responded, grinning for some odd reason that was beyond me. Eden. The name was still a bad taste on my lips. Ugh. And speaking of original sin, I felt guilty. Bad, bad Jude. You shouldn't think about Tommy Quincy, a twenty-two-going-on-twenty-three-year-old producer formerly of a huge boyband who just so happens to be dating your big sister, Sadie, like that. He's with Sadie. Not me. Period.

"_It's only **your** branches that I wanna loot..._" Tommy drawled, fixing me with a decidedly wicked grin and a wink that seemed out of place, but not on Tommy's face. Great, I'm so nervous I'm rhyming. Well, that'll be good for the song, then, won't it? Heheh. I hope? With Tommy staring at me like that, I forgot the line, and practically my own name. When he was looking at me like... Get on with it, I knew I had to sing the next one.

I cast a nervous glance at my lyrics. Okay, so I was really starting to sweat it over here. "_I am **here**, eating from your luscious tree..._" I continued in an entirely too sultry tone for my own good. I was still very freaked over all the attention Tommy was giving me. And then I looked over, and there he was... Still playing and still staring. And he was leaning in closer.

Time seemed to slow down and I only became conscious of two motions: Tommy coming towards me and my numb hands playing the guitar. The rest of me was focusing on his eyes. How could I ever think I'd had them memorized? They were such a pretty shade of clear blue... And speaking of pretty, he was pretty. He kept coming closer and closer. "_**Waiting** for the Knowledge of Good and Evil..._" He whispered hoarsely, trailing off expectantly. I couldn't help but notice that his eyes flicked to my lips and stayed there.

"_To **come** to me_," I murmured back, feeling intoxicated by my surroundings. There were his eyes, half-lidded and looming bigger in my vision by the second. Pretty soon he'd be... Yeah. I exhaled softly, blinking. My eyelashes felt heavy. I was getting impatient.

And then he stopped a little less than a foot away from me. It was torture. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous challenge. I nearly groaned. "_To come to **me**_," He hissed so softly that I could feel his breath on my lips. The message was clear. Come to me. I obliged him, not knowing what exactly I was doing.

"You're _evil_, Quincy," I mumbled distractedly, only centimeters away from kissing the living daylights out of him. He let out a light chuckle, which I remember frustrated me because it meant I had to wait to kiss him. But I didn't have to wait long, because I started to lean in. But then I decided to turn the tables on him, so I moved my head back a little. Tommy practically moaned. He stopped playing and pushed his guitar aside to grab me by the shoulders.

Then he looked at me confidently, licked his lips and was only millimeters away from kissing me senseless when the door flew open. As did Tommy's eyes as he backed away guiltily. Naturally, it was Kwest, who immediately shot Tommy a look. I could practically taste the disapproval in the air. Tommy looked down, embarrassed at being caught about to do something stupid... like me. I should've gone for it, damnit!

I was furious with Kwest, naturally. I was, after all, allowed to make smart remarks to others, right? "Kwest, please, go make out with your wife in some place that _isn't_ already **occupied**," I sniped rudely, glaring at him with more fury than was humanly possible. My former hatred of Kwest had returned with a vengeance. Always with the giving Tommy crappy advice and making him listen to you. Kwest raised an eyebrow at me while Tommy hurried to explain.

"We were **just** working on a song, man!" Tommy exclaimed without even a cursory glance at me. My eyes narrowed wrathfully. I will make him pay. That's the last time I ever save him a sugar cookie. Next time I'll just eat the damn thing myself. Even if I do hate those cookies and like oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip better. He is so lying. Or just hiding behind an excuse. And he sucks at it.

Kwest rolled his eyes. "That didn't look like _just_ working to me," He muttered, not believing one word of it. So maybe the dummy does have some powers of perception after all. Good for him. That merits a badge. You're not as much of an idiot as I thought. Merits a badge? Hey, Boy Scout pun! Two points, Jude!

"Kwest, just shut it, okay! Get out before I tell Tommy just _who_ you've married," I snapped threateningly, in the mood to deal with no such theatrics. I didn't even care if that was the reason he was there or not. I just wanted him out more than anything. Let's just say I didn't need to tell Kwest twice.

He glared at me, but he still wanted his secret kept, so he said nothing. He opened the door again, saying things under his breath. But they were loud enough for me to hear. "_Somebody_ needs to get laid..." Let's just say I took great offense to that.

You can tap an electrical current, you can tap a keg, and you can tapdance. But tapping _that_? I am not a THAT! And why should he have even been thinking about doing me? I mean, what, am I a piece of meat? Does he enjoy objectifying women? Honestly, that pig makes Tom look like a feminist. So much for Mister I'm-Above-This. ARGH. Ugh.

"You're **damn** right!" I shouted back at full volume. I wasn't quite sure if Tommy had also heard what Kwest had said, but I didn't care. I was willing to risk it. Kwest, who had been about to close the door, turned back to face me, speechless. His jaw dropped, eyes as wide as saucers. His eyes went back and forth from me to Tommy, Tommy to me.

"_Damn_..." Kwest mumbled, still wide-eyed. At the blank stares from Tommy and me, he shook his head and stuttered a little, "Uh... She's got good ears." But it was a lame remark and we all saw right through him. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, your little Jude's growing up!" I retorted sharply, directing my remark at both Tommy and the dreaded Kwest. Kwest shook his head, once again muttering under his breath.

Just before he closed the door, I heard him say, "Tom better watch himself..." Then the door closed and cut him off. After that, Tommy and I remained in an awkward, uncomfortable, and almost cruel silence for what seemed like ages. Then Tommy cleared his throat and we went back to the work at hand... The song. Or, more specifically, coming up with the next verse for it.

I dragged the pick against the strings, throwing in a riff or two that reminded me of "Waste My Time". Angry and feeling a bit hot and bothered, I poured all the frustration I had into the next line. "_The **heat** of your **skin** makes me **burn**..._" I drawled seductively, throwing Tommy a fiery glance that oozed so much sex appeal he broke a guitar string and didn't even notice. Got him exactly where I want him. Now who's in control, eh, Tom?

"_I kiss you, and suddenly I'm on **fire**..._" Tommy chanted in a deep, gravelly tone, giving me a decidedly lascivious look that made me (and about a million other girls) melt into a quivering puddle of goo and drove me up the wall simultaneously. I felt very hot all of a sudden. Distractedly, I fanned myself with my shirt, though I was pretty close to flashing Tommy... That's probably what it looked like I was doing anyways. Tommy was sure showing interest.

Then again, it might've just been that it was my turn to go next. My movements were sluggish, slow and languid. But my playing wasn't. In fact, I sped up the tempo a bit. "_Your kisses **scorch**, boy, and I perspire..._" I trailed off salaciously, perfectly timing my flirtatious stare with the lyrics. I didn't back down this time. I let out a deep, ragged sigh, the sort of a sigh you breathe on a day hot and sticky with heat and humidity. That was what it felt like in here. Maybe the air conditioning's broken.

I leaned in a bit closer to Tommy this time. I wondered if my libidinous intentions were written all over my face. Lust was sure written all over his. "_I whisper poetry, but I'm a **dirty** liar..._" I whispered sensually, directly into his ear, my breath hot against his face. He was _very_ conscious of my presence. Tommy took in shallow breath, a gamey half-smile on his face. He seemed thoughtful for a second, then started playing.

Fully conscious of what I was doing, I gently set my guitar on the floor and fluidly wrote out the lyrics. Every now and then, however, I looked up to meet his gaze. And each time I did, it got harder and harder for me to look away. But the next line was definitely his, so I finished writing and looked up at him expectantly. Tommy grinned crookedly, going faster and lower. He wanted to get this verse over with. Can't exactly blame him. "_Around you, I tiptoe around the wire..._" He finished, immediately letting the guitar slip out of his hands. "Break time," He explained with a provocative look on his face.

I could only nod enthusiastically and drop my guitar haphazardly. I leaned against Tommy wearily. This whole thing was really wearing me out. I need to relax in the worst way. I glanced over at Tommy, and he seemed exhausted too. He leaned his cheek against mine, but all I wanted to do was go to sleep. That is, until he said something that woke me up like a shot of espresso. "I wrote a song about you for my album," He mumbled, slurring his words a little. I barely understood him. Well, actually I thought I had to have heard him wrong. This process was taking a lot out of the both of us, after all.

I moved my head, suddenly wide awake, to ask him. "Oh, which one?" I asked, trying to make it sound like less than it really was. Tommy smiled at me, pretending to think for a moment. A very, very long moment.

"I don't know if I should tell you that," Tommy said with all seriousness. The illusion was ruined when he snorted a second later. But then Tommy looked at me, eyes half-lidded. He hadn't been getting much sleep either lately, apparently. I gulped at the look in his eyes. It wasn't a lecherous one or anything. Just a lazy, bleary-eyed stare, the kind you usually see early in the morning or when someone's bone tired.

"Was it the one you sang yesterday?" I questioned curiously. Tommy shook his head, laughing. I frowned. So he had written it for Sadie after all. Or wait... Yeah, that was yesterday! Okay, phew there, I thought I was losing my mind for a second. I'd only heard two songs on his album after all, and I completely missed the lyrics to the one yesterday. "Walking Contradiction" was his, of course. I mean, come on, the guy's my producer. I've sung with the guy so much I know his singing voice as well as my own. In fact, I hear his voice in my head sometimes, which, well, sorta freaks me out. A lot.

And when I listened to it... It completely blew me away. I... I can't explain it, but it's so different from the Boyz Attack! Stuff, but somehow similar. I don't mean that it's really poppy in any way, 'cause it's not. It's really a lot more like "Frozen", very rock, yet somehow his voice is appealing enough to put it on a pop station. It wasn't at all what I expected, but it's my new favorite song anyways.

So, naturally, I did what all superstars do. No, seriously, I'm joking. I'm not even a rockstar yet. And superstars wouldn't actually do grunt work themselves. I went down to a few radio stations after I burned a bunch of CDs with the song on them. I had the DJs listen to the song first. Pretty much all of them loved it and immediately asked me who it was. They figured it was my back-up band or someone not famous.

Ha! So wrong. But you see, I've learned a few tricks in my days in the biz. Actually, I learned this one from watching Oprah with Mom a while back. Man, she loves Oprah. Oprah to her is Kurt Cobain to me. Yeah, so it's pretty serious. Anyways, Mom was super jazzed because Donny Osmond was on. Just the fact that Donny Osmond was on was enough of a reason for me to go out and do something else, but Mom forced me to stay and listen. He wasn't that bad, freaky thing with his sister aside, but he told this story. Anyways, he wanted to get airtime a while back for this solo thing of his (maybe in the nineties or something?), so he told them to play this new single that was so different from everything he'd done. So people called in to ask about it because they really liked it. And then and only then did they tell the listeners just who was singing.

I figured the same thing would work for Tommy. About a year ago, I wouldn't have given him a chance either. So after they'd listened to the song and gave me their opinion on it ("Nice producing. Good sound. Very marketable." Pretty much all positive), I told them who it was. I think one of the alternative DJs had a coronary when he heard it was "Little Tommy Q." So I had to promise pretty much every big DJ in Toronto to do a radio interview if they would play the song for a while, not very often, but enough to get a buzz going and then drop it on them who was really singing it. I did this when I had some free time, uh, whenever that was. I did about ten interviews on the spot. Different answers and everything. Georgia would be proud. I'm exposing myself... and not in a dirty, illegal way.

Well, E.J. would definitely be proud. Think of all the work I've been doing lately. The Instant Star Competition, being seen in the tabloids with a new guy each week, Under the Mike, the photo shoots, doing those vocals on Shay's single, helping Chaz with "Ruby", not to mention "Dirty Old Man" and "Too Sexy Sadie". Not bad for someone who hasn't even been back a week. Actually really impressive. Took me 'bout a year to do that much before.

Tommy shook his head, but the silly look on his face tipped me off that I was missing something here. "I wrote that song for Sadie," He swore, but he winked at me and snorted. So I got the distinct feeling that he was lying about it. But Tommy shook his head again, playing with my hair. That feels so good. I sighed somewhat dreamily and let Tommy continue. He fixed me with a long, lingering look, as if wondering whether he should tell me this. But, call it a flash of temporary insanity... He did. "Walking Contradiction is about you, girl," He whispered, twirling a strand of hair around his finger.

My eyes widened at the emission. No way... I can't believe he just. "_Really_!" I questioned enthusiastically. Tommy smiled and nodded. Not that I was surprised that it was about me. I mean, the lyrics sort of suggested that. With a rhyme scheme like young (me) and old (him), reserved (him) and bold (me... And all the mentioning that it's wrong, yet right, and that he shouldn't want it... Confession/Contrition/Repression. Actually, come to think of it, I am sort of surprised that he would admit to writing it about me.

I mean, some pretty bold feelings are declared in that song. Feelings that could get him in trouble if he actually felt them. And some just freak me out... Like the part about feelings he can't fight anymore? Yeah, that's deep. Maybe he's in deep. Or maybe he's lying... Though he sounds so honest... Come to think of it, he's probably just lost his mind. Yep, that's the only _logical_ explanation.

I was beginning to wonder whether he'd taken a depressant or ecstasy or something. He sure seemed awfully tired and "loving". Then he kissed my temple. My skin tingled for just a second. And then he kissed me again, about a centimeter down from the last time. He pressed little kisses down my cheekbone, but I didn't think that was quite fair, so I kissed him right below his ear. Let's just say that that might've quite possibly been the most useful advice Sadie ever has or ever will give me. Hehe, stupid Sadie...

Tommy kissed feverishly down my neck. Guess it really sets him off. My skin burned with every slight touch, but as he progressed, he became more aggressive. I didn't mind in the slightest. What I did mind, however, was that he wasn't kissing my lips. My lips were blistering, begging for his touch. And then there were his hands...

He ran them through my hair at first, and then his hands trailed across my cheekbones, sweeping across my shoulders, down my arms, and rested on my hips. Everywhere he touched me I wished his hands would stay. Technically, aside from kissing any exposed piece of flesh there was to see, Tommy wasn't touching me inappropriately at all. Yeah, that is sort of a paradox, isn't it? So the cameraperson wasn't really catching anything R-rated... I placed a hand underneath his chin, pulling him towards me and trailing soft kisses down his jawline. I knew exactly what I was doing. Tommy groaned, unable to take it any longer.

I fell back lightly unto the couch, giggling slightly stupidly. Tommy smiled, hands on my waist, and leaned in. I wrapped both my arms around his neck, breathing him in. I couldn't believe this was actually happening... Or why. But that didn't matter one bit. I pulled him down on top of me, so that he was completely flush against me. The feeling of his body on top of mine reassured me that this was real. I wasn't dreaming.

Then Tommy leaned down the rest of the way and actually kissed me. After that, we both sort of lost control. Man, I shouldn't say that. It makes it sound like we did something **really** illegal. We didn't, well, not really. We were in the middle of a very, very, _very_ good make-out session when, once again, that cruel door opened. Not that we noticed.

My eyes were closed, my hands were creeping up the back of his shirt, and his tongue was invading my mouth. He tasted so good... And I really dislike sugar cookies, not to mention crumbly, stale, prehistoric ones. My mind, however, was on vacation, so I was currently residing in a beautiful world where age is only a number, Tommy had never been in a boyband and was not, in fact, my producer, and Sadie was dating a quarterback and found Tommy repulsive. So, pretty much, it was a dream world so far from reality it's laughable, but it was a happy place, and I was more than happy to be there. And then my beautiful illusionary nirvana of a heavenly dreamworld came to a crashing halt. It broke into jagged little pieces and scattered around the seven corners of the globe in an instant.

"My timing. I'm famous for it." We both recognized that voice and that strut. Portia Mills in the house! Like any man when faced with the prospect of meeting up with his ex-wife, Tommy was freaked. He was even more freaked as Portia had caught him kissing me. It's just weird to walk in on something like that. Though, to be fair, Tommy was on top of me, so she probably could've thought that he was gettin' it on with my sister. That is, if Tommy hadn't leapt off of me like I had the plague, guilt written across his face.

Portia gaped a little when she saw me. She fixed me with a very pointed glance, disbelieving. Really, why is she surprised with me? Hello, she was married to the guy! She knows better than anyone how irresistible he is. For a while, we all just sat there in a very, very awkweird silence. Really, what was there to say? Then Portia pointed to my lips. "Your lipstick's smeared," She pointed out coolly. I blushed and looked down, wiping the area around my lips for any smudges. Then again, Portia was a stylist. Maybe it was something so minute only she would notice it. Well, here's to hoping.

Portia crossed her arms over her chest, looking impatient and as proud as an African queen. She was waiting for one of us to say something. I bit my lip and didn't look at Tommy. I felt... out of place. But I knew I had to get Portia out of here. Ha, and I thought it was awkward before! Without looking up, I addressed her. "He's not here, Portia. Check Studio A or Studio B. He ought to be around here somewhere," I explained quietly.

Portia frowned, and I didn't even have to look at Tommy to know that there was a confused look on his face. But Portia fixed me with a warning look. She knew Tommy entirely too well. And then, a moment later, with a swish of her hair, she was gone. Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. I bent down to pick up my guitar. We didn't speak. But I didn't go back to playing the song we'd been working on either.

I strummed the familiar chords, remembering them from my childhood. It was the first real rock song I ever learned how to play. Seeing as I grew up with a music freak for a father, he taught me how to play. Which is kind of funny when you consider the fact that dad's an accountant. I had lessons too, of course. But we never really played anything fun during lessons. I remember wanting to do something special... Something different for my very first guitar recital.

So I sat down with my dad and begged him to teach me a song. I told him I didn't care how hard it was. I wanted a challenge. Dad tried to teach me a Beatles song. Actually, he tried to teach me "Hey, Jude". In reality, I didn't have much of a problem with that. But it was a little too... cute. Plus it sounds a gazillion times better when you have a band. And also, man, that is one wicked long song for a little six-year-old to play. Still, that was the second real song I learned how to play.

I practiced on it for weeks. But then the recital came, and I completely rocked it. I smiled at the thought and continued, surprised at how well I remembered it. I hadn't played it in ages. I took a deep breath, playing through the verses before the chorus with ease. It's like riding a bicycle. It all comes back to you.

I took a deep breath, suddenly remembered doing the same thing before I won Instant Star. To be honest, I don't remember much, if anything, about that performance. I just remember holing myself up in the bathroom before and puking my guts out. I was a nervous wreck. I paced back and forth, back and forth, so much that it made Jamie and Kat dizzy. I wrung my hands, ran my hands through my hair, bit my lip, hyperventilated.

And then they were banging on the door, shouting my cue. I remember feeling so numb as I walked down that hallway. My legs felt stiff, my feet were heavy, but I kept on walking. I felt almost sure that Eden had won. And then I peeked out at the crowd and felt my stomach flip. There were posters with my name on it. People actually wanted _me_ to win... People who didn't even know me. Suddenly, I felt a surge of confidence and nerves. And then the guitar was thrust into my arms, and I was pushed lightly onstage. I walked right up to that stool and sat down on it gratefully. I doubted my legs could support my weight, and my knees surely would've buckled if I'd stood.

I glanced out at the crowd and then checked to see if my guitar was in tune. I ran the pick across all the strings. And then I looked up for one second... And I knew, somehow, that this was what I was meant to do. This was what I was going to do. And suddenly, it didn't matter so much if I won or not. Because I would still be that same girl I was before. The same Jude who wrote songs, got ignored by her sister, wore ripped jeans, and went to rock concerts with her friends. Either way, I'd still be me.

I was, of course, overlooking the fact that even if I hadn't won, someone probably would've signed me anyways. But I wasn't thinking like this then. I was so naïve back then in some respects. But I was so determined. I didn't think I stood one chance in hell of winning that thing. I was so surprised I'd even made it that far. So when I won, I was floored. For a second, I thought they'd confused me with someone else. I thought that maybe I'd heard them wrong, that I was the runner-up, not the winner. In that instant, pardon the pun, it all seemed so surreal. I felt like I was living someone else's life.

But then I looked over and saw the look on Eden's face. And that's when I knew that I had won. And it totally blew my mind. But as they say, be careful with what you wish for. If I'd known then what I know now, maybe I would've said no.

Actually, that's a lie. I still would've said yes in a heartbeat. I wouldn't even have debated it. If not for the fact that I got to perform and live my dream life (well, to some extent), then for all the good things that have come with it. Awesome new friends, a retreat from home, getting paid to do what I love... It's so freeing.

And then there's meeting Tommy... I don't know where I'd be if I hadn't met him. If I won nothing else from that competition but meeting him, it would still be so worth it, just for that alone. Hey, he's my muse, my mentor, my producer, my... everything. And some days... That's great, and it totally works for me. But other days, it hurts, and it hurts me bad. But having someone who's totally unreliable, unavailable, unemotional, illegal, and completely wrong for me as my everything... Is completely terrifying!

It makes it so hard to put your heart in his hands, because there's always that lingering fear that he'll take one look and give it back to you in pieces... Or throw it away... Or tear up and grind it into the dirt. But, no, no, no... No, that doesn't stop me from doing it.

And it doesn't stop me from regretting it every time I do.

"_Freedom's just another word for **nothing** left to lose! Nothing, don't mean nothing, Honey, if it ain't **free**! And feeling good was easy, **Lord**... Bobby sang the blues. You know, feeling good was good enough for me... Me and my Bobby McGee..._" I cried out, closing my eyes, letting the words of the song wash over me. It wasn't the most cheerful song on Earth... Far from it, actually, but it was real and raw and true. Unfortunately, however, Tommy and Bobby sounded all too similar for my taste.

Somehow it fit my mood at the moment. Dad liked to play the record on rainy days. Actually, he liked mellow folk like Dylan's early stuff and Joan Baez on rainy days, but when it was particularly dark and stormy, he put on Janis. In Dad's own words, "I put on one of Janis' records when everything's going to hell in a handbasket." So you can guess what I listened to after my sixteenth birthday, after I walked in on Dad and Yvette... When everything was turning to crap in my life.

For one thing, I was mildly afraid of thunderstorms when I was little. Okay, so I was **terrified**.

But Dad always knew, so when I screamed, he took me down to the basement with him and put on one of her records. And then he'd tell me stories... about everything. About concerts he'd been to, girls he'd dated, stuff like that. I miss that. We haven't had a nice talk like that for a while. I vowed to hang out with my dad sometime soon. Then I opened my eyes, remembering how the sky looked after it rained. That pretty rainbow just stretching across the sky. That's what it felt like, being down there with him, listening to Janis. Relaxing and relieving.

"_From the Kentucky coal mines to the California sun... Bobby shared the secrets of my soul... Through all kinds of weather, And through everything that we done... Say, Bobby, baby, you kept me from the cold..._" I continued, smiling somewhat painfully. Now the thing with Tommy was completely coloring my vision on this song. It reminded me of him. Speaking of Tommy, I wasn't quite sure what he was doing, mainly because I hadn't looked at him since Portia had been in here. I'd never even been to Kentucky.

It's not exactly some great destination befitting of the Shay tour. Generally when you hit the Midwest, you go to Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis, Denver, Minneapolis/St. Paul, some town in Ohio, maybe Kansas City. Well, anyways, let's just say that Shay wasn't into Ohio, or Minneapolis. In fact, we stayed in Kansas City one night on our way to Denver, and we only stayed in Denver one night on our way to California. We didn't spend very long in the U.S. A little more than a month.

Spent about a month touring Europe. It's easier there, because everything's so much closer. The other month was spent in random places, like Tokyo (a whole week there), and other big cities. Went to Bangkok, that was pretty cool. Wild, but cool. Except for Shay acting like a total... There's not a word to describe how weird he was. No, weird's not the word for it. He is an ass and a rat bastard to say the least. Ugh, you know what, I am ruining a perfectly good song by thinking about Shay-Shay.

"_One day up near Salina snowed... I let him **slip** away. But he was looking for that home, and I hope he finds **it**... But I'll trade on a mile of tomorrows, for a **single** yesterday... To be holding Bobby's body next to **mine**_," I crooned intensely, feeling the emotions wash over me. It's odd, realizing that I knew exactly what the songwriter meant. Or, at least, that's how I felt. This time I felt Tommy's stare burning into my face, but I didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me look back. Even if I would trade on a mile of tomorrows for a single five minutes ago. Or however long ago that had been.

I dragged the pick across the strings harshly, feeling a bit more spirited and fired up. I nodded my head back and forth, shaking my hair around wildly. I let my hair fall over my face, covering it, hiding it. My ruby locks skimmed the surface of my guitar, swishing around a little. My hair was like a protective silken curtain, soft but strong, kind of like the curtains you see in theaters. It was hiding me from the world, protecting me from Tommy's pervading stare. "_Freedom's just **another** word... for **nothing** to left to lose! **Nothing**, that's **all** that Bobby left me! Yeah, feeling good was **easy**, Lord! Bobby sang the blues. I said feeling good was good enough for **me**... Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee..._" I snarled loudly, sounding quite a bit like Janis herself.

I strummed the chords absently, softly, throwing my hair back, and then I kicked up the tempo a bit, playing faster and faster. Kris Kristofferson is a brilliant songwriter. "_Bobby McGee, yeah... Hey now, Bobby McGee, **yeah**! Hell, I called him my **lover**... I called him my **man**! I said I called him my **lover**! I do the **best** that I can! I say now, come on Bobby now... Come on Bobby now... Come on Bobby McGee, **yeah**!_" I chanted, finishing the song with a bang and a flourish.

I panted, smiling, and gently tapered off the chords. I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling like putting it up in a ponytail. But, since I never wear my hair in a ponytail, I didn't have a rubber band on me. Hmm, I'll just ask Tommy. I turned to face Tommy and wound up swallowing hard. Had he always been this close?

Well, considering that only seconds ago he was all over you... DUH! You don't have to be mean, you know! Don't listen to her... She just wants Tommy bad. Ba-a-ad. So she's considerably frustrated. And not to be rude here, but you're considerably insane...

I'm talking to myself in my head like I have more than one person trapped up in there. Well, you're just having a personality crisis, my dear. Your separate personas are just duking it out because you're really very frustrated about this whole thing with Tommy and your non-relationship with the ever-mysterious Tim. To put it simply... You just want some action. And, honestly, girl, I think you need some.

And who are you, my shrink?

Just a concerned voice who enjoys helping out confused, angst-ridden souls.

Then why don't you go bother Tommy instead?

Because he's had some severe brain damage and he would just assume he was imagining things and force me out. The boy is awfully good at pretending things didn't happen.

You do realize who you're talking to, right?

Oh, right...

WHAT AM I DOING? I am having a conversation with a freaky side of myself in my head. IN MY HEAD. How demented do you have to be to...? On second thought, don't answer that. I already know, and it's mighty messed up. Ugh, and they say that I "need some action". When did I become Sadie?

Well, you are mad that Tommy doesn't finish what he starts... There's that "you" again! No, I refuse! I'm not going to fall to pieces and lose my mind because Tom's a moron. Honestly, woman, get a hold of yourself! Okay, that's it. I just need more sleep.

I turned to Tommy once again, and sighed. He looked over at me expectantly, lips stretched thin in a wan smile. His intense eyes bored into me gently, but deeply, penetrating... Seeing right down to who I was at heart. I felt uncomfortably bare, and found myself wishing I could close the opening in my eyes. Does he know how I really feel about him? I mean, he has to, right?

You'd have to be a blind, deaf, demented, drunk drool monkey to not see how I feel about Tommy. But here's the real question... How does Tommy feel about _me_? Weighty things to ponder when you're so exhausted. I felt like... Like if I closed my eyes, I might never, ever open them again. I would be like Sleeping Beauty and sleep for the rest of eternity. Which would be nice, to tell the truth.

I blinked sleepily, clutching the neck of my guitar as if I was afraid it would slip away from me like so much else had. "I'm so _tired_, Tommy," I wound up murmuring, leaning back into the couch, burrowing my head in it. It was soft, I suppose, but sleeping sitting up is so painful. Tommy nodded, staring out into space for a solid minute. His lips formed a tight line, and he looked briefly determined, ready to fight something.

But then his eyes drooped and grew sad. His lips relaxed, and his brow furrowed. So much for him being Mr. Botox. Then Tommy too leaned back into the couch, turning to look at me. Our eyes met, and I saw understanding there. I found myself noticing all sorts of random things about him that I had never noticed before. It's amazing what you see when you take a second look, when you finally see beneath the polished veneer. You can see the cracks in the "perfect" painting; the world as it is, not as you imagine it to be. Everything isn't as rosy as it seemed from behind those blinding tinted glasses.

I saw so much I'd never seen before.

Like the hints of dark circles under his eyes. A few, faint wrinkles from squinting. The thinness of his cheeks. How his skin was lacking its usual color. A spot he'd missed shaving. The bluish veins on his arms, all-too visible. Thin white lines on his wrists. A chicken pox scar at the base of his neck. The callouses on his hands. The way his shirt stretched over the taught muscles that lay underneath.

And it was then that I realized that we were both equally exhausted from working and fighting and slaving away miserably. Tommy moved his head towards mine. Too close, of course, but it felt so good and right. Not that he was doing anything. "Me too," He whispered, so close that I closed my eyes and could still feel his breath on my cheeks. But I had to be strong. So I forced myself to open my eyes and tried my best to rip my head off the soft couch. It didn't go as well as I'd hoped. I sighed raggedly and then yawned softly. Tommy pulled himself up and walked over to the storage. Well, that was sure sudden...

But I'd done enough pondering over Tommy Quincy to last me two lifetimes. I've given up on trying to understand him and the bizarre motives (whatever the hell they might be) he has for doing what he does any further than I do already. I mean, if I'm the girl that understands him the most and I... don't get him at all... Then what does that say about the other girls? That they don't even try and see beyond the image and the reputation? So I resigned myself to my curiosity and leaned back against the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling intently. And then the guitar slipped out of my fingers... And I let it. I didn't even bother to retrieve it. I was too weary for even the thought of picking it up, much less playing it.

A few moments later... Or maybe an eternity of moments later... I don't know. Time was acting funny... Tommy walked over, patched-up, threadbare quilt in hand. I looked at him slightly indifferently, wrinkling my nose just a little. He sat down at the head of the couch somewhat awkwardly, as I was in his way. Then he held the blanket between us like a peace offering. His gaze was soft and clear. "We sleep," He mumbled simply, as means of an invitation.

A moment later, he made a sweeping motion, gesturing for me to come over to his side. I rose and waited at the side of the couch, but then he also got up. I felt like we were going around in circles over and over again. Some vicious cycle this is. He lightly pushed me down unto the couch, gently covering me with the blanket. I kicked off my shoes, and Tommy did the same. I slid over to make room for him and he got under the quilt with me.

Mind you, this is not a wide couch. The couch is barely wide enough for Tommy, let alone me _and_ Tommy. Because of this, I wound up laying pretty much on top of him. Not that I minded... not even one bit. He was so warm and alive... And he smelled so amazing. So I just buried my face in his chest... The best pillow I've ever had. Within seconds, I was fast asleep.

I don't know how long we were asleep, but we were both awakened by the door suddenly slamming open. I opened my eyes to see Georgia leaning heavily against the door. Tommy tensed, and I knew he was awake. We exchanged glances. Somehow, Georgia still didn't notice us. I wasn't complaining. Explaining this one would be unbelievably awkward.

In fact, Georgia fumbled around behind her back, locking the door with a click. Then she sighed, withdrawing her hand and slid slowly down the door. She wound up leaning against the door, arms pressing her knees to her chest. Georgia took a few deep breaths, trying futilely to calm herself down, but she only wound up hyperventilating. Finally, she buried her face in her hands and burst into quiet tears.

That's when I began to feel perturbed. Georgia was so strong, and here she was, breaking before my eyes. I felt a rush of sympathy for her, and I knew I had to do something about it. I lazily trailed my hand down Tommy's chest and pushed myself off of him. I slowly got up, fixing the blanket around him, making sure that he wouldn't follow me. This was a girls only thing. I hesitantly made my way over to the sobbing Georgia, trying to be quiet so that I didn't scare her off. I sat down next to her and lightly put my hand on her shoulder.

Predictably, she jumped and rocketed away from me. I was surprised at how she looked. Georgia always had it together, and now... She wasn't. She just looked so sad. Her eyes were red, her mascara was ruined, and silent tears still made their way down her cheeks. She was trying to stifle her sobs, but wound up hiccuping instead. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was... in here," Georgia sputtered despondently, looking down, ashamed.

I hurt for her. What had happened? If Georgia "Tough-as-Nails" Bevans was crying, it had to be something big. I wrapped an arm around her, much like she had on my sixteenth, when I was a sobbing mess. She was the one who took me home. One of the few people still left there other than Tommy and Floyd the janitor. "Shh, it's okay, G..." I murmured quietly.

Georgia only cried harder, screwing her eyes shut tight. I frowned. Had I said something wrong? "Georgia, what's wrong?" I asked softly. Georgia opened her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to stop the sobs that wracked her body. After a few minutes of this, she wiped her eyes and looked at me. She took another deep breath and started to speak.

"It's my sister..." She began. I nodded encouragingly, knowing just how she felt. But there had to be more to it. These weren't just tears of frustration. They were tears of betrayal, tears of heartbreak. Georgia sighed, running a hand over her face. "My whole life it's always been Paulina, Paulina, **Paulina**. She's always been the prettier one, the richer one, the more famous one..."

I smirked, trying to lighten the mood. "...The _sluttier_ one," I remarked flippantly. Georgia laughed in spite of herself. But I knew how she felt. It was sort of like that with me and Sadie. She was prettier, smarter, more well-liked, luckier with boys... She got everything she wanted. And that was how Georgia felt.

"She's a supermodel, spokesmodel, actress, and fashion designer. She's loaded; she has a ridiculously young boyfriend, and she still wants what I have... Why does she always want what I have? I don't have much, and I've had to fight for it so hard. And she wants what I've got... She always gets what she wants. And now she says she wants to be a singer. She wants me to sign her to the label. She's walking around, making criticisms, bossing people around... Acting like she owns the place! She made me an offer today. For the label. She said she was asking nicely, and that if I didn't give it to her... She'd just take over. The label, it's _all_ I have... Music is my life, my **passion**! And she wants to take that away from me!" Georgia sobbed, talking so fast and so angrily that her words all blurred together, almost incomprehensible.

She banged her fist against the door frustratedly, making a loud, tinny sound. That was horrible. I might not think the best of my sister, but I could never see her being so cruel. Aside from that, Sadie can't sing, so she wouldn't move any units anyways. I knew that Sadie wouldn't take music from me, just like she couldn't quite tear Tommy out of my life. And I was glad to know that somewhere, deep down in her heart, she still loved me, and we were still sisters. I nodded, but felt there was more to it than just the label. More to it than just the bitterness.

I bit my lip, not quite knowing what to say. I sighed and looked at her penetratingly. "But there's more to it than that," I prodded. Georgia sniffled and nodded. I knew it. Georgia sighed again and covered her eyes. When she spoke, it was in a muffled whisper.

"I walked in on my sister and Darius... In my office," She mumbled, peering through her fingers. Ah... That explains it. Well, I know how that feels... All too well, I'm afraid. I nodded, frowning. I patted her on the shoulder. I get why Darius would do that. And, sure, I get why Paulina would do that. But in her office? That's just tacky.

"Been there... But don't sweat it, Georgia. We won't let Paulina get the place. We'll all help you. I can honestly tell you we'd all rather quit than work with that _skank_. And as for the Darius thing... Take it from someone who knows... Just because he screws around with your sister doesn't mean his feelings towards you have changed any... And trust me, G, he **has** feelings for you," I explained, trying to cheer her up and looking her straight in the eye.

Georgia blinked, somewhat confused. I glanced over at Tommy, hoping he hadn't heard that. But Georgia gave me a sly look, and I remember that I'd declared that Tommy was dating my sister at that business meeting Friday. Wow, that seems so long ago. Hehe, oops. But Georgia seemed to perk up after that. "You think?" She questioned thickly. I smiled and nodded.

"I know. From lips of the man himself, I swear," I stated honestly, reassuring her. I even saluted her so she got the fact that I meant it. Actually, okay, that just made her laugh. Okay, I'll admit that I look silly... I'm that mature, yeah... Or immature...

She sniffled and managed a weak smile. I smiled back and stood up, taking my arm off her shoulder. I pulled her up and patted her on the shoulder. I leaned in conspiratorially, winking at her. "Just say the word and I'll kick her anorexic ass for you, okay?" I offered brightly.

Georgia laughed and shook her head. She rubbed her eyes, smiled faintly, and went out the door bravely. I sighed and walked back over to the couch. Wordlessly, Tommy and I both picked up our guitars and started playing. We hadn't been working for far too long.

"_You're the sweetest forbidden fruit... In the great Garden of Eden... It's only your branches that I wanna loot... I am here, eating from your luscious tree... Waiting for the Knowledge of Good and Evil... __To come to me, to come to me..._" We sang the words, but they rang out empty in the air. What can I say... I was more than a little distracted. It was just one thing after another, you know? I sighed and picked up my notebook.

Tommy looked pensive for a moment, and then he played a chord and came up with a line to get me started. "_It's **addicting**, that seductive taste..._" He drawled, concentrating on a random space in the room. The notes were slow and languid. Apparently he was feeling the apathy too.

I took a breath and joined in, playing a sweet tune. "_Makes the **world** such a different place_," I chanted, somewhat dazed. It was true too. I sighed dreamily, maybe as if to prove my point. It's not like I was even looking at Tommy. I was just staring out blankly into space, looking at the weird and random things in the room. The world was a strange, strange place.

I didn't even pause to breathe before the next line. "_And I'm seeing visions that I can't **erase**..._" I murmured as a flash of me kissing Tommy hit me once again. It reminded me of my birthday. I'd gotten flashes like that then. I wish I could just forget that like Tommy does. But I'm not like Tommy. I feel and I bleed and I cry. I ran a hand through my hair and finally glanced at Tommy.

Tommy smiled slightly. He thought for a minute and fixed me with a determined look. Then he started playing and gave me an intense look. "_In the end, all my **best** efforts are a **waste**..._" He murmured, hinting at something that made me flush. So I had no choice but to look down and write the verse. We didn't need any other verses. Just the chorus twice would suffice. With that joyous thought in mind (and the prospect of getting my brownie), I immediately launched into the chorus.

"_You're the sweetest forbidden fruit, In the great Garden of Eden... It's only your branches that I wanna loot... I am here, eating from your luscious tree... Waiting for the Knowledge of Good and Evil... __To come to me, to come to me_," I rambled, saying my words so fast it almost constituted a rap. Tommy gave me a quizzical look, but I just shrugged it off, coming to the final verse. After this I was done, I got to have a brownie. I was so excited.

I started playing faster, louder, more enthusiastically. Brownie, here I come. And no, Tommy, with all that's happened, I still haven't forgotten! You may be distracting... Incredibly so, really... But you cannot distract me from my food. I think he'd like hearing that, after all his bulimic, calorie-counting girlfriends. I smiled, feeling giddy from the sugar rush that was soon to ensue.

"_You're the **sweetest** forbidden fruit... In the great Garden of Eden... It's only **your** branches that I wanna **loot**... I am here, **eating** from your **luscious** tree... Waiting for the **Knowledge** of Good and **Evil**... To come to me, to come to me... To come to me, to come to **me**..._" I sang, a smile stretched from ear to ear across my face. Okay, so it didn't sound as sultry as it had before, as it was supposed to be... But I can't just ooze sex appeal 24-7. I'm sure Tommy'll coax it out of me once we get in the studio, though.

And with that and a few more riffs, I was pretty much done. Tommy smiled approvingly, giving me a thumbs-up. I felt my grin widen, though, really, why was I so happy? Oh, yeah, the brownie. I immediately dropped the guitar and all pretenses. "Where's my brownie, Quincy?" I implored, holding out my hand.

Tommy snorted, frowning and plastering on a pensive look, like he didn't want to tell me. But I knew how to work him. I pouted, letting my eyes well with tears. I tried as hard as possible to make myself look like a poor little hungry orphan girl. Seriously, if you threw me in the Industrial Revolution, I would've been Oliver-Olivia Twist. And that reminds me, what the hell kind of last name is Twist?

Honestly, couldn't think of something better? Like, oh, I don't know... Smith, Brown, Thomas, Taylor, Tyler, Tremoranton... Okay, so I completely made that last one up. I mean, Twist is just a pun in the making... A cruel Twist of fate... A Coke with a lemon Twist. Everybody do the Twist... You see what I mean?

Tommy can never resist a good pout. He rolled his eyes, sighed playfully, and relented. For a moment, he disappeared so that I couldn't even see what he was doing. He emerged with a plate bearing a brownie and a lemon bar. And not those measly little portions we peons get (isn't peon a funny word? I always thought it should be pee-on instead...). They were the big portions that only the big shots like Tommy and Georgia got. Normally E.J. would be included in this, but she's always on a diet of some sort. Though why she's dieting is a mystery to me. The woman is as skinny as a rail.

My eyes grew wide. There were no words to express how ecstatic I was. In fact, I rocketed up from the couch as if my jeans were filled with rocket fuel. Immediately, I launched into a full-on bear hug, squeezing Tommy so tight he could barely breathe. I was surprised he didn't drop the plate. "A brownie AND a lemon bar? Do you have **any** idea how much I love you right now?" I exclaimed enthusiastically, practically jumping up and down with joy.

A slow smirk made its way across Tommy's face. I knew he was going to make another smug remark, but I was ready for it this time. Tommy pulled back only slightly. "I think I have some idea..." He replied with a wink. This time I was the one to smirk. I'd just gotten a wonderful idea.

I raised an eyebrow, giving him an appraising look. "How 'bout I _show_ you?" I offered with a wink. That priceless look came across Tommy's face again. His eyebrows shot up, but then he mellowed out a little. He fixed me with a curious look, waiting to see what I would do. I'd forgotten that I'd bought him some licorice a while back. It was in my bag, so I walked over and got it. I couldn't keep the smug look off of my face as I handed him the licorice.

Tommy immediately hugged me, but not so hard, considering he was still holding my food. He still smells good. I was about to say something when, once again, the stupid door opened. This time it was another all-too familiar boybander. The look on Chaz' face... Really, and I thought Tommy was smug!

"Well, well, _well_... What do we have here?" Chaz drawled, an eerily predatory look on his face. Okay, now I was sorta creeped out. Tommy scowled at Chaz. Man, his eye did look bad, though. I rolled my eyes. Of course he thinks we're up to something "romantic". We were a while ago. But Tommy and I kissing does not romance make. I mean, just 'cause he kisses me doesn't mean he's in love with me. It just means that he can't resist my luscious sixteen-year-old bod.

And, really, who can? Ugh, I'd never say anything like that... If I did, you'd have to deflate my head. It's too ostentatious and too... Tommy... for my tastes. Really, I'm nobody special, so I can't afford to be cocky about it. Since neither of us really had an idea what was really going on. But that happens a lot with Tommy and me, so much that it's become pretty much normal. I realize that makes absolutely no sense, but we're two very volatile people in a very crazy world.

"Tommy and Jude caught in the act..." Chaz taunted, looking wildly amused. I think this is his form of payback for Tommy hitting him. Plus, Tommy can't hit him now if he acts like an ass because it'll make him look bad on camera. Points for Chaz! So, hmm, apparently Chaz was the brains behind Boyz Attack! Considering he dated a thirteen-year-old, you'd really think otherwise.

But hey, it could be worse. Jerry Lee Lewis married his thirteen-year-old cousin. I mean, let's see, there you have inbreeding/incest AND then the pedophilia it supports. That completely ruined his career, which I find ridiculous, considering that it's legal to marry your cousin in like 20 states. I was bored one day, and I wanted to figure out why Americans are so dumb. Nah, just kidding. Really, though, it would explain a few things... Hmm, I wonder if you can marry your cousin here.

Not that I'm thinking about it because A. Eeeeeeeew. That's nasty, B. Hmm, dating someone who already may have a quarter of the same DNA (Wow, guess I did learn something in Bio)... Kinda creepy, and C. All of my cousins are girls. I think... If I do have any boy cousins, we never see them, they're babies, or probably ugly. Hey, it's not like Uncle Greg's even remotely easy on the eyes. Blech. But Uncle Greg teaches Algebra, so I might be a little biased anyways. Hmm, my cousins will probably be home when I get there. Cool.

Man, it's been ages since I've seen them. Tommy almost immediately pulled away. "It's not what it looks like!" He proclaimed embarrassedly. Okay, but jetting away from me and saying something like that sort of refutes that statement, don'tcha think? Chaz raised an eyebrow, not buying it for even two seconds. I mean, come on, it's Chaz. Is he really one to chastise Tommy for, uh, touching me inappropriately. And that really wasn't so inappropriate. It wasn't like he was feeling me up or anything.

"Oh, so then what are you doing?" Chaz posed, fixing Tommy with a curious look. Aww, look at Chaz, acting all protective-like. Doesn't he know that's Tommy's job? Oh well, it's funny to see Chaz act like he could beat Tommy up. 'Cause he really can't. Though the boy fight is amusing.

"Well, he got me a brownie, so I gave him some licorice. It was a thank-you, stupid," I explained, rolling my eyes at their stupidity. Mm, food is really the way to my heart. Most girls won't admit that, but, really, the way to my heart is through my stomach. Which means Tommy's already won my heart like twelve billion times by ordering from the Chinese place I like, giving me that cake he made, saving me a brownie and a lemon bar, using the brand of coffee I like, and fixing it just the way I like it. Not that I'm counting or anything. Anyways, so I promptly bit into the brownie for emphasis and it was... Perfect. Not too mushy, but just chewy enough on the outside and chocolatey enough... Mm, I even like the nuts, and I'm not a nut fanatic.

I must've missed something, probably one of those "Oh, yeah right" looks Chaz liked to throw at Tommy, because I was closing my eyes to savor the flavor. And what a good flavor it was. Damn, I love me some G. Major brownies. They should give this baker a raise and then a one-hundred percent tip. And you know what, I don't care that they don't tip bakers. They should! Anyways, he made some remark I didn't quite catch.

That, of course, didn't mean that I couldn't make a comeback. "You've **obviously** never had the brownies," I moaned, eating each bite carefully, so that I could taste brownie for as long as possible. I opened my eyes suddenly and saw Chaz reaching out for my brownie. I scowled and slapped his hand away. "What is with you people stealing my dessert lately?" I growled, clutching the plate close to me, away from his greedy hands.

I closed my eyes again and ate the last, delicious piece of the brownie. I moaned again, and I was about to start in on the lemon bar when I heard slight chuckling in the background. I didn't even have to look to know who it was. "Tommy, get that stupid turned-on look off your face! And Chaz, what the hell do you think _you're_ laughing at!" I barked snappily. They immediately shut up, and I opened my eyes, unable to prevent the smile from spreading across my lips.

I started laughing, because, well, I'm always teetering on the brink of insanity and the sugar high was sort of pushing me over the edge. That and the fact that they actually took me seriously. That's a bit of a new experience. Tommy smiled and chewed happily on a licorice. He looks so much younger like that. Come to think of it, though, he's really not that old. I mean, twenty-one's the drinking age in the States... He's as old as a lot of college students. Which makes it sound a lot better than what it really is.

The tension in the room completely mellowed. "There's life without Sex, you know," I replied randomly. Okay, so I wasn't in my full mind when I said that, but the looks on Tommy and Chaz' faces were... Okay, get this, Tommy literally choked on his licorice. And then when I patted him on the back to try and help him, well, he didn't find it too helpful. Chaz floundered around for a minute, unsure of what, exactly, one could say to that.

Just as Tommy had stopped choking, I continued, grinning. Honestly, they're such perverts! Hehe. "Anyways, as I was saying, that's what I told Kat when Sex and the City ended. She didn't believe me, of course, being the Sex addict that she is, but..." I continued, losing my train of thought and trailing off. Where was I going with this again? Well, I effectively made Tommy choke again. Funny, and I thought he was the sex addict... Oh, yeah! "But eventually she forgot _all_ about Sex. Well, except sometimes when she puts in a tape..." I rambled on further. I got him to choke twice more. Really, you'd think he'd be used to it by now.

I stopped suddenly and glanced at the both of them, playing with a strand of hair. They were both giving me blank, slightly stunned looks. I fought the urge to giggle. Man, they're so easy. Well, yeah, in that aspect too... But just to rile up. "What?" I questioned naively, plastering a wide-eyed innocent look on my face. Suckers. They'll fall for it every time.

Chaz' face eventually broke out into a smile. He shot Tommy a sympathetic glance, patting the poor man on the shoulder. "Jude, if you say "sex" one more time, Tommy's going to have a coronary," He said kindly. I snorted, trying to mask my amusement (I was threatening to burst into hysterical laughter). It barely worked to hold me back. I glanced merrily over at Tommy, frowning slightly and squeezing his shoulder.

"Yes, he is getting rather old, isn't he?" I remarked wryly. Tommy glared at me, and Chaz scowled because he's older than Tommy (and he looks it! Really... Drugs are not your friends). It was just so fun to make Tommy freak. I mean, sending him into a jealous rage is one thing... But that's so serious and more of a Because-I-Can sort of thing, whereas this is just good-natured, humorous ribbing. Tommy hates being mocked or made fun of... Or pretty much anything that makes him look a little less than perfect, which he is... But I don't need to build up his oversized ego any more, even if it is in my head.

"So, Tommy, is Chaz a good kisser?" I asked casually, trying to fight the grin that spread across my face. And that was before I even saw the look on Tommy's face, mind you. If you thought he was mortified when I hit on him... Hmm, has he kissed Chaz? Either way, Tommy flushed a little and avoided looking at Chaz. Was the flush of embarrassment or anger, I pondered...

I soon got my answer. "Well, _you're_ the one that made out with him today, so why don't **you** tell me?" He snapped bitingly. Yowch. If he was a snapping turtle, I wouldn't have any fingers left right now. Chaz winced at the mention and rubbed his eye as if on cue. I also couldn't help but notice that he backed away a little from Tommy. Not that I can blame him. Tommy's... dangerous. Like escaped convict dangerous.

I mean, he's almost had charges of statutory rape (or fondling a minor inappropriately or something... I'm just lucky the 'rents haven't filed anything yet) and he's definitely almost had charges of assault and battery (from more than one separate case, yikes!) pressed against him. And why do they use that term... pressed against him? Man, it sounds dirty, like it's encouraging the pedophiles or something!

You know, though, he didn't deny kissing Chaz... Makes a girl wonder just what, exactly, went on on that tiny little bus... If you catch my drift. Yep, I'm winking at you! How am I supposed to answer if Chaz is a good kisser or not? I mean, really, Tommy pulled him off of me like five seconds after the fact. "You yanked him off of me about two seconds in, _remember_? I didn't really get the chance to get into it as much as I would've liked," I pointed out wisely, giving Chaz a discreet wink. Chaz tried hard to keep a straight face, especially as a distasteful and disgusted look crossed Tommy's face.

I spoke before Tommy could, pouting a little and playing with his shirt sleeve. Mm, it's soft. "You know, Tommy, you never told me whether or not you've ever kissed Chaz..." I murmured softly, looking up through my lashes. Yeah, that's right! You can't resist me, babe. Or he feels guilt about the whole deflowerment business... Hehe. Oops. I couldn't help but notice Chaz and Tommy exchange looks. Had I actually hit on something here?

The moment was broken when Tommy rolled his eyes and glared at Chaz. "No, Chaz, giving you CPR does _not_ count. That was me saving your life," Tommy stressed, looking a bit embarrassed. Not that I can blame him... Oh, so it's just the OD'ing thing. Well, that's not juicy! I mean, okay, it sorta is, but in the lifesaving way. I giggled just a little. Oh, yeah, the rumors! I smirked. Now this was the piece de resistance...

"Hey, Tommy, have you ever heard the rumor that Boyz Attack! broke up because you and Chaz were lovers?" I questioned calmly, as if I was talking about something completely innocuous and not at all forbidden. Tommy's jaw dropped to the floor, and he deliberately looked anywhere but at Chaz. What a bad moment to pick to become speechless at. I was so going to have a field day with this. Considering Chaz and I had made a bet on it, I made sure to look at Tommy's face.

Unfortunately, it turned purple before he exploded. Damn. I own Chaz ten dollars. "Are you out to get me today?" Tommy questioned frustratedly, running a hand through his hair angrily. He was actually starting to pace. His face was slowly returning to its normal color. While Tommy was taking calming breaths and trying to be zen about things, I discreetly handed Chaz the bill, scowling. "You drive me **crazy**, you know that?" Tommy remarked, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

Chaz smirked. "She just wants to distress your denim the same way you distress hers," He drawled smoothly, winking at Tommy. WHAT! The! HELL! What does that even mean? I mean, really? And it sounds so... so wrong and dirty and icksome. Like I'm some sort of trampy type. And judging by the look on Tommy's face. Yeah, I'm not the only freaked one. Tom had to push Chaz out just to get him to shut up. Good times. Neither Tommy nor I said anything about that weird thing he said, which was over all for the better.

I finished my lemon bar, and he finished his licorice... In silence. I swear, I didn't even make him choke once. Don't get me wrong, neither of us were mad. Okay...

So maybe Tommy was a little mad... But just a little! And he's touchy, so he's like... always pissed at someone. Plus there's the perfectionist thing. Hmm, I think he was Dusty Springfield in a past life.

But back to what I was saying... We finished our food and then got up, throwing notebooks in bags and draping bags over arms and clutching our guitars like children. And then it was time to go off to the studio and record yet another blistering Jude track. But a few minutes before we left, the cameraperson stopped us. Uh oh. We both suddenly remembered that he'd seen EVERYTHING. Naturally, we both wanted to lay a hand or two on that tape, but we refrained from violence, choosing instead diplomacy, dignity, and pretending nothing had happened, per the usual.

We looked at him with attentive eyes, wanting to leave the reminder that was the whole room. "I have to give it to you. You two are good. I got some great footage. You should really go for a second career in acting. The camera loves you," He said grudgingly, with a great deal of respect. He gave us very stern looks. The compliments were nice, but I really wasn't sure who he was aiming them at and if he was hitting on that person. Considering that he was taller than Jamie, muscley, had about fifty tattoos, bad teeth, and looked like he'd just been let out of prison, I was a bit scared either way.

Tommy thought he was done, so he left ahead of me. I moved to follow him, but the video guy grabbed my arm. Eww, what if he smells and gets yucky germs all over me? And what are you, two? Yes!

While I was having this internal argument with myself, the man took the opportunity to explain himself further. Oddly enough, he didn't look suspicious in the slightest, which seemed insane, as we'd made out and flirted in front of him and his stupid camera. But hey, if he wasn't going to press it, then whatever.

"If I didn't know better, I would've thought you two actually had feelings for each other," He remarked, laughing, as a way of a joke. But that comment wasn't funny at all. In fact, it sort of stung me right down to the core. I didn't really know what to say myself. I couldn't very well now scream out that I was in love with the idiot, now could I?

So I did the only thing that I could... The only thing that came to mind. I sighed, gazing longingly at Tommy and feeling suddenly a bit pathetic. "Yeah, me too..." I mumbled wearily, biting my lip and feeling disappointed.

He's with your sister, Jude. You know, Sadie? The buxom blonde with boobs to spare, a perma-tan, and legs that just don't quit? Your perfect sister with your perfect guy? Barbie and Ken? He's with your sister. Don't go there.

As I was telling myself this and struggling with yet another futile attempt to get over him, Tommy turned around. He noticed my stare and smiled back casually, like everything was all right in the world. It was a secret sort of smile, the simple kind he reserved for just me, not the big mega-watts he gave the cameras or unpleasant people when he was lying to them. The smile said: "This stays just between us." For a second there, he looked so happy that he even snapped me out of my little funk. My damned heart skipped a beat, and while he smiled, I forgot I even had a sister.

And if only for one moment, one glorious moment, his smile reassured me and everything was all right in the world. I smiled back softly, a silly lovesick grin. But then the moment was ruined when the asshole bastard camera guy shoved me forward. Tommy turned back around, heading for the studio.

And, naturally, I lost my balance and fell head-first on the ground. It's always head-over-heels with me.

And I came crashing back to reality like always.

Loren :

I love you guys! Seriously, thanks so much for the reviews! I really appreciate them, so getting some tomorrow/today/tommay would completely make my day, as Wednesdays are out to get me.


	26. UnSweet Sixteen

Oh, randomness... Kudos to anyone who got the joke about Canadian money in the last chapter. Lol, just see if you can find it if you don't even know where it is. I'll give spoilers to the first person to understand it. But then again, seriously, I might just give out spoilers anyways. I enjoy doing it... Ooh, dirty! Lol, anyways, I love spoilers, seriously.

Anyways, so there's this really awesome fic I think everyone should read. Seriously, if you like this, and I'm kind of assuming you do, seeing as you're reading this, you should go read it.

Anyways, and that fic is A Bittersweet Homecoming, my friends, by Shakubuku. It's my favorite! And it's really really really great. So like the show too... Absolutely hilarious (ah, man, the comments Kwest makes! I wish I could write Kwest like that... But I guess I write Chaz like that, so it's all good)! And it's on the official site (the CTV one, not the-N), by the way. Maybe she'll post it on here someday, who knows? But it rocks and you should go check it out. It's worth a look. And she posts a lot... So seriously, go there. GO THERE.

Oh, and then check out "Unexpected", this other awesome fic. It's pretty good (Ha, see, Belle, getting back at you for the plugging, lol). And, really, I can't think of any words to describe it except Dramaful... Seriously, though, I wouldn't even be posting now if it weren't for me promising Belle I'd finish it this morning. Too bad she wasn't up to see. So you have her to thank for this, lol...

Anyways, so I apologize if the end part sucked because, augh... It does. If I weren't so tired, I'd rewrite it, but considering I fell asleep writing it in the first place...

I don't own IS or anything else that sounds famous, nor do I own the featured song, "Liar Liar" (Best song ever! Ah, and GREAT episode), and "Natural Disaster". It's by Wakefield, and it rocks. You should check it out. Anyhow, I meant to write more about how she was affected by this chapter, but let's just say it hits her deeper than you can see in this chapter.

As I said, you get to see a lot more about Travis' past/character in this chapter. And it's sort of revealing about Jude's own. The next chapter's the filming of the big scene in the video and then sort of the consequences of what the tabloids have been saying about her. Let's just say it's a rough couple of chapters for Jude...

Anyways, happy Easter to everyone! Hmm, and a happy Passover too... Is that this week? Hm, I think so. Well, whatever religion you are, may the Easter Bunny visit you and give you so much candy your teeth rot (well, not really, 'cause that would be horrible). Because Candy is GOOD, and Loren obviously needs some sleep. Especially as she's referring to herself in third person... Lol.

* * *

My morning started out weird enough, lemme tell you. I actually woke up early for some bizarre reason. And then I got insomnia, so I couldn't go back to sleep. I actually had time to make breakfast... Yes, I can cook! Anybody can make pancakes as long as they've got some Aunt Jemima mix and maple syrup. Surprisingly, I was up before both my mother and Sexy Sades, so the pancakes were warm when they came down. The look of surprise on Sadie's face was priceless, but she grudgingly hugged me and actually thanked me for cooking. Then she said she was on a strict no-carbs diet, but she would have one anyways, no maple syrup.

Silly Sadie... I didn't look that bad either, since I had time to spare, so my hair was sort of curly and shiny... I was wearing some of the new clothes I'd gotten at the fashion shoot (the black pants, red sweater, the cool belt, and motorcycle boots), so I was sorta glammed up. Even Sadie was somewhat impressed. Today wasn't an especially busy day. It was pretty much filming the music video, doing a live interview with a DJ, and then the rest of the time was up to me. Well, not to mention my performance in Music. But Patsy had a gig tonight (and Speed and the guys too), so I was thinking about going to that. Gotta support my band, you know?

I was completely ready to go, once again, early, when the doorbell rang. Considering it was their anniversary, Sadie jumped up and ran to the door, thinking it was Tommy. If it was Tommy, I planned to sneak out the back door. I mean, how could I see him with my sister after yesterday? I'm not a masochist.

Imagine my surprise when Sadie walked back in, confused and pouting. She rolled her eyes, slowly crossing her arms over her chest. "Would you care to tell me why Chaz Blackthorn's here, asking to drive _you_ to school?" Sadie drawled, appraising me suggestively. Chaz is here? That's messed up. I mean, why? How does he even know where I... Oh, right, he kinda drove me here. Duh, Jude. He escaped out of the kitchen window. Honestly, how could I forget that?

I shrugged, turning to face Sadie. I still had my breakfast to finish. "Not really," I muttered, knowing it would piss her off. That and the fact that even I didn't know why Chaz was here to see me. I glanced up, smiling mischievously. "Make sure to inform him that Mom's here... So he can get a head start," I replied evilly, smirking. Chaz was kinda scared of my mom. Which I suppose is logical, considering that she threatened to castrate him and put him in traction. But he should really be scared of Dad. Dad... well, let's just say he was even more graphic and violent with his threats. And yet he continued to let Sadie date Tommy.

Hypocrite. I don't care that she's older and can make her own decisions. Blah, blah, blah... You know what, there's not much of a difference between us. I mean, for one thing, Tommy and Chaz are both boybanders (and ooold), and Tommy is a big part in both of our lives. They can't change that. And, for crying out loud, I'm not even dating Chaz! I'm just... I dunno. We're different people, I guess. But why can't I make my own decisions? I mean, I'm making five figures, or something like that from royalties and record sales... If I wanted to, I could move out.

But I love my parents, flawed and weird and embarrassing as they may be. Plus Jamie lives next door, and you just can't beat that. Assuming Jamie ever forgives me. But I had to look up when I felt my sister's glare boring into the back of my head. She was peering down at me inquisitively. "Are you sleeping with him?" She asked bluntly. Well, gee, thanks for the faith, Sades! Ugh. And this from the girl who made out with him when she was fourteen! That's like the pot calling the kettle a slut.

I gave Sadie a look of pure confusion, eyes wide. "**God** no! Does it look like my name's Ruby McCartney?" I gaped, wondering if the Boyz-phile would catch the hint. I hadn't been counting on it, but apparently she did. Immediately, her lips were pursed, drawn in a tight frown. She was actually silent for a while. A good long while. Really, I wish she'd shut up for longer. But then again, Sadie shutting up for any amount of (long) time is a miracle from God, a wonderful gift to my eardrums...

Then she looked me over with a casual, sweeping glance, and she walked back, almost out of the kitchen. She shot me a brief look over her shoulder before exiting. "Well, you _sure_ look like her," Sadie retorted, and then, with a swish of her skirt she was gone. I wanted to scream after her that she was a liar... That I didn't look like her. That Ruby had brassy, orange hair, lots of freckles, and brighter blue eyes. I wanted to yell that she was so much younger than me, and that I didn't look like a thirteen-year-old. I wanted to say lots of things, but I didn't really know what she looked like. So I couldn't deny it... I vowed to check it out later.

I was even more surprised when Chaz actually walked in the room with Sadie in tow. He obviously recognized the room and shuddered when he saw the window. I couldn't fight the smirk that overtook my face at the memory. And then I promptly frowned, remembering what I'd said to my parents in my infinite wisdom. Yurgh. Yesterday was... crazy. After Tommy and I recorded "Forbidden Fruit" in two takes, I went off to Darius' place (which sorta made me feel like I was walking into the lion's den) to record "Too Sexy Sadie". Luckily, I had S.M.E. and Portia there with me, or I would've died or something. That was sorta fun.

And then it was back to the studio to help Chaz with "Ruby". I was there until about 2:00 in the morning. Busy, busy day. Some things never change, however, as I looked up and noticed Chaz covertly checking out Sadie's butt. And he thinks she doesn't notice. Well, Chazzy, here's a newsflash... She notices and she thinks of it, okay, babe? So she's already thinking ahead...

Anyways, Sadie and her Boyz drama aside, I knew why Chaz was there. And it wasn't just to check out my sister so openly she blushed. I think Sadie's forgotten how anyways... He just wanted to get away from Tommy the perfectionist and the smelly studio C. 'Cause you can bet he doesn't have another song to record just yet, and, well, that's where he'd go. Plus, we were all up 'til two in the morning together, and trust me, that's not as fun as it ought to be. Chaz has reached the point of saturation where he doesn't want to see Tommy anymore. I suppose that makes sense. He went from not seeing Tommy at all to working with him all day. I reached the point of saturation Day One. And then I hit it again after my birthday... And then towards the end of the album.

So, naturally, I rolled my eyes at Chaz' antics. "Man, save the concern. I know you're just putting off going to the studio because you don't want to see Tommy or even _think_ about music. Anyways, you want a pancake?" I said nonchalantly. Chaz flushed a little, looking somewhat embarrassed at being so transparent. He didn't accept my offer for a pancake. Oh well, his loss. I make killer pancakes. After all, Mom taught me, and she makes the best crêpes in the world. Mm, mm, mmmm, good.

I glared at him and suddenly noticed that his bruise was seemingly gone. So the boy wears make-up. Curious. "So, Chaz, how much cover-up did you have to apply to cover up the bruise Tommy gave you?" I questioned smugly. Ha ha. A Boy wearing make-up. Though, come to think of it, I bet he's worn a lot of make-up in his days... Hmm, do you think he's a metro? That might explain the rumors...

Chaz gave me a look, reminding me why he'd gotten punched. Well, come to think of it, it wasn't really my fault. I mean, he didn't _have_ to kiss me. And he didn't _have_ to say those things to Tommy. He knows better than to piss Tommy off. But who knows better than Chaz how to push Tommy's buttons and say just the right thing? And he definitely shouldn't have tried to punch Tommy. That was just retarded. Not that I'm insulting any, um, mentally-challenged people or anything. That's just a ticket for an ass-kicking.

I refused to let Chaz drive my car (not when Darius taught him how to drive!), or for that matter, take me to school. I even refused to let him follow me. I told him to go home and get some sleep. He actually thought that you always have to show up to the studio on time, well, I corrected that flawed vision. You don't have to. Not after you were up that late, laying down a track. Unless you're Tommy the Perfectionist. No, really... When we were singing "Minor Liaison", he rerecorded a word sometimes, like twelve times, despite all his bragging... Just so he got the sound he wanted. He is _really_ that much of a nitpicker.

Well, at least you don't have to do that at G. Major with Georgia in charge. I think Darius instilled this psycho work ethic in the guys, you know, not wanting to waste a second of their precious studio time. Damn profit margins. I'm not really too fond of Darius at the moment. For, you know, shacking up with Georgia's sister. That's so not cool. And so much like Tommy it hurts me to think about it. Actually, I had to be at school early today anyways.

Joan, Kyle, and I were going to jam in the Music room for a while, because I managed to sequester his presence for my song. Let's just say he has a very lenient art teacher who happens to be a huge fan. Makes me wish I was in Art, really. I got there, bag of clothes in hand, guitar over the other, and met up with Kyle in front of my locker. I opened it and threw my homework inside. I found a note sitting on top of the bare shelf at the top of it.

It was folded complicatedly. I opened it while Kyle laughed at the pictures of him in my locker (I had a rather large one with a few small ones surrounding it and the words "My Hero" underneath it). Then he saw the pictures of Speed and the giant X through the pictures of Shay... Though the pictures of Shay were pretty stupid. Him falling off the stage and what not. I didn't have any words under Speed except Speed, because that's really the only word you can use to describe him. And then there's the pics of Wally (his has "My Lover" under it. Wally would really get a kick out of that). You see, it's sort of a running joke that Wally and I have a thing going on.

We got really close during the tour. And while I might regard Kyle as my hero, my protector from the perverted guys on tour... Wally was definitely my best bud. You would think I'd say that about Speed, but, well, Speed's a little too much to handle 'bout half the time. Since Shay was a primadonna, he took up the only private bedroom. Even Darius was appalled by that, and that's saying something. So there were three beds and four of the rest of us.

Naturally, none of the other boys wanted to sleep with each other. Obviously. But every now and then I needed a little space, so I made 'em double up. Or, despite the fact that the windowseats were incredibly uncomfortable and you were very likely to fall off while sleeping on one (Darius had hired two drivers, so that one of them could drive at night so we could make the venue dates), one of 'em would try and sleep on them. Usually, however, I bedded with Wally.

Man, that sounds wrong. And sick. But, don't get me wrong, there's nothing like that going down with Wally and me. In reality, there were a variety of reasons for this. One being the very practical reason that Wally's the smallest. Another being the fact that Kyle has a girlfriend and Speed is, well, not exactly the best candidate to share a bed with. He thrashes about violently while he sleeps. Aside from that, Speed's like... the biggest perv ever. And in case you're wondering... Shay snores, really loud. Not that he was even an option...

Which is why I slept with Wally. He's the youngest, you know, and he had the smallest bunk, so we were pretty much packed in there like sardines. Not that I really think Wally minded much. I had some good times with him, really. Like the pillowfights... The other guys got so jealous, especially Speed. The man is needy. Always has to be the center of attention...

Anyways, once again, to my surprise, the note was from Kat and had probably been slipped in my locker at some time yesterday.

_- Hey Jude (ha ha)..._

_How are you? Um, good, I hope?_

_Look, I'm just gonna come right out and say it... I miss you. And fighting with you sucks._

_You were totally right about me and Jamie. And, if you say nothing happened, we ought to believe you over the tabloids. Period. Though if you wanna tell your girl Kat what actually went down, that's cool too (Hint, hint). Jamie's too stubborn. He refuses to admit he was wrong. I don't know what's wrong with him... It's like, every new guy he sees you with makes him madder and madder. He's taking it personally._

_Which is completely stupid, 'cause I know you, girl, and you aren't like that at all. I don't buy into that stuff about you being a slut. I know you're not hooking up with Speed or Mason (though Mason's a cutie!). And Shay is so last year, am I right? And you and Tommy... Well, that is a very slippery slope, so I'm not gonna push it._

_But you and Chaz? I saw those pictures... Pretty hot, Harrison. Is there anything going on there? Anyways, now that I've thoroughly gone over your love-life, can you meet me in the library during Study Hall tomorrow?_

_- Katerina Benson xoxoxoxo_

I smiled at the note, realizing just how much I missed Kat. I refolded the note and shoved it in my pocket, shutting the locker door. It would be nice to see her then. Plus I needed a girl at the filming today for moral support. Preferably Kat, so she ensures that they don't put me in any skank wear. I want to wear a Kat design. Hey, why can't she be my stylist? Who is my stylist, though? I mean, 'cause there's Portia and E.J., but E.J.'s really more of a PR person.

Anyways, Kyle and I made our way to the Music room. Miraculously, it was unlocked, but all the lights were off. And unless Joan was a vampire, I doubted she was here yet (I was later to learn that Joan was rarely on time for anything, a fact which frustrated her to no end). So Kyle and I set my stuff down and were about to start a conversation when the lights turned on and we ducked behind the desks in the back corner.

Don't ask me why we did it... Or, wait, I know why I did it... It was Travis, of course. Kyle and the other guys had absolutely no problem with him, which pissed me off to no end, except, of course, for the fact that the entire school was crushing on him. But it wasn't just Travis. A brunette was hot on his heels, and he looked really pissed off about it. I'm talking about as pissed as when I compare him to Tommy or child molesters, okay? Combined. Yeah, _that_ bad...

She was of average height, I guess. Her hair went down to about chest level, and her hair looked a lot like Joan's hair did most days, except for the fact that the mystery woman's hair was straighter and less messy than Joan's (a direct result of Joan stumbling out of bed every morning). In fact, she looked a little like Joan. Not so much that you'd say they were twins, but not so little that you couldn't find a resemblance. The woman also had these intense blue eyes, which were at present darkened and a bit wet-looking. She was wearing long black pants and a low-cut green tank-top.

"Travis, I want you back!" The woman pleaded, clearly on very intimate terms with Mr. Q. Jeez, desperate much? Apparently Quinn thought the same thing, because he turned around to glare at her. Let me tell you, I thought he glared at me with anger... I have never seen so much rage directed at one person before. Yowch. What did she do to him?

His facial expression was completely hard, cold, and stubborn. "And you think quoting a Backstreet Boys' song will achieve that?" He scoffed viciously. Apparently his hatred of boybands isn't just limited to Boyz Attack! You've got to give it to him, though, that was a good comeback. He rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. "Did you _ever_ know me?" He asked rhetorically, mocking her. Every cell in his body exuded fury. She looked a bit hurt, not that I could blame her.

His tone was so curt, so rude, so harsh, so utterly impolite! Ha, and you thought he was cordial before! There was most definitely an interesting story behind it... Whyever it was that he was being an ass to her. I shot a glance to Kyle, silently asking if he wanted to leave.

He firmly shook his head no. Well, what can you say... The boy likes his soap operas, and this one's just getting juicy. I vaguely wished I had popcorn. "Travis, I mean it!" The poor, dumb girl continued on tearfully, yet determined. Doesn't she see he's not interested? They probably had a one night stand or something. She sounds a lot like an ex, after all. That statement only managed to set him off more. Ooh, is she in for it!

Man, that's sad... I know him better than his old ex-girlfriend. Eew, creepy. He glowered at her, clenching his fists tightly against his sides. A storm of frustration swirled around him. "Why are you doing this now, Kate? You're a bit late. Did you suddenly remember, oh, _yeah_, I almost married Travis five years ago... Thought I'd still be available? Well, I'm not. So leave," He growled frostily. His look betrayed not even an ounce of kindness, and there wasn't any there. He honestly just wanted her to go.

Whoa, wait... Almost married? He was engaged! What the hell happened? And since when is that asshole dating anyone? Unless he's a liar... But, honestly, **why** would anyone want to marry him!

Well, maybe, Jude, maybe, just maybe... He wasn't always this much of an ass. Maybe you're an exception. Did you ever think of that? He's cute, he sings, he plays the guitar, he's educated, good with kids, and he's wicked smart. Not to mention anti-social and cocky as hell and absolutely terrible with women... I guess he's your dream guy if you like 'em neurotic. Well, bully for him!

And five years ago? He must've changed. He had to have changed. Right? But the real question was this... Why had she waited so long to come see him?

The girl, or Kate, I guess her name was, placed her hands on her hips. She shot Travis a level look, challenging him. Wow, she actually looks more self-assured than he does. But she must have a good reason. She wasn't smug. She wasn't anything, really... Just so sober. It was admirable. Her lips were a thin line, and she looked annoyed."I _know_ you're single," She stated matter-of-factly, not a trace of doubt evident in her tone.

Travis looked really taken aback. What, he was stupid enough to think she'd take him at his word? She obviously didn't. You know, I'm beginning to think that this is the perfect woman for him. For a minute, it seemed like he'd lost his famed composure. He sputtered around pointlessly for a few moments, and then he just didn't say anything. He stared silently into space, deliberately avoiding her stare.

Aside from the fact that he sputtered when she said that, it was obvious that he really was single. For one thing, he's never mentioned a girl in class. Or any personal details or stories for that matter. Well, except for that thing with Joan yesterday and... Was he talking about this girl then? Probably...

And there's no pictures around the room or anything... No personal effects. We've never seen a girl even around him until now. He doesn't flirt with the other teachers... Hell, he barely talks to them most of the time. I wasn't kidding about him being anti-social, you know.

Plus... Come on... I look at him, and I see a toxic bachelor. Not as toxic as Tommy, but poisonous enough to kill you with one fatal bite. Besides... What girl would actually want to be with a guy like him? He can't have any relationships that outlast a month... He's such an ass once you get to know him!

And then, just when it looked like he was going to, oh, I don't know... Give in to her or something... but for only a second. He looked up, and their gazes locked. Something intense, something raw, something electric passed between them. "Deny it all you want. She's better than you in every _conceivable_ way! She's beautiful, spirited, intelligent, sexy, honest, and... We actually have things in common! She takes my breath away... Oh, and she's not a **slut** like you!" Travis snapped virulently. At first, his voice was a low tone, which then took on the passion of new love, and then was charged with raw anger.

I wondered vaguely if there actually was another woman. At least some of that had sounded real. This was so much better than a soap opera. Kate took a step back, looking hurt. I felt bad for her. She didn't look like she deserved the title of slut. She didn't look like a slut at all. In fact, she looked nice. Like a girl I would be friends with if I was older, maybe... "Your mother told me you were still available," She persisted stubbornly, though the tears in her eyes almost betrayed her.

I felt my heartstrings twinge for her. But, unlike me, Quinn had no mercy. He was surpassing even the level of ass that I knew him as, which is saying a lot. It occurred to me, however, that the feelings must've run very deep between them at one point for her to deserve all this hatred. Quinn's lips tightened at the mention of his mother, outraged that his own mother had betrayed him. But if even his own mother was in favor of him hooking back up with someone who had cheated on him, then this Kate must be a good person. It must've been some kind of fluke or something. Well, either that or his mom's effed up, which, given how weird he acts, would make a lot of sense...

"I don't tell my mother _everything_," He sneered, glaring at her harshly. For a moment, it seemed as if Kate wobbled, like she lost a bit of her confidence or something, but Kate held her ground. She looked back up at Quinn, even though I could tell it hurt her, and she didn't back down. This disheartened Travis somewhat, but he said nothing. Kate took a shaky breath, trying to hold back the flood of tears threatening to fall from her eyes, and then she spoke.

"I _know_ you're lying, Travis!" Kate cried, sounding more desperate than she meant. I couldn't tell who she was trying to convince, herself or him. But she definitely couldn't fight the tears much longer. Her cheeks were pink and flushed, and suddenly she was in his personal space, throwing him radically out of his comfort zone. Looking at her, I saw myself. Not that I was in love with Travis or anything stupid like that... But it just hit me all of the sudden that Kate was head-over-heels, madly, insanely in love with the guy.

But I'd been in those very shoes, with a man who looked very much like Tall, Dark, and Surly over there only a few days earlier. And my heart had been broken, and we'd both screwed up... But I was in love with him.

Hmm, I'm in love with an idiot, and Kate's in love with an asshole. Who would've thunk it? Travis frowned, eyes narrowed. He had no mercy, only rage. He needs to get over himself. Badly. Something about him seemed to change. "Yeah... Okay? You caught me. I haven't dated anyone since **you**. There, you _happy_!" He snarled furiously, practically shouting in her face.

Kate took a step back, looking very unhappy indeed. Her skin was pale now. She was sweating a little. She looked somewhat taken aback, surprised by his sudden change in moods. She trembled a little and took a deep, shuddering breath. "No, I'm not... I've been miserable ever since you left me," Kate murmured weakly, wrapping her arms around herself for support and warmth. Yet still, she shivered. She was crying out for an embrace, but Travis either didn't notice or didn't care. I felt for Kate.

Quinn just rolled his eyes. I couldn't believe it! He actually doubted her sincerity? Couldn't he see that the poor girl wasn't lying? Didn't he know anything about girls at all? Obviously not. A smarter man would've taken her back by now. "Please, Kate. You've been really miserable ever since _he_ dumped you. That was the one thing that helped me deal... That he would dump you just as carelessly as you'd dropped me," Travis scoffed bitterly, casting a glare in her direction. Kate looked down, consumed by guilt.

She didn't look up, but she sniffled slightly. "Travis... It was **never** about him. It was always _you_..." She whispered softly, before carefully looking up at Travis' face. She sounded like a character straight out of a romance novel, but I suppose it suited her. He was frowning, his brow furrowed. Her eyes must've communicated her high level of vulnerability, because his face softened just a little. Maybe there's hope for Kate after all... I was rooting for her.

Travis thought for a second, and then all traces of softness were gone once more. There wasn't much of a struggle between his feelings. He knew exactly what he was doing, and there would be no deviation from that plan. His eyes narrowed slightly. He pursed his lips, poised to continue his assault. "You can't **say** that, Kate! You broke my heart because of _him_... You gave up on what we had... for _him_," He shouted, saying the word "him" with an uncomparable venom. A shiver went down my spine.

Had I ever hated someone that much? It didn't seem like it... I had most certainly never said anything like that. Hmm, who knew he ever had a heart to break? Kate's eyes shown with tears. "I'm _sorry_, Travis! I'm so sorry... I made a mistake then. I... I still love you!" Kate declared, throwing herself upon Travis' nonexistent mercy. I winced, anticipating that what was to follow wouldn't be pretty.

Travis glowered at her, disbelieving. If this was a romance, this is the part where he'd take her into his arms and... Well, you know. But if I've learned anything, it's that life isn't a romance novel. If anyone knows that, it's me. "You **can't** take it back, though, Kate! That doesn't change the fact that you cheated on me. But, you know what... That's not even what bothers me the most about it. What bothers me is that you _knew_... You knew how every girlfriend I've ever had has used me, abused me, cheated on me... You knew and... You _still_... But, you know what, **that's** not even it! I might've understood, maybe, if it had been _anyone_ else. But no, you picked a regular winner, now didn't you, Kate? Out of six billion people, you pick my best friend!" Travis hissed, seething. He made exasperated, angry hand gestures, unconsciously getting closer to his old flame.

A few tears slipped down Kate's cheeks, unbidden. Ooh, ouch... His best friend? That's low, but is it really that bad? I mean, Kate wasn't in love with the guy or anything... right? I think he's just bitter about something. Though come to think of it, he's always been bitter, ever since I've known him. "I'm sorry... It was just a moment of weakness... and he was there. I was scared, Travis... I got cold feet. It should never have happened," Kate explained, bottom lip trembling. Travis only glared more fiercely. Apparently this wasn't a sufficent excuse. As for me, I was waiting to hear what she'd done.

He put his hands on his hips, and his eyes bored into her like drills. She shuddered involuntarily, but Travis came closer. Did he know that he was doing that? Or maybe that's why he came closer to her... Maybe he still has feelings for her. And maybe he still hates to see her in pain. His telltale eyes blazed, and then he struck. "When most brides get cold feet, they generally _don't_ attempt to have sex with the best man," He snapped, shooting her a frosty look. He turned his back on her, walking away a little.

Okay, so THAT's what she did. Well, it could be worse, I guess. Like if the guy was his dad or his brother or something. I don't think you can go much lower than sleeping with someone's parent, you know. Well, maybe grandparent. Kate flushed a brilliant, dull red. She looked embarrassed and remorseful. The more I found out, the more interested I was. "It wasn't like we'd been carrying on behind your back for weeks... It came out of nowhere..." She said, trying to justify it... Or maybe clarify it.

Travis got vicious then. He turned around in an instant, charged. His limbs were heavy and lean. "Oh, but you **had** been! Don't you get it! Do you think I'm blind; that I couldn't see the way he looked at you! I _know_ that look! **That** look has cost me every girl that's ever mattered to me! The only difference was that he waited to make his move this time. I warned you. I knew he would make a pass at you. But you didn't listen. You just laughed at me. And now look... _No_ one's laughing," Travis growled, going off into a rant. He started off mad, but he finished melancholic.

Kate nodded at his last statement, wiping at a stray tear. No one was laughing. In fact, Kyle was getting a bit misty-eyed. Okay, so I take that back... I was smirking at him. So I was about ready to start laughing. Which, of course, I couldn't do. Or Travis would realize that we were here. And I didn't want to die this early in the morning. Or a virgin, but that's a story for another day.

"It wasn't planned! It just happened! Sometimes, Travis, things **just** happen!" Kate shrieked somewhat hysterically. Yeah, don't I know it! Oh, wait... Sorry, never happened. Yeah, just like all of yesterday. What's the bet that Tommy and me never talk about it? Hmm... Easiest money I've ever made. Jeez, she reminds me of me. Sort of. But Travis is even more stubborn than Tommy is, I'll bet. And talking to Tommy about such things is like talking to a brick wall, so it'll be ten times worse with Travis. Like Roman concrete... Ancient, but rock-hard and still together.

"You mean _you_ didn't plan it. _He_ couldn't have planned it better if he tried. He didn't hit on you right away, so I was lulled into a false sense of security. Then he deliberately made his move right before the wedding, when you were weak, trusting, and vulnerable. He picked a place where I would be sure to find you because he knew I couldn't go through with it without seeing you first. God, in a _church_, of all places! Much less a confessional! And you didn't even have the **decency** to take your wedding dress off!" Travis snarled, glowering at her. He looked mad enough to hit someone. Namely whoever this guy was...

Ooh, the wedding day, in the confessional, wearing the dress, with the best man. That's pretty tawdry. This story just gets juicier and juicier. Kate's cheeks heated up further. She looked disgusted with herself, and she wasn't the only one. The way Quinn was looking at her made _me_ feel cheap. Kate started to say something... I don't know what... Probably another apology, but Travis cut her off faster than a butcher.

"And it wasn't just a kiss... When you said you were waiting until your wedding day, I kind of thought you meant with **me** on the wedding night, not with my best friend just minutes before _our_ wedding!" Travis hissed, eyes narrowed. Kate froze, and she finally broke down into a fit of tears. But Kate was stubborn, I'll give her that. She didn't let a little thing like that stop her. Wait, so she was waiting... Ooh... That's even WORSE.

"Don't make it sound like that!" Kate shrieked, wiping furiously at her eyes. Travis' lips curled into a sneer as he crossed his arms over his chest. He took a step forward, and then another, and then another. Kate backed up, obviously feeling threatened. She was a mess. Not that I could blame her... For either, especially backing up. I mean, I did that when he came at me.

"Sound like _what_?" Travis prodded, giving her a searching look. Kate blinked at him, looking betrayed and panicked. She bit her lip and sighed.

"Like I'm some **whore**!" Kate screamed, forcing the tears back. Okay, now I can definitely sympathize with her. Except I haven't even slept with one guy. Not that I know how many Kate has... Uh, ew. I mean, the media's saying all sorts of wild things about me. There's Tommy, Shay, Chaz, Mason, Speed, Boyz Attack! Hmm, am I leaving anyone out? But, then again, I have kissed all of them except Mason and, uh, the other three guys...

But a kiss doesn't equal sex, you know what I'm saying? Travis raise an eyebrow. "Well, if the shoe fits..." He murmured, shooting her a look. I winced. That was just cruel. Kate swallowed hard, but said nothing. Then again, what do you say to that? She really didn't know. But she had to try, didn't she?

And just like when I'd made a fool of myself chasing after Tommy... I saw it. I saw the trainwreck headed her way. I knew she was going to crash and burn here. She threw herself upon his mercy. Like in poker, she'd put in all her chips; she was all in and fully invested in the situation. She approached him suddenly, so suddenly that at first, he made no movements. Then her hands crashed down on his shoulders, gripping him tight. She really wanted him that bad.

"Travis, I'm sorry... I'm human, and I made a stupid mistake, okay? But I **love** you, Travis, and that's not going to change," Kate implored boldly. Well, girl's got guts! Yeah, so much guts that she did something very stupid. Very stupid and impulsive. In fact, she kinda pulled a me. You know, a Jude? Okay, so apparently you don't know! It's where you kiss someone, just BAM, you do it. Even though you shouldn't... Got it?

Kate grabbed Travis. She wrapped an arm around his neck, and then swooped in for the kill. Or should I say the kiss... Kate wasn't just going at it half-assed. She was throwing everything she had into that kiss. And Quinny... Well, he wasn't exactly holding back himself. Okay, so he was assaulting her mouth like there was no tomorrow, but still... Actually, I had to stop Kyle from making cat-calls. And then I had the even harder task of stopping myself from vomiting and trying really hard to look away.

Not that it worked. It was like a car accident. In some aspects beautiful, in others sick... But the overall effect was that you couldn't stop looking at it. Beautiful or not, it was still fascinating to watch such destruction. Naturally, Quinn ended the beautiful moment. He broke the kiss, looking somewhat flustered and more than a little disgruntled. Immediately, he took steps to move away from his former love. Kate didn't follow him. She was smiling off absently into space. I pitied her.

Travis paced around in a circle for a while. That was sort of entertaining. It's like... he actually had nothing to say for once in his life. Shocking, I know. But he recovered... They always do, don't they? He rounded in on Kate again, an uncaring look on his face. His eyes narrowed to zero in on her. Kate grew oddly confident under his stare. I can't say I would've done the same. "So, was he good?" He asked, blunt as ever, speaking slowly so there was no way she'd misunderstand.

Kate paled drastically. Ah, good luck. The look on her face was sheer mortification. Seriously, it made Tommy's look of fear look brave. Or, uh, some analogy that makes sense, maybe. She was silent for a long, long moment. Then a look of calm, cool composure came over her face. "**Excuse** me?" She exclaimed loudly, only a moment later, shooting all that reservation to Hell.

Travis just gave her a distant glance. He blinked once, twice, three times... He frowned for a moment and looked down contemplatively. A moment later, in an obvious flash of inspiration, he looked up and their eyes locked. Travis shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, you were willing to risk our marriage for one roll in the hay with him... So I assume you thought it was worth the risk... _was_ it?" Travis sneered through slits for eyes, judging her. Well, that's a special way of putting it.

Kate paled again. She struggled with words and eventually shook her head no, but only weakly. "_Nothing's_ worth losing you," She mumbled in a dreamy tone, looking down ashamedly. In my infinite brilliance, I noticed that she hadn't answered his question. I don't think it's intentional. She wiped in vain at a stray tear that had already slipped all the way down her cheek. Quinn rolled his eyes. She loved him **so** much! Why didn't he see that! Tinged by my own frustration, I felt a touch of anger for her.

Smooth as ever, Travis pointed out what I had oh-so astutely observed. "Oh, but Kate, you didn't answer my question..." His words were careless and mocking, yet carefully measured out and perfectly timed. His delivery was stellar, and I can't stand it in the slightest. I can't stand him either. Well, he has a point. You can't exactly argue with him there, you know... But all you had to do was take one look at that poor girl's face to see how much it was _killing_ her. Quinn walked closer, his face screwed up in consternation.

He was cold as ice and stubborn as a mule to boot. His stare pierced through her. It hurt to watch. "Was. He. _Better_. Than. **Me**?" Quinn snapped in a hiss, getting up in her face. Each word was sharp at to the point. The words cut at her fragile spirit. Every enunciation and denunciation from his lips made her jump, made her shudder, made her tremble like she was in pain. And she was.

I didn't get how she could just let him push her around like that. How she could just let him treat her like crap! Tommy treated me bad sometimes, but I didn't let him get away with comments like that. Not ever. But compared to how Quinn was treating Kate, I was getting off pretty well. I mean, Tommy's just dating my sister and being very confused and toying with my emotions. He isn't yelling at me like this, about one step away from smacking me silly. No, this... This should be a crime.

I've never seen so much hatred collected in one place in my whole life. And that's saying something.

Kate shook her head weakly, not daring to look up. The tears were pouring down her face with reckless abandon. But, of course, Quinny didn't care. I swear, I wanted to slug him. I wanted to punch him into next week. "I _love_ **you**," She repeated stubbornly, wrapping her arms around herself, looking sick and lonely. She sniffled softly, but still didn't meet his eyes. She was still so ashamed. Oh, come on... Seriously! I mean, hello, Tommy's slept with my sister and I, uh, hm... Well, I realize that he's slept with all of Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Prince Edward's Island... And all of Montreal and Vancouver (Chaz did say they spent an awfully long time there while he had "writer's block"), and like, half of Ontario and Alberta at least. So I can't really hold it against her.

I mean, it's not her fault her boyfriend's just a straight-up whore, now is it? I suppose he's gotten better since the Boyz Attack! days. Anyways, honestly, it was just ONE guy. That truly pales in comparison to Tommy's conquests. And, hey, if you're already blaming your ex-best friend, then why are you taking it out on her, the innocent victim in all this, who UNBELIEVABLY still loves you after all those years? God, he's even more of a dumbass than I thought.

True love doesn't just appear whenever you want it. It hits you like a mack truck regardless of whether you want it to or not. And you have to deal with it somehow. True love isn't like a lightning bolt. It usually DOESN'T strike twice in the same place. You either got it, or, well, you don't. And that's it. So how stupid do you have to be to turn your back on it?

It appears that you have to be Travis stupid.

His eyes narrow even further than before. "That doesn't _mean_ anything," He bit back, practically foaming at the mouth. He paused, shaking his head. His eyes urged her on vindictively. "You still could have thought him better." His phrasing was odd... But Kate shook her head no once more, becoming meeker and meeker.

"Why? I'd undo him if I could, Travis... But you... I don't regret _anything_ about you," Kate questioned plaintively. She finally looked up, a look of undescribable sadness etched in her pretty features. There was this look of incredible love in her eyes, and you could see that she was still hoping for a reunion. But that clearly wasn't in the cards. I pitied her for that. I heard Kyle sniffle next to me, and I smiled. Softie. I hugged Kyle randomly, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Luckily, neither of our guests heard us... Intense moments and all that.

Travis looked somewhat affected by her sincere words. Maybe she had melted his frozen heart after all. Or maybe it was just gas or something, because the look passed as soon as it had come. "Save it, Kate. You hurt me so bad I still carry around the scars. Because of you... Because of you, I can't trust anyone anymore. And I **hate** you for that. So you know what _I'd_ undo, huh, Kate? Our entire relationship," Travis countered mercilessly, spitting the words out like swords.

He paused, sneering at her. A grim, cruel grin overtook his face. His eyes glinted maliciously. "I'd rather date a high schooler than you," He sneered, rolling his eyes and turning up his nose. Kate looked somewhat offended, in fact, she looked like she was about to actually make a comment about him like I would. But Kate wasn't me... She was a lot smarter, well, in some respects... So she kept her big mouth shut.

And then the door creaked open, interrupting the tense moment. Ironically enough, it was a high schooler... A high schooler very familiar to both me and Quinny-poo. Joan walked in. Joan looked sort of edgy today (probably since she'd gotten up earlier and had more time to get ready) in this black and pink number... Black eyeliner like mine, bright pink eyeshadow, soft pink lipstick. You know, a sort of a theme, very rock 'n' roll, but with a sort of hot pink femininity to it. Joan's got a thing for bright colors, I guess.

You should've seen the way he looked at her. It was... Not right in the slightest. You could put him in jail for a look like that. I hated the way he made it look all casual, the way his eyes flicked over her. Joan flushed, glancing between them awkwardly. She was obviously expecting me and Kyle instead of Quinn, but it wasn't a completely unwelcome sight. After all, he wasn't ugly in the slightest. Come to think of it, I admitted grudgingly that he looked particularly good today, almost as if he was really trying hard for... whatever reason. His reasons usually suck anyways.

Kate, however, was a bit of a surprise. Neither of them looked too happy about seeing the other, which is completely stupid as they didn't know each other at all. But I guess it was women's intuition, being able to seek out your rivals immediately. Joan, of course, wouldn't admit to having any feelings for the louse of a professor... But my woman's intuition was telling me that she did, and I knew I was right.

Travis pointed at Joan possessively, shooting a smug look at Kate. Fire danced in his flickering eyes. That's when I knew he was up to something evil. "Like _her_." That was all he said before he strode over and took charge of the situation. Joan's eyes filled with panic. Now Joan was probably just about one of the most mellow people I know. I've never really seen her even that angry before. So Joan losing her cool and **completely** panicking was a pretty damn big deal.

Travis was far too close for Joan's liking. I sympathized. What he did next made me think that he'd finally lost his mind. He actually leaned in to kiss her. Joan's eyes widened exponentially, and she backed away so fast you'd think she was a ninja or something. I wanted to applaud her, but Travis apparently wanted to go for a second round. This time she dodged to the left. Not that that deterred him. She swerved to the right, effectively evading him.

Then he came at her head on, and there really was nowhere for her to go this time. At the last possible second, she ducked and slid under his legs, practically running past Kate. Her guitar lay forgotten on the floor in her haste. Though, really, you can see why she'd want to run away from him. I had a feeling I'd have to pop up and put a stop to this sometime soon. And I was right, of course.

Travis grabbed Joan and leaned in slowly, like he was savoring the moment. Yep, that's my cue. I shot up like some whacked-out firework, dragging Kyle in my wake. He was looking at me like I was a crazy person, but that wasn't exactly anything new. "Seriously, are you _trying_ to go to jail?" I exclaimed blithely, smirking when he turned to face me. Joan took the opportunity to elbow him in the stomach, breaking free, and then swooping down to get her guitar. She came bounding over to me as if her shoes were on fire, a grateful look plastered across her face.

"Jude!" She yelled, running and sort of hiding behind me. She tried to smile, but it came out looking sort of strained. Not that I could blame her. Quinn was glowering at me. Well, sorry I ruined your big romantic interlude with Joan. Actually, no, I'm really not sorry. Plus, Joan was fighting him off... I was only helping her a little. This cements it, though. He's got a thing for her all right. Kate looked at me, and her jaw dropped.

"Is that Jude Harrison?" She muttered, blinking in disbelief. Travis took about two seconds to glare at her and then resumed glaring at me. I nodded, waving at her, a bright smile plastered on my face. His glare intensified, and I blew him a kiss. Yep, that only served to piss him off more. It felt good now, but I had a feeling I'd pay for it later.

Oh, did I mention that Wally, Speed, and Kyle all actually like Quinn? I mean, Speed's jealous of the female attention he gets... And Kyle thinks he's a bit of a pretty boy. And Wally thinks that someone needs to seriously deflate his ego periodically, but they all like him... It's like they don't even see him!

"Yep! Nice to meet you, Kate! I have to say, Travis has told us absolutely _nothing_ about you..." I proclaimed cheerily, smiling at the look of irritation on my evil teacher's face. Kate realized right then that we'd both probably heard everything they'd said and flushed pink. A moment or two later, the same thought occurred to Travis, whose face turned bright red. If she was embarrassed, he was humiliated. He'd never been so open around anyone, after all, much less me, his nemesis.

Well, aside from that one guy who nailed Kate. Or, whatever... Joan smiled nervously, speaking up, "Um, we just came here to practice... For class today... You know, the performance. Uh, so, um... I think I'm just going to go now and, uh, leave you to your a-ad-dult, um... business... Yeah," Joan mumbled, eyes darting around for a second before she dashed out the door like a rabbit would. She's only been here two seconds and already leaving? Damn, and I thought _I _hated school!

I realize that it's awkward when your teacher tries to kiss you. But remember, mine actually has. And I'm here... somehow. I guess I'm determined not to fail, because, seriously, how bad does it look if you have a double platinum CD and are flunking music? Of course, I have neither a double platinum (let alone platinum) CD or an F in music, but still...

Joan doesn't have to worry about it, though, because he likes her... So he won't flunk her. I frowned a little. "You know, I really think you should forgive Kate. It's not like _you're_ exactly the most innocent man on the planet yourself... I mean, you look at one more sixteen-year-old like that, and they'll have to send you to the clink. Much less touching one in such an inappropriate way?" I advised coolly, levelling my gaze.

Quinn scoffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh, you'd know _all_ about that, wouldn't you, Harrison?" He muttered, half under his breath. Seriously, did _he_ just say that to me? He's the pervert here... Hitting on sixteen-year-olds! Honestly, I'm like eight... nine years younger than him! Cradlerobber. And Joan too! He's not just a cradlerobber, he's a jerk too! And a player! At least I actually _want_ to kiss Tommy.

"_Oh, you take it for granted that I won't say a word... But it's me who has been taken advantage of, and for that, don't you doubt that I won't tell..._" I hummed merrily, fixing him with a look. I glanced anxiously over at Kyle, praying that he didn't understand what I meant by it. I didn't even know if he'd heard the song. I hoped he hadn't, at least... I smirked satisfactorily as my evil teacher's face paled dramatically. Oh, come on... Kissing me was like an invitation to get himself fired and then to have Tommy Two-Time go all jealous and beat his skinny ass. I don't get why he'd make a stupid risk like that.

I mean, teachers don't make a lot of money... He's not exactly living comfortably. And they don't look kindly on teachers who date their students, so that would hinder finding another job because he'd be a sexual predator. He's not like Tommy, who's freelance and can leave whenever the hell he likes. And I know he's going to have to leave some day, because he'll have screwed me up that bad. It's really just a matter of time. But as for Quinn, he's pretty much tied down here. But maybe he has family money or something... I mean, the guy drives a Viper like Tommy's.

Damn it! I said I wasn't going to do this! I said I wasn't going to compare them because Tommy is so... Not Quinn. Augh, there goes the damn comparisons again. Makes me want to pull my hair out. And despite whatever my dumbass teacher thinks is going on... it isn't... And if I compare them, then that means I'm actually considering him as an option, and I'm so totally not, and I'm really talking here in circles, aren't I? I mean, can you say run-on sentence?

The tension in the room was... Deafening. Especially as two of the parties (the two Ks) had no idea what in the hell was going on here. Something had to give. Predictably, it was Travis. In a flash, there he was, standing by the door. If you blinked, you would've missed the flurry of movement. He was obviously uncomfortable having me and his ex-flame in the same room, especially since he'd sorta bared his soul about the whole thing and revealed a ton of personal information in our presence... Information that could be used against him so easily.

"I'm going to check on Joan. She didn't look so good," He mumbled quickly, fiddling with the doorknob for a second (his fingers were shaking), and then fleeing. I think he was actually running. The door swang shut of its own accord, and then things really got weird. The first thing I think we were all wondering was if that was just an excuse to get out... or if he really meant it. I had a sneaking suspicion he did, and you can only guess what he means by "checking on her". Then we were all sort of mulling over just exactly what it was he felt for Joan... Whatever it was, it wasn't legal, 'mmmkay?

And then Kate seemed to have some sort of epiphany about God knows what... Probably involving Travis. She burst into loud, noisy tears as if she was trying to call him back to her. Kyle and I exchanged anxious looks, wondering what to do. Somehow, we decided silently to approach Kate cautiously. Kate saw us, and the tears slowed down. Kyle gently shoved me forward. He was uncomfortable comforting crying girls. Like me when I found out that Tommy and Sadie were together in Europe.

Kate looked up at me, heartbroken, pained eyes filled with tears. On Friday, I was her. Ugh, don't remind me! That day was Hell on Earth. "He's not in love with me anymore, is he?" She asked through sniffles, so quietly that I felt my heart break in sympathy. I looked back at Kyle helplessly. Kyle's such a softie... So he came forward and hugged Kate, who just sobbed as he hugged her, and I patted her on the back.

After about ten minutes of this, she pulled away, shooting Kyle a weak smile of gratitude. She wiped at her eyes, somewhat embarrassed. "He's... He's in love with _her_, isn't he?" She asked, trying to slow her breathing down. Kyle's eyebrows shot up into his hair, and my eyes widened. I shook my head no frantically.

"He can't be! She's in my Music class! Plus they only met on Thursday... That's not enough time for love to... form," I exclaimed so passionately that Kyle jumped. Kate looked somewhat taken aback, but after a while, she contemplated it and decided to believe me. I decided that Quinn was even more of a tool than I had thought previously. "He's not worth your time anyways. He treats you like crap. He's an **ass**," I interjected, eyes narrowing at the mere thought of him.

Kate frowned and looked almost mad for a minute. She shook her head no... Jeez. How deep in denial is she? Is she blind? Or is her head just in the sand? Kyle snorted. "This from the girl who's in love with Mister Inaccessible himself? Honestly, doesn't the fact that his demo was called "Frozen" tell you anything? Like, oh, I don't know, about his heart?" Kyle retorted, somewhat in defense of Kate. To me, it was a bit like a slap in the face. But it was true.

And he was wrong about Tommy. Tommy was distant and cold often, yes, but he ran hot and cold. Right now, we're in a bit of a hot period. Lemme tell you, you don't wanna piss Quincy off. He keeps grudges like no one I've ever known. It's probably because he's a Scorpio. They're jealous, angry, prone to grudges, and the sex sign... Yeah, fits Tommy to a tee, doesn't it? I never realized that before.

But I just glared at Kyle, rolling my eyes. I turned to Kate. "We're going to practice for Music... You wanna listen or, I don't know, maybe jam with us?" I offered delicately. I couldn't believe it. Kate's face lit up in a bright, brilliant smile. It looked like she'd actually stopped thinking about the Asshole. Score! She nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah! I love music... Yeah... Sounds nice." She said this casually and just grabbed an electric guitar like it was nothing. Like she hadn't been crying before. She was acting like a pro. A pro at music or acting I don't know, but she was sure acting like it. I wondered vaguely what she did for a living. Anyways, here's what we didn't know about Kate... She could totally rock a guitar. I'm talking Hendrix-level here. She made me feel vaguely ashamed at my playing skills (Had I ever played that fast? Ever?).

I'm meeting so many cool people this year. But I guess everyone has to meet a toad or two. Heh, like Quinny over there. Anyways, so the Asshole came back in the room, and well, this time Kate didn't wait for him to bolt. She grabbed her bag and pushed past him, smile gone from her face, muttering an apology over her shoulder. But that's okay, because she was coming to S.M.E. and Patsy's gig tonight. She said music was the only thing that ever made her happy anymore, and I could believe it by the way she played the guitar. Blues dripped from every inch of her, even her singing voice.

And judging by Quinn's horrible treatment of her, I could see why. Plus she just carried this weariness about her that probably came from guilt. She knew that it was her fault that she and Travis weren't together anymore, and I think that was what hurt most. But, to be fair, he was a jerk for not giving her a second chance. Come on, if she was willing to give HIM a second chance...

Since I had the jerk for Study Hall, I didn't really go anywhere. I just sort of sat there, stiff and frozen in the desk, glaring at him. I have never glared at someone so hard in my life. And then Jamie walked in and he just... He looked at me like I was scum. Kat shot me an apologetic look and mouthed a "sorry" while Jamie's back was turned. I knew that I was supposed to leave for the library first. I didn't have to ask... Actually, Quinn was so flustered about what I'd witnessed earlier (and something else, apparently), that he practically shoved me out of the door. I took my time malingering in the hall, walking up to my locker, and pulling the folder for the music video out.

Then I closed my locker and made my way to the library. Now, it's something not many people know, but there's this area up on the right side of the library... This sort of crawl space with plants stashed in it. Don't get me wrong, the whole library has a ring of these plants going around it, but they're real on this side... These gorgeous flowering things... It's just this one big wall. Anyways, since the plants are real, there's a crawlspace up there so that they can be replaced. There's a small section in the middle that's actually solid wall, pure white inbetween the two sections of plants. On the left side the crawlspace leads outside, to the roof.

The one on the right leads nowhere, and all the flowers are perennials, so people hardly ever come up. Anyways, I undertook the task of cleaning it up freshman year, so it's all nice now. Not really as dark as you'd think. It's not really very big or anything, and it's pretty hard to get there, but it's completely worth it. There's this old guitar I stole from the music room last year stashed up here... There's another one, a broken one that's a bit of a work-in-progress... Some notebooks, a bunch of pens and pencils, random office supplies, textbooks, my favorite books... I even found some old carpet, an ancient couch, and a chair or two and stashed them up here... Trust me, it's a long story and it involves a Saturday detention longer than the Breakfast Club's. And yes, I do realize that is quite illegal on the school's part.

Now, in order to get to my little paradise behind the plants, there are a lot of things you have to do. For starters, you have to climb up a bookcase, which must be done with utmost care... After all, if you do it wrong, it'll result in broken shelves and, possibly, broken bones. Then you must gently rise into a standing position atop the bookcase without anyone noticing or falling and breaking your neck. After you've got your balance, you have to walk to the end like an Olympic gymnast would, lean over to push a plant aside to get room, and jump up unto the platform. Then you replace the plant and meditate or whatever there is to do up here.

So you can guess what I did, can't you? I deftly scaled the bookcase like an accomplished mountain climber, pulling myself up and unto the top with a strength I didn't know I possessed. I lay there, panting slightly from exertion, flat on my back and staring at the ceiling. There was a huge skylight there, so I looked up at the not-so-clear blue sky. It was a nice day, but not a cloudless one. There were a few clouds out, white and harmless looking, but it looked much different outside. Outside you could see the storm on the way. Just a summer rainstorm really, guaranteed to be hot, humid, and steamy. It would be here by this afternoon, that's what the weathermen said, at least...

I made a face. It had just rained on Friday. Jeez, was I living in Toronto or Seattle here? Rain's connotations aren't really too hot for me right now. It makes me think of my misery, and I really hate that. I forced myself to sit up, and then, glancing around, feeling somewhat paranoid, I rose to my feet. I leaned over, throwing the file gently into the black space, then I pushed the plant aside. I jumped a little and pushed myself up and unto the ledge. I seated myself on the ledge, not caring that I was probably visible or that my feet were dangling off the edge. I reached out for the folder and opened it, looking at the pages. There were sketches of outfits, positions, places... A sort of script for the acting... A list of needed effects... Boring stuff like that. I was going to show Kat the outfits, I decided, to see what she would think.

I thought they were all way too slutty for my taste. Then again, I suppose that was the aim of the video. I sighed petulantly, covering my eyes and moaning. This is so not good for my image. I mean, if they thought I was a slut before... Now they see me going nuts around Tommy, making out and everything. Now, I'm not just saying it's the making-out that's the problem.

The problem is that like, oh, about half or something of the video is supposed to be filmed in or on a bed. Yeah. That's what kind of song I wrote my dears. Some of it's going to be in the studio, some of it's going to be in the alley... Ha, I am so screwed. And, considering the um, mature content of the video, it's supposed to be literal too. And Tommy and I in little clothing is just the sort of encouragement we need. It's like playing with fire, I'm telling you. Hella dangerous and somebody's bound to get burned.

I waited for what seemed like forever, but Kat walked in the library. I waved excitedly, dropping the file on the floor. The papers didn't spill out through some miracle. I pushed the plant back into place behind me, and, upon seeing Kat's approach, leapt off the edge, landing on my feet on the library floor. I wobbled a little... Ouch, hard landing. I guess I need some shock absorbers. I bent down to pick up the folder, and getting up, I threw my head, hair flying behind my head. Kat was gaping at me, clearly floored.

"Hardcore, Jude," Kat nodded respectfully, still a bit awed. I don't get why she was staring at me. I wasn't looking that different. Eh, see, this is what happens after you hang around Patsy and boys all day. Mind you, I've only hung out with Patsy once, in detention. But I'd been seeing S.M.E. so much they were practically my brothers by now. Kat rushed up to me, throwing her arms around me like she hadn't seen me for years. I hugged her back gratefully; I knew right then that we were cool. You have no idea how much better that made me feel.

When I wheezed, Kat sheepishly broke the hug, taking a good look at me. She frowned, walking all around me in a circle. I was a bit weirded out by this behavior (and beginning to get a little dizzy) when she stopped in front of me. "You're so skinny! Have you been eating lately?" Kat exclaimed worriedly. I rolled my eyes at her. You'd think a fashion designer would remember that black is slimming. I informed her that yes, in fact, I had been eating. A lot. Well, not that much... But a sufficient enough amount.

Kat and I walked over to a table, and I showed her the sketches. She pointed at a few she said were okay, and then shook her head, making slashing motions at outfits she thought were too slutty. I decided to ask her to come to the shoot. I needed some support there. Plus, she could help get me out of the skank-o-wear they'd be shoving at me. I bit my lip and took a deep breath. "Kat... I was wondering something. They're doing shooting for the big scenes today, and I was wondering if you would, um, maybe like to come with me? I just need someone there for support, and who better than my best friend?" I asked hesitantly.

Kat's face broke out into a wide smile, and she nodded excitedly. Then she fixed me with a knowing look. "Oh, come on... You just want me there so they don't make you dress like a prostitute," Kat teased, eyes sparkling mischievously. Okay, yeah, you got me, Kat. That and the fact that Kat makes any situation brighter. And I'm going to need someone to lighten the tension in that room.

I groaned into my hands. "They do that already," I muttered, remembering Instant Star 2. Tommy was right about me looking like a space hooker then. All of us did. Or more like strippers, I suppose. No astronauts dress like that! Seriously, they wear those clunky white suits with the oxygen helmet-masky-thingies. Kat snorted, obviously thinking I was joking. I wondered vaguely if she'd seen Instant Star. Probably not.

I looked up at Kat and sighed. "I mean, the theme of this video is me screwing Tommy... More or less. They want me in as little clothes as possible," I explained, dropping the bomb. Kat's jaw dropped, eyes widening. Ha, that's sorta like the look on Tommy's face when I hit on him! Oh, but I can continue. There's more. Prepare to be alarmed, dear. "Not that it'll help my reputation. It'll only make things worse. And I don't even want to think about what Sadie and the 'rents are going to think about it," I mumbled wearily, sighing again.

Kat frowned sympathetically, but then pursed her lips and turned to me. She wanted to ask me something, I could tell. She didn't think it was something I'd be so keen on. I tapped my fingers on the table, waiting for her to tell me what she was thinking. Kat opened her mouth but said nothing, thinking instead. "Okay... I'm gonna ask... What's _really_ going on in your lovelife?" Kat questioned anxiously. I figured she was going to ask something like that. I sighed, thinking of how best to explain it.

"You're right... Shay is so over. I hate him. There's nothing going on with me and any of the guys in S.M.E., well, to my knowledge. I mean, sure, I've kissed Speed before, but, you know, who hasn't? Mason... I just met him the other day, but he's nice. And then there's Chaz... There's nothing really going on there. We're just friends," I began calmly. Kat raised her eyebrows, though whether it was because I admitted to kissing Speed or that she didn't believe I was just friends with Chaz, I had no clue.

"So you're seriously telling me there's nothing going on with you and Chaz? 'Cause Jamie's just a friend too, and I don't see you grinding with him..." Kat pointed out wisely. Apparently it was in a tabloid. Probably the one Tommy saw. And Jamie saw it too. Well, that's just peachy. I winced and sighed. What did she want me to say? I had no clue.

I pondered it over for a second. "Well, he kissed me the other day, but that was just to piss Tommy off, and Tommy hulked out on him about a second in... And yeesh, you should've seen the way he was checking out my sister this morning..." I rambled nonchalantly. Kat's eyes widened, but I ignored it. She was going to ask about Tommy next. Obviously. I started counting in my head, waiting to see how long it would take her to overcome the shock. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, sevente-

Hmm, she's less bold than I thought. "Speaking of the Green-Eyed Monster... What's going on with you and Tommy?" Kat blurted, wide-eyed and curious. She was wrong, though. Tommy wasn't the Green-Eyed Monster. Yeah, he was jealous... But Quinn is the green-eyed monster. Period. I rolled my eyes at her.

I sighed again. Man, I've been doing that a lot lately. "I honestly don't know... He runs so hot and cold with me. He just... He's still dating Sadie. I mean, one minute I'll be thinking there's actually something there... That I'm not just imagining it all... And then I'll remember Sadie. They've been going strong for three months. That's three times as long as Tommy's marriage... I just don't know, and that kills me. I keep telling myself to get over it, to get over him, and I try so damn hard... But I **can't**!" I almost shouted, languishing over it. I was so tired of feeling like this. Kat looked somewhat taken aback, but she understood.

But I decided to give her some happier news. "But that's okay... I met this guy... I really like him. His name's Tim, and he's perfect. He likes my music, he likes me... He said he's never been this connected to anyone in his life! And... I think I'm falling for him. We're going out again tomorrow," I confessed, feeling my eyes light up at the thought. Man, I guess I really am falling for him! As if my lovelife wasn't already confusing enough as it is.

Kat squealed and hugged me tightly. She smiled brightly, and practically pulled me out of the library. I was barely able to grab my folder. "I have something to show you," She whispered with a giggle. I nodded, as I had no choice but to follow her. She breezed into the fashion classroom, grabbing a few articles of clothing, and then dragged me to the bathroom. She held up each piece of clothing one at a time. There were two skirts, one that was the shortest skirt I'd ever seen, and another that was one of those pleated ones that sort of comes up all around you when you turn too fast. She had a few shirts, too... But they weren't that special.

And then there was the dress she made me put on. It was thin black silk, and boy, was it clingy! It was also very short with thin spaghetti-strap sleeves. Revealing as it was, a Kat design sure beats whatever they're going to try and put me in. I smiled at her. "I made it for you," Kat said brightly. I thanked her, telling her I loved it, and I did, mostly. I was a bit uncomfortable in it, but it was a nice dress. I told her I'd pick her up right after school and drive to the studio (Oh, joy!). She scurried off back to Jamie, who was probably getting restless. I just sat there, mindlessly leafing through the folder, waiting until the bell rang for class.

It's funny how all the classes except the ones you're really dreading pass fast. Actually, here it was, almost time for Quinn's class, and here was I, without a phone call from Tommy. I was becoming accustomed to the annoying ring of the phone and Tommy's picture flashing on my screen. I took a new picture of him yesterday. He looks hot in it... I mean really hot, like thermonuclear meltdown hot. On fire, yeah.

Screw this. I'd better just go to class and get it the hell over with. I've got a performance to do. Well, long story short, I went there and he told me to go change/do my make-up... And made everyone else who was doing a cover do the same. If they weren't already wearing it. For me, that meant throwing on my Sweet Sixteen dress, shoes and all. I smeared my eye make-up a little bit for effect, dragged the shiny pink gloss across my lips, fluffed my hair, and walked out, into the classroom.

I grabbed my guitar coolly, ignoring the stares I was sure to receive, and glanced around for my drummer. Sure enough, he came running to the door. I smiled at Kyle, who sat down amusedly in my seat, which was, of course, next to Joan. I mean, you'd think a famous (ha!) rockstar (HA!) would have some friends in her music class. But no... I just have Joan, who I've barely known, and a music teacher who's out to get me.

That's when I noticed that something was up with Joan. She was sitting there, yeah, but it was like she wasn't really there at all. At least, not mentally. She was just staring blankly out into space, her arms crossed stiffly over her chest, guitar leaning against the side of her desk. She seemed out of sorts. I lightly tapped her on the shoulder, and she nearly jumped. Something is definitely wrong here. "What's wrong?" I questioned in a whisper, so as not to embarrass her.

But I had just gotten the words out of my mouth when Quinn spoke. It was a deliberate move on his part, I could tell. "Well, Little Mrs. Quincy, if you can tear yourself away, you're up first," He snapped impatiently. I rose an eyebrow, but picked up my guitar and dragged Kyle to the front. He rushed past me to his place behind the drumset.

I passed slowly by Quinn. "Aren't you going to say anything about how I look?" I drawled, throwing him a mock pout. Naturally, he rolled his eyes. Oddly enough, however, he chose to say nothing. I shrugged, somewhat confused, but continued on to the front. I attached the guitar to my amp and did a brief soundcheck, fine-tuning the guitar for a few seconds.

Then I leaned in close to the mike, smiling seductively... Not that I have any clue why. It's a bit of this whole maturing thing. Or maybe it was more of a bitter smile... I had gotten my heart broken twice in this dress. I took a deep breath and forced myself to smile, though it felt more like a rubbery grimace. "Hey... Jude Harrison here... Hello! ...And I'm doing a cover of "Un-Sweet Sixteen" by Wakefield. Hope you like it," I said carefully, by way of an introduction.

The smile then fell off my face, and Kyle and I both started playing in unison. This would sound so much better with Wally here. Oh well. I just concentrated on playing and counted silently to thirteen in my head. That was when I had to start singing. Okay, Jude, here it is, take a deep breath and... go!

"_**Bang**, **bang** on the bathroom door..._" I began, letting out two loud riffs to coincide with Kyle hitting the cymbal hard. I leaned back a little, closing my eyes, pretending to collapse a little, but I continued to sing. Eyes closed, I played on. "_You say you can't _take_ it anymore..._" My eyes shot open and I jerked into my full, upright position... Like a regular airplane tray.

I shot a glance at Quinn, who was listening, but he seemed awfully distracted. It was contemptuous and far too competitive for my own good. My look, that is. I smirked, giving the crowd a nod, and radiating uncaring rockgoddess. "_I say let's even up the score..._" I challenged, shooting him another look, emphasizing the rivalry. Again, he seemed to be elsewhere. Wait, and I care because?

"_I'm sorry_," I said, reflecting on how many people had said that to me on my Un-Sweet Sixteen. I felt my buzz fade a little. What a horrible night. Why on Earth had I chosen this song? It was just a cruel reminder of the most miserable night of my life. Why did I want to remember that? I sighed accidentally, noticing how so many people seemed down... It wasn't the song, I knew... But everyone seemed so distracted. Even me.

But I was a pro, so I threw myself headfirst in my work. "_**Fall**, **fall**, the tears are falling..._" I cried mournfully, dropping down low and getting back up once with each "fall". That's twice, if you can't count. I felt that. I remembered the tears falling on my cheeks as I charged through the party like a hippo. I didn't care where I was going or who was in my way as long as I got away from Shay. I remembered the feeling of the rain cascading down my cheeks, masking the telltale tears on my face as I stood alone in that alley, leaning on the railing.

I remembered the hot tears spilling down my face as Tommy forced me to say that the only kiss that ever meant anything to me in my life never happened. I remembered the angry tears streaking down my face as I ripped off his coat. It no longer gave me the warmth I needed. "_**Ring**, **ring**, who's that calling?_" I questioned bitterly, remembering how I used to look forward to Shay's phonecalls. I'd so much as jumped and done a happy dance when he called. My whole face would light up.

I closed my eyes for a second, taking a shallow breath before opening my eyes and continuing. "_**Stop**, **stop**, stop your bawling!_" I ordered a bit desperately, as if telling myself to stop crying salty tears over Tommy. I sighed raggedly, leaning into the mike. "_I'm sorry..._" I whispered, remembering how futile the words were. How after you've said them as much as me, or Tommy, they start to lose their meaning so quickly.

"_Un-Sweet Sixteen! Always acting like a beauty **queen**... Like you're posing in a **magazine**... Un-Sweet Sixteen!_" I chanted, pretending to be a model and doing various phony poses. There wasn't much variety, considering I had to keep playing, but I moved about, pouting and sucking in my cheeks enough to crack a few smiles. Funny how a few smiles made me feel victorious. I felt like Jude the Conquerer. But such feelings of triumph are fleeting.

I glanced over at Joan, who looked miserable. I noticed that she looked up and tried to give me a reassuring smile, but the smile fell off her face faster than it had arrived. She looked down again, leaning against her hand, staring moodily into space. I frowned a little. My lips brushed the microphone. "_Un-Sweet Sixteen! **Homecoming** Queen! Breaking down my self-esteem... My Un-Sweet Sixteen!_" I yelled, strutting about the front of the room like a Homecoming Queen, sticking my noise up in the air like a snoot. Those kinds of girls always got rid of my self-esteem. You know, Sadie and her every-popular posse of friends. They always made sure that I knew my place, didn't they?

I fought the urge to scowl at the thought. Thinking back to Sexy Sades and Eden the Ho, I thought of their fake smiles. Especially Eden's. Her lips concealed crocodile teeth, in both intention and appearance. I know, burn... An evil smile curled at my lips at the thought of one-upping Eden. Well, from what I heard, her album was totally tanking. Karma just bites, doesn't it? "_She, she, she **always** smiled... **Smile**, **smile**, 'cause that's my style_," I mocked, exerting fake cheerfulness. I rolled my eyes amusedly. My smile was starting to feel fake, which it was... But it also felt rubbery. So I let it slide off my face like a raindrop. Okay, bad analogy.

I shook my head, pouting and wiggling a finger at them for a second. A moment later, the hand returned immediately to my guitar. Then I stamped my foot childishly to prove my point, pretending to sulk like a four-year-old. "_But you acted liked a _child_... **Neurotic**!_" I drawled, tsking disappointedly. Like a child...

Right now I couldn't think of a bigger insult if I tried. I really held out that word, shooting an icy glare at Travis, who, to my surprise, flushed. Child, child, child, I found myself mouthing soundlessly. It seemed to upset him a little. Probably because of his bizarre attraction to minors. I scowled, sending wrath through my fingertips, channelling it out through the guitar. Oh, I would show him, that I vowed. I shook my head mirthlessly.

"_Won't let this whole thing **go** **away**... 'Cause you thought that I was out to _play_...I just don't **know** what to say..._" I growled, making sure the immaturity shown through. Whether it was my own immaturity or my opponent's... I still don't know. The lyrics reminded me of Tommy and Sadie. Admittently, though, she had reason to worry. One big reason... Me. And then there was his reputation... Come to think of it, she wasn't paranoid of him around other women, just me. She was immature about it, but so was I, so I'd let it go. And it wasn't like her suspicions weren't warranted and correct... But she should just be happy with the fact that she has Tommy.

Who knows, maybe if I was legal... Maybe if he wasn't my producer... Maybe I'd be in her position. But Sadie would probably try and steal him from me. I mean, me getting the guy of her dreams? Puh-lease. Sexy Sades wouldn't let that happen... at least, not without a fight.

The grin crept slowly across my lips, unbidden. I could barely keep the laughter down. I shot Kyle a bemused look, and he smiled back at me crookedly. I winked at him and turned back to the front, struggling at keeping a straight face. "_You're **psychotic**_," I murmured with minimal glee. Minimal external glee, that is. Inside, I was totally going nuts.

"_Un-Sweet **Sixteen**... Always acting like a beauty queen... Like you're posing in a magazine... Un-Sweet Sixteen! Un-**Sweet** Sixteen... Homecoming Queen... Breaking down my self-**esteem**... My **Un**-Sweet Sixteen!_" I sang loudly, tossing my hair and winking at the crowd. Have I ever mentioned how repetitive this damn song is? Because it's really repetitive. "**_Yeah_**!" I screamed, motioning for Kyle to join in.

Kyle smiled. Man, I remember when S.M.E. was heavy metal. And apparently Kyle does too, since he's screaming. I couldn't keep the smile off my face. I remembered feeling like a beauty queen trying on all those outfits that day. I had posed for magazines... Which was really an unfamiliar feeling. Even nowadays... I'm not that photogenic, despite what the photographers say.

"_Un-Sweet Sixteen! Always acting like a beauty queen! Like you're posing in a magazine! Un-Sweet Sixteen!_" I shrieked, moving across the room slowly. I even moved away from the microphone; I was that loud. On my way back, I narrowly missed tripping over the various cords on the floor. Hehe, oops. Wiping out while performing would have been SO embarrassing. Like when Shay fell off the stage in Dresden. Or when I pushed him off stage in Taipei. That concert was absolutely packed. I honestly have never seen so many people in one place. Except in Tokyo, but that was a couple days later.

The crowd had Shay halfway across them in two minutes flat. Hmm, kind of like Eden... You know what... I think I'm totally over Shay. They say you never get over your first love... So maybe Shay wasn't my first love. No, no, no, Jude! Bad thoughts! I thought we were trying to stop thinking about him.

Well, gee, have you noticed how well that's going? 'Cause I have, and you suck at it. In fact, now that you're trying to stop thinking about him, you think about him twice as much as you used to. Well, I used to think about him a lot... So that's really saying something.

Like that dream you had this morning?

That was a good dream... Mmm...

No, not the dirty one! The one where he was playing the guitar. He sang the same song he sang in that dream you had where you were 21, remember? And then he proposed... But the ring got stuck in his guitar and he couldn't make it come out. Well, it did come out, eventually. After he shook it around a lot.

He's lucky I have skinny fingers. He was so impatient, though. Almost ready to break the guitar. Luckily it fell out before he could... Why am I saying this? Like it really happened! I am so delusional. I seriously need to get a grip. Like Tommy's ever going to propose to me.

Like he'd ever propose to someone underage.

"_**Un**-Sweet Sixteen! Homecoming **Queen**! Breaking **down** my self-esteem! My Un-**Sweet** Sixteen!_" I yelled, throwing myself into the performance. I sped up the tempo, playing faster to accommodate for the big BANG ending. It was rising, and so was my anticipation for the beautiful crescendo, as was Kyle's, though I doubt he was impatient to get back to Art Class. I mean, I've seen Kyle's idea of artwork, and it's not pretty.

"_Un-Sweet **Six**teen... Un-Sweet Six**teen**... **Un-Sweet** Sixteen... **My** **Un-Sweet Sixteen!**_" Wally and I snarled, holding on to all the right syllables. The drums pulsed in my ears, the chords echoed in my head.

I finished playing, and my performance high wore off. I collapsed wearily into my seat. Kyle left. Quinn called on lots of people after that. Most of them were good, a fourth of them sucked, and half the class wasn't ready. Oddly enough, he called on Joan last. It was odd... Immediately, she snapped to attention. She rose to her feet with a frost even Tommy would envy, picking up her guitar casually, swinging it around as if it was nothing. But her knuckles were white; they alone betrayed her.

There was a storm brewing on the inside of my new friend, that much was obvious. It was even stranger still that she walked briskly to the front of the room, taking the long way and avoiding passing by Quinn. She didn't look at him once the entire time she was up there. Maybe the Kate thing had affected her more than I thought... But I've got to give it to Joan, her performance was great, so much better than before.

It was as if the dam that had been holding back her emotions was suddenly gone. She threw herself into the performance, playing the guitar hard, moving around. The song was suddenly a blues masterpiece. She sounded jaded, less naïve, not innocent. She was suddenly BAM, raw and intense. Almost hardcore. And I couldn't help but notice that she'd changed the lyrics a bit.

Most notably, blue eyes to hazel eyes. Wonder what she meant by that...

Why ponder now, though? I ought to just save it for a rainy day. Anyways, the second after she finished, the bell rang. She unplugged her guitar slowly, uncaring, and walked stiffly, as if she was a zombie, out of the room without a goodbye. Weird, much?

As if that's not strange enough, Joan skipped out on her last hour. I saw her walk right out the front door. No one stopped her. No one said anything. No one even noticed except me. I put my guitar in my locker, closed it, and made my way over to the bathroom so that I could change back into my normal clothes. Lyra wouldn't care if I was a few minutes late.

I wish I hadn't taken the time to stop at my locker. I wish I hadn't changed then. I wish I'd gone to class first and then asked. I wish I'd left with Joan. I should've, but she needed time to herself, I guess... And the last hour was my favorite. Though I'd skipped it before. I should've at least talked to her. For some ridiculous reason, I was in a good mood. I don't know why. I had nothing in particular to be happy about.

I mean, for starters, I'd woken up early and was absolutely exhausted. Then, add to that the fact that it's Tommy and Sadie's anniversary, and the fact that they've got a big date tonight. I mean, sure, I suppose you could say that making out with Tommy for the video should make me happy, but there would be so many people watching... I'd have to hold back. And I just didn't feel right kissing my sister's boyfriend on their anniversary.

"_You played me like a radio... You used to love that I had no shame..._" I hummed randomly. I had written bits and pieces of this song, but I sensed that this one would take a while to properly articulate. I wasn't really paying attention, but I passed the Janitor's Closet. Or I had been, that is, until I was grabbed by the wrist and pulled inside of it.

But the point is that after that, I had even less to look forward to. The day was about to spiral out of my control and into abject misery.

But I didn't know that then. All I knew was that some mysterious weirdo had grabbed me and pulled me into a closet for some bizarre reason.

Predictably, the closet was small, dark, smelly, and cramped. A single lightbulb swung back and forth above my head. I snapped out of my daze and looked out to see who my ambusher was. I let loose a fluid, florid stream of the worst curse words I could think of when I saw his face. Travis Quinn, Asshole Extraordinaire. I groaned internally, feeling frustrated beyond words. What did he think he was doing, just randomly pulling me in here!

It could've been anyone walking past! And where the hell was the janitor! Lousy janitor... Can't clean off my locker properly or protect me from creepy teachers... Speaking of which, doesn't he have a class now? 'Cause I sure do! I was about to say all this when he spoke. He was insanely casual about the whole thing, but I was on my guard. After all, it isn't every day that someone who is severely mentally unbalanced yanks you into a closet. He was actually smirking. "_Hey_ Jude," He whispered in a tone that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I shuddered involuntarily, wrapping my arms around my middle like Kate had. I, however, wasn't afraid of being hurt by him. I was afraid of him, period. There was something about him standing there in the dim light, leering at me, that just creeped me out.

I had the immediate urge to run as fast as I could and get the hell away from the bastard. But I didn't see any means of escape except that airvent up there... if I could even reach it. Oh, wait! How dumb am I? There's a door to this closet! I raced to the door, twisting the handle desperately. It didn't budge, not even when I rammed my shoulder into it. That only made my shoulder hurt. I tried to kick it open too, but there wasn't much room in the closet. Once again, it didn't open.

I felt his breath hot on the back of my neck. I felt my shoulders tense reflexively, goosebumps rising on my arms and my legs. My breath shortened, but not out of desire or something ridiculous like that... from fear. I waited anxiously for him to say something or for the janitor to come rescue me. Yet the tense silence continued on, and I found myself more and more nervous by the moment.

As usual, he spoke when I didn't expect him to, and he didn't say what he thought I was going to say at all. He wasn't as predictable as you'd think. The whispers came just as I was beginning to relax a little. Stupid me. There's a lesson he taught me. Maybe the only lesson he ever taught me. Never ever let your guard down.

"What do you see in him?" He hissed softly, only the slightest hints of malice in his tone. I didn't have to ask to know who he was referring to. It was obvious, but why does he care what I see in Tommy? Does he want tips or something! I'll tell you what I see in Tommy... I'M IN LOVE WITH HIM! But I don't think that Quinn could ever really grasp that. After all, what does he know about love?

I rolled my eyes, deciding not to give him the satisfaction of turning around for a face-to-face meeting. "Well, _he_ doesn't drag me into strange closets against my will," I retorted sarcastically, arms crossed tight over my chest. That's true. We don't even have any strange closets at G. Major. Unless Studio C counts, but... Okay, so he sort of dragged me in there with him yesterday. But that's Tommy, and I trust Tommy.

I could feel Travis seething behind me, his breaths coming in angry puffs on my back. Ew, I feel so dirty with him breathing all over me. Who knows, maybe he'll die first from lack of air...

Suddenly, he seemed furiously frustrated with the situation. He grabbed me by the arm and spun me around to face him. I glowered at him, sulking and radiating teen rebellion, my eyes boring straight through him. His eyes raked over me searchingly, taking in my appearance as if he was looking for something. Whatever that something was... I have no clue. I thought he was going to say something, but he just kept looking at me like that, and it was **really** freaking me out.

I turned around again, to try and leave, which was futile, I know... But he only grabbed my arm again and made me face him. This time his grip was harder. This time he was closer. He looked pissed off, but I hadn't really done anything that awful to merit his fury, so I found myself a bit confused. "Seriously," He snapped irritably.

I rolled my eyes. He's still going on about that? I didn't even insinuate ANYTHING this time. How can that make him mad? Somebody tell me how that can make him mad! And just how am I supposed to answer the question anyways. I sighed, rolling my eyes at him again. Might as well be cooperative. I'll probably get out of here faster that way. "He's cute," I said briefly, hoping that would satisfy him.

It didn't, of course. Stupid me. He rolled his eyes, leaning in slightly further. "So am I, aren't I, Jude?" He murmured somewhat seductively, in a low tone that hinted at a threat. I really wasn't in a position to argue, and I didn't have the energy to lie. I just wanted to get out. If he wants an admission from me, he can have it.

"Sure," I muttered blankly. I should've shut up there, but I continued on anyways. "You're practically twins! And if I think one twin's cute, I _have_ to think the other one's cute..." I interjected, on the brink of a long rant. He cut me off fast, though, obviously hating the comparison (and hating the fact that it was true even more, I'm sure). He gave me a look, gesturing for me to continue. Okay, so he doesn't buy my flimsy reason... Well, that's okay, I've got a million of 'em!

"He's funny," I continued, feeling bored. I briefly looked away from him, searching out any sharp or blunt objects that I might have to use. When I looked back at him, he was once again rolling his eyes at me. What is it? What now? What does he want me to say?

"So?..._I'm_ funny," He exclaimed somewhat exasperatedly. I couldn't help it. I snorted and started laughing. He has no sense of humor. Or, if he does, I sure haven't seen it. He glared at me viciously, and I shut up as best as I could, which was extremely difficult.

I giggled, promptly covering my mouth with my hand. I felt the smirk threatening to take over my face. "Yeah, you're right! Nice joke there!" I gasped out amid random bouts of laughter. Travis wasn't amused... clearly. But, honestly, when is the guy ever happy? Yeah... That's what I thought. The only time I've ever seen him happy has been around Joan... Hmm, that's a scary prospect, don't you think? I sighed. Okay, guess he wants another reason. Well, fine then. You'll get your reason.

"No, really... He's sweet... and caring... and affectionate..." I murmured dreamily, staring off into space. If I continued like this, I was going to lose my mind. I mean, there are places to daydream about Tommy, and there are places to daydream about Tommy. And standing right in front of Travis Quinn, who is not Little Tommy Q's biggest fan (quite the opposite, really), in a small, enclosed space is not the place. He already knows how I feel about Tommy... Let's just say I was scribbling down some lyrics, and, well, he looked over my shoulder and saw that page where I'd written "I love Tommy Quincy" over and over again. And similar things... I tried not to call him Little Tommy Q, because that's just laughable. And I am not a Boyz Attack! Fangirl.

I mean, sure, I know all the guys. We've hung out together before. I sang their biggest hit with them on TV. And yeah, Chaz and I are close... And I'm in love with Tommy... And I might know all the words to all their songs. You know, their music isn't that bad, really... Of course, I'd never actually admit that out loud or in public, and especially never ever to Chaz or Tommy... They'd never let me live it down!

Travis snorted, rolling his eyes. He leered at me, eyes sweeping over me, insinuating away. "I'll bet," He said, barely keeping the venom out of his voice. I shuddered at his stare, feeling uncomfortable. Not to mention that I hated what he was insinuating. It wasn't true, anyways, despite what the whole world thinks... Even my whole world. His eyes narrowed spitefully. "_Please_..." He scoffed, rolling his eyes and glancing away. His eyes turned back on me less than a second later, and I was floored by the dark intensity in them. "He's an asshole," He growled, fury evident in his tone.

Well, duh, Tommy's an asshole. But he's my asshole! Well... Not mine, actually. That's why he's an asshole. He's Sadie's... Sadie's Asshole, and Sadie's Little Slut. Come on, tell me something I couldn't have told you within five minutes of meeting him. I rolled my eyes at him, unable to stop the smirk from spreading easily, smoothly across my face, like butter. "Wow! Yet **another** thing you two have in common!" I exclaimed sarcastically, faking enthusiasm.

Unfortunately, Quinny-Poo wasn't half as amused as me. I swear, the guy's even more of a wet blanket than Tom. Then again, he's also like a gazillion years older than Tommy, but whatever. Okay, so he's not that much older... But he's definitely too old for me. Needless to say, he bristled at the unwanted but true comparison.

His eyes blazed vengefully like green fire. Of course, there's no such thing as green fire... No, wait, that's a lie. We did this experiment in chemistry with things dipped in these solution-y things... And you were supposed to light them. The classroom was pitch black, remember? Being my clumsy self, I managed to crash into a rack of test tubes. You would really think I'd stop there, wouldn't you? But no, I didn't... I... Oh, wait, sorry, I knocked over the test tubes when I crashed into the shelf of beakers. And THEN I lit that one guy's hair on fire and spilled acid on the teacher's pants. And of course it was the acid that eats through clothing. Ew, and just when I thought it couldn't get any more gross, he goes under the chemical shower. Let's just say that if you don't look good dry, you sure as hell don't look good wet. In fact, you look worse.

Anyways, what was I talking about? Oh, right... The splint-test sort of thing we did for the lab. One of the sticks turned green. I think that one was copper... If I actually remembered that right, then it's a miracle. I don't think I learned much of anything in that class. Well, except that I have no idea what a polyatomic ion is, and that stoichiometry should die. Uh, whatever it is, exactly. It involves too much math for me. It's right up there on my hate list.

Wanna see?

Well, you don't have a choice. So there. Yes, I realize that that makes me sound like I'm two. But in some small way, aren't we all two? And I'm a philosopher who makes absolutely no sense, aren't I?

Yeah, that's what I thought. I'm strange, but that's okay. Because I wouldn't be me if I was normal. I'd be Sadie... Or maybe someone a little less overachieving. Like Jamie. Er, bad example. Kat? Hmm... Nah. I'll think of a proper comparison later.

Jude J. Harrison's Hate List

**Number One (and, oh, what a coveted position it is): One Mister Travis Quinn. **

Pedophile pervert who's out to get me and wants me to flunk while he enjoys hitting on my poor, innocent friend. Need I say more?

**Number Two: Math in all of its various complexities and multiplious forms. **

Okay, so maybe it's not a person. But it needs to die. I mean, okay, we were doing this wonky thing in Geometry, which is stupid anyways, because we were doing Algebra 2 work. He just said we'd need to know it, blah, blah, blah. I don't think I'll need to know it. I don't think anyone does. I mean, radicals and variables and exponents and square roots and cube roots, oh my! Much less simplifying the little devils. Seriously, did you know that the class I'm in is freshmen level? Now isn't that a scary thought?

Here I am, a Junior... Oh, God, what a scary thought! So, naturally, I'm in the class with all freshmen, a bunch of sophomores, two juniors who won't speak to me (one of them is my natural enemy: the Platinum Blonde Primadonna Pom-Pom Cheerleader, Homecoming Queen incarnate), and one moronic (drool monkeys are smarter than he is. I shall call him Ignoramus Rex) senior who never washes his hair and picks his nose all the time and eats it. The other junior is my other natural enemy, the exclusive Jock-Strap-for-Brains. He is the chief of his tribe, the Sportos, and also happens to be the Neanderthalic boytoy of my aformentioned first enemy.

I even came up with a song about how much I hated it using only the three words I, Hate, and Math. It was this sort of techno rap deal. Hey! It sounded cool in my head.

**Number Three: Cheerleaders in all shapes and sizes. **

Actually, no, that's not true. Just the bitchy ones. I'm sure there are some nice cheerleaders somewhere. Just not here. But I suppose they're better here than at Degrassi. Blech. They made me feel bad, and I was a guest! Ugh, and some of them... I swear, I have never met a bigger group of skanks in all my days, and I've met a lot of Sluttious Maximus-es. I walked past them to get a seat in the stands, and they gave me a dirty look. Oh, and when I was walking down the hallway, one of those bitches tripped me for no reason.

I mean, yeesh, I wasn't wearing a Carson Hill shirt or anything. And let me assure you, I'm not the type to cheer. They made mean remarks about me when I walked past them too, and they knew I could hear! "Did you _see_ what she's wearing?" "Yeah... Did she dress in the dark?" "No, with her eyes closed." "I don't think that's the problem. I think someone just bashed her head in with an ugly stick..." What even is an ugly stick anyways? I've never seen one, so one sure as hell hasn't bashed my brains in.

And then they beat me up, tore my clothes, and stole my lunch money.

Just kidding. I really had you going there, didn't I? They were mean, though. Before I won Instant Star, the cheerleaders here used to make my life hell too...

Though, you know, on the bright side, our team totally kicked their asses in Curling. I know 'cause Jamie got the winning score. He dominated!

**Number Four: Corporate Pop Mega-Poseurs.**

That's your basic pop act. I don't really dig 'em. I mean, I puked boybands and what not. I mean, it doesn't mean I can't listen... I just generally don't like to because it hurts my ears. I swear, if anyone compares me to one of those "teen queens", I think I'll play a nice brutal game of ice hockey, using their body as the puck. And I'll make sure to always hit their head.

So, and just so you know... Never compare me to a Simpson sister (Well, if you do, compare me to Ashlee. I've gathered that she's the smarter one in the family). Mandy Moore, maybe you can get away with that. Maybe. If I'm in a good mood, and I like you. If you wish to live, never, ever, ever compare me to Lindsay Lohan. Because I will kill you. Jamie can testify from personal experience. He compared me to her a while back when we were watching some movie of hers where she was singing and still had red hair. I tipped his Nana off the next day about his stash of porno and fireworks. And that was after giving him a bruise and putting glue in his body wash. Let's just say the gel and the bubbles washed off, but his hand didn't. His hand was stuck in a rather compromising and freakishly awkward position, if you get my drift...

And heaven forbid that you ever compare me to either of the Duffs. That's just insulting, seeing as I _can_ sing! I will smite you if you attempt it (piece of advice here... Don't. I'm really not joking here. Despite the fact that I am quite attractive when pissed off, I will also stop at nothing to avenge myself, racing frenetically towards your ultimate destruction. Got it?). Don't ever compare me to Britney if you wish to live to see your twenty-first birthday, but I'll let you get away with Christina, because she has the most amazing voice. But considering some of the things people have accused her of... I could really do without a repuation like that, and yet, that's just what I'm getting. Is that what happens when you sleep with Tommy? Are you immediately branded a whore? Hmm, it's funny... Tommy's dated, let's see... Mandy, Christina, Britney, and Jessica. At least, those are the ones I know. Because all the other ones are barely legal or not legal at all. He must have a thing for blondes.

Eh, too bad. I never had a chance. Now where was I?

**Number Five: Jocks, in assorted sizes.**

I simply hate them all. In fact, put them up there with cheerleaders. It's for the same reason. They picked on Jamie nonstop (even the girls. Who knew Lacrosse can give you biceps that big?), and they leered at me and insulted me. And they have the IQ of twigs.

Though wrestlers do make me laugh hysterically. I mean, there's so many different ways to insult them. And with the unitards and the grunting and the wrestling on the floor with sweaty guys... Come on, that's like ten punchlines right there.

There are probably a million other things or people I could list... Like Shay, Eden, Mr. James, and Darius, for starters. But I didn't. And then there's all the various facets of Chemistry.

Quinn crossed his arms over his chest deliberately. He wasn't exactly wearing a muscle shirt, but his shirt was close enough to his skin that I could see the muscles rippling underneath it when he moved. Not that I was looking or anything. That's just gross. "I told you, I am _nothing_ like Little Tommy Q," He stated vehemently, but his passion was a controlled one. He wasn't really reacting.

Oh, please. He couldn't be any more like Tommy if he tried! The only difference between them is that Tom's famous... And a notorious playboy... And he doesn't make it a habit to go after minors... I snorted, rolling my eyes about him. "You two sure must think alike, then, because you both kissed me!" I growled viciously, fixing him with a severe glare. Quinn looked somewhat confused by this development.

His eyes narrowed in concentration. He was staring at me like he'd just seen me for the first time. He raised his eyebrow, disbelieving. "Tom **kissed** you?" He questioned, unable to suppress his surprise. It seemed like this new development had rattled him a little. I don't get why, though. He's always been the one going on about how I'm the Future Mrs. Quincy.

I nodded, shrugging, not really seeing why it was such a big deal. I'm not _that_ ugly, you know. "Yeah... Why're you so surprised? You did it too!" I spat impatiently, rolling my eyes at him. What, he thinks he's the only guy that finds me attractive. Oh, God. He finds me attractive? No... I did not just sa-think that. No.

He looked at me through heavy-lidded eyes. Had his eyelashes always been that long? Wait, why am I noticing that, especially now, of all times? He shrugged nonchalantly and said nothing, which was a first. I suddenly felt very uncomfortable standing there with only a few inches in between us. "You're right," He whispered in a low tone that sent a shiver down my spine and set off the warning bells in my head. That should've been a sign that something bad was going to happen. He actually admitted I was right, and about comparing him and Tommy nonetheless.

I was numb and absolutely floored. You could've knocked me over with a feather, which I suppose is what he did. I could only stand there, stiff and stock-still, paralyzed with shock. My jaw was practically touching the floor. And he took advantage of that. Before I knew what it was he was doing, he placed his hands on both sides of my hips. A second later, he had pulled me against him with a crash. He glanced at me for one second, and then he kissed me.

He kissed me almost bruisingly hard, but I didn't respond. I was still completely shell-shocked, so I didn't budge an inch. I didn't close my eyes. I didn't touch him. I didn't do anything. It didn't even register, what he was doing, until one second, when it just hit me like a freight train out of nowhere. Didn't I tell him I'd castrate him if he ever did something like this again?

No, remember, you pulled a Tommy and didn't talk about it. No, Tommy talks about things like this. He just never mentions them again. You referenced it again, so the comparison doesn't even match up. A vague idea forming in my mind, I punched him as hard as I could in the gut.

It wasn't exactly what I meant to do, but it worked well enough. He rocketed back away from me, doubled over, clutching his side. He bit his lip in pain, eyes stabbing through me accusingly. I guess I did deserve the blame, but I didn't ask for him to kiss me. I didn't want him to kiss me. I couldn't stand his guts, period. I glowered at him, hands placed defiantly on my hips. He won't break me. I didn't say anything. I just stood there and stared him down to show him that I meant business.

Unfortunately for me, he recovered surprisingly fast. One minute he was bent over, holding his midsection, completely winded... And the next, he was fully upright, not showing one trace of the pain he'd been in only moments before. Unbelieveable. He's frickin' unbelievable. He leered at me and came closer. I didn't give him the satisfaction of watching me back up. Besides, I can handle him, and I will. I can take care of myself, thanks. "I'm right, and you know it. Quincy never _has_ kissed you like that, now, has he?" He posed antagonistically, just egging me on.

In some respects, he really was right. But in others, he was completely wrong. "Yeah, but _Quincy_ generally has my approval," I countered sharply, fixing him with a "get the hell away from me" look. Not that it worked. Travis made a face, looking sort of sick for a minute. Funny, now he doesn't want to hear about my relationship with Tommy. At least I know how to piss him off now.

And then Travis rolled his eyes and stepped closer and closer towards me. "Then why did you respond?" He murmured, framing my face and crashing his lips against mine. I didn't understand where all this passion was coming from. Quinn had never exactly been the warmest guy alive. And then... I suddenly realized that I was actually kissing him back, and I wondered... Why did I respond?

No, this can't be happening, I thought frantically. I ripped his hands off my cheeks, pulling my lips away from his. I took a few steps back and found it hard to breathe, and not from the kiss. I hated the way that he looked at me, with this smug, knowing grin on his face. That stupid mocking smirk that I wanted nothing more than to wipe off his sorry mug. I felt like punching him... And maybe I would have, if he... If he hadn't...

"You _want_ me," He declared cockily, walking towards me once again, a new swagger in his steps. And I thought Tommy was full of himself. At least Tommy has a reason, that whole boyband image to overinflate his already swollen ego. He said it as if it was the most adorable thing ever, like Little Jude had a little crush on him. But I didn't! I hated him, damnit, so why the hell couldn't he see that!

I shook my head frantically, feeling the panic rise up in me. I backed up, but he came closer. So I backed up more and more... until, eventually, my back hit the door. He loomed there in my vision, less than a foot away. Less than a foot away, and I had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I gulped, feeling hot and sweaty with fear. The closet seemed to shrink before my eyes. I felt like I was trapped in a coffin, buried alive and slowly dying by the second. My heartbeat pounded in my head. Thud, thud, thud. The beats pulsed erratically, faster than a techno beat on my brain. Suddenly it was too dark, and then too bright. My eyes hurt, and my head ached. I felt weak, and not in a healthy way.

I collapsed lightly against the wall, leaning on it heavily, looking for support. Right now, it was the only rock I had. Travis swam in my distorted vision, seemingly coming closer and closer. I closed my eyes and flattened myself against the wall, muttering a futile prayer under my breath. _Thy kingdom come, thy will be done... On Earth as it is in heaven... And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil..._

_Deliver us from evil... Deliver us from evil... From evil, evil, evil..._

_Deliver me!_

My frantic, whispered prayers were silenced when he forced his lips over mine urgently. Why was he doing this? What did he want from me? But as my prayers were silenced, so were my questions. I couldn't think, but I managed to open my eyes. And on some level, I knew that I was kissing Travis. I also knew that I didn't like Travis. But when I opened my eyes, I didn't see Travis.

You know how I said he and Tommy look a lot alike? They have the same coloring, same cheekbones, same nose, same hair gel... And when his eyes are closed and you're making out with him... They look like twins. So I did something I'm not very proud of. I stared at him for a minute and then I just... closed my eyes and gave in. I closed my eyes, tricking myself into thinking I was kissing Tommy. They looked just the same, and they felt just the same, right?

But they're not. I kissed him back with everything I'd been holding back. All the frustration and anger and hurt and pain I poured into that kiss. My mind was feverishly clouded, and I stumbled back as he maneuvered us somewhere. The shelves dug into my back, but I didn't care. I only grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer. I sucked in enough oxygen to breathe and then went in for Round Two. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. I arched my back, hands sliding down to drape loosely around his shoulders.

It wasn't that I didn't feel anything, because I did. The chemistry was there in all the right places.

But it just wasn't the same as the real thing.

Tommy was a better kisser, first of all. Of course, mind you, Tommy's obviously more experienced. Plus I'm head-over-heels for him, which might mean I'm a little biased, but really, can you blame me?

Secondly, Travis was just... There was just a completely different emotion there. He was focused, determined, and all charged up. He had a goal, and he was going for it. Apparently that goal was me.

You see, when Tommy kissed me... This is going to sound corny... But it was about me. And Travis was different in the respect that when he kissed me, it wasn't really about me at all. For the longest time I thought it was, but it was really all about him.

His lips trailed down my neck slowly, tantalizingly, nipping lightly at the white flesh. I moaned, writhing against the shelves uncomfortably, missing the feeling of his lips on mine more than anything. I needed that feeling. I needed this to be real. I didn't hear the door, but apparently it made some sound because he led me into some darker, more secluded corner of the storage closet. He pushed me into the corner, and I pulled him in the shadows with me. But my eyes only barely fluttered open during this time, so I didn't see much of anything. I banged into one of the shelves on my way, or maybe he did... It doesn't matter.

What does matter is that the box crashed to the ground and exploded. Both of our eyes shot open, immediately full of sheer panic. When I saw who was pressed up snug against me, I had what damn near felt like a heart attack. I felt faint and my knees buckled a little. I remembered that no, I was not kissing Tommy... Travis. I jerked my head away immediately, feeling flush. I couldn't take my eyes off the floor, and I didn't want to. I didn't want to ever look at him again.

I felt embarrassed. Humiliated for doing something so stupid with another guy so much older than me, this one whom I didn't even like in the slightest. And I felt embarrassed and... guilty... for using him like that. It was an unwelcome feeling. I didn't even want to see the way he was looking at me. I was sure I wouldn't like it at all. I knew what I had to do, and I knew it would come surprisingly easier than I thought it would. I shoved him away, pushing past him to get to the door. My plan was to pull a Tommy and pretend this never happened. I of course knew I sucked at lying like that, but it was what I had to do. And I guess it was what Tommy had had to do at the time.

But Travis had other plans, per usual. That shouldn't have surprised me. He grabbed me and slammed me against the door with a soft thud that jarred my senses a little, practically plastering his body against mine. His hands slid up and down the silk of my dress. For the second time in my life, I was conscious of how thin it really was. I felt the possessive warmth of his unwanted hands treading over my dress. His hands started on my waist, slid down to my hips, down further to my upper thigh, then they went up again. Up the thighs, over the hips, past the waist... His nails trailed lightly up my abdomen, but they didn't stop there. They went up my stomach, and stopped finally at my chest. I could do nothing but stand there, pinned against the door, as he felt me up.

The feeling of his dirty hands all over me made me feel sick inside. I hated being pawed like an object, a puppy, a pawn. I felt disgusted with myself and thoroughly disgusted with him. Not that he didn't always disgust me, repluse me, and the like... It was exactly like my song, only worse. I struggled against him, but it was to no avail. He smirked and bent down to capture my lips carelessly with his own.

I groaned and had to force myself to avoid vomiting on him out of sheer spite. I wanted to throw up. I felt cheap, like a paid whore or white trash. I'd completely lost control of my life here. I tried hard to get free... Banging my head against his, scraping him with my nails, biting his lip so hard it bled. I pushed at him, but he wouldn't budge. He stopped kissing me on the mouth, though, focusing on the soft plain of my neck. He attacked it almost voraciously, as if trying to leave a mark.

And with each sloppy kiss the skin got redder, and his lips went lower and lower. I knew the neckline of the dress was permissive, and I didn't want him getting any bigger eyehole than he already had. Actually, I didn't care about him looking down my shirt. It was the other thing. Like I need any more confirmation for the world to think I'm a whore. He finally succeeded in leaving his mark, only millimeters above my push-up bra. I couldn't do anything about it, but somehow, I found myself wishing I had fought harder. Maybe to the death, but that was out of the question, of course.

I fought with him for a good ten minutes, trying to hit him, wriggling as much as I could. "Get **off** of me!" I screamed, thrashing wildly. I hit him in the chest once, twice, three times... Nothing. He didn't even really move. He ducked a few times, and that was about it. I was too tired to keep up at this, and he knew it. His hand supported the small of my back as he leaned in to kiss me once more, running his hands through my hair as if he couldn't get enough. Like I was some ridiculous teenage fantasy girl or something.

He made me kiss him back. I didn't want to. His lips were wet and soft against mine, working slowly to coerce my pliant lips into a response. His teeth lightly grazed my lips as he deepened the kiss, pulling me flush against him. I could feel every clean line of his frame pressed against me; his muscles were tensed from anticipation. I wished my clothes were more substancial. The bittersweet taste of him invaded my senses, sliding past my lips, over my tongue, and down my throat. His hands traced my cheekbones before sliding over the airy fabric of my dress, copping a feel or two on the way down. I felt hot and slightly sweaty. I had to stop this... I had to... To get him off before he does something... else.

I pulled away, aware of how close our faces still were. I refused to look at him, staring at the floor. "Get away from me," I hissed, hoping my voice didn't waver. He didn't move at first, so I felt the need to repeat myself. "Get _away_ from me," I stated so slowly that even a foreigner could get the message. I just wanted him to leave me in peace. He still didn't move. I sucked in a shallow breath, bracing myself, and I looked up with steely, tear-free eyes. I forced myself to meet his eyes, but I was stunned by their dark intensity. I clenched my jaw, trying to show him that I wasn't afraid.

If only I believed that myself. I met his gaze full on. "Get **out** of my way," I snarled, narrowing my eyes at him. He only sneered at me and refused to budge an inch. Quinn underestimated my determination. He underestimated just how angry I was. As they say, hell hath no fury... and redheads are known for their fiery tempers. I waited a second for him to even offer to do something nice.

And when he didn't, I shoved him back with both hands, surging forward and past him. I didn't say anything. There was nothing to say; nothing I could say. Even if I wanted to... There were no words for it. I thought I'd made my feelings clear with that song, but it seemed to have only egged him on. I marched out of the room with a military precision, feeling stiff and awkward in my own skin. I was itching to write a song about the nightmare that had just befallen me, but songs... Well, that was what had gotten me into this whole damn mess in the first place. I had to get to Music Theory anyways. Judging by the clock, I was well over fifteen minutes late.

I wanted to leave, to just go home and shower. To rub my skin red and raw so I could forget about the memory of this awful day. All my problems were just starting then, but I didn't know that. I thought this was the worst to come. Looking back, it was still the worst part of the day. I felt cheap. I felt dirty. I felt violated. My skin crawled with the memory of his hands all over me. I knew I couldn't leave, though. I had to drive Kat to the studio... Where I had to film the video with Tommy. Our hot alley make-out scene. It felt weird, thinking about that, wearing _this_ dress.

I glanced down at the dress, grimacing. This thing must be cursed. I was wearing this dress when my first boyfriend dumped me for my rival at my birthday party. I was wearing this dress when the love of my life kissed me and made me take it back. And, once again, I was wearing this dress when my teacher took "hands-on" a little too literally. I really wanted to change, but that was what had gotten me in this mess in the first place.

So once again, I steeled myself, and I marched to the classroom. Lyra blinked at me, surprised to see me. Apparently, she thought I was going to skip. Ha! I wish. "Jude, you're fifteen minutes late. Do you have an excuse?" She asked patiently. Lyra was pretty cool most of the time, but right now, she seemed a little worried. I hadn't realized how I looked, but I suddenly realized that I probably looked very strange.

My cheeks were paler than usual, as if all the color had drained out of them. They were simultaneously flushed. My lipstick was smeared, my eye make-up slightly smudged. I had what Kat would call "sex hair", which meant, of course, that my hair was a mess. Not to mention the sudden 180 in style. I felt myself flush further, being somewhat embarrassed at my disheveled appearance.

A thought occurred to me. I had a great excuse. I would've been on time if I could. "Ask Quinn. I'm sure _he'll_ excuse it," I muttered irritably, stalking to my seat at the back of the room. It seems the universe just wants to deem me a slut. In the eyes of the media, in the eyes of my label, in the eyes of my friends... Even at school! I plopped into the seat, grabbing a pencil and a piece of notebook paper.

"_Am I another casualty? In this battle you're waging? You're my own worst enemy... At war with myself, I can't let you see..._" I began to sing thoughtfully, scribbling down the notes and the lyrics. I nodded and kept tapping the beat softly in time. "_And I can't stand to watch your comet coming fast... Everywhere you go, it seems, lightning strikes and then you crash. I don't know you do it. It always ends the same. Everywhere you go, it seems lightning strikes, but there's no rain.._." I continued, writing those lyrics down too. But suddenly, I felt uninspired. It felt like the lyrics were more about me than the incident they were supposed to be about. I sighed hopelessly, staring blankly at the ceiling. So much for that song idea.

I continued staring moodily at the ceiling, feeling stupid. I'd never experienced a block like this. So much was going on in my life... So many things that I wanted to write about, and yet... I just couldn't. I couldn't get out a single word. I groaned frustatedly, burying my head in my hands. I immediately jumped up a second later when I felt my phone vibrating. It happened to be a text from Kat, saying that she didn't need a ride. She'd get to the studio on her own, probably asking Jamie for a ride. You'd think Jamie dropping Kat off nearby G. Major would oh, I don't know, maybe make him suspicious or something... But that was the beauty of G. Major being in the Fashion District, Kat's second home.

So I didn't even have to stay after all. Great, just great. With that thought in mind, I decided to leave like Joan had. I picked up the few things I had and walked straight out the door. I ran to my locker, throwing it open, snatching my clothes, my bag, and my guitar. I slammed the locker shut and raced to the bathroom. I flew into a stall, ripping the dress off. I watched it drop to the floor, somewhat entranced, for a moment. I felt like I was losing my innocence in much the same manner, slowly. That's the number one rule of fame, after all: The higher you rise, the harder you fall.

Staring at the emerald silk, I snapped out of my daze, remembering that I had to be at the shoot in thirty minutes (and it was a twenty-five minute drive to G. Major). I pulled on my pants, fastening the belt around my waist, throwing the tank top over my head, and buttoning up my sweater. I smoothed my hair and wiped away some of the stray lipstick before picking up the dress and throwing it carelessly in the bag. I fought back the memories that dress brought up, shaking my head at my own foolishness. I didn't want to chance another encounter with my least favorite teacher, so I ran through the hallways like a bat outta hell. I saw Speed and the guys motioning for me to come over to them, but I merely waved (as I actually saw He Who Must Not Be Named coming from the other direction... with his eyes on me) and scurried out through the back door, into the Teacher's parking lot. I hunted for my car, which wasn't that hard to pick out, as it's not every day you see a fancy cherry red Viper in a teachers' parking lot. And there, right across from it, stood its shiny emerald green counterpart, sitting there and mocking me.

It was Travis' car, the color of those eyes that I hated so, and the color of my cursed dress. I shuddered visibly at the sight and decided to get the hell out of Dodge before its owner decided to show up. I jumped in the car and floored it. Okay, so maybe I wasn't in the best frame of mind to drive, but I had to get there. My hands were shaking, but I managed to maintain a constant speed. I was making pretty decent time too, considering how far the studio was from school. I came to a light. When I got there, the light was green, but it turned yellow just as it was my turn to go up. Normally I go for it if it's yellow. I floor it... It's not exactly the best habit, but I picked it up from Tommy. So when the light turned yellow as I was approaching the intersection, I slammed down on what I thought was the gas pedal. You see... I still have a bit of a problem with that.

I slammed down on the brake instead of the gas. At first I mentally cursed myself, as were the people behind me (I do not appreciate being flicked off, thank you! I'm a bad enough driver as it is without you adding fuel to my fire!). That lasted about a second. It stopped promptly when I saw a car run straight into the driver's side of the car in front of me. If I had slammed down on the accelerator instead of the break, that could've been me.

That came as a sober realization as I peered out on the accident, noticing that there wasn't anyone moving within the car. I gulped hard, frozen there, gawking at the accident until someone honked behind me. I made a snap decision, flicking the turn signal and making an abrupt right turn. I don't know what force guided me through the city, but it most certainly wasn't my brain... because my mind was still back there, dwelling on that awful accident. How it could've been me. By some miracle, I was a better driver when I was out of it (the Guardian Angel finally kicks in!) than when I was in my full mind.

The next thing I knew, I was all alone in an empty parking lot. The shaking started in my hands and spread to my legs and then to my whole body. I was trembling like a leaf in the wind, and I was soon shivering so violently that when my teeth chattered, it sounded like an SOS. I definitely could not drive in this condition. It wasn't that it was cold. It just stuck in my head that if I had made one little decision differently, I might not be here. I could have died back there! For some reason, that thought scared me to death. I picked up my phone, wondering who to call. I couldn't think of anyone who wouldn't be at the studio or mad at me. And I wanted someone to drive my car...

Then it occurred to me... Mason! He didn't have a car... He'd given me his number the other day, so I pressed the button with quivering fingers. Mason picked up immediately. "Hello?" He asked politely. I racked my brains, knowing that he was in college, but not quite remembering where he went or which class he was in. I didn't think he'd drop everything for me, but I figured it was worth a shot.

"Hey, Mason... It's Jude, and I was kind of wondering if you could drive me to G. Major... We're filming the video today and I think I'm already late," I implored, crossing my fingers and hoping he could help. If he didn't, I really didn't have very many options. Well, very many options that didn't endanger my life, that is. There was a brief pause, but each second that passed by made me crazier and crazier.

"Uh, Jude, I'd love to, but I don't have a car..." Mason pointed out a bit nervously. I bit my lip, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice, taking a slow, deep breath.

"I meant mine... I'm not exactly feeling up to driving. I totally understand if you don't want to..." I murmured, trying to get an answer out of Mason either way. I heard Mason laugh over the line. What, he thought I was funny? He thought I was joking? Or did he think I was stupid? Maybe he... Oh, I don't know!

"Are you kidding, Jude? I hate this class. Just tell me where you are," Mason joked brightly. Is he for real? He's so nice! He barely knows me, and yet, still... He's going to give me a ride. I think I love him right now. I felt a genuine smile cross my face as I glanced around for the address. Okay, so no help there... Ooh, hey, landmarks! I squinted to read the letters of the sign on the imposing building across the street from me.

"Um, I'm right across the street from the uh, Royal Conservatory of Music. You do know where that is, right?" I asked worriedly, biting my lip. There was an eerie silence over the phone, and for a second I felt worried he hadn't heard me. He just out of the blue decided to hang up on me. I sighed and sulked in my chair, staring moodily into space until a shadow came over me. I glanced up and saw... Mason. My jaw dropped and Mason grinned shyly, checking out my car with an approving nod. I thrust the keys into his hands, jumping into the passenger's seat and taking care to fasten my seatbelt.

Mason looked like a starving orphan kid in a candystore. He was practically salivating on the leather. But after what seemed like an eternity of staring at my baby, he closed his jaw and slid smoothly inside. I leaned over and punched him hard in the stomach for making me think he'd hung up. Mason shrugged. "Well, what do you expect? I go there..." He muttered, clearly dissatisfied. I rolled my eyes at him, and Mason reverently placed the key in the ignition and slowly backed out. Mason's such a good driver... so careful. He's kind of like Jamie in that respect, I suppose.

Mason was fully absorbed in his driving (which was entertaining to watch, to say the least). He'd never handled a car like this one before, and I could tell he liked the feel of it. I grinned a little at that and fiddled around with the radio dial. Oddly enough, Mason stopped me from changing the station when I heard my voice. After all, he had never heard "Dirty Old Man", which happened to be playing. I couldn't help but notice that the station followed it up with "Walking Contradiction".

As I heard the familiar guitar riffs and drum beats of "Dirty Old Man", I felt the tears finally start to trickle down my cheeks. Only Mason let me put my head on his shoulder and cry. He let me let out all the tears that I couldn't cry before. I felt that somehow he understood that I had my reasons, and he was patient enough to not ask any questions. He was just so sweet and so supportive. He knew, or maybe guessed about my problems with men, listening patiently when I detailed some of the things that had befallen me as of late.

I couldn't tell him about what had happened in that closet today. I couldn't ever tell anyone about that. I would rather die. I didn't even want to think about the stupid closet or the stupid man.

Mason drove to the studio with my head on his neck,and his arm was wrapped around my shoulder. He smelled nice. I sighed, burying my face in his neck. Eventually, however, we had to get up. Mason parked the car and killed the engine, and I knew that I had to thank him there. It seems even Mason was sentimental. He was going to make me cry about this too with the way he's going. I leaned back in to kiss him on the cheek to show my gratitude, but he turned his head at the wrong moment, so we kissed. For someone who didn't intend or mean to kiss me, he wasn't half bad. He really didn't seem to mind all that much.

I mean, so what if the tabloids had captured the moment on film? I'm always in them anyways. But me kissing another guy is not the way to go. I'm sick of the stares I get in the hallway. I'm sick of people looking at me like they know all my business. Right now only Mason knows even close to what actually happened, and I'm glad. It shows that I can trust him, something I so desperately needed since there was one more male I could never trust again, even if he sucked up and kissed my feet, something he'd never do anyways. I trusted Mason enough to let him touch me, knowing he wouldn't push my boundaries.

I was alive; I could handle this. That was all that mattered. So maybe I'd been felt up today... Maybe I'd had a near-death experience. But I was still standing, right? There had to be some reason. But first off all, someone's got to help me fix my bad reputation. I took a few calming breaths, forcing myself to ignore and forget the rest of the day had ever happened. But it was so much harder than you'd think.

The more I told myself not to think about it, not to dwell on it... The more I thought about it, and the more I dwelled on it. I was so distracted. Tommy made me sing fifteen takes of this song... But there was no progress. Of course there was no progress when my brain was mired in the past!

How would I ever be able to go to Music again? To face him again? To look at Joan? Guess I better hunt down some fortitude... It seems like I'm going to need it. I felt so dirty going there , knowing that I'd be kissing Tommy. I wished I could shower in-between the... Just so I wouldn't feel like some whore, kissing one guy with another smeared all over me.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, I wiped my eyes and stepped out of the car, glancing up at G. Major. It was time to go inside. I took a deep breath and walked in. Predictably, the first person I saw was Tommy, looking very, very hot. Then everything seemed to blur, and Kat was handing me the black dress. I went to the bathroom to put it on and felt uncomfortable. I'd already seen what happened when I wore silk earlier. Couldn't keep the guys off of me.

I stepped out of the bathroom nervously, only minutes away from being ambushed by the make-up artists. I ought Tommy out in the room... There he was, in the far back corner. I was I too stupid to hope he'd seen me? Tommy eyes met with mine, immediately glancing downwards to take in my appearance. Well, I must've looked pretty damn good, because when he did this, he choked and spat out half his espresso... A pretty big deal, if I do say so myself.

Unless it wasn't a good thing at all. Unless it was a bad, bad, bad thing. Was it?

I was a bundle of raw nerves. Though why was I freaking? I get to do something I love on national TV, kissing Quincy. In the same alleyway where we'd first really kissed. It had happened here before. I barely would have to act. So, so why did I feel so nervous?

That's easy. This video will make you look like even more of a slut, for starters. Not to mention that this is Tommy's anniversary. And I'd done something so very regrettable...

"Jude, Tom, we start filming in ten!"

I gulped. Ten as in ten minutes? TEN! I was starting to hyperventilate, and my stomach seemed to be filled with butterflies. I didn't feel so good. I felt hot, sweaty, pale... Utterly exhausted.

But, to quote Queen, the show must go on. God willing.

"Five minutes left!"

Oh, dear God. What have I gotten myself into?

I think... I think I'm going to be sick.

Loren ;

If you liked it, reviews are appreciated. A lot. More than candy on Easter, seeing as my little cousins get to eat all of it. Though I love me some chocolate bunnies and eggs and what not... But reviews taste better... Well, they don't really taste better. They taste like old newspaper and musty old books. But they're so much more satisfying, and that's what counts. So review, hint, hint... ;)


	27. Never Enough

Anyways, this chapter's all about the boys. Jude might be the main character, but pretty much any important male character on the show or in the fic (with the exceptions of Stuart, Darius, and Shay... Well, Don and Liam, but they aren't in the fic at all as of the current moment) is in the chapter. Mason and Speed are particularly important. Yep, and in this fic, it's reversed... Kyle's the one with the girlfriend, while on the show, Wally's the one with the girlfriend. 'Cause I wrote up Kyle's girlfriend a long while ago, and I don't wanna get rid of her.

Okay, so when I said this chapter was going to be long... I seriously had no friggin' idea just HOW long. To be honest, this chapter even surprised me. I mean, take the bathroom scene, for instance. That came out a WHOLE lot more different than I planned, as well as the Jude/Speed fight. And the part directly after the bathroom, which I added because I remembered I wanted to include, well, you'll see... I know this chapter might seem weird and really, really contradictory, but... I don't know... It's different. And now I sound like Jude. Sorry, you don't get this yet. You'll get it when you read it. I'm actually kind of nervous about posting this chapter.

Anyways, this chapter may seem familiar. Gee, I wonder why. Lol, no, it's sort of my take on the first half of "I Fought the Law" with a pinch of "Jean Genie" thrown in for good measure. Lol, give it the Loren twist. Anyways, this chapter is also what I would say is the raciest chapter... for now. Don't worry, there's nothing graphic. Just making out.

Let's see... I don't own the bits of "Liar, Liar", nor do I own "Never Enough". Oh, and any pop culture reference... It's safe to say I don't own them. Or, for that matter, Instant Star itself, but come on, with 27 chapters, I think you already knew that. As usual, song lyrics are in italics.

Oh, and I want to thank all the reviewers. Soo, soo, soo much. I look at my stats, and there's like... 1454 hits to my profile (whenever I typed this bit up). And it's amazing! Plus I'm on so many people's favorites and author's alerts, and everyone's reviewing! And not just little reviews... Big, big PAGE LONG reviews! My favorite kind! Hmm, did you know that I have over 500,000 words? Actually, it's closer to 600,000 (And just half of that's this fic!).

Oh, and just some things you ought to check out... First off, Belle's fic, Unexpected (gotta love her!). Seriously, it really lives up to that title. So go read it, she rocks! Ooh... Again, A Bittersweet Homecoming... Just awesome. I love it. I'd say more about it, but I wanna actually get a chapter out before midnight this time. ;) Ooh, and anything by Scented Candl3s (thanks for the help on Princess Paleolithic!)... She's got this great one-shot based on Un-Sweet Sixteen and then the Person Who Defines you one... Great stuff.

Okay, so "le loup retourne toujours au bois" is so my new motto. And I went to look up Tourtiere... It's like the national dish of Quebec, and it's served on/around Christmas and New Year, usually after midnight mass (on Christmas Eve). Though it is sold and made all year and in all parts of Canada.

You know what's awesome? Mondegreens. What is a mondegreen, you may ask? Well, let's see if I can give a proper Instant Star example, shall we? Hmm, oh, "Anyone But You". Half the song, I swear... Like I had in the beginning: "It's such a world (with anyone but you), I couldn't fall..." You see? Nah, that one sucked. Ah, I know! The whole "My Sweet Time" vs. "My Sweet Town" thing. That's a mondegreen. Oh, and the whole "how it works is a mystery" vs. "Hollywood stays a mystery" (I like the Hollywood one better though. Sounds cooler). I suppose "That Girl" is really the best example, 'cause I still don't know if it's "guy" or "lie"... Or "just in three days" or "dressed in pretty lace".

Oh, and I was messin' around on the internet, anyways, long story short, I found this article on Instant Star from a WHILE back. So it has summaries of the characters and what not... Lol, to quote it: "Tommy Q had seen and done it all by the time he'd turned 16". And he's apparently "pop-rock". Uh huh (coughBOYBANDERcough).

Anyways, the point is... It describes a lot more about the characters. Like, for instance, E.J. was the "sharp and sexy" (I wish I was joking... That's actually what it said) head of marketing and promotion. Which was why she was always so concerned about Jude's style. And Georgia... was apparently a cutthroat businesswoman (and 39. But I'm gonna say she's more like 32 for this fic, by the way...). Oh, and G. Major really did have money problems. But apparently she's a recording biz veteran. Did I say that I think they changed some of this?

And Darius is 35... And he's from the streets. And there's other stuff, but still... "Darius' biggest selling act was the quintessential 90s boy band "Boyz Attack", featuring teen heartthrob Lil' Tommy Q." Lol, Quintessential. Good pun. Oh, and Shay... an R and B popstar! Go figure. And yes, Darius had a record company, Solid Records, before G. Major... Guess which label Shay was signed to? So Darius raised Shay, apparently, in the lap of luxury.

Oh, and now we come to Mama and Papa Harrison. Vic was a former Miss CNE 1978, so she's literally a Beauty Queen. And she wanted her daughters to go to a gifted school or something. And Stu's an accountant for a law firm who lacked the drive and talent to actually go into rock 'n' roll. Hmm, and he was a young father? Yiikes. So I guess then that Jude's like Stu and Sadie's like Vic. Aww. And Sadie did track... Who would've known!

And Kat and Jude met in Brownies... And Jamie and Jude in kindergarten... Aww. Though it makes Kat sound a lot more wild than she actually is. Anyways, apparently, before Jude won Instant Star, her and Jamie only had one fight 'cause they both wore Ramones t-shirts. I get the feeling they actually mentioned that on the show somewhere.

Oh, anyone else notice that Kwest is obsessed with sandwiches? Like when he and Mason left to make sandwiches... And in Speed's song...

You know, randomly... I was looking at the lyrics to "Hallelujah", and they REALLY fit what actually happened in the episode. Composing a song, faith needing proof, forbidden attraction, deja vu, people once being open to each other, but not anymore, honesty, being hurt by love... You get the picture. Anyways, on with the longest chapter (to date) of the fic! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I like writing it!

* * *

So it's like Instant Star all over again. I'm hyperventilating in the bathroom, and Kat, Mason, and Chaz are all trying to get me to calm down. I threw up earlier, which I suppose was coming, and Kat made me wash out my mouth and gargle mouthwash. Mason gave me a pack of Tic-Tacs. I was so nervous I swallowed the whole thing. They keep trying to be supportive... "It's just a kiss." "You've done it before, and that was in front of thousands of people onstage at a Shay concert!" "C'mon, you're a rockstar now, girl. You can handle kissing one boybander."

Chaz sort of took offense to that last one. "Well, she's kissed two!" He proclaimed loudly, which everyone already knew anyways. I finally broke down and confessed that I was sort of afraid I was going to lose control. They were all really supportive. In fact, Mason and Chaz offered their lips for practice (in fact, they even offered to replace Tommy in the video, which I knew was impossible for several reasons. For one, Tommy did the vocals. For another, Mason's just eighteen, a sophomore in college). Kat too, come to think of it. Naturally, this had the guys fascinated. Pigs, the lot of them. Mason claimed he was just wondering how long we'd known each other, but I don't buy that.

Then the evil crew yelled that I had two minutes left, so we all cleared out of the bathroom. Both Mason and Chaz offered me lopsided smiles, as if to calm me down. It didn't work. I felt like I needed a drink. Not that anyone was going to give this me one. Julia Lennon maybe, but not Jude Harrison. Naturally, I can't get the one thing I need. "One minute!"

I felt sick to my stomach (how is that possible after puking my guts out?) and insanely nervous, standing there at the door to the alleyway, waiting to walk out. I bit my lip and suddenly turned around. Some people (probably my actual PR people) thought I was going to bolt, but instead I walked over to Chaz and planted one on him. You know what they say... Practice makes perfect. It wasn't a Grandma kiss either. It was full-on, the real deal. He's actually a pretty good kisser. I have to give him credit.

Then, after twenty seconds or so of that, I broke the kiss and immediately wrapped my arms around Mason's neck, pulling him into a kiss. Mason was sort of surprised. I could tell he was that sort of shy guy who said all the right things and was so nice. I need to find him a girl. Not that his surprise lasted long. Mason really... Wow. I mean, wow. I almost didn't want to stop for a second there. He really threw himself into it. I stepped back while I still could, just gaping at him. I was dangerously close to kissing him again and trying to forget all about Tommy.

However, E.J. pushed me towards the door, but I was still sort of gaping over my shoulder. Chaz smirked, nudging Mason. "You know, if Tommy ever finds out, you're going to have to sleep with one eye open," He remarked bemusedly. Sadly enough, he was being serious. Mason had this sort of goofy grin on his face, and he was still staring at me when he answered Chaz.

Unfortunately for me, Portia and E.J. were fussing over me. Portia was scowling, as she'd just done my make-up. "Her lipstick's smeared!" She exclaimed fretfully, waving the lipstick about like a madwoman. I ducked about twenty times. E.J. rolled her eyes. Portia's own lipstick was smeared. She'd just arrived literally a second ago and had completely missed me kissing anyone. Kwest keeps her busy... Real busy. But I guess that's what happens when you don't see your wife for long periods of time. So everytime they see each other, they go at it like he's just out of prison or the army or something... E.J. shrugged, defeated, for once not caring about my appearance. I think she was thinking about the PR she could do on me and the guys.

"She's going to make out with Tom anyways in like two seconds. I really don't think it matters," E.J. huffed, fiddling with my hair. Portia frowned, pursing her lips. Tommy was still a bit of a sore subject with her. And apparently with the two of us. I knew she didn't approve of what she witnessed yesterday. Not that she could tell anyone. She doesn't want either of us to be that miserable. And besides, there's her and Kwest. I've got some lovely blackmail on that front. I rolled my eyes and stepped up to the door, waiting for my cue.

"And **action**!" The director yelled. I flung the door open, but not before I heard Mason's reply to Chaz' comment over my shoulder. I think he thought I was out of earshot. Well, sorry, Mase, I wasn't.

"If she kisses me like _that_ again, I'll never sleep again..." I heard him murmur somewhat suggestively. I couldn't help it... That made me smile. He always knew the right things to say. Maybe I walked out there with that stupid grin on my face, but it immediately fell off when I looked at Tommy.

We had already done some filming and a few promo shots. Minor scenes, mostly solo, before we changed into these clothes. Well, more like before I changed? I don't exactly remember what Tommy was wearing, which is ridiculous when you consider that I was practically staring at him. Though I was imagining a more fun Tommy, one who didn't look so uptight... in much less clothing. You know, just boring shots of Tom and me in the studio. They're treating me like some kind of model, which is ridiculous, as I'm not glamorous at all, in the slightest. Plus I'm 5'5". They don't even let you try out for Next Top Model unless you're at least two inches taller. I find that kind of stupid, as Kate Moss is like three inches shorter than me. But, then again, look at Kate's career right now... Anyways, back to _my_ video.

Want to hear how the storyboard works? Come on... I'll tell you. Okay, so I'm the kind of girl that knows what she wants and goes after it (there is some degree of truth behind this statement). I'm _maturing_ and growing up. I want Tommy to see my... _adulterous_ qualities. And, yes, I did intend for that innuendo. Anyways, so it's pretty much as follows... Jude's growing up! And she's a skank! A natural progression, of course... Just look at my sister. She's all grown up, and _she's_ doing the guy.

I'm not blind. I see the way Tommy looks at me, so I'm exploiting that by dressing like a streetwalker. Never mind the fact that this much exposed flesh isn't really my thing. I'm not quite comfortable here. So pretty much... I know Tommy wants me, hence the skank-a-riffic clothing. Because, mind you, I want Tommy even more than he wants me. Hmm, funny, that's actually true...

So my evil plan happens to be working. Tommy's slowly losing his mind around me because of the flirtatious behavior and almost nonexistent wardrobe. They should call it no-robe, really... So Tommy's pretty much at his breaking point, thanks to some brilliant statistical maneuvers on my part. I have him right where I want him, in the palm of my hand. Don't worry, that won't last long.

And since Tom can't take it any more, he asked me to meet him out here so we could "talk". Gee, what do you think he wants to discuss? I think I have some idea... And, really, it involves little to no actual talking. So he's going to pretty much pounce on me like two seconds after I walk out there.

"Smells Like Teen Spirit" filled my ears as I marched dramatically down that walkway. It played in my head at full volume, forcing the thoughts from my head. My own music was blasting, but the Nirvana song drowned it out. Not that I minded. I'd take Nirvana over "Minor Liaison" any day. "Smells Like Teen Spirit" was a fitting song, I suppose. It's the song that always runs through my head before I'm about to do something stupid and teenager-ish and wicked hormonal.

I was trying to prepare myself for the eventuality of Tommy practically jumping on me in, oh, say T minus two seconds and counting... But it was different walking on that thin beam. Had it always been this narrow? I didn't remember it like this. Not that I was focusing on walking the two times I've been here. Yep, it was um, crying and kissing and talking to Tom... That's all that ever happens here.

Only Tommy didn't jump on me immediately when he saw me. He looked good. I mean really, really good. It hurt me to look at him. He was supposed to have just pulled me out of the studio or whatever, but neither of us would wear outfits like these to the studio. To parties and things, maybe, but never work. He was wearing a black blazer over a white dress shirt with a black tie, black pants with thin white pinstripes, and shiny black dress shoes. Eerily enough, it vaguely reminded me of what he'd worn on my Sixteenth. However, that time the shirt was black with white pinstripes, the tie was white, and the pants were just black. His tie was loosened. The first two buttons on his shirt were undone, and his shirt was tucked in.

Tommy never wore ties to work, and he hardly ever tucked his shirt in. He might wear a dress shirt from time to time, but rarely. He's the same about blazers. He only wears them on special occasions or such, you know, official producer things where he has to look professional. Like, for instance, filming the "Waste My Time" video. Man, I love that blazer with that shirt. He's wearing the same blazer now, you know... But most of the time, he's in jeans, sneakers, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket, same as me. Only his clothes are more pricier than mine.

I was wearing the dress Kat had made, some weird sort of strapless push-up bra, and a pair of (also clingy) knee-high black boots. Aww, look, we match!

I don't know. I walked out there purposefully, and then Tommy and I locked eyes. I stopped dead in my tracks. And, I don't know... This moment passed between us. Something passed between us. I just... don't know quite what it was. After what seemed like an eternity, I snapped out of my trance, perhaps a bit too visibly. I shook my head, tossing my hair at the sky, eyes flaming. I placed my hands hard on my hips challengingly, leg jutting out defiantly. "What do you want?" I asked brusquely, coolly. It was what I was supposed to say, of course.

Make me look like the vixen who pretends not to know what the hell she's doing. And yet everyone secretly knows she realizes her effect on people... male people. You know the one... Seductisaurus Sex. Get it, like T-Rex? I felt like tossing my hair, but I refrained, staring Tommy down instead.

Tommy didn't smile, though I could sense that he wanted to, if only to ease the tension in the room... or should I say alleyway. Historically, it wasn't exactly the best place for either of us. Tommy broke down here, and I broke here. Instead, his eyes burned into mine. He walked towards me slowly, finally stopping right in front of me. "You," He whispered intently, gently placing his hands on my cheeks. I closed my eyes involuntarily, waiting for him to kiss me. I felt his breath on my lips, but he never leaned in.

The stupid jackass of a director ruined it. "CUT!" He shrieked loudly. My eyes jerked wide open, and we immediately shot apart. The director rolled his eyes, looking bored. In fact, the jerkhole actually yawned. Excuse me, was that little moment not juicy enough for you!

Apparently it wasn't. "Tommy, we're looking for drama here... Action. None of this foolish tenderness. There is no romance about this. There is only a **raw**, primal need that you both need to satisfy. Tommy, she's been parading around the studio for _weeks_ in those skimpy outfits, knowing **exactly** what she's doing to you... And you can't take it anymore. You want a little satisfaction," The asshole declared boldly, inserting a dramatic flair. I glanced at Tommy, rolling my eyes at the director. Who does he think he is, practically quoting Elvis over there? Tommy smiled slightly.

Then, of course, ruining yet another moment, the director cleared his throat loudly and motioned for Tommy and I to resume our first positions. Rolling my eyes, I stomped back down the alleyway irritably. Only more bad times with this alley, I tell you! The director LOUDLY counted to three and motioned for me to go. I trudged down the walkway, but I was dreading it this time. Once again, the director had us stop. Tommy hadn't even moved. The asswipe then proceeded to yell at me. "Harrison, keep it lively out there! You look like you're marching to your own funeral!" He shrieked.

I rolled my eyes at the vile man. "Maybe I am... especially with you directing it," I muttered under my breath. Tommy overheard me and snickered. I made a face at him over my shoulder, but quickly looked away before the director yelled at me. Once again, I was secure in my place. It went on like this for what seemed like forever. Tommy and I would try and do the scene, but it was never quite right. So the evil director made us go back and forth over and over again, yelling at us so much he nearly lost his voice.

Finally, after about a hundred takes or something... It sure felt like one hundred... The director tried to give us a lesson. Would you believe that after one hundred takes, Tommy's lips hadn't even grazed mine? Georgia pointed out that I had walked perfectly several times at least. She argued for us, saying that she'd have some of our people watch it and edit the film. The guy was one of Darius' flunkies, so I wasn't really surprised at the sub-par job he was doing.

Anyways, so he decided that Tommy and I weren't quite hot enough. "Where's the passion, the intensity?" He questioned, disbelieving. "The song is great... It's like recorded sex. And you two are... _hot_. I just don't quite get how a couple that's already sleeping together can have so many intimacy issues!" He exclaimed frustratedly. It was as if time had stopped for a second. I blinked. Tommy blinked. We both looked at each other in abject horror.

And then, as if we had planned it, we both shouted, "We're **not** sleeping together!" The director didn't seem to believe us in the slightest, however. In fact, the little prick actually had the nerve to roll his eyes at us. You know, it might've been because we said it at the same time.

"Then you should be," He retorted, shooting us an impatient look. Tommy's jaw dropped, and I had to close it for him, smiling sheepishly. Tommy tried to smile back, but it only came out strained. The evil dictator... Oops, I mean director! He was peering out into space, as if searching for an idea. Then, suddenly, the strange little man clapped his hands delightedly. The big, wide, insane grin on his face notified both Tommy and me that he'd officially lost it. I glanced at Tommy and gulped. He looked about as worried as I did.

"Okay, kiddies, we're going to do an intimacy exercise my therapist taught me..." He began rather cheerfully. Tommy looked very put-off at being called a kid. I was disgusted. He should not mention the words intimacy and therapist in the same sentence. Then again, if he's banging his shrink, he's definitely screwed up in the head. Ew. As if anyone would ever... What business does his shrink have teaching him intimacy exercises? Oh, I know... To better torture me with!

Ooh, looks like he's going to start some directing. Great. Honestly, is this guy a porno director or the real deal? I mean, come on... Well, might as well listen to whatever idiocy he's gonna spout off next. What he said next surprised us all, I think. "Okay... This is what we're going to do," He said with a scary finality. _We're_? As in him too! I shot Tom a panicked glance. It's funny how all my fear vanished when his hand merely brushed mine.

The Dictator concentrated on the both of us. "Okay... It goes like this. Tommy, you touch Jude and tell her something about yourself. Jude, you do the same. Got it?" He explained, looking between us. I forgot to mention that none of them were actually on the fire escape. They were sort of in one of those cherrypickers, a really wide one, in fact. Tommy and I exchanged nervous glances... Touch me? Touch me _how_? I bit my lip nervously, and Tom grabbed my hand.

"My favorite song is Hey Jude," Tommy whispered, pressing a kiss to my hand. I still didn't quite see the point of the activity. Or maybe I did. I probably did, seeing as my heart skipped a beat. His favorite song's "Hey Jude"? The one I'm named after? But... why?

I smiled somewhat breathlessly, stammering, trying my hardest to think of something to say. That's not true. I knew exactly what I wanted to say. I love you. But I sure as hell couldn't say that, now could I? "Tommy... you know that the rumors aren't true, right?" I asked shakily, slipping his hand in mine. My palms were sweaty. Did he know how nervous I was? Maybe I could... Maybe I should tell him. About what Tr-Quinn did to me. Maybe he won't look at me differently.

Oh, God. What happens if he starts to look at me differently? But... I-I have to tell someone. Right? If I don't, you know I'm going to snap or something. I don't like being around him... He always manages to catch me off-guard. But not any more. I won't be that stupid again.

Tommy frowned, leaning in a little for privacy. He tried to smile a little to cheer me up. "You've got to be more specific," He replied calmly. I hated the fact that that wasn't just a joke. He was right. There were so many crazy rumors out about me nowadays. I sighed. It shouldn't have to be this way. Besides, what's so damn interesting about my life, anyways?

So I hang out with a phalanx of hot guys. Big deal. I'm not screwing all of them... Or any of them, really. "The ones about me and those guys," I mumbled, looking down at my feet embarrassedly. I glanced up a few times nervously, to gauge his reaction. Finally, I glanced up and saw the smile on his face. Tommy looked oddly happy. The wrinkles had disappeared from his forehead; the crow's feet were gone from the corners of his eyes. He cheerfully wrapped an arm around me.

Had he had doubts before? Was it so bad that even Tommy didn't believe me? Well... I guess if he thinks I slept with him, it's not a stretch... But that's not true! "I'm glad," Tommy murmured, kissing my forehead. It felt weird having this awfully personal moment in front of so many people, so I squirmed away from Tommy's grasp. This isn't something I'd do normally, but appearance is everything. I'm glad... The words floated aimlessly through my head. Why was he glad they weren't true? Was it just because of my music?

But it couldn't be just music. Heartbreak makes the best songs. I speak from too much experience... Oh, and not that kind! You know, the one the tabloids are making me famous for...

I smiled uneasily at Tommy, struggling to think of something really personal to tell him. I wanted to say so much, but nothing would come out. I wanted to tell him that I was happy for him and Sadie. That if they made each other happy, then so was I. To not worry about me. That I'd lied the other day... He didn't have to worry about anything. I couldn't, of course... that could ruin everything. Tommy kept grudges, and then the video would be screwed.

"At least half of my songs are about you," I blurted randomly. Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have said that! It'll just feed Tommy's over-large ego even more. A wide smile stretched across Tommy's face as predicted.

"Yeah, the good half," He teased, running a finger lightly down my side. It was like he didn't even realize what he was doing! I bit my lip, feeling the hair rise on the back of my neck. I hit him lightly in the stomach for that remark, scowling at him. Doesn't he realize that he was insulting himself too? The way my songs turn out is a direct result of his editing. Therefore the production and not the voice of the singer reflects why the songs suck. If they suck. Which they don't. Tommy's turn. "I'm from Montreal." He was the master at this game. Simple, concise statements. I envied the way he was able to spell it out so easily.

There wasn't a single thing I could think of to say that wasn't a story. I was tempted to mock him, but I refrained. "I hate the Happy Birthday song," I muttered, rather dazed. Tommy smirked at me, raising his eyebrows, and nodding. Well, what was I supposed to say? It's not my fault that I can't think around him!

Apparently the director thought this was moving along a little too slowly. He motioned for us to resume our places, but this time the music didn't play. He tapped steadily on the railing using a cane. What he had a cane for, I'll never know. I walked toward Tommy as I was supposed to and stopped when I was supposed to, only a few feet away from him. The directator kept tapping the cane. I gulped, glancing over at his unhappy visage, and said my line.

Then the director did something very different. "Tom, grab Jude by the hips," He ordered. I looked back to Tommy, who was suddenly standing right in front of me. He placed his hands firmly on either side of my hips. I gulped nervously and felt the blood rushing to my head. Without even being told, Tommy pulled my hips against his. I licked my lips nervously. Tommy cocked his head and smiled lopsidedly at me before leaning in to kiss me.

"Now that's what I want to see on the tape, people!" The bombastic director declared. I blinked, and Tommy and I had broken apart. Reluctantly, feeling very frustrated, I marched back down to the other side of the alleyway. I felt like I'd been here for hours... and I still hadn't kissed Tommy! So when he counted down, I charged down that walkway like a woman possessed. Tommy's eyes roaved over me, and a slight smirk appeared on his face.

"What do you want?" I barked, crossing my hands over my chest stubbornly. I was frustrated with this... Frustrated with the stupid director... I wanted to kiss Tommy. Hell, after the day I had, I deserved to kiss Tommy. Didn't I? My frustration shown through. Hmm, am I being hot enough for you, Mr. Director?

"You," Tommy repeated, wrapping an arm around the back of my neck and pulling me into a rough kiss. My eyes closed immediately as I deepened the kiss. It felt good. Yeah, I think this'll be good enough for his standards. His hands slid down to my waist and the small of my back. He spun me around, wrapping his arms securely around my waist. My feet touched the ground, and I immediately took a step back. Tommy followed me enthusiastically, his lips pressing lightly, feverishly against mine. My hands ran through his hair... So soft.

I barely noticed, but it started to rain. Technically, there was supposed to be a rain machine anyways, but that was for the big scene. It began lightly, a slight mist, really... But as things intensified, so did the rain. Within seconds, both of us were drenched. As the time passed by so slowly, the chill in the rain was reason enough to get as close as humanly possible. Not that it was a cold day or anything. It was barely like the second week of September.

Canada's cold, but it's not that cold. In fact, today had been rather warm. Wearing that skimpy black dress before the rain, I hadn't even shivered in the shadows of the alley. Even now, it was still a humid sort of rain, not the type with a cold that penetrated you to the core. Things only got hotter...

My hands trailed down his face, sliding across his shoulders and underneath his blazer. I heard the sharp intake of breath as his lips momentarily slowed to allow me to rip off his blazer. I haphazardly threw it behind him. I didn't know where it landed, but I wasn't looking at that. My eyes were solely focused on Tommy's. Tommy's hands ran down my dress, shamelessly feeling me up. Not that I especially cared much.

Tommy attacked me with more passion than before, kissing my neck, my cheeks, my collarbone, my shoulders... Any piece of my all-too exposed, rain-drenched flesh that he could reach. He licked at the raindrops that beaded on my body, smashing the perfect little droplets with his insatiable, grasping fingertips. His tongue was hot against my cool skin. If I had been cold before, it was quickly forgotten. I continued to back up, forgetting the ladder at the end of the fire escape I was nearing. There was a hole about a foot wide there (so people could actually use it), with the ladder against the wall.

So, fumbling about blindly while kissing Tommy, I stumbled on the slick ledge and flew back, clutching the rusty rungs of the ladder behind me for support. The ladder was wet and slippery, hard to grip. But that just made me grip it even harder, so hard I felt the friction in my fingertips, the burn of such a firm grasp... because I was hanging on for dear life. If you can imagine it, my feet were on the edge of the hole, and I was bending backwards, arching my back over the air, clutching the wall. Tommy moved in a little closer. One of his hands supported my butt, insuring that I wouldn't fall. The other easily clutched one of the bars above my head for stability, seeing as he was as bent over as I was. Only I was bending over backwards to accommodate him, and he was bending over forwards. Just like always.

I didn't think he could possibly get closer, but he proved me wrong. Tommy's muscular arm snaked up my back as he leaned lightly against me. I could feel the firm muscles of his stomach flat against mine through the thin layers of damp fabric that barely separated us. I felt when he breathed. It felt like a step away from skin on skin. And I was deliriously happy. I didn't care that I had probably pulled a muscle or twelve in my back. I didn't care that I could fall at any minute. And I didn't care that my arms would be too sore to hold a guitar tomorrow. I was kissing Tommy again, legally-ish this time, and that was all that mattered.

The rain had made his shirt virtually nonexistent. It was completely transparent and plastered to his skin. I was quite enjoying the view. My own dress was clingy; my dress seemed immeasurably thinner than I had previously realized. And while it might not have been white and see-through, I felt like the acid rain had clear melted the dress away. It felt like I was wearing absolutely nothing at all. Tommy brushed a wet strand of hair behind my ear lovingly before assaulting my lips once more with a passionate kiss.

It's funny... When we read Romeo and Juliet freshman year, I didn't really get it. I mean, I'd never been in love. I understood a lot of it, and I understood the parts our teacher went over... Like, okay, I remember this one part. It's in the party scene where they're all wearing masks, and so Romeo's flirting with Julie. And they start talking about pilgrims and religion. You know... "_Thus from my lips by thine my sin is purged._"

That's what kissing Tommy felt like. It made up for all the crap... with Travis. I stopped feeling so guilty. Kissing Tommy was worth the conflicting guilt about Sadie. But that being said, it also helped by putting Sadie ridiculously out of my mind. I mean, any girl who can honestly say she was thinking about her sister while playing tonsil hockey with The Little Tommy Q. is a. crazy, b. lying, c. in denial, d. messed up, e. mad her sister made out with him first, or f. in love with her sister. Ew.

"_Then have my lips the sin that they have took._" "_Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again._" I also really really understood how that felt now. I don't even remember how many times I've kissed Tommy... Does that... Does that make me as much of a slut as they say I am? Are they really right? I mean, sure, it seems slutty to me. It's not like we're together or anything. But, then again, we haven't... been together, if you know what I mean. And, come on, Tommy's not known for keeping it in his pants. I turned him down, remember? So I'm not the slut.

I might've kissed him first. I might always kiss him first. But that's... That's not it. That doesn't mean I am what they say I am. He just... He doesn't stop me, you know? He doesn't put up much of a fight. He used to, but now... The line's so blurred... And everything's terribly confusing. But hasn't it always been with us? That's me and Tommy, you know? There's us.

Oh, so where was I? Oh, yes, what that meant... I guess that's what it always felt like with us. Whatever wrong thing I did with him... I wanted to do it again and again and again. And, maybe, on some level, he did too. Because he sure as hell wasn't pushing me away, and he wasn't giving me Grandma kisses or anything. See how little encouragement Romeo needed? That's Tommy for you. Except Tommy doesn't say things like that. And I'm the initiator.

But we keep coming back to each other. _Give me my sin again..._

And maybe, just maybe, we always will...

Or, then again, maybe, just maybe, I'm insane. Hey, it's half true, isn't it?

I opened my eyes for a second, staring at Tommy's face. He was such an angel. Really... I don't know what I'd do without him. But as I stood there, gazing at him, kissing him with all the force in me, this awful feeling of déjà vu hit me. In retrospective, making out with a guy who looks just like the teacher that sexually assaulted me in the same day... Not one of my smarter ideas. Not that it was my idea. I didn't have much of a choice.

This was Georgia's idea, Darius' idea, E.J.'s idea... Anyone's idea but mine and Tom's! Neither of us had much of a choice in the matter at all. Why didn't he destroy that paper? Why did Quinn have to give me that stupid speech? The stupid speech that made me think about HOW Tommy would do it... That Tommy would do it, give in like that. That speech got me really thinking about it. It's driving me insane! Why did Tommy have to leave me? Why didn't I destroy it? Then I never would've gotten into this mess. Things would be so, so, so much less confusing!

I could handle that, I think. But could I really? Could I handle being close to Tommy, but never like _this_? I'm not so sure I could. I'd have a moment of weakness. I'd break. I'd snap eventually. And then it'd all go to hell.

You know, sometimes, I feel like the world's biggest screw-up. And that's what happens, too. I'm not really making it up. Just when things are going well, BAM, I screw it up! I always do. Except when Tommy does, and he screws up a lot.

But, like I said... Some days... It's like everything I touch... Everything I've ever touched, really... has turned to crap. Have you ever felt like that? Today was one of those days for me... is one of those days for me. It's not fun. It sucks ass. It's a terrible, terrible feeling... And it's how I feel today. Not that I was feeling too badly then, making out with the love of my life, man of my dreams...

His hands, which had once been welcomed and embraced, were now too invasive. I felt uncomfortable, uneasy. But this was my video, I had to grin and bear it. And it was Tommy, Tommy the love of my life Tommy. I could do this. I took a shallow breath and closed my eyes. Tommy further deepened the kiss, something I hadn't even thought possible. My previous thoughts completely flew out of my head. My knees buckled beneath me, and I collapsed heavily against the ladder. My back hurt something awful.

But the pain vanished when Tommy's soft lips began to trail lightly down my moist neck. His lips were deliberately slow, barely lifting off my skin for a second, sending tingles across my nerve-endings. I moaned, panting from exhaustion. This was quite the precarious position I was in, after all. Tommy's lips only proceeded to move faster down my skin, lingering long enough to push me to the brink, but not long enough to leave a mark. This was deliberate, and I silently thanked him. Or not too silently, as I moaned again.

The last thing I need is more reasons for people to think I'm a slut. And a hickey on my neck is one very good reason. Plus I've kind of already got one right above my breast... An angry red welt of a hickey... And, you know what, wrong guy, wrong time, wrong place... But this... This is good. Right guy (or wrong, depending on how you look at it), right place, right time... sort of... But definitely wrong age. For... for both of them. And for me, I guess.

His soft lips traveled lower and lower, and now they were almost at the low neckline of my dress. He ran a hand down my wet side smoothly, feeling and grasping, wanting to memorize the feeling to satisfy his hormones. Like it'd get him through something, a wait. Probably because he knew he couldn't just do this again anytime soon. And then it was like Tommy lost the control he'd sought so hard to maintain. Suddenly the pressure on my skin intensified, as his lips traced a very familiar path down my throat, over the collarbone, trailing down my chest with an increasing velocity. The memory, a shady déjà vu, came back at me. I knew; I remembered... and I didn't want to... Travis. The name flew through my mind at the speed of light, repeating itself endlessly, traveling around in circles in my head on an eternal loop. I wanted to... I tried to block it from my head, but I couldn't. I guess I know how 'Nam veterans feel... I had a war flashback too.

And in moments of intense fear, we are ruled by the two primal desires. Fight or flight. With Travis, I had exercised both options. My eyes shot open as his lips went lower and lower, harder and harder against my skin. The feeling was no longer so pleasant. He felt heavy against me, and the raindrops didn't just fall any more. They crashed painfully into our skin. Of course, as Tommy's body was on top of mine, I felt few drops of water. But I could tell it was verging on hail.

The thunder crashed as I pushed forward, stretching out my arms to regain my balance. This meant that my hips were pushing directly against his. As if on cue, the lightning flashed white, illuminating us perfectly, brilliantly. What a moment to pick... With all the set lights, I hadn't realized how dark it had gotten. He groaned and staggered back a little, this time wrapping one arm around my waist and another a little lower. This time he kissed me drunkenly on the lips, pulling me off the edge. For that I was grateful. The thunder crashed again, twice. There was a flash of lightning, not as hard this time... But I couldn't do this any longer. I sure hope they've got enough footage because I'm not filming any more of this.

Besides, he's with my sister. Today's their anniversary. And he makes her happy. I can't get in the way of that. I tried... but that's not right. She's still my sister, and I love her. Even though I love him too. He cares about her, and I can't stop that either. I forced myself to break away from Tommy, but he just came back for me. Kissing me can't be that intoxicating.

So I literally shoved Tommy, pushing him off of me. I think I pushed him back about a foot. Then I looked at him, shaking my head. I won't ever forget that look on his face. It was tragically beautiful, I think, and I wanted desperately to look away. The lightning lit up his face so I could see him better. It was a strange look, a sort of cross between betrayal, embarrassment, confusion, lust, frustration, and desperation. And about a million other emotions I couldn't explain or even identify. "I can't do _this_!" I cried, motioning between the two of us. And you know what, I can't. And not just because of the day I've had. Or because of Sadie. But mostly it's Sadie.

This... us... doing... whatever. It doesn't... It can't... It's not fair to anyone. Not to Sadie. Not to Tommy. Or maybe Tommy thinks it's fair. Two girls, two sisters at once. Hey, he's still a boybander after all... And it's most certainly not fair to me. It's not even fair to Tim, who has a girlfriend... I deserve better than this. Better than being some sideline girl who's not good enough for the real thing. I don't deserve that sort of treatment. Ugh, that sounds like Shay's ideal relationship... Booty call. Ugh.

And then I started to walk, but faster this time. The rain pelted down on my now unprotected form. Thud, thud, thud soft on my skin, burning and tickling my arms. I pushed past Tommy before he knew what hit him. I was completely drenched, soaked to the bone, and suddenly frozen by the cold. That's why I moved fast. And then I broke out into a run, ignoring the cries of protest behind me. I flung the door open with as much force as I could muster, accidentally hitting someone in the face. But I didn't really care; I didn't even bother to apologize. I just ran past everyone, tears blurring my vision. I ran through G. Major until I couldn't run anymore.

As fate would have it, I wound up on the roof. I just stood there, staring up at the sky, out over the city, watching the rain fall. Eventually, I laid back, closing my eyes, and let the rain hit me. It was a nice feeling. I felt... free.

"Tommy's looking for you, you know..." It was Mason. I groaned and opened my eyes. The rain had relented a little. I sat up wearily, giving Mason a look. I think I made it pretty clear that I didn't want to talk to Tommy. Pretty damn clear. I sighed frustratedly, and Mason sat down next to me.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to see him right now," I muttered childishly. But it was more like I couldn't see him right now. Or I would go do some other completely stupid thing. Now I know how Tom felt when he went out for a smoke. Mason rolled his eyes at me.

"_Please_. You two were all over each other in the alley. We all heard about it," Mason pointed out sarcastically. I rolled my eyes at him. Yeah, well, he _obviously_ hasn't talked to the director. The director sure didn't think so. Ugh, I bet he'd think anything less than hardcore porn was nothing at all. Then again, that was sort of soft-core and he settled for that. I bet all those people are so mad there. Completely drenched for a few minutes of worthless footage.

"Look... I just don't feel comfortable making out with my sister's boyfriend on her anniversary, okay!" I shrieked, running a hand through my hair. Mason raised an eyebrow, but opted wisely to say nothing. And I didn't either... But I had a sudden urge to get terrifically drunk. I could, too. If I wanted. After all, I have a fake i.d. And I know Tommy's got a huge stash of liquor in his office. But I guess he's okay about drinking, unless it's something bad. Which means I'm involved, of course.

Now, that means I'd have to go back downstairs, which would suck. So it's not an option. We remained in an awkward silence for a while. But don't think I didn't notice Mason shooting glances at me every five seconds. Finally, I just gave him a peeved look. "You got something to say, then say it," I snapped irritably. Mason bit his lip, as if debating whether he actually wanted to tell me.

However, that didn't last so long, as Mason quickly decided he did, indeed, actually want to tell me. "That's just an excuse, Jude. Why'd you **really** walk out?" Mason asked bluntly. I was surprised that I was so transparent. Though Sadie really was the main reason I had for running out. How did someone who barely knew me know me that well? Sure, I'd told Mason a little of what had happened that day. By a little, I mean barely anything. Just that I'd been having an awful day.

So I figured if I told him, it wouldn't be that bad. The world won't end if I do, will it? I can tell Mason. And if I can tell Mason, then I can tell... important people like the principal. But never Tommy. Never Tommy. He can't ever know about any of this. Because that... That would be the end of the world. And quite possibly the end of Travis' life. Besides, I don't want Tommy to go to jail. I really don't. That's part of the reason why I didn't actually sleep with him when I had the chance.

I sighed and leaned against Mason. He didn't mind. "I..." What was I supposed to say? I gulped nervously, looking down. "My music teacher... He kinda felt me up today," I mumbled softly, trying to get it out as fast as I could. Mason looked at me, surprise registering on his features. His jaw dropped, eyes widening. Not quite the reaction I was expecting. I took a sharp breath, feeling immeasurably nervous.

There. I'd said it. It was completely out in the open now. I couldn't deny it any longer. I felt fragile, breakable, vulnerable. I'd laid it out there... I'd put myself on the line. And here I was, waiting for Mason to judge me. But that's the funny thing.

Mason was a true friend. He didn't judge me at all. He grabbed my hand warmly... His hand was a little sweaty, but my skin was all clammy and water-logged, I guess, so it balanced out. "How kinda?" Mason inquired apprehensively. I gave him a look, biting my lip. I couldn't think of anything to say.

But then it hit me... What to do. Did he think I was as torn up by it as I felt? Or did he think that I welcomed it or something? I sort of did, didn't I? No, no, Jude... Bad thoughts. Bad. I might've kissed him back once. Or twice or... Oh, I don't know! I didn't... I didn't consent, did I? I... Did I ask for it? 'Cause I don't think I did, but he... I didn't exactly completely turn him away. But... There wasn't much I could do, really, and oh, that's a crap excuse and does Mason hate me? Does he think I'm a slut?

I glanced up at Mason then, and that was how I knew. The look he was giving me. I could tell he respected me, admired me even... He didn't think I was a slut at all. I'm glad... That's at least one person who doesn't think I'm the whore of Canada. I'm not joking. I'm like two guys away from being the joke of rock 'n' roll. Good thing I don't know any other guys in the music business to be aligned with. Well, except Darius, but he's screwing half of Canada already. And eww. Well, I know Kwest too, but he's not famous. Let's just hope that I don't meet any more rockstars or actors or even slightly famous people.

Ooh, then I guess I better not go to Tommy's party. But I'm going anyways. Oh well.

I took a deep breath and exhaled hard. I have to show Mason. I bit my lip and pushed the damp straps of my dress down. Now it was Mason's turn to exhale hard. I pulled my dress down a little, or maybe a lot, so that he could see my bra. You know, maybe it wasn't the smartest move, but it meant that he could also see the hickey, which was the entire purpose.

"What'd he do to you?" Mason asked with a low whistle, staring at it, entranced. I gulped, moving away from Mason a little. Where do I start? Pinning me against my car? Harrassing me? Insulting me? Insulting Tommy? Flirting with my friend? Breaking Kate's heart? Whatever it was that happened... after Kate? Pulling me into that closet? Kissing me? French-kissing me? Giving me that hickie? Feeling me up? Making me feel like crap?

I exhaled hard, glancing down at the mark myself. I didn't know what to say. I could only shrug. "This." I gestured to it. Mason nodded dumbly. He reached out very slowly to put his hand on the bump. His hand came down upon it, and he prodded it gently. I bit my lip in pain. Mason just stared at it, still surprised. We were both eerily silent. Neither of us moved.

Somehow neither of us noticed the door opening. "Apparently you _do_ know each other well enough. Almost **too** well, I'd say... Right, Jude?" I turned around abruptly at the noise as did Mason. I blanched when I saw who it was. Tommy Quincy, looking like a drowned rat, leaning casually against the wall, hands in his pockets, looking as cool as ever. His eyes glinted maliciously. What did he think of me? My jaw dropped, and I stuttered, having no idea what to say to Tommy.

"Tommy, it's not what it looks like!" I shouted, hastening to get up. Tommy just shot me a disgusted look, rolling his eyes. He didn't believe me. How could he not believe me? He's the one who supposedly deflowered me! He's the reason I have this bad reputation! If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be in this damn mess. Augh, why'd I ever kiss him!

Because it's fun. And he's hot. And you're freakishly in love with him. And you don't have the best impulse control. And you think maybe two seconds in advance...

"I can't count how many times I've said that... And I was _always_ lying," Tommy murmured, giving me a look. He crossed his arms over his chest. What did that look mean? I don't... He thinks I'm lying? Me, the liar? Oh, well, that's just rich! Hmm, well, Jude, honey, who lied about sleeping with him? Oh, yeah... me. Mason's hand was still actually on my chest, which might've been good, since it was covering up the hickey. And Mason's hand on my chest was bad enough, but a hickey would make him go thermonuclear. Tommy just rolled his eyes. "Save it, Jude," He grunted before stalking off.

I immediately leapt to my feet and ran after him. I can't let him think of me like that. I just can't! I had forgotten that my dress was half off already, but I didn't care. I didn't even notice. I had a sneaking suspicion Mason was following me, which really didn't help matters. I got down to the lobby, but I couldn't find Tommy anywhere. I sat down on one of the couches, feeling rather put off. A few moments later, a vaguely out-of-breath Mason came and sat down next to me, loosely wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I was absolutely freezing (and E.J. would probably be mad about me getting the couch wet), so I appreciated the gesture, leaning into his warmth.

I glanced over at him with a lopsided smile. "At least _you_ didn't abandon me after we fooled around," I muttered with a self-deprecating smile. Mason raised an eyebrow at me, but smirked amusedly a moment later. Damn, I was hoping he would laugh or something. I need a little amusement here. I sighed, putting my head in my hands. It just kept going downhill from here.

"I was trying to make a joke. Did it work?" I stated somewhat stiffly, laughing. I felt like I was on the verge of a mental breakdown here. You know, one of those moments where you have to laugh or you'll start to cry. Yeah, I was losing it. Everything was slipping through my fingers.

I glanced back up at Mason, who shook his head with a wry smile. "No... But I appreciate the effort," He said kindly. I managed a weak smile and leaned into him a little more. He pulled me closer and started rubbing gentle circles on my back. It felt nice. Really nice, actually... And it was also strangely relaxing. "So much tension in your back..." Mason mumbled, starting to give me a massage. Really, after all the stress I deal with day to day, I wouldn't be surprised if my back was as stiff as a rock. Later, I would learn that Mason was almost a masseuse, but he decided to change his major to music and transfer... He had a good Music teacher, unlike me.

I have to give it to Mason... He really knew what he was doing. I felt a little bad for him whenever I heard him grunt from exertion. He had to work really hard on my back just to erase the slightest tensions. That being said, he was actually succeeding in relaxing me. At some point, I looked up and noticed everyone staring at me. I inhaled sharply and my muscles tensed. Mason groaned in frustration and pulled my dress up a little, just so it was covering the hickey. Then he resumed work on my shoulders, and I slowly relaxed.

But they didn't stop staring. I had a sudden urge to do something silly. I guess my flirtatious ways won out

again. So I did something a little weird. Like, okay, you know that one scene in When Harry Met Sally? I don't even have to tell you which scene, right? 'Cause you know the scene I'm talking about. But... Just in case... It's the one where they're in the restaurant, and they're talking about women faking orgasms and what not... Do I really have to tell you what she does then? It's funny because I've never even had sex, but I guess it's an inherent skill in all women.

So I was pretty much doing that, except not shouting out things like "God", you know... Because thinking about God in the middle of something like that is just a touch too blasphemous for me. Anyways, so I was doing that, to Mason's great amusement, when Speed walked by. Or rather tripped by, I ought to say. Speed tripped and then sat on the floor staring at me for about five minutes. I stopped abruptly to say hi in a casual tone. Speed blinked in confusion, and I broke out into hysterical laughter, collapsing on the couch. Mason joined in and Speed stalked off, looking pouty. Yeesh. Since when did _he_ become Tommy?

E.J. walked over to me with an angry frown on her face. She looked a bit damp, a bit frustrated, and more than a little curious. "Jude, are you _with_ Mason?" E.J. questioned, looking between the two of us. I looked warily at Mason, who was looking at me curiously in return. He wanted to see how I was going to answer this. Hell, so did I. I mean, what could I say that could possibly come out sounding right and not insulting Mason.

It would be so easy to say yes. To feel once again the security that comes with having a boyfriend. Mason really was a nice guy and cute too... I liked him, though I barely knew him. He'd been so sweet. And I was almost certain he'd go along with it. He'd be a great boyfriend for any girl, even me. But I didn't think I'd be such a hot girlfriend... For anyone, really. Then there's the great things it would do for publicity. The two Instant Stars dating... That's the way it's supposed to be, right? It could be great for him, great for me.

It could be... But it wouldn't. Sometimes it helps having someone to lean on. Someone who cares about you... Someone who's got your back regardless of any stupid thing you might do. And, to be honest, I really needed someone like that right now. I sort of had it in Tommy, but he's not reliable at all. But that's just the thing... There are times in your life when you need to stand on your own. When you need to figure out just who the hell you are right now and how to deal with everything. If I didn't... Then I could never grow up. I could never be independent or self-sufficent.

I make it out like I'm both of those. And I suppose I am in some ways. I mean, look at the year I've had. Look at my life since I've become famous. It really makes you question yourself, or life itself sometimes. You want to scream: "_How strong do you think I am! How much can I take of this!_" I haven't leaned on people that much, I suppose... But I have to learn to do these things on my own. So I can't say yes.

But can I say no? How could I say no without incredibly insulting Mason? How could I say no without him hating me? Assuming he likes me... But what if he doesn't at all? What if I'm just imagining it all, and oh, great, look, now he'll hate me even more 'cause my ego's bigger than Tommy's! I just... I don't know what to do. I have to make a choice and proceed with caution. I think... Oh, I don't know what to think anymore! Tell me, please, someone! What can I say, you caught me on a bad day, like the Daniel Powter song.

Man, that was a cheesy reference. I blame it on that damn airplane channel. It was a long flight to Mexico and they kept showing the same three music videos over and over. And then the little mini-movies. It made me obsessed with Dan and Missy Higgins, though. Hmm, Missy had some good stuff. Maybe I should do a cover sometime. Oh well, anyways...

I stretched out on the couch, sinking into its surface, putting my feet in Mason's lap. "Oh, **yes**! Mason and I made sweet, sweet, _sweet_ love last night!" I exclaimed dramatically, accompanying the declaration with suggestive hip thrusts. I threw my hands backwards and moaned loudly. Then I sat up, propping myself up on my elbows to take a look at Mason. "You were a _tiger_ last night... Grr," I growled, taking on catlike behavior, raking my nails down his arm. Mason was trying very hard to keep a straight face, as was I.

I peered over at E.J. The stunned, silent (for the first time since I've known her) look on her face. She actually thought I was serious? That was just too much. I met Mason's eyes, and we broke out into hysterical laughter in unison. I collapsed back unto my back, trying to stifle the laughter. But I was laughing so hard I failed to notice E.J. leaving, shaking her head and muttering about stupid hormonal idiots, a.k.a. Teenagers. Please, me immature and hormonal? She's the one who asked me how Tommy was in the sack. And I don't even know... She just read the tabloids and assumed.

You know, I think that's my whole problem. That's why my motto is never assume. 'Cause it makes an ass out of you and me. And that's so beyond true. Like Tommy... He assumes. A lot.

"You did WHAT!" A booming, furious voice close to my ear shouts incredulously. Mason looks a bit scared. Okay more like terrified. Horrified. Frantic. Ready to flee as soon as humanly possible. You get the picture, right? If it's who I think it is, well, let's just say that I can see why... I sighed, covering my face with my hand and addressing Mason.

"Tommy's right behind me, isn't he?" I asked wearily, pinching the bridge of my nose. I already knew the answer. I could sense Tommy's presence behind me. He was skulking around behind me, seething. Great, just great. Of course Tommy walks in on something like that. Naturally.

Mason nodded emphatically. "He looks mad." Wow, what a friggin' astute observation, Mace. You're like Kwest, aren't you? No, really, you trying to get me mad? Of course I know Tom's mad. Tommy's ALWAYS mad. Always. It's like, one of his two main emotions... Anger, regret, and flirtation. Oh, seduction, now damnit, I forgot that one!

"When _isn't_ he pissed?" I retorted, annoyed, promptly trying to smother myself with the nearest pillow. I probably shouldn't have said that in Tom's presence. It didn't work, as Tommy easily pulled the pillow off my face. I made a face, letting out a big sigh. Tommy invaded my vision from above. "I just can't win with you, Quincy," I groaned miserably, exhaling softly.

I forced myself to sit up, or rather, Tommy forced me to sit up. I gazed at him through tired eyes, wanting to pass out already. "So," He began, looking rather pointedly at Mason, then back again at me. "Is he like your _boyfriend_ now?" Tommy inquired mockingly, shooting Mason a smug glance.

I rolled my eyes, shooting Mason a look. Mason nodded understandingly, rolling his eyes. I got up fast, surprising everyone. I wasn't afraid to get right in Tom's face about it. "Are _you,_ like, my **boyfriend** now?" I sneered, mimicking his tone. There was a threat behind my words, though, and Tom knew it. He paled, and that made me grin.

Tommy rolled his eyes. Okay, so he'd noticed that I hadn't answered the question. But I was confident I could get away with it. I mean, I'm cute, right? And he likes me. "You didn't answer the question," He pointed out tersely, jaw clenched.

Okay, you know what, I take that back. Of course he won't let me get away with it. Naturally. Though how many things have I let him get away with?

Not many.

Okay... But that's still some! And Tommy... Tommy never lets me forget about anything. Never. He always broaches the topic at a bad moment or something, like now... And what the hell am I supposed to say? AUGH. Why is this happening again!

"I just **love** me some Mason," I said, batting my eyelashes flirtatiously. I made a big show of winking at Mason and blowing him a big, juicy kiss. He blew a kiss back, and I pretended to faun over it. This was really pissing Tommy off. I grinned brightly, rolling my eyes at Tommy, who I think actually bought it. Great way to answer his question, huh?

He just looked at me with those mysterious eyes, shaking his head at me... like I was the foolish one. "_Le loup retourne toujours au bois_," Tommy said in perfect French, spouting off a random phrase before disappearing. He declared, rather loudly, where he was going. "Hot date with Sadie tonight!" Yeah, that's right. Fate and, as of two seconds ago, Tommy, hates me.

I mentally translated the phrase in my head... The wolf always returns to the forest? What the hell does that mean? That's it. I'm never gonna understand Quincy.

Mason reminded me of my radio interview. In fact, I apparently have two. One's live in a mall. The other's a Christian radio station. How I got an interview with a Christian radio station remains a mystery. Especially as they wouldn't play Tommy's music with his reputation and the fact that HELLO, it's not about JESUS! And they wouldn't play mine either. Guilt by association... And not writing praise songs, but whatever...

How'd Mason know about the interviews anyways? Oh well... Speed offered to give me a ride to the mall, so, after changing into my clothes from earlier and fixing myself up a little, we went to the mall. I was going to talk to the D.J., this Vin or Vic or something... Oh, VAN! Okay. Sorry, I just know a Vin (Speed!) and two Vics... It might help if I remember Van's name, though. Just maybe, eh, Jude?

I stood there, peering at him doing a live broadcast in the music store. Speed, that traitor, was looking at CDs, completely not backing me up. I wanted a little support to ease my wretched nerves. For some reason I was very, very nervous. And I guess I was right to be, since I was only seconds away from being ambushed. "And now, for our very special guest. She's as sweet as a little slice of cherry pie... Give it up for... JUDE HARRISON!" Van said, introducing me. He was boring, not attractive, old, and wearing ugly clothes. So pretty much your average shock jock. I didn't remember that he was a shock jock, though.

I smiled and walked over to him, seating myself quickly. I wasn't that far away to start with anyways. I leaned in to my mike. "It's great to be here, Van," I said with as much enthusiasm as possible. Van smiled at me then behind those shades. I didn't know quite what his smile meant. Naturally, it wound up being an evil smile. But I didn't know that.

"So, I hear you're in the middle of filming a risque music video... Living up to your hair color, Red?" Van continued with that cloying smile. In retrospect, that should've been my first sign of cruel intentions. But I was preoccupied with being nice, so I let it slide. Besides, I **was** filming a music video, after all. I nodded, forcing a smile this time.

"Yeah, actually, I am. I actually came here straight from the filming. It's called "Minor Liaison", and they tell me it'll be premiering on Friday," I explained knowledgeably, pretending I actually liked the song. Yeah, that was more than a little painful. But I had to grin and bear it, and I did... like a pro. Van nodded with a patronizing smile. I began to feel a bit perturbed and with good reason.

"And what's this I hear about your producer being your co-star? Sounds like your studio's really strapped for cash..." He replied insidiously, flashing me a nasty grin. My jaw dropped. He insulted my label? Ooh, Georgia and E.J. could have his head for this! I felt like having his head for it! Ooh, wait... That doesn't sound right. Saying things like that is why people think I'm a Canadian slut rather than a rockstar. Gah, they probably thought I was a Shay groupie on my own damn tour!

I bit my lip and tried my hardest to really force a bright smile this time. My lips hurt from the effort. "I wouldn't know about my studio, but apparently my debut album's almost platinum, so I don't think that's it. And, yes, Tommy, my producer, is my co-star," I said as civilly as I could. Van raised an eyebrow at me, clucking his tongue.

"Producer... Ooh, that's got to make work awkward. You see, from what I hear, the video's pretty racy," He exclaimed, pausing for dramatic effect. He fixed me with a decidedly malicious look before speaking again. "But that ought to be no problem for you, as you've been screwing him for a while. Great way to secure your job and your place at the label, isn't it, Cherry?" He said viciously, continuing to insult me.

My jaw dropped wide open. Well, what really can I say to that? Um, how about that you're not sleeping with him? That'd be smart. I can't say that the video isn't racy. Because it is. It's Tommy and me getting hot 'n' heavy on camera. And we film the bedroom scene tomorrow. "I hate it when people speculate on my love life. Besides, he has a girlfriend," I said in a tone that was ridiculously casual for the subject.

Van gave me a look, lowering his shades a little. He rolled his eyes at me, disbelieving. "He's Li'l Tommy Q. That never stopped him before," He said mockingly. I frowned. Tommy's going to be pissed when he hears about this... And God, I hope Sadie doesn't find out yet. I hope she never finds out, period. Because then it could get ugly. Uglier than Sadie without make-up at six in the morning. Yeah, that's bad. I'm talking green mask and everything... I sighed frustratedly.

"Well, Van, it stops _me_," I retorted irritably. I couldn't put up with much more of this. But I knew I had to be polite. Being rude would cause even more of a PR disaster. Anyways, why was no one doing anything about my reputation? I feel like I'm walking headfirst into a losing battle without a weapon or an ally. Like... I feel like Russia in WWI. And I'm on the verge of a civil war. Why wasn't Tory helping me? Or E.J.? Does she think me being painted as the tramp of Canada is good PR? Oh, right, she has the mentality that any PR is good PR.

This time Van made a big show of rolling his eyes at the audience. The audience actually laughed. And that's when I knew I was really screwed. But then again, didn't they think that anyways? "Please. Like anything could stop _you_, Red. All of Canada knows about _your_ sexual appetite. And you have the nerve to go around prancing around as if you're just some helpless little girl who doesn't know how the hell she got such a reputation. I'm surprised you ever had a cherry to pop, Cherry," Van sneered disdainfully. But I am a helpless little girl, damn it! No, I'm not helpless... But whatever I've done doesn't merit this treatment. And I'm a virgin, damn it!

I took a deep breath and forced myself to refrain from saying anything too rude. I forced a smile, but I really wanted to scream or cry or... do something! "I'm surprised that my sex life or lack thereof is _any_ of your business, Van. I'm just a sixteen-year-old. I wouldn't think a middle-aged man should have such an interest in my personal life. It's sort of unhealthy," I said frostily, clenching teeth. I forced yet another cold smile, seeking out Speed with my eyes.

"As is whatever's going down with you and your producer," He continued with a smug grin. The smile fell on my face a little. There was nothing going on. NOTHING. Why the hell didn't they get that! If there was something going on... Do you really think I'd be so damn miserable?

I immediately thought of the song "Dirty Old Man". I think Van could tell that because he brought it up. "Oh, that reminds me... Your new single, "Dirty Old Man"... It's blowing up the charts. Now, tell me, Jude, did you write that all by yourself? Because it sounds like your boyfriend helped..." He interjected. Oh, no... He did _not_ just insult my songwriting ability. But he did. And I need to get him back.

My eyes narrowed vengefully. "Actually, yeah, I did. All by myself. No fancy producer's tricks. The song was inspired by a dirty old man hitting on me. I don't know about you, but when guys like that hit on you, it's not exactly a walk in the park. Next time you question my songwriting ability, I would appreciate you not questioning the feelings behind my songs. And last time I checked, your station plays that song AND my other single," I growled, trying my hardest to fight back my anger. Okay, so I was being a little rude. But hey, he started it! You don't expect me not to fight back, do you?

Van snorted, looking at me and nodding his head. "Living up to the infamous redheaded temper, are we, Cherry?" He joked, amused that I was angry. I should never let him know that he gets to me. Stupid, stupid, stupid Jude! He chuckled, smirking out at the audience. "Speaking of your other single... Was that an autobiographical song?" He asked, looking smug as hell.

Well, close. It was about my sister. I rolled my eyes. "Does _everything_ have to be about sex with you? No wonder you're a shock-jock... Actually, the song's about that kind of girl, you know? The one you just hate. She's the type that steals your boyfriend and still has ten guys hanging all over her," I explained, a bit more politely this time. Or I'd loosened up a little bit.

He gave me a look, glancing out at the audience almost disbelievingly. "You just described yourself," He pointed out bluntly. But he was wrong. I was talking about Sadie. I mean, when have I ever stolen anyone's boyfriend? And you can't say Tommy... 'Cause he's still with Sadie, no matter what I do. Or Kat, for that matter... I actually like her with Jamie. Except Jamie's being an ass-face, so I don't like him as much.

"Are we actually going to talk about my career here, or do you just care about who I am or am not dating? What's next, you gonna insult my music too?" I questioned, sick of him zeroing in on my lovelife. I'm tired of talking about it. I'm tired of thinking about it. Now I know how Joan Jett felt. Or Tommy for that matter. Having your reputation precede you... No one taking you seriously. It sucks ass. I mean, I've already got my age going against me. Then there's this whole new romantic conundrum thing.

Van winked out at the audience amusedly. He smirked at me. "That goes without saying, Red," He muttered with a glare. I scowled at him. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't stand him looking at me like that... Like he knows everything. Like I'm the biggest slut on the continent or something! Um, hello, look at the list of Tommy's ex-girlfriends. I'm sure you'll find the biggest tramp there somewhere.

"Do your kids listen to you on the radio?" I asked abruptly, seemingly out of the blue. My eyes narrowed. I didn't exactly know what I was doing, but it was a plan. Van looked somewhat surprised. That made me happy for some sick reason. He should've known not to ask the question.

"Why?" Stupid question, dumbass.

"Because I know I'd be ashamed if my dad was such an **ass** on syndicated radio," I snapped frostily. Van's jaw dropped, and he looked absolutely floored. Guess nobody's ever given it back to him. Hey, if you serve it out like that, you ought to be able to take it like that.

What can I say, I've never been a shrinking violet. You should've known that I'm not some little submissive moron. There's only so much I can take before I... snap. I've always been ridiculously impulsive anyways. A second later, I got up and walked out of the record store in a stunned silence. Mind you, that probably wasn't a smart move. And I'll probably get yelled at about it later, but hey, it's always something, isn't it? At least I stood up for myself.

Speed came out later, giving me a proud look before getting behind the wheel (word of my driving "skills" had spread, so he refused to let me have the wheel). He drove me to the Christian radio station, offering me a smirk and some good-natured mockery. Not the mean kind about me being a slut. The funny kind about the soon-to-be interview. I walked into the interview. Ha, and I thought I was shanghaied before! It was hard to decide which of the two interviews was worse. Well, probably this one, seeing as I couldn't say anything offensive. I'd risk losing a lot of my fanbase. And right now, I can't afford that.

They asked all sorts of questions. I swear, they were some of the nosiest people I had ever met. "Do you go to church, Jude?" Hehe. I had no idea how to answer that one. Sometimes... If I wake up, sometimes... And always Christmas and Easter. But I had a feeling saying that would be bad. So I just tried to avoid the question.

But I think that just made it worse. Then they started asking me what I believed. "Are you Jewish?" Please, with this hair? "Are you Muslim?" Okay, seriously, are they blind? I'm not wearing a veil. Do you seriously think a Muslim woman could get such a bad reputation without being shot or something? "Are you Buddhist?" "Hindu?" The questions were driving me insane. I was going to lose my mind. It was only a matter of time.

Then they started getting preachy on me. Man, was that annoying! "You need to change your wicked ways and accept the Lord Jesus Christ as your personal savior or you'll wind up in Hell for the rest of eternity." They said that so casually, like they didn't just say that I was doomed to damnation. There was even a blindingly white smile accompanying it. I just blinked, twice, and I think I said okay then or something. I was a bit afraid of them after that.

"You can't keep living in sin like this, with the sex, the drugs, and the alcohol!" I then pointed out, quite abruptly, that I was engaging in none of these activities and that it was wrong to assume I was just because I was in rock 'n' roll. They patted me on the hand and gave me this patronizing look. "Sure... you poor sinner," They said sarcastically, shaking their heads at me. It was true, though. I mean, I don't even take aspirin most of the time! And the alcohol... Well, I haven't had much. That sip of wine at Tommy's house, the champagne after we finished my first album, a little more at family gatherings and stuff. But not much.

And sex, please! I'm still a virgin! Honestly, I swear... It's so irritating being called a slut when you haven't actually had sex of any form with anyone! They were so insulting and judgmental. "You Jezebel... You harlot! It's not right to act that way!" I got really pissed then, but managed to inquire what way it was that I was acting, because I didn't see it. Then they went into a rant about "Too Sexy Sadie" and how it was inappropriate due to language and the shimmying body movements and the meaning/content. I was just glad the fundamentalists didn't know about my music video.

They had judged me long before I arrived, and I felt like I was literally getting attacked. I pointed out that "Too Sexy Sadie" was a song against that type of girl, but they called me a hypocrite and condemned me once again. Do they think that being rude, self-righteous, and judgmental is going to help their cause any? 'Cause I might not know much about evangelism, but I'm pretty sure you don't mention hell. I think you might focus on the love aspect. Maybe. But I don't go to church that much, so I could be wrong.

However, somehow I don't think God approves of their behavior. It's very un-Christian of them. I voiced this opinion and then quoted the verse about no judging people, lest you be judged. They then pointed out that even Satan has a fearful command of scripture. Second Satan comparison I've had in a week. Wow, I'm doing so well. And then they brought up "Dirty Old Man", asking me what the hell I was thinking writing that song. That really pissed me off. Especially when they said I was encouraging sexual perversion through it.

Okay, I went off on them about it. "It's not about that at all! The song is about an older man preying on a young girl. It's about how the girl feels," I shouted vehemently. They then made a sarcastic remark... along the lines of, oh, really, that guy must be your boyfriend. Meaning Tommy, of course. Then I got even more angry, because the song had never been about Tommy. Not everything's about Quincy, you know. Gee, maybe that's why his frickin' ego's so big.

"First of all, I'm _single_. Second of all, I didn't write that song about _him_. That song isn't just something I wrote on a whim. It's not your average pop drivel. It actually **means** something. It's personal; it's raw; it's real. The Dirty Old Man molests the girl, yeah... But she _wasn't_ encouraging him! It **wasn't** her fault! It wasn't _her_ fault. She hates him for what he did to her. She **hates** him. He _disgusts_ her. What he did... was horrible and disgusting and perverted... She feels **violated**... And she couldn't do anything to stop him because he's bigger and stronger than she is. He had her _pinned_ against that car. She couldn't _go_ anywhere. But the fact remains that she **refuses** to let him _terrorize_ her. She doesn't want to live in **fear** anymore! She's sick of him, and she can't _take_ it any more! She's _going_ to tell someone. In this song, she's _threatening_ him... She **wants** her revenge. She'll tell, and there will be consequences... Unless he leaves her alone. But she knows he won't. This _isn't_ a song advocating perversion. This is a song about a woman getting empowered. This is a song that speaks out _against_ predators and lets them know that we **won't** let them ruin our lives... This is a song about **fighting** **back**! So don't say crap like that... Don't _assume_. You might know my reputation, but that doesn't mean that you know _me_!" I snapped turbulently, slamming my hands down hard on the table.

Let's just say I wasn't little Mary Sunshine. So they said more stuff about me being a dirty whore who needs to convert... Or something like that. And then they pretty much forcibly kicked me out. Not that I minded. I hated it there. Speed was grinning like the Chesire Cat, waiting for me outside. He had obviously been listening to me on the radio.

I got in the car, slamming the door, somewhat annoyed. Speed winced, whining and patting his car. Eh, he's got a weird thing about his car. Even though his car's crappy. I mean, I guess it's better than Jamesica, but that's not saying much. I don't even want to think about the stains in the back seat... Or what the hell's that on the floor...

Speed grinned at me, adopting a high falsetto and batting his eyelashes at me. "Hi, I'm Jude," He said in this faux seductress voice, waving at me girlishly. He winked at me. "I suck harder than an airplane toilet," He replied suggestively. My jaw dropped. My back-up band's telling me I suck? What's wrong with him? Does he appreciate being employed? Because if he keeps talking like that, he might not be for much longer.

Then he sobered up, smoothing his hair into a newscaster style, taking on the appearance of a TV host. He even puffed out his chest, deepening his voice. "Trust me, folks, that's no joke. I know from _experience_," He drawled in a deep, booming voice. I felt disgusted. "Experience"? Even he thinks I'm...?

I could only sit there, staring at Speed, feeling absolutely horrified. He tossed his hair, clutching his hands together and once again batting his eyelashes. "And what an _experience_ it was!" He gasped girlishly. He giggled like a stupid twit. I pursed my lips, scowling at him. I do not sound like that! I am not stupid like that. I am not a moron like that. I'm no slut.

Speed found the need to go on while I was speechless. He adjusted his hair in the TV host style and flashed a blindingly white smile. "Yeah, now that I think about it, how 'bout you come down here right now and..." Speed offered, propositioning me with raised eyebrows. My eyes widened, knowing exactly what was going to follow those words. My jaw dropped, and I acted without thinking.

"Screw you, Vincent!" I growled furiously, interrupting him. I slapped him hard across the face with a resounding smack. Speed never saw it coming. He just stared at me, shocked, holding his red cheek. I was a bit surprised too, but he had that coming. Speed narrowed his eyes at me, sulking. Yeesh, what's with him lately? He's been so damn moody. Like he's PMSing or something...

Speed raised an eyebrow, still exuding that annoying cocky attitude. He crossed his arms over his chest. A smirk spread across his face. "I was wondering when I'd get my turn," Speed muttered with a snort. My jaw dropped. I glowered at Speed, punching him hard in the shoulder. You know what? If he's going to be like this all the car ride, I think I'll just leave.

I opened the door, pushing it open. I slammed it behind me. Actually, Speed's car's not as bad as I said it. It's just really beat up. I mean, he's got a black '67 Mustang. It's just really messy and really beat up and really prone to breaking down. We work on it together sometimes. Meh. I just think Speed likes watching me get dirty... Because then I have to take a shower at his house. I swear, he always spills something on me... It can't always be accidental.

I mean, I'm not _that_ klutzy. So my clothes (and they're not exactly nice clothes) get so dirty that I can't wear them home... And so he washes them while I shower. I think he just does it so he gets to watch me standing there in his living room, looking at his music collection, in a skimpy-ass towel (where did he get these towels, Europe?), dripping wet and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. To be fair, he has an amazing music collection. It goes all the way from my dad's music to modern stuff. He loooves Pearl Jam and Aerosmith. So, as you can guess, we, predictably, get in a lot of fights over which band's better... Nirvana or Pearl Jam? The answer's Nirvana, by the way!

Speed rolled the window down (it's one of those crank deals) and leaned his big, fat, annoying head out of it. I turned to give him an icy glare. "You know what, why bother?" I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air. "I'll talk to you when you stop acting like such an _ass_. And, just for the record, I don't like bestiality, so I **don't** have sex with jackasses. I prefer to mate within my own species," I retorted testily. Then I turned around and walked away from Speed. He followed me for a while, but it's amazing how fast you can lose someone when you take a few shortcuts on these Toronto streets.

I walked into a gas station to fix up my make-up. It had all run off before. I dragged the black pencil around my eyes, ensuring that my eyes were thickly outlined. I smudged the eyeliner a little, pulling it upward to use as makeshift eyeshadow. I applied some more mascara and then dragged the scarlet lipstick across my lips. I washed my hands and tousled my hair a little, unbuttoning a few buttons of my sweater. I was going to need to fit in there, after all.

I whiled the rest of the time away by aimlessly meandering around Toronto. I even went into that music store that Tim and I went to. I looked for that CD, but it was gone. I asked the guy behind the counter about it. He told me some guy had bought it a few days ago. Whatever. I just shrugged and wandered the streets a while longer.

Actually, I started out on D'Arcy, where the music store was located. And then I went down Beverly and through Queen West SoHo (yes, where G. Major is... but I didn't go there). I passed the City-TV building and thought about going in, but I figured that I'd be recognized there, since that's the headquarters of MuchMusic. I stopped at Yonge, continuing that way until I practically collapsed in front of the Toronto Star. That took a while, and I didn't even go all the way down the street! I was completely worn out when I got down there.

From there, I went left on Harbour Street, turned left on York, and then continued west down Queen's Quay. I stopped at the Antique Market, realizing that I could've just gone down to Spadina instead of doing all that. I ought to get Patsy and the guys something while I'm here. But not now. After resting for a few seconds, I crossed the street, walking down a little more, past the Spadina Quay Wetlands and the little park next to it, until I reached the Toronto Music Garden. It's pretty new for Toronto. But not that new, I guess. I mean, Tommy was still shaking his booty to pay the bills back then. Wow. I was like... 10, 11, when that thing was built. Wow.

I remember Dad took me there the day it opened. Dad brought a guitar with him and played all these sappy Beatles songs that we sang together. I guess Dad has an okay singing voice. I mean, that's not where I get it from... There's still some debate on that, really. Mom's got this great set of pipes on her. She doesn't sing much, though. That's because we all start singing... And no one wants to hear Sadie sing. It's a crime against God to encourage Sadie's, ahem, vocal "talents". Anyways, as I was saying, Dad's no Paul McCartney (or George Harrison, for that matter), but it's not tone-deaf William Hung-esque. You know what I mean?

You know, he tried the whole rockstar thing. Dad's a dork, but I think he still could've done it. Maybe if he really tried. But he's always been ridiculously good at Math, and he didn't really have the drive or the backing. After all, it's a myth that all rockstars have to have great singing voices. I mean, most bands just shout their songs anyways. That's why it's so hard on the vocal chords.

Anyways, the park was inspired by this Bach cello thing. All I know is that Yo-Yo Ma and this landscaping lady Julie something or other designed it. It was originally supposed to be in Boston, but that kinda fell through. There's six parts all inspired by the different parts of the music and they're named after different dances. There's a music pavilion, a maypole, a wildflower garden, grass steps, an amphitheater, a hill, a forest, a river scape, and a poet's corner type place. It's really lovely.

I bought an ice cream and went to the poet's corner. I had my notebook with me, so after finishing my ice cream cone, I started to write random snippets of songs. I wasn't doing too bad, but I wasn't doing too great. I got maybe a few songs out of it, but they sucked. Oh well.

After a while of that, I glanced at my watch and noticed that it was 8:45. I rushed out of the park, bought a few things at the antique place, and made my way back to Yonge. Patsy goes on at 9:15 and that club's halfway across town. Luckily, I was on Yonge, so I was virtually walking over the subway. I went down and caught a ride. Let me tell you, as a rockstar-in-the-making, you get a lot of weird looks on the subway.

Now, I'll be honest... The club (The Agile Lapin) really wasn't my scene. It was a bit too hardcore-metal-gothish moshpit for me. And it smelled like a latrine. Honestly, does no one in here wear deoderant? I saw Jamie and decided to leave. I turned to go out, but I ran right into Kat. She laughed and dragged me over to Jamie. We stood there, Jamie and I, letting Kat fill the silence (well, not really silence, considering how friggin' noisy it was in there) with idle chatter. S.M.E. was setting up and tuning their instruments. They seemed to be done and hooked into their amps when Patsy walked onstage.

She was wearing a torn gray tank-top with some silver embroidery on it, a black tank-top underneath it, black pants, and black shoes. She was also wearing a lot of very heavy jewelry, including a nose stud. She waved, greeting the crowd, as Speed and the boys started to play. "Woo woo woo woo... Hey, good liquids!" She yelled by way of a greeting.

Then she leaned in the microphone and started to sing. "_I know it, so I light it..._" She threw back her head, tossing her hair, grabbing the mike stand when it was her time to sing. She brought the microphone against her lips. "_I stick it in the **grease**..._" She screamed. Patsy sure was energetic.

She shook her head from side, hair flying wildly about. Patsy thrashed her body about frantically, flinging her arms around wildly. When the time came, she grabbed at the microphone. "_I let you walk alone with me_," She hissed, narrowing her eyes to gaze out around the crowd. She brought her hips around suggestively once, twice, then three times. She continued with a wink at the audience, "_**Come** 'round and look at me!_"

Patsy bobbed her head to the beat, taking a few steps back. She leaned backwards almost dangerously, shaking her head up and down, so that her hair shook. She thrust forward when Speed's solo was up, propelling herself out of the lean and onto the mike. Patsy grinned out at the crowd, pointy canines gleaming out at the crowd. "_Give me what you want to **give**..._" She snarled into the mike, licking her lips seductively, in an almost predatory way. She drew out "give", her voice vibrating loudly, shooting the audience a "come hither" glance.

She threw her hands in the air, rocking back and forth, pulsating as intensely as the music. She leaned in, a wide, crack-addict smile on her face. Patsy snorted, amused, "_I'll laugh at everything you **say**..._" Patsy walked over to Speed. Her steps were self-assured, thrusting her hips forward. A very confident, very sexual walk. She grabbed Speed by the collar, pushing up his guitar, and pressed her hips hard against his. She ran her hands up the sides of Speed's jeans almost possessively, grinding into him. Oh, yeah... Patsy knew exactly what she was doing.

Speed teased me on tour when I messed up on one of the songs. Ha, like he's Jimi Hendrix... Anyways, you should've seen the way _he_ was messing up his chords. His fingers were slipping all over the place. Not that you could tell. It was that kind of club. I was close to the stage, so I could just barely hear him groan her name frustratedly. A moment later, grinning victoriously, she broke away from Speed, soaring through the air, spinning in a circle, and snatching the mike stand. Her eyes were half-lidded. "_The pressure of you on my **thumb**_," She moaned, closing her eyes and sucking in a breath hard.

A moment later, her eyes opened as she leaned in and growled the next line, "_You can do it **this** way!_" A bit suggestive, no? Patsy jumped in the air. Her voice was... strange... to say the least. But Patsy was incredibly magnetic. She had this strange sort of energy... It was just electrifying to watch her. Well, Kat didn't think that. But that was probably because she saw the way ol' Jamers was looking at Patsy, like she was some sort of rock goddess. Honestly, he doesn't even look at _me_ like that!

I was even dancing, jumping up and down, shaking back and forth. Her voice was low and throaty, like it came from this raw place inside of her. But her voice was also high, harsh and jagged, almost eerie. This was especially apparent in the chorus. "_It's never enough **for**... Never enough **for**... Never enough **for**... **you**!_" Patsy screeched, her voice hitting that abnormal high.

Patsy swayed from side to side, continuing on ruthlessly. She was a woman on a mission. But then again, that's Patsy for you. I mean, sure, she's a little... well, eccentric, I guess... But I still admire her. She's got enough guts for a hundred men, let me tell you. She's absolutely fearless. I wish I could say the same. I mean, sure, sometimes I'm brave, but I'm not crazy like Patsy. She's like a kamikaze, and I just pale in comparison. She's so secure in her being, you know?

She's way more comfortable with herself than I will ever be. I'm not even comfortable in my own skin most of the time. She knows what she stands for, and she refuses to back down or change just because someone makes a stink about it. In some ways, I guess that's a weakness too... But I see it more as a strength. It makes her solid.

Patsy's so over her awkward teenage years. Then again, looking at her, it doesn't look like she's had a single awkward day in her life. She's like eighteen-nineteen, only a little younger than Mason really. She's only in school with me since she flunked out last year. Or was it two years in a row? I dunno. She was apparently homeschooled until high school. I think that explains a lot about the individuality.

Apparently her parents were hippies. Er, maybe her dad was in the military? Oh, yeah... Her dad was drafted, and then he went AWOL... and fled to the Great White North. He met Patsy's mom at a protest rally. She was a conscientious objector. Or was it a concert? Hmm... Or maybe it was one of those feminist marches? Patsy's mom was obviously a huge feminist.

That's why Patsy's so controversial... She'll do anything scandalous, anything sexual, anything taboo in a heartbeat. That's what makes her so awesome. She's the type of person you admire because they can do all the things you can't. Nothing phases her.

Patsy walked over to Wally, doing some airguitar with him, dragging the microphone with her (cord and all). She bumped his hip, nearly pushing Wally offstage. Wally caught himself on the lip of the stage and almost faceplanted after tripping on the cord. He wasn't very happy. Guess Patsy's not his type. But Patsy, Black Widow that she is, had already moved across the stage, back to singing and shaking her head. "_Never enough **for**... Never enough **for**... Everyone **left**, but **you**!_" Patsy sneered, throwing her head forward and then backward.

Patsy moved towards Spiederman once again, dragging the microphone with her. Speed sure didn't seem to mind. Guess he likes the whole rockergrrl thing. Patsy stood next to him, shooting him a look. She closed her eyes in a sort of reverence as Speed played his long guitar solo. And apparently she's got a thing for guys who know how to rock a guitar. Well, who doesn't? When he finished his solo, she shot Speed a _look_, swiveling her hips in time to the music. "_Never enough **for**... Never enough **for**... Never enough **for**... **you**!_" She shrieked shrilly, thrusting her pelvis forward in a way that made Speed lick his lips and swallow hard. She would've made Elvis envious, I'm telling you.

Then Patsy turned away from Speed and walked back up to the front. She tossed her head about as savagely as a wild filly, practically neighing. The tempo built up as Patsy's thrashing increased in violence and intensity. "_Never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, **never** enough for... **you**!_" Her voice crescendoed as she screamed at the top of her lungs. And with a few more finishing chords from Wally and Speed and a few more clashes of the drum (go Kyle! You rock that cymbal, boy!), the amazing song was over. Entirely too soon, might I add.

Patsy and my boys (isn't that cute? They're _my_ boys now) were playing a few more songs. Unfortunately, I couldn't listen to them all... Seeing as my average of 10 coffees a day (12 coffees, 8 cappucinos, 2 shots of espresso today... Hey! A girl's gotta stay on her feet somehow, even if it involves drinking more coffee than a crack addict) contains a lot of caffeine, a notorious diuretic, I really had to go to the bathroom. I was just short of bursting, so I politely excused myself. I fortuitiously (or maybe not, considering... Maybe I'm bein' sarcastic here... You think?) told Kat where I was going. You know, just in case. Ha... Just in case.

As I expected, the bathroom was filthy. But, that being said, it was probably a hell of a lot cleaner than the boys'. Oh, and there was a couple having sex in one of the stalls... And people think I'm the slut? I just did what I had to do and scrubbed my hands with the scratchy soap as hard as I could under that brackish water. Then I dried my hands and kicked the door to the stall that the people were having sex in. I was pleased to see that they had stopped and a few things fell to the ground. Then I heard the telling stream of curse words as they scrambled to pick up their things and what not. I rolled my eyes. "For the love of God, spring for a motel!" I shouted on my way out. I shook my head, sighing and rolling my eyes at those sort of touchy-feely couples. Ugh. It's so gross. Especially since I have no boyfriend or boytoy of my own.

Unless Tommy counts. But I don't think he does. I mean, I think it's a rule that he's not yours if he's boffing your sister. But, you know, whatever... There's Tim... Who I never see and rarely ever make-out with and stuff. We've kissed, what, four times? Five? I don't know, but we've only been on one official date... Two if you count the night we first met. And he has a girlfriend. Ugh, I like him, but I still can't get over it. It still feels wrong, and yet... so right. I really, really, really like him. _Really_...

I tried my best to maneuver my way through the crowd, turning and sucking in and shimmying. It wasn't particularly successful, but I was moving to the music and maneuvering, so it was a multitasking thing. I'd only gotten about a meter in when I heard the couple emerging from the bathroom. Somehow, still holding hands, they made it all the way out of the club in two seconds flat. I couldn't even get halfway to Kat in two seconds.

I moved a little more, getting close enough so that my friends could see me. That is, if they would deign to even look at me. And Patsy and my boys were pretty magnetic, so I couldn't blame them for staring. Still, though... I wish they'd noticed me. Maybe then they could've noticed a few _other_ things. Maybe then I wouldn't have wound up so miserable or...

It all started when I felt a hand on my wrist. Seeing as everyone I knew was in front of me and in my immediate line of vision, I immediately jerked my hand away and tried to move forward. I think I may have moved an inch before I felt the hand on my wrist again. This time, the grip was harder, more insistent. I found myself being pulled backward almost blindly, and with a ruthless speed. I was right back where I'd started, at the the bathroom door. Only this time, there wasn't a soul around. I swear, it must be the first time in history that there hasn't been a line for the girls' room.

I hit something hard, yet also soft. By that odd description, I mean... a body. Pretty much. A warm, live human body. Maybe that's not the right wording. You can be alive but not warm. And, trust me, I'm not talking about skin... Because, as crowded as the club was, even in this, the unsecluded part, it was impossible for anyone to not be sweating completely through their clothes. I could feel someone against me, behind me. I began to feel freaked. Okay, not freaked. Stalker-fan Code Red Defcon-Five Asthma Attack Freak-Out Level here...

And then I felt the breath against my ear. I stiffened immediately, feeling all of my muscles tighten immeasurably, as, I was to find, did the grip. I shuddered, and arms wrapped around me in a sort of backwards hug. I fought the urge to shudder again, fearing this force would come in closer, maybe even closing in for the kill. "Dance with me," A man's husky baritone whispered in my ear, tickling the rising hairs on the back of my neck. It wasn't a request, but a command... an order. And, seeing as he had me in a dangerous wrestling hold, I had to comply... After all, I couldn't really say no.

Once again, as it often is in life... Especially my life, and especially lately... I didn't really have a choice in the matter. The man turned me around, and I was stunned at who I saw. The breath caught in my throat and died there. I'd never expected that it would be someone I _knew_. I just thought it'd be some stalker fan creep type. Well, I was right about the stalker creep part. Not the fan part. No, **never** the fan part.

It was the all-too familiar Travis Quinn. Looking _good_ too, might I add. But what was he doing in a club like this? What was he doing in a club, period, much less the one _my_ band was performing at? He's a teacher... He should be like, grading papers right now! My eyes swept over him slowly, but it didn't register. He was wearing uncomfortably snug-fitting jeans (for me to look at, I mean... but I'm sure he couldn't have been that comfy), an entirely too tight white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. I've seen Tommy wear the same many times. He's surprisingly more low maintenance than you'd think... sometimes. With that thought, I shuddered.

How many times do I have to tell me? Do not compare Tommy with that pond scum over there! Not that Tommy's that much better sometimes, but still... With Tommy, I want it. I want _him_... so bad. It's really getting pathetic. I was still arguing with myself, trying to suppress the comparisons that came to my mind all too readily when Travis ground his hips into mine. Teachers aren't supposed to have moves like that! And they're not supposed to be all over their students!

Then again, he isn't your conventional teacher, now is he? Most of them actually care about their jobs, surprisingly enough... A phenomenon that doesn't seem to have reached him. Ha, and I thought we were close in the closet! Being crushed by all these people and then plastered to him, trapped in that iron grip... Too unpleasant for words. Especially since the pedophilic wonder over here's getting a little excited. I shuddered in revulsion and tried to break free. That was, of course, impossible. Even if I had managed to get free from his killer grip, the unfriendly crowd still wouldn't facilitate an escape. That didn't stop me from struggling, though.

Of course, in this club, violent thrashing looked like actual dancing, so no one thought anything of it. I screamed, but it was so damn noisy! Plus the asshole covered my mouth with his hand. I'm just glad he used his hand rather than his lips... Wait, no, I'm not! EW! I don't know where this hand's been! ICK! And in a club like this (I think you could catch Hepatitis or Tetanus in one of the bathrooms)... Double ICKKKKKKKK! I slapped his hand down desperately. "Promise you'll be quiet," He growled, shooting me an intense glare.

Honestly, does he know me at all? Idiot! When have I ever been quiet! I'm a friggin' MUSICIAN, for crying out loud! If you piss me off, I write a song about you. And that song becomes an instant hit. You see what I mean? So I can completely defame your character... And I can most definitely report him to the schoolboard. Or my parents... Or Tommy, who would kick his ass in two seconds. For fun. Actually, that'd be fun to watch.

You know, maybe I ought to tell Tommy. I told Mason... I showed Mason... and the world didn't end. I mean, sure, Tommy thought I was fooling around with Mase, but that's not the point! It's a logical conclusion... Not really from Tommy, who's the reason for my bad reputation and ought to know better than anyone that I'm not the town harlot, considering he's probably already dated her, her sister, and her best friend. Eh, he's always been prone to jumping to conclusions and keeping grudges. Especially when he sees me with another guy. Honestly, he punches his best friend because he kissed me and made a smart remark about Tom's inability to do the same... Well, not so much an inability as a general reluctance... Er, um... It's complicated, okay!

I mean, Mason didn't judge me. He didn't look at me any differently. But that's Mason. Nice, sweet, dependable, lovely Mason. Tommy and Mason are two very different, distinct individuals. Tommy's this crusty, musty, cocky, belligerent, jealous skank-man who's been there, done that, and then pulled a Britney (oops, he did it again!). He's a vicious cycle, really. A poison... Dangerous. Might be why he's got such fast cars. And Mason... Mason's this completely down-to-earth, sweet, honest, pure, utterly nice guy. He's an environmentalist too. Mason's softer, less polluted. And Tommy... he's radioactive. He's unstable. And one of these days, he's going to destroy himself from within. He'll implode, and we'll all get caught in his blast. And lemme tell you, no one survives a nuclear winter except the cockroaches.

But Tommy won't, right? I mean, he trusts me, right? He knows me... right? He cares about me... RIGHT! RIGHT! Oh, I don't... I just don't know, you know? I mean... He'd understand, right? That this isn't my fault at all? He wouldn't blame me, would he? Could he? I mean, it's not like I asked for this because I didn't, and I completely hate Quinn, and right now I think the whole damn world knows that. Or they ought to... Tommy would, right? That's why he'd kick Travis' ass... Right? Or is it just that green mile of jealousy in his veins? That violent possessiveness... Where he wants to have his cake and eat it too!

By the way, what the hell does that mean! I mean, if I say I had cake, that means I ate it previously. And if I ate cake, that means I had it previously. Coincidental, I think not. It means the same thing. Unless by _having_ the cake it implies ownership, so that you just look at it or something, yet you also want to eat it at the same time. Because there's not really a cake to have if you're eating it. I think. Did that make sense?

I'm a bit desperate here, thinking of anything possible to get Tra-Quinn off my mind. He's sort of invaded my battleship, and Man, could that sound any dirtier if I tried! He knows that he's impossible to ignore, the bastard. Eh, he was a bastard before anyways... I mean, we're _just_ dancing... very, _very_, **very**, **_very_** close... So close that I can feel his pelvic bones banging against mine with every step... But that's not so bad, really, is it?

It could be a thousand times worse, after all... And, please, God, tell me I did not just say that! Because when you say something like that... It almost always, without a question or a shadow of a doubt gets worse. Even more worse than you thought possible. It's Murphy's Law, I'm telling you! But yeah, it could be... SHUT UP, JUDE! You're cursing yourself here!

Well, what the hell am I supposed to think about? Huh? The fact that I might've caught something from the bathroom facilities here? The fact that no one in this joint's wearing any deodorant and the place smells worse than the latrine at Girl Scout Camp downwind on the hottest day of the summer mingling with the aroma of that school I visited in France that lacked air conditioning and smelled like B.O. even before the deodorant-less kids entered? The fact that my Music Teacher, whom I hate with every last fiber of my being more than Shay, Eden, Darius, Tommy, Sadie, and Dad (on a bad day) put together and doubled, is at a club? The fact that I am dancing with said perverted heart-breaking asshole pedophile of a lousy excuse for a teacher? The fact that not only am I dancing with the aforementioned dangerously volatile sicko, but that I am actually letting the crazed lunatic rub himself against me to practically get himself off! Gee, that friggin' helps!

I honestly don't see how it can get much worse. Which is both frightening and sad. But I'm sure I'll find out in about two seconds. I thought I was done being afraid of Travis Quinn. AHH! He just leaned in, almost like he was going to kiss me! AHHH!

Okay, maybe I'm not done yet. I mean, I've been trying to get over Tommy forever, and, well, look how well that's turning out. Yeah, well... I honestly don't know which hopeless cause is doing better, that one or this one. I just need a little relaxation, yeah.

It could be... different, though. See, ha! I own all you bitches! I didn't say worse! Booyah! Oh, wait... DAMN IT! I said it again! I swear, it's worse than saying Macbeth! Anyways, as I was saying... I mean, to look on the bright side... Yeah! Hey, that's a novel idea!

To look on the bright side... He ain't kissing me. Yay! And he's not exactly, um, feeling me up... Yay? And he's not making fun of me, even though I'd take that over this in a heartbeat... Er... And I'm in a public place, so he can't... Oh, yeah, and he's not physically abusing me, or um, drugging me! Yay! And, er... He's just sexually harassing and assaulting me. It's not like we're having sex or anyth...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Please, oh, Heaven... Oh, God! Oh, Jesus... Oh, Buddha or... Or one of those Hindu guys (I'd say Muhammed too, but they treat women like, well, kind of like I'm being treated now. Except they hit them and do worse things... I mean, in some countries the guy picks the girl out when she's like five and she gets married at like... Eight or ten or twelve or thirteen... And the age difference isn't like me and Tommy, okay? It's not even like the age difference between me and the asshole here... It's like... Me and Darius. Ew. Ew. Ew. Even the thought disgusts me! Or like the one between me and my dad. Gross, huh? I mean, those guys are pedophiles, child molesters, rapists, and wife abusers, but you don't see them ever going to jail! And Tommy, who's a mere 16 months older than me, gets shipped off to the slammer and has to register as a sex offender for the REST OF HIS LIFE for even touching me inappropriately because he's "taking advantage of me" because of his "authority position". I mean, hello, this is Li'l Tommy Q. we're talkin' 'bout here... He's no authority figure! How hard up do you have to be to claim him as a friggin' authority figure? I mean, really! The man's done like, a fourth of the continent... That's **not** what authority figures ought to do)... Please help me.

Please, tell me I did not just say we as in Travis and me... and mention having sex within the same context of the sentence? That's just stupid and gross and it means you're actually... I mean, that's just WRONG. And sick and I hate him and gross and just... UGH. Ugh. Ugh.

And it wouldn't be having sex. That implies actual consent, something I'd never, ever, _ever_, **ever**, never give _him_! It would be rape. R-A-P-E, get your hands off of me, _rape_! He's felt me up, sure, but he hasn't really even gotten to second base yet... Or third, or fourth. THANK YOU, GOD! I just knew I had to have a guardian angel up there somewhere... Apparently he's been on break for a year or twenty. Yeah, there's _really_ a lot to do up there in heaven. I mean, what, does he have harp lessons and then choir practice and then dance class followed up by a prayer meeting, a Bible study, lunch, and a round of golf with God every day or something? Even then, that's no excuse for all this ignorance! Curse you, Guardian Angel! You do your job even worse than my producer!

Travis, of course, was able to navigate through the crowd with ease. Why the hell am I not surprised! I just can't imagine my anal-retentive stick-up-his-ass Music teacher being a raver or a clubber or anything of the sort. It brings images of him grinding to bad rap and loud techno music under hideous strobe lights in leather pants and a matching vest with no shirt. Ew, I did not need that visual! Honestly, wearing those pants makes him look... ugh... I think I'm going to be sick. Apparently, my new "buddy" wasn't feeling the music (which was vaguely insulting, as they were my friends!), so he headed towards the smelly holes... Oh, excuse me, I mean bathrooms, at the edges of the room... dragging me in his wake. Ouch. I smacked into so many damn people... I was going to have black and blue shoulders! As I said, he wasn't feeling the music, so he left. Psh. I think he just wanted to _feel_ me!

And not in the nice Tommy way. In the creepy Travis way. Obviously. Because I hate him, want to castrate him, and he just needs to straight-up die before I lash out and kill him. Orange clashes with my hair. I can't go to the slammer. Unless I got to room with Tommy, which is a virtual impossibility, considering how segregated prisons are... But hey, we could sure make him earn that jail sentence... I mean, when you're in the pen, the slammer, the clink, the pokey, the hole, the gaol... Honey, there ain't much to do, but, well... _that_. And I think you know **exactly** what the hell I mean. But prison's aren't co-ed ('cause hello, there's rapists and domestic abusers and neo-Nazis and all sorts of whackos in there!). Damn. There ruins my jailhouse fantasy. Hmm, do you think I could pretend to be his wife... or Portia or something, and maybe wrangle a conjugal visit or one hundred? Hmm, probably not.

Travis walked in the bathroom door. I reached out for the door frame, cleaving to it desperately. It was like my life preserver. If I could hold on, I could escape and live to sing another song. But alas, as I have no arm strength, and he had a firm grim on me, I was pulled firmly inside. My nails left marks on the door though (considering how dirty it was, that's saying a lot!), and the paint chips stayed under my nails. I hate that feeling. I feel so dirty.

Travis immediately pushed me against the wall. He grabbed my hands and made me push his jacket back. He carelessly let the jacket slide off his shoulders, only pulling his arms away from me long enough for it to slip down and past his arms, dropping to the ground, a symbolic gesture of many things... not a one of them good. I bit my lip, nervous. Okay, so I was about to panic! He swooped in so suddenly that I didn't even notice, kissing me once, lightly, before coming back for more. I didn't know what had hit me.

But there were his lips once again, covering mine insistently, demanding my subjugation and submission. By the way, I happen to suck at _both_ of those things. It's why Darius and I don't get along. I didn't kiss back, and he bit my lip, like punishment. But he didn't bite me hard enough to draw blood. However, any contact with this walking disease is unwanted, so I kissed him back as slightly as I could do and still get away with it. But he didn't like that. No, of course he didn't like that. He didn't like it one damn bit. He wanted a _real_ reaction.

He pushed me harder against the wall, plastering his skin against mine so hard it hurt. I shuddered to take a breath, even one. His lips grew messy, careless, slobbering... Well, not quite, but planting sloppy kisses not quite one-hundred percent on my lips as his fingers unbuttoned my sweater in a flash. It had taken ME longer to button the same sweater, and I own it! He tugged the sweater off, dropping it to the ground smoothly. I could taste the bitter liquor on his lips, and it repulsed me, disgusted me. I wanted to throw up right there, but, OH... There was his tongue halfway down my throat to ruin that for me. It was easier to taste now that he was deeper into the kiss, the whiskey that burned my throat like a bleach, but not quite.

Pouring bleach down my throat would've probably killed me. But at least it would've made me feel clean. More than I can say for the hard liquor on his tongue. He wasn't wasted though, not even halfway there. Maybe buzzed. Maybe, just maybe. I had a feeling that this... me... was something he'd do sober anyways.

That was the scary thing about the whole ordeal. It had never happened like this. I still wasn't completely used to it happening at all. I didn't want it to happen at all, damnit! Today was, for some bizarre reason, so utterly different. And tonight was different than in school this afternoon. It was like the cool, reserved part of him had snapped... into... into, well, an even bigger asshole.

Before, I had been afraid of what he was going to do. I should have been this time too... But for some bizarre reason... I wasn't. I wasn't calm either, but my thoughts were already racing in so many friggin' different directions as it was at like, the speed of light squared times something or other and... and I couldn't think straight or even clearly for ONE FRICKING SECOND. I don't exactly know what that means. But I know enough to be afraid... To be absolutely terrified.

Maybe I was losing control of my own too... God, now that was a scary thought! How was I... I don't... AUGH. See, see what this does to me? Why I hate having so many frigging GUYS in my life! Yeah, this is it... That famed confusion I'm practically known for. Seriously, I'm like the Bermuda Triangle of Boys. Hmm, maybe _I'm_ the natural disaster.

It was just, so, so, so surreal. I wasn't resisting, but I wasn't accepting. Of course, that makes absolutely no sense. I was kissing him back, I think... I don't remember. It's all so blurry. I was doing things with a bit more gusto than I would've done, had I been in my right mind or... able to think for a second or not cornered... I remember one thing, though.

The whole time he was kissing me, which I remember was a pretty long while... For most of it, I guess... I had my eyes closed. And I don't even think I was imagining Tommy this time. I was still ashamed for that. Because of Tommy... because I had more self-respect than that... Because it was pathetic; I was pathetic... Because Travis didn't deserve that, even, and he most certainly didn't want that... I think... I think I was just trying to make sense of some things. A lot of things, maybe.

I blame it on the temporary insanity. That song's applicable to a lot of people, you know... But, wait, ew... That would mean that I actually... have feelings for my psychotic, abusive, effed up, natural disaster of a Music teacher whom I hate, hate, _hate_, **hate**, **_hate_**... Yes, FIVE times HATE. H-A-T-E, I know it's a strong word, but I'm usin' it anyways. Because I DON'T. Okay. I don't. Period, end of story, case dismissed. If I have feelings other than intense hatred towards him, I will beat them out of my skin personally... and I don't have any, so my skin will be staying lily-white, thanks! Got it!

I remember his hands sliding up the back of my shirt, sweeping up my skin hotly... And I remember pushing them down... pushing them down... Several times, over and over again, like a DJ scratching a record in the same spot after a replay, Old School style. But his hands kept coming, and eventually, I couldn't stop them. I remember hearing my belt crash to the floor, feeling the dead weight drop off my hips like a weight off my shoulders. Why didn't that worry me then? Was_ I_ the drunk one! 'Cause I was the one who was sure as hell acting like it... Like a naïve little girl who'd just had her first taste of alcohol and gotten so absolutely beyond wasted that she didn't even remember her own name...

No, no... That was later. But maybe I'm remembering this wrong? Yeah, let's hope that I'm remembering this wrong, wrong, W-R-O-N-G, wrong. All wrong... Please, God, let that be true... I can't have done that. It's... just... No. Okay, no, I didn't! I couldn't have. It's crazy and it makes no sense.

Oh, what, you can honestly tell me that you thought you'd wind up in love with a boybander a year after your fifteenth birthday party? No, but I didn't think I'd be famous either! And, besides, I don't get what that has to do with anything! I don't think you have a damn point!

Oh, Jude, but I _do_...

And I'm talking to myself in my head, while my god-awful teacher's molesting me or doing God knows what else! I'm not even talking, I'm fighting with myself! Talk about your internal conflicts! Well, you know what, lousy Inner Voice, I don't care about your damn point. And I don't care what the hell you have to say. I would just like it if you could please, no, not even please, if you would... Because you must... shut the hell up, that is. Because I don't want to hear it. I mean, I'm weird already. I don't need Joan of Arc's voices in my head to make me even stranger.

And, yes, I realize that hers were religious, and that you're sure as hell not, especially based on those little annoying sacreligious tricks, but... I'm talking to a ghost of a voice inside my head that I shut up a paragraph ago. I'm cracked. C-R-A-C-K-E-D, as in headed to the loony-bin, put me on lithium, I'm crazy, baby! I just want... No, I need... WE need... to be normal again! And, no, I do not have multiple personalities!

His hands slid up the sides of my hips, over my jeans, sliding over the heated flesh under my shirt. I smacked down at his hands, kissing him harder, deeper... He moaned and leaned against me too heavily, breathless. It was just a delaying tactic. In some bizarre way, I was actually in control here, of the situation, for once in my life, with Quinn and me. Go me. Finally! But it wasn't really that liberating. I was just burying myself in deeper and smellier dung. Things were already so messy, and they were about to get worse.

I remember his fingers fumbling. At first, I thought he was trying to undo my jeans, so I slapped at his hands reflexively. Then I thought he was trying to feel me up again or _do_ something dirty to me, like try to steal third base, so I hit his hands twice as hard. And then I opened my eyes, but just barely, and realized that he was actually unzipping his own... Though for what reason was completely beyond me. I began to worry... Was he going to take a piss? Was he going to do something disgusting in front of me, on me, with me... Was he expecting I'd do something for him, to him, on him, with him? The worry and fear consumed me, building up to dizzying heights. I collapsed against the wall, my knees giving in on me.

Surprisingly, he left his zipper half undone, and instead pulled me off the wall and back unto him, nipping at my lips almost delicately, fervently, as if lavishing me with the attention I was craving from a much more unavailable ma-But that's completely and utterly ridiculous! Don't buy it. Don't believe it! It's CRAP. His hands trailed up my arms, and he seemed to have forgotten about his pants entirely, something I was rather glad for. Not that I actually liked him touching me or anything. I _hated_ that. Really, I did.

But this thrill/chill electric thing came over me, and I don't know... It made me stupid, like some sort of slave to the moment... But not quite a slave to him. He... he was different. Rough, yet gentler... Softer? I don't know. All I know is that it was difficult this time. I remember the way his eyes burned into me like a blazing grass fire when he was looking at me earlier. How his eyes looked like the leaves turning colors, only violently. How I saw smoke, like a forest fire, like a leaf fire, and that hideous stench that came with both, in his eyes. The intensity had been animalistic, like he was some animal about to tear me apart and rip me to shreds. And this was like that. Raw, fierce, hard, passionate, crazy, completely insane, bitter, electric, violent... but real. All too real this time. It was like the tenuous line we'd both been balancing on had just been shot to hell... Like the Cuban Missile Crisis would've gone if Kennedy had invaded Cuba... Fireworks.

Then I couldn't completely fend him off any more. He was like a feral animal that I just couldn't tame. His calloused hands swept up my back, sending involuntary shivers up my back, making the hair literally stand on end like I was a spooked cat. Only that wouldn't help me. It wouldn't warm me, and it wouldn't protect me. Each finger sent shockwaves through my already searing, over-processed nerve endings as they climbed higher and higher, tracing my spine. I trembled, shuddering against him, practically collapsing into his arms. He stoked my back strangely, reassuringly, almost... dare I say it, lovingly?

Or I'm on crack or something and you know what? I bet I was just totally hallucinating that part. Yep, that sounds good! Because that can't be real. I mean, you think the other stuff's whack and then something like that just HITS you, BAM, right out of nowhere, you know? Now, as I said, **that's** crazy! It never happened and I was obviously senile for a bit there and sweaty and in a nasty bathroom. I bet the smell and the lead paintchips underneath my fingernails and the asbestos raining down on us thanks to the pitiful ceiling fan and mosh party going upstairs got to me... Yeah, that's it.

The kisses were slower, less demanding, but... different. More... strange. It wasn't just entirely physical now. Again, maybe I was hallucinating. Remember, my eyes weren't really open and, uh, I got drunk later on? I just can't face anything else, you know? Any... depth. Any meaning. Because life is absurd, right? Right? Completely.

The feeling of his lips burned into my brain, searing into the transitive cells of my lips themselves to memorize for all eternity. I knew this was one make-out session I was never going to forget... OH HOLY CRAP! Make-out? Session? With Travis? Okay, I'm hyperventilating now! Where the hell's that barf bag? And one and two and three and four and that's Lamaze breathing, not meditation, and why can't I be Buddhist? Whyyyyy? I need to be Zen and all collected right now, except I'm not and I won't ever be! Can't ever be!

His hands were still on my clammy, cool back. They were making me sweat even more. They were just sitting there, not doing anything and I was... I don't know... Anticipating something... Anything! And sure enough... I got whatever it was I was waiting for. I was so busy... so absorbed in his kiss... that I didn't even notice how, in a single movement, he'd unclasped my bra. I hadn't even noticed. Then his hands became even more desperate, more feverish, slick against my sweaty skin. His arms wrapped tighter around me, and he placed both hands on my back so that he could feel the smooth skin there.

When his hands went up my back, I immediately pitched forward, deeper into his arms, and moaned in a completely unwholesome way, grabbing his shirt. He groaned in response, pulling my arms out of the straps and then haphazardly throwing the bra behind him. I then realized what he'd done, stiffening, as I though he was immediately going to, well, you know! But I was understandably freaked. Things had gone a lot further than I meant for them to. I didn't mean for any of this to happen, though! It's a wonder I wasn't hyperventilating then.

But he didn't immediately go for my chest. He kissed me in such a way, framing my face, that it gave me chills and left my world spinning. And it was already spinning twice as fast, going the wrong way... Kinda like me. I was completely lost, dazed, confused, and dizzy beyond belief. Somewhere in there, he ripped off his shirt, and I remember hesitantly running my finger up the length of his chest. I broke the kiss when it occurred to me that there was just a lone piece of fabric between our torsos, as compared to the four there had been when we started... And with one more slip-up, he'd be seeing a little too much of me for comfort and vice-versa. Well, for me at least.

I held my head with my other hand, trying to contemplate how things had gone so horribly awry. So out of my control, out of my plans... How I'd apparently lost my mind even more than Travis had to just let him... I was so confused, trying to understand how I'd gotten here, at this point, now, with him! My world was still spinning so hard that it was nearly falling off of its axis, and I was groaning, clutching my aching head, trying to keep my balance and catch my bearings.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of this mostly fruitless contemplation, I turned to look at Travis. I didn't look him in the eye. I couldn't. I sighed and took a deep breath, still so breathless and sweaty. And just plain uncomfortable. "We need to talk," I whispered, flustered and very winded.

Surprisingly, Travis didn't walk out. He didn't leave. He just stood there, not even moving. He didn't look me in the eyes either. He merely nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. "You're right," He acknowledged softly, looking up at me for a brief moment. My heart fluttered... Or, more probably, that was gas or indigestion or embarrassment or nausea. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. That's only the second time he's ever said I was right. And the first time was right before he...

I flushed, mortified and discomfited, crossing my arms protectively over my chest, as we stood there in silence, awaiting who would be brave enough to take the first step... Make the first move in initiating that talk we'd talked of... But neither of us did it. Apparently we both decided to talk at the same moment as we cleared our throats coincidentally at the same time and started to speak. But then the door creaked open.

Speed couldn't have had worse timing. Well, actually, that's not true. He could've actually seen us making out. But he didn't think we were making out at all. He saw the clothes on the floor, the filth of the bathroom, and our disheveled state and assumed... Ass out of you and me, eh, Speed? Speed glared daggers at me as if it was me that he was particularly resentful of. "Having a quickie with _yet_ another Q, are we, Jude?" Speed prompted, fixing me with a look.

Travis' eyes burned a hole through Speed's head at the comparison. I winced, scrambling to say something. "Speed, there's nothing going on! I'm not sleeping with **anyone**!" I exclaimed, shouting at him. Though I had no idea why I needed Speed to know that... much less about my sex life. I wanted some credibility, you know? I mean, I'm no skank, no groupie, no tour whore that the band just passes around like a bicycle, despite what it says about me and Boyz Attack!

Speed rolled his eyes, scoffing at me. He bent down to pick up my bra, rubbing it against his face. Okay, I'll admit, I was a little grossed out by that, and it's obvious that I'm never going to be getting that one back. But that was a damned uncomfortable corset of a bra if I ever had one. It was hideously unwearable and I was sort of glad to not have it on anymore. Though really, the bra made me feel safer, more secure and less... whorish. "Please, Jude, you think I'm going to buy that? I figure I'll take a souvenir to remember our _wild_ night by... At least that's what I'll tell the guys. I mean, after you do it with your producer, his entire band, and your Music teacher, who wouldn't believe that you'd do it with me, your guitarist?" Speed taunted cruelly, waving the bra in the air.

I tried to grab the bra back from him, but Speed was at least nine inches taller than me. He easily held it far above my head. I couldn't even reach it by jumping. After a while, I stopped trying. I wasn't in the mood to play childish games with Speed. I was furious. "What, am I suddenly shacking up with the whole label now! I _thought_ you were a real friend. I thought **you**, of all people, would _believe_ me!" I shrieked frustratedly, jabbing him in the chest to punctuate my statement. I was close to tears, but I couldn't let him see that. It had just... been a very, very long day. I mean, Speed was on tour with me. He ought to know me just as well as...

Why is it that the people who know me best don't believe me? Jamie, Tommy... Kat believes me, but she's the only one. Speed knew I wasn't hooking up with anyone on tour. And like he's one to talk? Please. The whole school's heard about his "exploits". And trust me, he's a had a few. I mean, he's a guy in a band. And a vocalist/guitarist. Come on, he practically has Groupie Magnet written all over him! And I saw him on tour too... Had to hear about him making out and fooling around and... I'm scarred for life, okay? You just... can't trust people.

"And I thought you weren't interested in _him_!" Speed snapped accusingly, gesturing towards... who else? Travis. He was still catching his breath, chest heaving. I was forcing myself not to look, but I failed when I cast brief glances there... When had I ever even talked to Speed about Quinn anyways? I hadn't exactly made it secret that I loathed him, I guess... But why does Speed even care?

"I'm **_not_**!" I blurted out immediately, partly because it was the first thing that came to mind and partly because it was true. I swear, Travis had what almost looked like a wounded look on his face for about a minute. At least, I think... But I'm probably hallucinating again, right? I mean, that's what happens when you go night after night without much sleep. You start to drift off and forget things and everything makes it so much harder to function...

"Yeah, because you're too **blinded** by _Tommy_ to see anyone else!" Speed burst out loudly, throwing his hands in the air. He glanced at Travis, who regarded him with disdain. Ha, showing his true colors after all, is he? Then Speed looked at me shrewdly. He looked at me with a sneer and started to clap, applauding me mockingly. "I gotta say, Jude... Nice choice. The resemblance is _uncanny_, really. You can just _barely_ tell the difference," Speed replied coolly, much in the same way Tommy had insulted Shay on my birthday. Only Speed was less sophisticated, and he didn't like me. Oh, and I wasn't dating Quinn!

I didn't even want to think about the look that must be on Travis' face right now. All I know is that he was pissed. I glanced over at him and noticed him popping his knuckles and eyeing Speed murderously. Well, I couldn't let him hurt Speed. And, again, that's a good way for him to get his sorry self fired. "Speed, stop! That's not true... I'm not... Speed, _please_, just listen to me!" I begged, scrambling for something to say. But alas, I could barely string the words into sentences. I bit my lip, grabbing Speed's arm.

Speed looked smug. He rose up a little more on his haunches, lifting his head up high. He puffed his chest out a bit and gave Quinn a disapproving look. Of course, what he didn't realize was that Quinn had a glare that could melt ice, but hey... What goes around comes around. Speed took a step back, keeping my hand on his arm, covering my hand with his fingers. His hand was warm, at least. I suddenly felt very, very cold. Speed smirked at his newfound rival. "Hey, Quinn, how's it feel to be a substitute for Little Tommy Q.!" Speed antagonized, baiting his opponent.

He doesn't realize that starting a fight makes you look like a twit... at any age. Travis didn't take the bait, though. Well, hey, I guess he had to play the "responsible adult" card once in his life. I literally mean once. I'm like, completely surprised that he hasn't shown up drunk or high or something. I mean, the guy has a Viper... You can't tell me that he's a safe driver. Or, well, I thought he was going to be the bigger man, seeing as he didn't immediately punch Speed. To be fair, Speed would've had it coming.

He just smirked right back, grabbing my other arm and pulling me towards him somewhat possessively. Uh oh... I wasn't quite liking how this was turning out. It felt a bit more like Tug of War for me. And when Jude plays Tug of War, there's no winners... Least of all Jude. Travis cocked his head, smirking as wide as he could. "Hey, _Skidmark_, how's it feel to be a half-decent guitarist who isn't even a _blip_ on her radar!" Travis retorted, shooting me a supposedly sultry look. I didn't bite.

Speed literally flinched, which was unusual for him. I mean, he's usually the guy that pretends to hit you and then slugs you twice in the gut... yelling "Two for flinching!" like a battle cry. But he didn't do anything like that. Speed was a passionate, emotional, totally hormonal sort of guy. And here he was, acting so out of character. He wasn't the cool, laid-back guy I'd come to know and love. He just stared me down with an almost unbearable intensity in his eyes. He shook his head at me. "The tabloids were right about you, Jude," He stated frostily, shooting me an icy glare and moving to leave. He knew just what to say to hurt me. Those words weighed heavily on my soul.

I couldn't just let him leave like this, thinking, well... I don't exactly know what the hell he was thinking, but you can bet that it wasn't true and that it made me look bad. I grabbed Speed's arm, pushing Travis away. "Speed... _wait_!" I called, pulling him around so he had to look at me. I met his gaze, trying to communicate through my stare that I was actually innocent... As weird as it sounds, Speed's faith in me meant a lot more than I had ever realized. And I'd stupidly just taken it for granted.

Speed jerked his arm out of my grip violently. He rounded on me, getting in my face about it. Now this was the Speed I knew. "**Don't** follow me, Jude. Don't even come _near_ me. You know what, I don't want to associate myself with the _whore_ of rock 'n' roll! I'm **quitting** your stupid band. Find a new guitarist! See if you can actually make it without me!" Speed ordered furiously. Hey, I thought that was Courtney Love! I can't be the whore of rock 'n' roll yet. I mean, my CD hasn't even gone platinum yet! And quitting the band? Was he insane! The friggin' band happens to be named after him.

Well, I guess the band sure lives up to its title. Because lemme just tell you right now... Spiederman **is** giving me a mind explosion... and _not_ the good kind. I followed Speed, begging. "Vince... please! Stop acting so immature!" I pleaded, the harsh words slipping from my mouth all too easily. Not only had I used the dreaded first name (though I actually rather liked his first name. It reminds me of van Gogh, and I love his paintings. Plus his first name made for a much better appeal), but I'd called him immature. And, well, in a lot of my own ways, I was just as immature as Speed.

Speed's jaw didn't drop, but he raised his eyebrows. He looked surprised... or maybe something else. It seemed seemed like he'd lost it completely. I'd never actually seen Speed this angry before. He doesn't get mad... Speed just gets even. "Immature? Me? You're the one who still entertains delusions that Tommy's actually in love with you. Well, newsflash, Jude, he _doesn't_ care! He's dating your frigging **sister**! You couldn't ask for a bigger sign that he **doesn't** _want_ **_you_**!" Vince shouted back. He came closer with each word. I backed up at each word.

I felt like I'd been sucker-punched. He just... He said that so heartlessly. He said that knowing it would hurt me. I took a step back from Speed, floored. My mouth was open wide. "Vin!" I gasped, trying to collect my thoughts and calm down. I just couldn't think of anything better to say. What was there to say?

Speed's eyes narrowed. He placed his hands on his hips, staring me down, absolutely unrelenting. "Ooh, sorry, did I hurt your _feelings_, Pop Princess? Gonna cry about it and write a sappy song about me? Well go on ahead. Screw _you_, Jude! Oh, wait, _sorry_, I must be the **only** guy on the planet who's never nailed you!" Speed continued viciously, in the same vein, still mocking me. My jaw dropped as Speed stormed out, shooting me a last, petulant glare.

"Speed... Why does he think we even did anything?" I muttered, collapsing against the tiled wall. I didn't care anymore if it was dirty or clean. I just knew I couldn't stand on my own right now. I covered my eyes with my hands, lightly banging my head against the wall. I ran my hands through my hair as I sighed, looking once again at Travis.

He was bending down to pick up his shirt. I haven't given him enough credit... really. He pulled the t-shirt over his head, and my breath shortened as I saw his stomach muscles flex. I gulped hard. Okay, Jude, get control of yourself. It's not like you haven't seen a boy before! You saw Tommy's abs after all, and they were more... ripped. Oh... Tommy's... Mmmm.

Travis looked at me, getting back up. He crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut across it. He rolled his eyes at me, clearly in some sort of a mood. He pretended to actually debate it for a second. "I don't know. Maybe you might want to learn how to properly _zip_ your jeans for once in your life," He snarled, gesturing to my jeans. I wracked my brain, wondering what had caused the sudden change in mood.

Had he thought that I'd actually been getting it on with someone earlier and forgot to zip my jeans? Someone like Speed? But Speed had just said that he hadn't... And why should _he_ care anyways? Or either of them, for that matter! Why do I... How do I get myself in these situations? Augh! My head hurts... a lot.

I had forgotten to zip up my jeans... from when I went to the bathroom. Not because I was screwing some dumb boy. My jaw drops... After that... after all that, he BAILS on me! He drops me, like that? I can't believe I actually did that! I must be completely losing my damn mind! And, you know what, he's not even _that_ good of a kisser. And he's not _that_ attractive. And his abs don't look _that_ sculpted, okay, because he's not a friggin' Greek God! And he's an ass, so this isn't even up for debate. "Go to **Hell**!" I growled venomously, picking up my sweater, and shoving him headfirst into the stall the couple had just vacated. I heard a splash and some unhappy groans and grinned on my way out.

Or, at least, I was grinning until a hand grabbed my wrist and spun me around. Guess who's back, back again? Yes, I did have to resort to quoting Eminem for that one. It was Travis... and he looked pissed. He yanked me towards him and planted a rough, almost violent kiss on my lips. At first I didn't respond... But then he did that thing where he... Just... wow. I found myself melding against him, my eyes closed in rapture. His hands came smoothly up the back of my shirt, gently caressing the soft flesh of my lower back. "Let's finish what we started," He murmured hoarsely, breaking the kiss and gazing at me through half-lidded eyes.

That should've repulsed me, and ordinarily, it would have... Like I said, it was different this time. And, then again, it had been quite possibly the longest day of my life, and trust me, I've had my fair share of long days. I was exhausted, and all I wanted was a little relief... A little release. So, going against everything in me, everything I believed in and had previously thought to be true... I grabbed Travis by the collar of his jacket, still holding my sweater in one hand, threw my arms around his neck, and leaned up to give him a passionate kiss. Just because I felt like it. Because I liked that strange feeling. And it felt pretty damn good in some perverse sense. He was obviously very, very surprised. This time, I think I was the one that kissed him silly. He was the one who wound up dizzy and unsteady on his feet. And that felt good, to actually unnerve him for once... To knock him completely off guard. The kiss wasn't half bad either.

It was easy to close my eyes and let myself get lost in the moment. And it would be even easier to imagine someone else, but I didn't. It just wasn't right. I mean, if I did that, I was only kidding myself. Despite my eyes being closed, I still knew just who it was I was kissing. And if I pretended otherwise, well, then I was just being stupid. But it was easiest to just close my eyes and shut out the world in an attempt to try and forget.

And while it was tempting to just let myself get wrapped up in the heat of the moment, to wrap myself around him... I knew I couldn't do that. I was just tired and confused and... Not even able to think straight. I couldn't even force a clear thought. Not one word. Maybe that right there was the appeal in kissing him. Who knows? I sure as hell don't, and I've been trying to figure it out for a _while_.

Or maybe it was just a physical thing. I don't know. My hormones are all over the place... Up and down... 'Round and 'round... Like a Ferris Wheel or a Merry-Go-Round. Here I was, in for the ride of my life. Actually, no... It was more like a rollercoaster. Moving unbelievably fast, over quicker than you think, full of unexpected twists and turns, high drops and sharp turns, slow climbs and that nauseating feeling... Not your average rollercoaster, I guess. I'm more thinking of the kind that freaks you out because your feet are dangling from it and does full 360s and stuff...

And, just like that, seemingly out of the blue, I pushed him away from me violently. Maybe I'd had some sudden epiphany, but whatever it is... was... I honestly don't remember. I do, however, remember the struggle that ensued. I forced his lips off of mine, trying my hardest to shake my wrist free from his grasp. But, persistent as always, he refused to let me off easy. He grabbed at me again.

"Let **go** of me!" I shouted as loudly as I could, swinging my arms about wildly. He didn't let me go. He pulled me closer once more. I'd pretty much had it up to here by that point. We'd both been playing mindgames, and we'd both been sending some very mixed signals. The problem was that now we were both incredibly confused. I, for one, am unfortunately used to being confused. Travis never was. He was always so damn put together it nearly made me sick. But then again, everything about him practically made me sick. And, yeah, that sounds weird coming from someone who made out with him, but that's not the point. I wasn't thinking clearly then. I wasn't in my full mind.

He tried to kiss me again... But I was sick of this, sick of him. Right now, I just wanted to go home, collapse, and remain passed out until my date with Tim. Tomorrow. Mm... Tim. Anyways, sorry about that. I'm just really, really, really looking forward to seeing him. Him, Tim... Ha ha! Okay, again, sorry... I'm just so excited! And I just can't hide it! I don't wanna lose control but I think I l... Oh, wait, right... Losing control, eh? Oh, yeah... The Travis crap. Anyways, so Travis had just tried to kiss me again. I responded with a left hook straight in the eye. He's just lucky his eye was closed, lemme tell ya. I punch pretty hard. Obviously, since I broke Sadie's nose and all... But yeah, I gave him a black eye. Pretty sweet. And then I told him to go off and, er, do something to himself... rather graphically... And then I kneed him in the groin three times and walked to the bar.

Surprisingly enough, Wally and Patsy were clustered around the bar. Speed and Kyle were nowhere in sight (I suspected that Kyle had just run off with his girlfriend). Well, at least I don't have to deal with another fight. Or so I thought... I walked up to Wally.

He gave me this look... Not like Speed, really. I guess he was just going more off of what Speed said. He didn't care about the tabloids. So Wally was giving me this death glare, and I had absolutely no idea why. I frowned and was about to ask him when Wally cut in with his own remark. "I was wondering when you'd show up... From what I hear, Speed sure kept you _busy_ enough..." He muttered suggestively, shooting me a look. My jaw dropped stupidly. That lousy jackass of a guitarist of mine had TOLD me he was going to say that, and, yet, still... I remained surprised. How dumb am I?

For a moment, I just stood there, my mouth opening and closing, gaping like a fish. Then I blinked and regained my bearings. Sorry, drifted off for a second there. I rolled my eyes, scoffing at his stupidity. "Oh, yeah, Wally... He **shook** me _all_ night long!" I retorted sarcastically, resorting to a crass Patsy dance move. Patsy smirked into her drink, clearly amused. I placed my hands on my hips, staring him down. He should really know better! As if I'd ever... with Speed, of all people! I... I just don't really see him that way, you know? And then there's all the Tommy drama and all the other crazy romantical crap I've got just popping out of the woodwork.

Wally wasn't impressed by my quoting AC/DC. Oh, bummer. I've really been saving that one for a while. That's a damn good quote! This time Wally rolled his eyes, giving me a look. "He showed us your bra," He pointed out plainly. Well, of course he did. What do you expect a braggart to do? I groaned aloud, and Patsy looked at me with a newfound respect. I looked up at the ceiling, as if asking God what I had done to deserve this. Oh, wait, sorry, I was asking God that. I sighed raggedly and turned my gaze on Wally.

I blinked a lot, and my eyes filled with tears. Well, faux tears anyways. I batted my eyelashes at Wally, pushing my lips out into a full-on pout. Then I ran my hand down Wally's arm, which he immediately jerked away. Oh, thanks, Wally. That was real polite. "Oh, but Wallace, you _know_ I'm saving myself for you! I just know you're gonna **rock**... _my_... **_world_**!" I exclaimed loudly, making my voice higher and breathier. I timed this perfectly with running a hand down Wally's chest. He seemed a bit short of breath and slightly red in the face.

Patsy giggled, winking at me. She approved, apparently. I truly didn't know quite what to make of that. Wally was still blushing brilliantly. He stared and stumbled around, looking for something to say. After what seemed like a decade of this, Patsy interrupted, clapping her hands down upon Wally's shoulders. "Honestly, Willy, if she dug Vin, would she be here at the bar or back at his place? And they'd be here together. Besides, I saw him leaving with some trailer trash bimbo thirty minutes ago," Patsy said entirely nonchalantly and in a monotone, like it was nothing at all. Her points did make a lot of sense, though. I couldn't help but notice that she got Wally's first name wrong. Wally looked a bit flustered, and, well... intimidated. What can I say... Patsy's a scary girl in normal situations, but getting her drunk in a bar... That can just be ugly.

By ugly, I mean not only Patsy wasted, but the increased probability of you winding up in a bar brawl with her. Hey, at least she knows how to fight! I looked to Wally, feeling suddenly jaded. "Did Speed tell you he's quitting the band... 'cause that's what he told me," I blurted nervously, biting my lip. Wally's jaw dropped and even Patsy looked surprised. O-kay. Well, then... I guess that answers my question. So I'm the only one he chose to share that crazy info with? Does Speed want me to look like a total tool? Oh, wait, duh...

"What did you do?" Wally gaped, shocked and appalled. Apparently, Speed had seemed perfectly normal before. Funny. He sure wasn't acting like it. Well, to me at least. He was acting worse than a PMSing Sadie. But Wally didn't get to see that side of our good buddy. And I **hate** that! Wally asks what _I _did, like it's my fault! Speed's the guy, and the guys always screw up! Always!

But then I started thinking about it... It really was all my fault. My stupid fault. But I don't see why Speed's so mad about it. It's my life, not his. And I'm not dating him or anything stupid like that... I mean, he didn't even ask me about it! He just... assumed. And why doesn't he think it was Quinn's fault? Why's he blaming it on me? How does he know who started what? Who is he to actually think that he knows everything! It's none of Speed's business. Absolutely none whatsoever.

I sighed loudly, throwing my head in my hands. "I..." I looked up at Wally, sighing once again. "I... It was nothing. Speed just saw me in a compromising position and jumped to conclusions... Though I don't get what business it is of his anyways!" I exclaimed frustratedly, explaining the situation. Patsy snickered, raising an eyebrow and shooting Wally a look. Wally groaned loudly and shook his head. It was as if they both knew something I didn't.

I was beginning to feel rather peeved. Wally just gave me this condescending look, like he couldn't believe how dumb I was being about things. I thought he was supposed to be the nice one! I scowled at him, and Patsy snorted. She started laughing, this rich, brassy, almost evil sort of cackle. Then, at my blank look, she stopped laughing, staring at me similarly. "You're **kidding** me!" She screamed, turning to talk to Wally. "She doesn't know?" Patsy continued, slightly surprised by this development. I don't know what? What is it?

Wally shook his head no, sighing raggedly. Confused, I leaned against the bar, glancing over at them. They seemed to be having a conversation with their eyes. "Speed hasn't 'fessed up yet," He whispered in a tone he thought I couldn't catch. But I did, and I was more confused than ever. Patsy frowned, looking vaguely disappointed. She shook her head, licking her teeth somewhat malevolently.

"He needs to grow a pair and get it over with already," Patsy remarked cynically. Wally made a face at the comment, which only made Patsy smirk. Wally's so innocent. I just love him, don't you? Except when he's being pissy... I think that's something he's picked up from Speed. Ugh. Oh well. Now I came between them, a curious look plastered all over my face. Patsy raised an eyebrow, giving me a quizzical look. And then, disregarding the clear look of alarm and warning on Wally's face (okay, so she saw it and ignored it), she plowed on and proceeded to show me her hand. Rather bluntly, too, might I add.

Patsy grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. Damn, the girl has a tough grip! She paused literally a second to think. "Speed's completely in love with you. The boy worships the ground you walk on. You're his sun, his moon, his stars," Patsy stated bluntly, patting me on the hand. I blanched and almost fell over. My jaw dropped painfully to the floor. I was feeling pretty woozy, but luckily Wally caught me before I hit the ground. Dizzy, I glanced at Wally, who was a lot closer than I'd realized, silently asking him with my eyes if it was true.

Actually... "**_WHAT!_**" was what really came out, in an unflattering screech, but still... Wally frowned, shooting Patsy a deathglare. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders so I could stand. But I kept giving him that pouty, pleading look that I know Wally can't resist. Wally sighed, glaring once more at Patsy.

"It's true, Jude... The guy likes you more than Caveman Days and Pearl Jam put together," Wally answered calmly, honestly. Whoa, whoa, whoa... I just find out that he likes me... Or something. And now Wally tells me that Speed likes me more than Caveman Days and Pearl Jam? He loves Caveman Days. It's his favorite restaurant in the world. He eats there five nights a week. Everyone in the restaurant knows him by name... The man even has his own table! He _loves_ that joint. If it were possible, he'd marry the place... Well, Princess Paleolithic anyways. Wally can't be serious.

But here's the sad thing... He is. Right, that is. I mean, when I put all the pieces together... It makes sense. Wally and Patsy are both right, and I hate that. I shrugged Wally's arm off my shoulders, walking over to the bar. "I need a drink," I moaned, walking over to stand next to Patsy. Patsy smirked, motioning for two shots... of whiskey. But I couldn't drink the whiskey... It reminded me of... Well, you know!

"Vodka, please," I requested, motioning for a drink. The bartender poured the clear liquid in the glass and set it down on the table next to Patsy's. Patsy picked up her drink, downing it without hesitation. She grinned at me, motioning for me to pick up the drink.

So Speed liked me, then. That explains everything. And he's threatening to quit the band. I have to do something about it... But what? I don't know what to do anymore! I stared at the drink a little more, as if hoping it would solve my problems. It wouldn't, of course. I think Tommy had proved to me that liquor never helped anyone. I sighed, taking a deep breath, thinking about my other woes.

Namely, the whole Tommy debaucle, the thing I had going with Tim, and... whatever the hell was happening with me and... yeah. I think I'd proved effectively that I couldn't solve everything. I couldn't even fix one damn thing. I was tired, so damn tired of dealing with all this. It's too much for a teenager to handle! It's too much for anything to handle. And I thought about all that, staring at the shot glass. I didn't know what taking that fatal sip could mean. I didn't know what to expect from it. But still... I stared at it, transfixed by the way the lights hit the crystal.

I didn't want it. And I knew I didn't need it. I was confused and tired... And sick of thinking. I wanted to forget. I wanted to relax. I wanted to stop thinking for once in my life! I just wanted to just shut off my brain for one night. Is that really so wrong?

So, when presented with the option of oblivion, I took it. I picked up the miniature glass, which felt so cold, in my clumsy fingers. I brought it slowly up to my lips, my fingers trembling. Patsy, Wally, and the bartender were watching in awe. _Hold my hand to the flame..._ I felt the liquid against my lips, smooth as water. The light glinted through the glass, shining bright as diamonds. _Just sit back and watch it burn... _I opened my lips, throwing the drink back.

When the liquid slid down my throat, I wanted to cough. The vodka burned down my throat like an itch I couldn't scratch... I wanted to choke on it. But I did none of this. I didn't even sputter. I just let the fire pour down my throat, the tingling sensation following. The shot went down my throat like an antiseptic, the stinging vapors numbing my trachea. It hurt a little, but not much. Not enough to make me stop. I swallowed it easily, embracing the new sensations.

It was like drinking bleach. The alcohol killed the unsavory bacteria, the little fragments of this day that I wanted to forget. It had no flavor, but it somehow overcame my tastebuds, washing away the tastes I'd sampled. The drink actually helped me erase the memories. It made me feel... clean. Freer. Not so guilty. But a sudden urge of emotion overcame me as I slammed the glass down on the bar. Everyone was looking at me with a mixture of shock and awe.

Patsy grinned at me brightly and clapped me on the back. "Now that's more like it! Next round's on me!" Patsy proclaimed enthusiastically. I smiled and shook my head at her antics. I pulled a pen out of my pocket, grabbing as many napkins as I could. I began to scribble song lyrics, releasing the emotions I hadn't allowed myself to feel. _Put my pain into words... _But I didn't cry.

The haunting melody echoed in my head as I had another drink. I stuffed the napkins in my pockets. I drank still another shot and found my belt in the bathroom. And that's when it all gets blurry. I remember drinking another after another after another... until I was a pro at it. _Bit by bit, I feel the draft..._ The melody of my new song mixed with the song Patsy had sung tonight, then the ones that played while I was... The last thing I remember was that bizarre, warped song playing on endless loop in my brain, getting louder and louder. I remember the feeling of the cool night air on my skin and the way my body shook with each drunken giggle. I remember the smell, a combination of fresh paint and hairspray. I remember seeing a flash of colors and the spectrum of lights that stood out in the darkness, drawing ever closer by the moment.

And then I remember someone pushing me. My neck was sore. But the last thing I really remember was the forbidding clang of metal as the door closed on me, locking me inside in more ways than one. _The truth is that I'd rather die than to forgive..._ I was alone in the darkness, leaning against cold metal, while the force of the sound resounded around me. And it was then that I realized, if only dimly, that the music had finally stopped.

* * *

- Loren ;

Anyways, about Patsy's song. It's the one she sang in I Fought the Law and, well, all the other ones. I transcribed it painstakingly, listening to it over and over again. Anyways, some of the lyrics are probably off. Like it could be let instead of light... or crease instead of grease... And I'm fairly certain that "The pressure of you on my thumb" isn't the actual lyric, since there's a really hard C sound there. But I can't think of a word that starts with C, K, or even Q that would fit there. Meh, oh well.

Okay, freaky fact... I live in the suburbs. Anyways, the city my suburb is around is ranked #9 on the list of most violent cities in North America (#5 in break-ins). Well, for 2004. There was this ridiculous amount of homocides there last year. I mean, city officials were taking bets on it (they got fired, by the way)! Which means my city is a hell of a lot more dangerous than Toronto... Well, technically not my city, since I live in the suburbs... Toronto has ridiculously low crime rates.

Toronto is also home to the world's tallest building, the CN Tower (is that really true? I could've sworn those towers in Kuala Lampur were taller), and the longest street in the world, Yonge Street. And, chances are, if you see a film or TV show set in New York... They're probably not filming in New York. You're probably looking at Toronto.

Oh, and all the info about Toronto (aside from the club name, which is an actual club in Paris) is true. The park really does exist. You can look it up. And all the street directions are true, 'cause I spent a very long time with a map trying to figure out how she was gonna get to the garden.

By the way, I happen to love reviews. And they'll be a nice pick-me-up when I check them on Friday, considering I'll just have taken my AP test (which, by the way, I'm putting off studying for you guys right now). But you don't have to review... I just like it better that way. Lol, so if you would, feed a starving, sleep-deprived artist...


	28. What I Want

Actually, it's funny. So I was just randomly looking up stuff on Wikipedia, my best bud. Anyways, so it turns out that Tommy's not a pedophile, really. Because pedophiles are actually attracted to kids, not adolescents. So he's an ephebophile, because they're attracted to pubescent or post-pubescent children. You can obviously see why people use pedophile more. Anyways, according to one theory, it happens because the sexual/erotic age of the older person doesn't agree with their chronological age and is instead closer to the age of the partner. Which makes sense for Tommy, who never really had much of a chance to grow up because he sort of missed out on being a teenager. Then again, isn't an old guy marrying someone young enough to be his daughter sorta like this? Man, you know, we have much higher consent ages than some other countries... Like in Japan (13! Thirteen-year-olds shouldn't be having sex. Period. Not even with other thirteen-year-olds, much less old creeps).

Thanks to Wikipedia. Man, where would I be without ya? Seriously. It's amazing how much you can learn off there. Lol, Wikipedia's given me sort of a crash-course in all the rock 'n' roll history I've missed out on. Hey, we didn't have Cable for the first 13 years of my life. Though, really, I'm just a bit irked I missed out on all the decent kids programming that existed during my childhood. Because I have no stories to tell about how I watched Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network growing up in Chem class. I mean, I watched the regular networks... But, hey, I think I'm glad I missed out on the MTV phenomenon. Blegh. Reality TV is just an excuse not to hire writers or actors. Oh, and for kicks, you ought to check out Variety's slang dictionary. You wouldn't believe how many terms they've invented that we use every day. Seriously, it's a whammo site. ;)

And if this chapter sounds weird, blame it on Catcher in the Rye, because we've been reading it in English class, and although I loove, looove, loove the book (I'm gonna name my kid Holden. Boy or girl, there will be a Holden)... Doing Journal-y things on it sucks. And writing about tone, diction, mood, figurative language, and theme (I seriously can't believe I remembered all of those) is enough to drive a woman nuts. So if you see a "quite" where it doesn't quite belong, or if you ever see the phrase "get a bang out of it"... Or even swell or neat-o... That's where it's coming from. Who knows what I'll do in my insanity?

Actually, I think reading Catcher in the Rye when I was in 8th grade sort of shaped my writing style... I think that was when I started to do POV stuff. It's weird, though... I mean, I use short sentences/fragments a lot of the time, for one thing. And then there's the casual way I write, not all proper (including the usage of slang, oh, dear Lord. That journalling will be the death of me). And the POV, not to mention that he goes off on tangents too... And random stories, just like Jude. And I swear a fair bit, I suppose. Of course, Jude doesn't hate phonies. I guess I have my own recurring themes, though. And Jude's not always depressed, I guess.

Lol, and again, if any of this makes no sense, remember that I write it late at night... And Jude's sort of perverted in this chapter, which you can chalk up to me listening to Joan Jett in the middle of the night. And, really, just my brain. Lol, rambling again. Eh, just be glad I'm not listening to Janis or Sarah McLachlan... That would be a depressing chapter. Lol, well, Joan Jett and angry riot grrrl music a la Patsy. Well, not actually Patsy, but it's the same style... Seriously, I would practically kill if someone had an mp3 of her singing... "Never Enough" or otherwise. Because she just rocks.

Anyways, fic recommendations? As usual, Shakabuku's A Bittersweet Homecoming at the CTV site (I think it goes there if you type in even not joking. And if that doesn't work, do an internet search). It's friggin' awesome, I tell you. Let's see... And then there's Belle's fic Unexpected (lol, this is what you get for all those terrible little passages I sent you. I was really cruel, sending you deliberately misleading sections), which you should check out. It's just getting good. Jude's so stupid. Lol, and she's gonna have one of my songs in it coming up soon. ;) It's awesome. I mean, it makes me angry, which not many fics can do. Plus there's all that hot Jude 'n' Tommy tension... And then there's Natural Disaster by Scented. I was gonna mention it in the last author's note, but I thought she'd be mad. If you haven't heard about it, you must've been under a rock, lemme tell ya. Ahh, anyways, I'm so excited. Can't wait until she updates again. Anyways, yeah, it has a really original premise and it's just... hot. And then there's Bang Theory by GiliwasCool, which I must first state is incredibly hilarious and has all these amazing pop-culture references. She takes the rambling to a whole new level, and I love it, really. So check out all those luminous fics... I'd ramble on about more, but I think it would be best if I refrained before the author's note pushes me over the edge.

Also, this chapter is a helluva a lot longer than I thought it was going to be (30 and ½ pages minus author's note with OpenOffice margins and nine-point Verdana font). I was sort of surprised by myself. It was weird... I just thought it was going to be the make-out scene, the project description, the date, and Jude being frosty to Travis or whatever. Ha. How wrong was I? I was gonna add things like her drunken phone-call in the next chapter. Depending on whether or not I have room. That chapter does have two songs in it, Jude's conversation with Speed, and I expect some crap with Tommy and Travis. Lol, as for the upcoming date with Tim (in the next chapter, I swear!)... Let's just say she's falling pretty hard. Poor Jude. There's so many guys to confuse her.

I also have to say that this is the raciest chapter in the fic (with the possible exception of "Minor Liaison", the chapter which contains the premiere of Jude's music video). Note I am saying _is_. I'm pretty sure there won't be anything that even comes this close for a while. So, if that bothers you, just read right up until it starts (which is a while). There's also some stuff at the beginning. If you want, you can skip that too. Just make sure to get the end. The last paragraph's pretty important. Oh, and just to clarify it, when Jude was saying all that stuff about Tommy wanting her before their make-out session in the last chapter... She was being completely sarcastic. That's all stuff the movie directors say (there's two, by the way... Er, well, you'll see). She does it a bit more in this chapter.

Lol, you learn a bit more about Travis in this chapter. The bit is literal. Seriously... And it's really more of an implication thing, I suppose. Lol, oh, and if it seems like I describe Travis A LOT, lol... Scented, you know it's for you! I don't know... I guess you see YET another side of him. The guy's like a prism, I swear. A very big prism. Sometimes I think he and Tommy are fighting to see who can take over the chapter. Really, though, I mean, Tommy pretty much wins, doesn't he? Hmm, I don't even know which guy's the most confusing... Tim, Tommy, or Travis.

Let's see... I don't own "Let Your Backbone Slide", "Conductin' Things", or "What I Want". Or Instant Star. I do own Joan, Travis, Kate, and the songs: "Chemistry", "Not Yours", "Minor Liaison", "Violation of Trust", "Curly-Haired Wife Stealer", "Joan of Arc", and "I Wanna Talk to You". I think that's all I mention.

On with the chapter. Hope you like it. I tried to make it faster, which was hard, considering I've got finals and all... I hope I do well on that Chemistry one really, really, really bad. Ugh, and there's this debate project that I should be doing now, only I'm supposed to be sleeping now and what not. Anyways, read, enjoy, review, make me happy...

* * *

My first sensation, upon waking up, was a brain-splitting headache. Ugh, that doesn't even make sense. It felt like I'd been hit by a tractor and then had a boulder thrown on top of my head. Ugh. Or like someone took a jackhammer to my cranium. Ouch. I groaned, slowly opening my eyes. Some idiot had left the light on... Stupid mom and her evil plans to wake me up. The light hit my eyes and burned like I was looking into the sun after having pool water thrown in my eyes. 

I reflexively closed my eyes, groaning and clutching my head. Ouch! Even groaning sounded like screaming. I'd better get up... God, what time is it? I still feel tired. Why did I get up again? I remember sleep... It was nice and warm and soft... No, wait, I'm still all of those things, only now I have the worst headache of my life. I stretched a little... OUCH! My whole body's sore! What the hell did I do last night! I groaned, only quieter this time, and got up to move, but I found I couldn't.

Well, I guess I'm gonna have to open my eyes sometime. I slowly blinked and opened my eyes. Well, okay, at least only the curtain's open. It could be worse. Mom could've turned all the lights on and... Hey, wait! I don't have a curtain. In fact, this ain't my room! Where the hell am I? This isn't my bed! I blinked again, and glanced down. I saw an arm wrapped around my waist. Whoa, whoa, whoa, now!

Whose arm is that! And what is it doing around me! What did I do last night! What the hell did I do last night! With who! I remember... I remember... Oh, crap. What in the sam hill do I remember! Uh, okay, let's see... Hey, I wasn't wearing this last night at the club! Where's my sweater? Where's my belt? Where are my boots? Where's my pants? Where's my shirt? And, most importantly, why am I not wearing a bra! I'm sure I was wearing all of that last night... But now I'm just wearing some skimpy half-see-through white t-shirt. That belongs to a guy!

Let's see... Uh... I remember kissing people. Um, Chaz? And, er, Mason! Hmm... And Speed. I remember there was something about Speed... He was mad at me? OH, HOLY CRAP! Speed's in love with me! I remember now! Oh, crap! What if it's _Speed_! What if it's Speed, and I don't remember, and I did something and... Okay, I'm starting to hyperventilate!

Ack. Please let it not be Speed. Please, God, _please_! Um... Hmm, and Tommy. I made out with Tommy yesterday... in the rain? Oh, oh, riiight... for the video! Okay. So it's not Tom. Gotcha. And tomorrow... No, wait, damnit, **yesterday**! Yesterday was his anniversary with Sadie! So he's definitely not...

Uh oh. I just remembered something... And it scares the living daylights out of me. I remember it was dark and dingy, and there was this guy... In a bathroom. A bathroom! Ew. Oh, ew. Please tell me I didn't... Oh, crappity crap crap CRAP. The guy... It was Quinn. And I was _all_ over him! Damn, seriously, **how** drunk was I? I must've been wasted... Drunk off my **ass** to do... to do whatever I did... with Travis. And why the hell am I even calling him that! Why am I calling him by his name! I never do that! Never! Am I still drunk? 'Cause I feel it, 'mmmkay?

No, wait... I remember more. More, seriously, there's more? I thought what we did before was baaad. But this is worse... _He_ took off my bra. Well, I guess that answers that question. You don't think... Do you? I mean, I guess it **could** be possible, right? But... why would I ever... do _that_? I mean, I would have to be seriously wasted to do him... to do a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g with him... or to him, you know? Really... I would. So... Might as well turn over and figure out who's got me in such a strong grip.

I turned over, which was harder than expected, and found myself facing... Travis? Oh my God. I think I actually did... well, him. I... this can't be... I must be... hallucinating. I reached out to touch his face. Yep, real. Unfortunately for me. I gulped hard, exhaling in a rasp. I can't breathe. I can't believe I actually...

My finger trailed across his bottom lip unbidden. He stirred in his sleep, reaching out to grab my hand, slowly kissing each fingertip. I shuddered as I felt a jolt run through me every time his lips touched my skin. Ooh... now my world's spinning. Not good. I can't believe I actually like the feeling of him kissing me... my fingers! "Jude," He moaned in his sleep. My heart skipped a beat.

My heart skipped a beat? What, did I load up on some E too? Then, surprising even me, the guy rolls over so he's on top of me and kisses me hard. And it wasn't a bad kiss, it was a nice one... Well, I guess this isn't such a bad way to start out my morning... Getting a little action. Even if it is from... Travis. Whoa, wait, I'm still kissing Travis... "Travis?" I asked hesitantly in the lull in between kisses.

He made a face and then groaned, leaning in to kiss me again. "Don't say that name..." He grunted, pulling me on top of him. Ookay then... There's no doubt in my mind that he's awake now. Definitely. He kissed me again, this time rolling on top of me. Mmm... I was in no place to complain.

"Tommy," I moaned distractedly as I came up for a little air. My eyes shot wide open... Mmm, okay... I don't think I was supposed to say that. For some bizarre reason... Oh, yeah. Travis hates, hates, hates Tommy. But oddly enough, he didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

In fact, he smiled against my mouth. "That's more like it," He muttered throatily. Hmm, wait... You don't think it could... Nah. It couldn't. He was with Sadie last night. But... He smiled. Travis wouldn't have... You know what, Tommy makes more sense anyways! I don't think I'd ever be drunk enough to screw Travis! I was, however, drunk enough to fool around with him last night... How do you explain that, eh, Jude?

Just then, his eyes opened, confirming my suspicions. Sky blue eyes... It's definitely Tommy. Isn't it convenient that they have different eye colors? See, this is why I was so much more comfortable with it! Okay, now I feel better... This is Tommy. T-O-M-M-Y. And Tommy is good. _Really_ good, I bet. I think I'm just about to find out... Whoa, slow down, girl. I mean, he's obviously lost his mind or... something... if he's kissing you. And, again, why am I supposed to care?

He's kissing me, and that's all that matters. Plus he's conveniently distracting me from that nasty throbbing headache of mine. Tommy's hands slid underneath the shirt I was wearing, creeping up my my back. His hands slithered across my sides, trailing slowly up my stomach. And I didn't mind. No, not in the slightest. I told Tommy I slept with him... You knew it was gonna actually happen sometime.

So we were reenacting one very lovely fantasy of mine when Tommy suddenly opens his eyes and goes "Jude!" in a way that I know means nothing good. Damn it. There goes the mood. I knew we weren't going to get around to the fun part. Damn it. Tommy's no fun. I mean, hello, I am a hormonal teenage girl. Prime target. And right now, I'm still a little drunk, so I'm up for anything. Anything. I mean, if I have to get up, don't you think I wanna nail the hot boybander I'm in bed with? I'm assuming of course that I didn't already do something with him because he's dating Sadie and freaked enough around me as it is because he thinks we already slept together... And here it comes.

Tommy blinked, clearly confused. "I'm not dreaming, am I?" He muttered, sinking back into the pillow. He thought he was dreaming! He must not be too bright. Hey! That means he actually DREAMS about me! Score! Tommy Quincy dreams about me. Now I feel pretty damn special. Especially since he's dating my sister and has screwed half the country. It seems like he's done everyone **except** me, honestly! I shook my head no.

Ouch, that hurts. My head's dizzy now. "Yep. If you move your hands up an inch more, my mom could charge you with molestation. Not that I mind... I quite enjoy where your hands are positioned," I elaborated oddly cheerfully for a sex-deprived teenager with the worst hangover (and only!) of her life. Of course, after saying this, Tommy freaked and immediately removed his hands with some difficulty (he had problems navigating this shirt). Apparently my thigh looks like a way out. Ha! It's just a way in, baby!

Forgive me. It's early, and I just want _my_ Tommy. I want to lock him up and do unwholesome, illegal things to him all day and all night. So my thoughts are understandably a little lecherous. I don't want this foo-foo skittish weirdo guy. Some people want Wheaties for breakfast... I want Tommy for breakfast. You see the difference? You know, I think he might've been on a Wheaties box once. The special Boyz Attack! Edition. Or something.

I glanced around and realized that I was in Tommy's room. Oh, well. How many bimbos do you think he's screwed here? Methinks it's a lot. I peered over at Tommy, who was trying to smother himself with the pillow in abject mortification. Because every guy who tries to have sex with a sixteen-year-old rockstar is mortified. Yeah, except they're not. "Hey, Quincy," I groaned, "How'd I wind up in your bed?" At this point, I honestly didn't remember.

Tommy pulled the pillow off his head, surprised. His eyes widened. "You don't remember?" He asked, as if astonished that I, the wasted one, didn't remember. I rolled my eyes and shot him a look, silently reminding him that I'd gotten drunkity-drunk drunk last night. I rolled my eyes again at the incredulous look, sinking back into the pillow myself.

"Well, I'm guessing we didn't go to Vegas and get hitched, but other than that... I'm pretty much clueless, Quincy. So unless you want me to live in ignorance of what I've done, you'd best tell me what I did while I was drunk," I said, offering him an ultimatum. Tommy's eyes widened, and he groaned and sighed exasperatedly.

He looked thoughful for a moment, as if debating whether he really ought to tell me or not. But he knew I'd want to know and not let there be all this stupidity between us. Or something like that. I now think he just did it to be cruel, but whatever.

"Okay, so first you call me during my anniversary date with Sadie... You remember _Sadie_, right? You know... Your **sister**! Anyways, so you then ask me what I'm doing, and I tell you... Sadie gets pissed at me, by the way, because apparently you're not supposed to talk to your girlfriend's little sister in the middle of your anniversary date with said big sister. Who would've thunk that one? So, you proceed to tell me that you're in jail and ask me to bail you out. You're _clearly_ wasted. So I rush out of the restaurant... No, actually, it was her **dorm** room, my mistake... I rush out of Sadie's _dorm_ room to come "rescue" you and bail you out of jail. When I get there, I find out that, luckily enough, they've determined that you're not guilty of anything. Except you're asleep and completely drunk off your ass. So then I have to not only to pay to get you out, but I have to bribe the cops so that you don't get charged with underage drinking. Because we _can't_ have the paparazzi finding out about that," Tommy ranted, sounding more irritated by the second.

Is that why he's mad? Yeesh, I'll pay him back. I rolled my eyes at him again, covering my bloodshot eyes with my hand tiredly. "Okay, so you're pissed at _me_ because **you** didn't get laid? Sheesh, Tom, if you wanted some, all you had to do was wait five minutes... Problem solved," I retorted, annoyed. Hey, I want him. I'm not gonna not admit it. Like I said, still a little bit drunk. Tom's jaw dropped at first, then it tightened and a steely look appeared in his eyes.

"Well, gee, Jude... I didn't want to get in even deeper than I already am. _Forgive_ me for selfishly not satisfying **your** sexual desires. I thought you had other men for that... Other men that were willing to risk _everything_ for a roll in the sack with you... Like maybe Mason? I'm sure Kwest is free," He snapped viciously. He was lucky I was still in bed with him. Otherwise, I would've slapped him silly. But hey, I'm feeling generous. Let's see how long it lasts.

I felt somewhat offended that I wasn't worth risking everything for. And Kwest is married to Portia, by the way. I can't wait until that crap hits the fan. Tom's going to explode. "What, Tom, afraid you might _remember_ how wrong it is? Afraid you might get charged this time? Afraid you might knock me up? And what about _your_ sexual desires, He Who Has Done Half the Province? I'm lucky I didn't **catch** anything!" I countrered sharply, fixing him with a violent glare. And yes, I do realize that I never actually slept with him in the first place. Tom's eyes blazed angrily.

His jaw tensed. His nostrils flared. "Where was I? Oh, yes... You _attempted_ to drive my car. Luckily, I seized the keys from you at **just** the right moment... Or you would've killed us all in a fiery wreck of twisted blue metal. And then there's when we were walking to my place... and you grabbed my crotch **very** publicly... Made everyone think I was bringing a prostitute home... which, at this rate, you almost are. And then, let's see... In the elevator you tried to make out with me. I almost broke the elevator running away from you. Then we came inside, and you promptly declared you loved me at the top of your lungs. You felt the need to open a window and shout it out for all of Toronto to hear. Then you started to sing... Anyways, I thought taking you upstairs would help. I locked you in the guestroom, thinking that would help. Yet, somehow, you managed to escape and wound up in my bedroom. I walk in to change, and there you are laying on my bed. You've thrown off your boots and your pants, so you're just wearing a shirt and your underwear. You then respond by ripping off your shirt and flashing me... asking me to, I quote, "Take me _now_." Luckily, I have a brain... Nifty invention, by the way... So I throw an old t-shirt on you and tuck you in like a good person. **Excuse** me for wanting to sleep in my bed. Even _if_ I had to fight you off in my sleep," Tommy growled irritably, rambling on like he was actually enjoying it. And he so was.

I flushed a brilliant red. Seriously, "Take me now"? Would I ever say that in reality? It sounds more like one of his fantasies to me. I rolled my eyes at him, gesturing to the t-shirt. "Oh, so it's just a _coincidence_ this thing is half-transparent. Mm hmm, Quincy. I see right through you like you see through my shirt. And that _really_ sounds more like a Little Tommy Q. fantasy than a Jude Harrison reality," I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest, knowing he'd look. He did, of course. Sooo predictable, Tommy.

Besides, he _sure_ wasn't fighting me off this morning. Tommy rolled his eyes at me. "You're not the first girl to ask me that, if it makes you feel better," He said smugly, shooting me a cocky smirk. This time I rolled my eyes. I nodded. But Tom, I don't want to hear about those dumb Boyz Attack! bimbos of yours. Hello, my sister kissed **Chaz**, for crying out loud! But, then again, who hasn't? I mean... really!

"Yeah, you're right. I'm just the first one you didn't nail. Bet you _wanted_ to, though, Tom. I mean, we've already established that you dream about me... Quite **filthily** from what I could _feel_, if I do say so myself. Admit it... a drunk teenage girl on your bed, _topless_... What healthy, red-blooded man _wouldn't_ go for it? I mean, it's not like you're R. Kelly if you admit what we all know... that I turn you **on**," I teased, smirking rather confidently myself. I must've still been drunk because there's no way I could say crap like that sober. In reality, I just wanted to know if he'd taken advantage of me in my inebriated state... even a little. Of course, this is Saint Tommy we're talking about here, so he's probably as innocent as an altar boy, but still...

Tommy paled, and I knew that I was right. I smirked victoriously this time. He didn't look too well. Might as well go in for the kill now. I trailed a finger down his bare chest. His throat appeared to be dry, since he swallowed... hard. "Come _on_, Tommy... If I was with you, what makes you think I'd be screwing all those other guys? I mean, honey, I'm not **you**, now am I? Why do I need them when I've got **you**... to _satisfy_ me?" I asked seemingly innocuously. I batted my eyelashes at him, leaning in closer. I licked my lips deliberately. Once again, Tommy gulped.

"I... can't... stop... thinking... about... _it_... you know?" I muttered, in between the sloppy kisses I was currently planting down his chest. I kissed him lower. "I can't stop thinking about _you_." I planted a kiss still lower. "As cliched as it sounds, Tommy, you really **rocked** my _world_ that night." Another kiss on his abdomen. Well, gee, I think I'm running out of room. "_Really_." I kissed him sloppily, fingers tracing the waistband of his boxers.

I was rewarded with a rough, insistent kiss to the lips. Oh, yeah, he wanted me. _Baaad_. And who am I to deny Little Tommy Q, Sex God? Bet he's not so little after all... Maybe I'll get to see...I moaned, rolling on top of him, quite enjoying my position here. Not so bad, Jude. My hands trailed up his chest, searing the feeling into my memory. This was something I was definitely not going to forget. Oh, yeah. I was going to have every detail engraved in my memory, from the feeling of the sheets on my bare skin to the color of the ceiling.

"I slept with clothes on for you," He mumbled, frowning briefly at the thought. Yeah, that's right... Tommy usually sleeps in... nothing. at. all. Picturing it, I almost jumped him right there. I swear, give me an uninterrupted hour or two with him... I'll die a happy, happy, happy woman.

"Well, _that_ was stupid," I breathed in between kisses. It was going to be so much more awkward when we did this later on... in front of the cameras. Oh well. Might as well eat my breakfast, eh? I kissed him harder, and he rolled over so he was on top of me. Besides, they say practice makes perfect. I oughtta know, too. _Tommy_ says that to me like twelve times a day. And then, of course, out of the blue, he remembered his age and rolled off me that much faster. I hate that damn feeling of rejection afterwards.

Tommy wiped his lips disgustedly. Well, gee, thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel appreciated. He glanced down, and I noticed a hickey or two forming on his chest, abdomen, whatever... There was one around his collarbone, and another one pretty low. I felt vaguely proud of myself. Ha, he's not that unshakeable! Naturally, Tom saw them and fumed. "How am I supposed to explain **this** to Sadie?" He grumbled, gesturing to the affectionately named "love bites".

I wanted to point out that he first ought not to have sex with Sadie, but felt that would be gross and yet another instance of me stepping out of bounds. That apparently was none of my business. Even though she **was** my sister, and he **was** my producer. I shrugged, shooting him a frosty look. "Say that they came from "_that_ time" when you slept with her sister," I remarked crossly. He didn't look as amused as I was. Not even half. Well, _daaamn_.

I sighed and leisurely bent over to kiss his lips again. It tasted sweet, like victory. Tommy immediately pushed me away, scowling. "I can't say that, Jude," Tommy said plainly, glaring at me. Well, duh, Tom. Do I look like I was being serious about it? Boy, he sure knows how to ruin a mood. I just shrugged helplessly. Tommy's no fun. I just love him... And this is how he repays me! You know, most guys would be happy if I was all over them!

After all, I am an up-and-coming rockstar in my own right. I have toured with S to the H to the A to the Y. I have my own back-up band. I even won a nationally televised talent competition. I have been on television before... Several times, actually. I have filmed a music video. Twice. I have had several very successful hit singles. I have modeled for two fashion lines. I was on the cover of Solid Magazine. Solid! As best new artist. My CD's about to go PLATINUM!

You know, Speed would _kill_ to be in Tommy's place right now! And Jamie used to have that crush on me... And let's not forget how Shay tried to jump me a week ago! Ugh... I hate to even think about all the indecent things my music teacher wants to do to me...

People want me. But Tommy doesn't. Maybe I should just forget about him.

Don't say that!

Honey, you've been telling yourself to do that for weeks... And have you had any real, lasting success with it? Have you? No, of course you haven't. You only write more songs about him. You're only falling deeper. You couldn't claw your way out of this hole with the best shovel in the world.

I sighed, slumping defeatedly back into the pillows. Fine. I'll just go back to sleep. I placed one of the pillows over my head and lay back down, closing my eyes and cuddling up to the warmth of Tommy's embrace. I could get used to waking up like this... But Tommy groaned and slid his head in between the pillows. Damn. The man shouldn't tempt a desperate woman. I might just fling myself at him, you know.

"Come on, Jude... You gotta get up," Tommy urged, shaking me lightly. I grunted and slapped at his hands. I was quite enjoying my Tommy-scented pillow. It was almost as good as the real thing. Only the real thing was trying to make me wake up. Yeesh, Tommy, offer an incentive. I need a reason to leave the most comfortable place on Earth. Unfortunately for my beauty sleep, however, Tommy persisted.

"Tommy, how about I get _you_ up instead?" I murmured sleepily. Okay, so it was kinda dirty. Kinda really dirty. What I meant was that he should come back to bed... er, back to sleep with me... er... You know what I mean! And then the second meaning had an added bonus. I thought it would scare him off. Either that or, well, that's not something you need to hear.

Finally, Tommy decided to throw in the towel and stop being diplomatic. Figures. He picked me up and dragged me out of bed. "Seriously, Jude, it's eleven," Tommy grumbled, showing me the time on the digital clock. My eyes bugged out and I gaped at him in silence. Wow. I slept for a really, really long time. I blinked at Tommy, who used the opportunity to steer me towards his bathroom. Ooh, he wants to do it in the shower? Kinky!

"Tommy, if you _wanted_ me in another room, you could've just asked," I murmured, running my hand down his arm and shooting him a seductive wink. I guided him towards the door, smiling engagingly. Tommy groaned again, shaking his head. I hate it when he groans... It makes my head hurt. He blocked the door.

"Never knew you had such a one-track mind," He stated disbelieving, shaking his head in shame. I didn't deny it. After all, it was true. I flushed in spite of myself, absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair. My tongue darted out to lick my lips. Tommy looked away, embarrassed already.

"Never knew you fantasized about me," I replied cheekily, smirking up at Tommy. Oh, yeah. I own you now, Quince. Tommy's cheeks turned slightly pink. He bit down hard on his lip, immediately becoming fascinated by the ground. Yeah, his hardwood's really that fascinating... Just to clarify that, I was referring to his floors... I'm sure Tommy's _other_ hardwood's positively enthralling... almost orgasmic, if you will...

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of the two of us standing there in an awkward silence, Tommy cleared his throat and pushed open the door to his bathroom. "How about you take a **cold** shower? I'll get dressed and have breakfast and aspirin waiting for you," Tommy suggested, nearly shoving me into the bathroom and quickly exiting. I vaguely wondered which room he was going to get ready in, since I was in his bathroom. Whatever. I left that for Tommy to figure out, shutting the door softly behind me.

I turned the nob all the way back. The water came out cold. While I was waiting for it to warm up (cold shower, my ass!), I glanced impressively around at the bathroom. The whole thing was done in white marble, silver finishings. There was a giant jacuzzi style tub facing a large window with a great view of the city. The shower, on the other hand, happened to be directly facing the door. It was a beautiful monstrosity of metal, glass, and marble. Entirely see-through, though.

There was a bench, a fancy trashcan, and a linen closet occupying the side of the wall between door and shower. There was also a set of sinks and whatnot, but I'm not going to bore you with the details. His sinks just had blue veins like you and me. I went to the linen closet and pulled out a towel, throwing it on the shower door. I leaned in to feel the water. Hot, just the way I like it!

I smiled, ripping my clothes off. Oddly enough, that felt nice to do. I felt... I don't know, free-r? I had to walk around in his bathroom a bit first. I think it's because I was feeling all weird and everything. And he just left me high and dry. Or I could've just been hoping that he was going to walk in. But I eventually retreated to the shower. It still felt so weird to be in Tommy's _space_ like this.

The water scalded my skin, but I felt a smile spreading on my face nonetheless. It's a myth that singers only sing their own songs in the shower. In fact, I was rocking out (well, not really) to Boyz Attack!. As well as one can rock out to a boyband, that is...

"_Ooh... Careful, we're fragile... And easily we break_," I hummed, sliding the soap down my skin. "_But in your arms, I'm certain... is all the love we'll make_," I finished, hugging myself as a chill ran through me at the happy thought. I grinned to myself and sighed, starting to wash my hair.

So I was just leaning back, washing the last of the shampoo out of my hair when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise up. A shudder ran through me, unbidden, and I glanced up through wet lashes. The door was open, and standing there, staring at me unashamedly was Tommy. I turned around, mortified, frenetically shutting off the water and hastening to wrap the towel around myself. Tommy didn't even move. I'm not even sure he blinked.

Me? Hmm... I'm just proud that I didn't scream. I remember storming out of the shower and slipping on the floor, landing, rather conveniently, right in his arms. Tommy sucked in a breath and pulled back as soon as I was stable. Feeling self-conscious, I picked up the clothes I'd previously been wearing. I bit my lip nervously. "Hey, Quincy, where are my clothes?" I questioned calmly.

At the sound of my voice, Tommy immediately snapped to attention. Too bad he didn't know what I was asking. "Huh?" He replied intelligently. I rolled my eyes at his stupidity, noting just where his eyes were focused. Great. And he thinks I'm the hormonal one?

I rolled my eyes again, clearly not amused. "Tommy... My clothes? That is, unless you want me completely naked in your bathroom with only a _little_ wet towel for cover," I muttered impatiently. Tommy swallowed hard... again. Ookay then. But Tommy just shrugged, and we went to his bedroom. My clothes were nowhere in sight and not in the washer. Great. I glared at Tommy viciously.

"Hey, Tommy, could I have something to wear?" I reminded him, beginning to feel vaguely irritated. You can't have your cake and eat it too, you know! I mean, he was showing me that he didn't want me like that. And yet, I was standing in his bedroom clad in only a wet towel. I felt like I was stuck in limbo. _You said you didn't want me... but you do_. And here come the random lyrics. I swear, last time I ever sing boyband songs in the shower. I'm lucky Tommy didn't hear me. Can you think about how much that would've pumped up his ego?

Luckily for me, however, Tommy was jolted back to reality. He nodded to me somewhat awkwardly. "I'll find you something from my closet," He mumbled uneasily, leaving me abruptly to nearly run to his closet. Looks like someone's nervous. Wow. I can't believe that Little Tommy Q's afraid of me. I mean, could he go to his closet any faster? True to form, Tommy returned with the same speed. He thrust a pair of jeans and an old Boyz Attack! T-shirt from the World Tour into my arms. I spotted my belt on the floor, gathering it in my arms. Okay. I was almost set. Except for one very, very important thing.

I took a deep breath and looked Tommy straight in the eye. There's only one way to do this, and that's the direct way. That being said, this is going to be weird. Really really weird. "I need a bra," I blurted suddenly, fiddling with the clothes in my hands. Wow. That came out surprisingly easier than expected. Ooh, but the look on Tommy's face. Think deer caught in the headlights mixed with I-Just-Spat-Out-My-Coffee and the look on his face when I hit on him with a hint of that look on his face when I said sex about five times in a row in front of him and Chaz. So, otherwise, it was priceless.

Tommy recovered amazingly fast. "What makes you think I have a bra?" He questioned, somehow not stuttering like an idiot. Ah, so Tommy's Mr. Suave again. He's a little off his game in the morning. Who would've known? So this is what Tommy's like The Morning After. Hmm. Is it weird that I never pictured it like this? Not that I've pictured it or anything. Nah, of course not.

I shrugged, smiling amusedly. Tommy so has a bra stashed around here somewhere. Knowing him, he's probably got more than Victoria's Secret. He's just playing coy. He's being a bra tease. I didn't know guys could do that... Hmm. "I don't know... You're a crossdresser? Or it could belong to one of those five million girlfriends you've had," I remarked, fighting a snicker. Tommy as a crossdresser. Now that's a good one! Tommy fixed me with a dour look. Oh, please... A guy like Tom-Tom doesn't have a bra or two in the stash?

"Why would I keep one of their bras?" He questioned innocently, as if he had absolutely no idea why I asked him such a stupid question. I rolled my eyes. He has a bra. At least one, you can bet. I mean, the guy's dated pretty much everyone. Supermodels, actresses, popstars... And then for each one of them, ten that are just pretty. Okay, so I need to stop watching SNL reruns.

I rolled my eyes. I am not that stupid, Tommy. "Because you're a guy. I know you've got one of Sadie's bras sitting around here somewhere. So make with the bra, man," I demanded, motioning for him to make it snappy. It's totally a male machismo sort of thing. I mean, it's a way of bragging, really... And a good way to have something to remember them by. It's the whole notch on the bedpost sort of mentality. Have I mentioned how much I hate that stuff about guys?

Tommy looked down and, I swear, actually flushed. Apparently he had come into the bathroom to shower, so Tommy was a little less than clothed himself. Not that I minded. I had an extremely lovely view of the sights. "Actually... Sadie's never been to my place," He admitted, glancing up somewhat nervously. I raised an eyebrow at the admission. Okay, that's definitely a sign that there's something weird in Tommyland... me... But you know something's up when his girlfriend hasn't been to his place, but his artist has... three times. And I'm the one who's stayed the night!

My jaw dropped, and I simply stared at him, incredulous, for what seemed like forever. Then I shivered and suddenly remembered that I was wet, cold, only a knot (in the towel) away from being naked, and in Tommy's bedroom. That sort of snapped me into action. "I _want_ a bra," I asserted, fixing Tommy with a look that I hope showed I meant business. He has no idea just how desperate I am.

Tommy frowned, looking a bit disgusted. "You'd wear another woman's bra?" He inquired, looking slightly nauseated. Tom was a bit of a hygiene freak, to tell the truth. You can't tell it by looking at him, but it's true. It's why he keeps his place so clean. He keeps his office freakishly clean too. Sure, he has boxers, film, a CD, pizza, and leftover tourtiere in his fridge, but that doesn't mean he's not a neat freak.

Okay, so I wouldn't choose it under normal situations, but I was just a bit desperate. I mean, I was a lamb headed towards the slaughter. Going to school braless was like giving Travis the okay to "touch me there". No more listening to "Do You Wanna Touch Me?" late at night on my mp3 player. I shrugged. "Tom, I'm _desperate_ here. Do you know what school is like nowadays? I mean, really, **do** you? The teachers are perverts, Tommy. Perverts, I'm telling you. I mean, let's just say I'm glad I'm not taking Physics for reasons other than the obvious one that I suck at anything involving Math. Mr. McGorge is like, the biggest perv in school. He makes Spiederman look like the Virgin Mary... Anyways, so going into a place filled with hormonal teenage boys and horny undersexed teachers without a bra... That's just inviting trouble," I explained elaborately.

Tommy's eyes widened exponentially, and he literally ran to his closet to find me a bra. He obviously remembered his sexual appetite as a teenager, and that was enough to scare him into finally moving. It's like he wanted to check me out that badly! But that's nonsense!

A small smile graced my lips as I sashayed over to his closet. I leaned on the door, watching him frantically looking for a bra among the various boxes and things in his HUGE closet. Seriously, who knew a guy could be such a fashion snob? I knew he was all about expensive taste and looking good, but sheesh. I've never seen more designer clothes in my life. It _was_ sort of sweet that he wanted to protect me like that... To be honest, I think I needed it. Gotta have somebody to rescue me from the pervs out there like Quinn.

But it wasn't the teenage boys I was afraid of. Kyle has a girlfriend, Jamie won't talk to me (and has a girlfriend), and Wally's, well... Wally. By that, I don't mean that I'd never go out with him. I would... But Wally's such a non-threat. Add in Speed, and you have about all the guys I know. Speed... Yeah, I'm a bit worried about old Vincent. But I trust Speed. I think... I mean, I know he wouldn't do anything I didn't want to do. Ever.

It was more the teacher end of the spectrum I was worried about. And one teacher in particular... I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count. And no, it's not Mr. Gorge, though he is the notorious school pervert. The bra was for more than just my modesty and my appearance. It was more for my protection. Odd, see... Notice how I don't need my bra here. I wonder why... But I guess it's because Tommy makes me feel safe. And then there's the fact that I'm in love with him, and I want him for his body, but that's to a lesser degree of importance. Or maybe it's paramount. Who knows?

I was startled out of my daze when Tommy walked up to me, holding several bras in an array of colors in both hands. He gestured for me to pick. I frowned, peering at them, pursing my lips. "None of those belong to popstars, right, Tom? Because, I mean, I know you're fond of Britney, but, honey, dream on..." I found myself rambling. Tommy rolled his eyes at me and tossed a few bras behind his back. I smirked despite myself, glancing at my choices.

Hmm, let's see... Not the white ones. Green, definitely not. I have such bad luck with that color. I shudder to think of it. It just represents Travis in all of his various insidious forms. Blue... nah. That'd be exactly what Tommy wants. I'm not wearing his favorite color. That was a nice moment, though. Red? Eh... Nah. Pink. Yugh. Well, okay then... Black it is. I grabbed a rather plain-looking black one that fastened in the back. Oddly enough, Tom smirked, chuckling to himself. "Why am I not surprised?" He replied, grinning.

I glanced down at the bra in my hand, frowning. Okay, what's so funny? Don't tell me this is Pam Anderson's bra or something... Nah, too small. But with Tommy, anything's possible, so I wouldn't be surprised. "Whose bra is it, Tommy?" I questioned wearily, absentmindedly twirling it around by a strap. I gave Tom a deep, penetrating look. Apparently he wanted me to guess. I swear, the man gets too much pleasure out of these things... Well, out of everything, really. He's always been famed for his hedonism.

I peered at it curiously. "Okay, so I'm assuming it's not from Britney, Mandy, Jessica, or Christina." Tommy nodded. Phew. I tried to think of people who would sleep with Tommy. Other than the obvious everyone. I frowned, biting my lip. "Courtney Love?" I threw that one out there just to see Tommy's reaction. He just smirked and shook his head. Really, her throwing a bra at anyone wouldn't be so surprising. "Anna Nicole Smith?" Tommy gagged. Well, it's obviously not her. Tommy's like half her age, instead of it being the other way around. Still, that was amusing to say.

"Lisa Marie Presley?" I continued, fixing him with a quizzical look. Tommy shook his head but smiled a little. I sighed, wracking my brains. Other people he's dated... Hmm... "Gwen Stefani?" Oh, right, he didn't even date her. Plus that's way too plain for her. "Sheryl Crow?" Tommy shook his head, and then he shook his head at how sad my guessing skills were. "Liz Phair?" I like her. But she's not Tommy's bra girl. Or maybe she's another one. Who knows. Maybe I should ask about people he's actually dated, like I was going to...

Hmm, okay. "Sarah Michelle Gellar?" Tommy grinned widely, but still maintained a no. He and Sarah were on pretty good terms. She was one of the more serious girlfriends. Yep, her, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Katie Holmes, Britney, and Christina. Weird list, I'm telling you. I mean, is Jennifer married? Because all the other ones are married except Katie, who's engaged to another Tom. Only her Tom is a Scientologist who jumps on couches and is nowhere near as attractive as Tommy (who names their kid Suri anyways? Did you know that that's not even a Hebrew name? Sari, you know, like Sair-ee, Sarah... Hebrew. Anyways, Suri reminds me of Surrey, like the place where Harry lives in Harry Potter). How did I get on a rant about Tom Cruise's baby? Anyways... Tommy's a way better actor, and he doesn't even get paid to do it. He just lies to save his ass and then pretends that nothing happened. They were actually engaged once upon a time, Tommy and Sarah Michelle, that is.

He dated Jessica too (both Jessica Alba and Jessica Simpson, but that's not the point)... People still don't know if she was actually serious about all that purity stuff. Namely because she toured with Ricky Martin... and, well, the girl dated Tom. His reputation's just that bad. He and Nick don't get along well. I mean, I guess they do now. Tommy called him when he heard about the divorce thing. If anyone can sympathize, he can. After all, he was the barely-legal divorcé (Jamie's still confused about which one's for guys and which one's for girls. That's because he really sucks at French. I mean, Jamie never flunks anything, but he had to drop out of Remedial French since he was doing so bad). Well, who knows. Tommy still hates Timberlake, but their rivalry was the stuff of legends. He doesn't like Brit's new husband much either. Though I get that one because it's a real downgrade. I would never date one of my back-up dancers. Mainly because I don't have any, but still... Oh, right, questions!

"Katie Holmes?" And that would be a negatory. "Michelle Williams?" Nope. She was really good in Brokeback Mountain. "Jennifer Love Hewitt?" That's no. Hmm. I frowned, continuing to contemplate. "Madonna?" Honestly, considering who she is and who Tom is... That so would not surprise me. Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Please. Madonna wouldn't be caught dead in a bra like that. It's not her style," He retorted confidently. I raised my eyebrows, giving him a look. How would he know? Tommy frowned, as if trying to remember something. Squinting off into space, his eyes suddenly lit up. "Besides, I don't remember her wearing a bra," Tommy proclaimed triumphantly. Now my eyes went wide. He's...! With Madonna! I thought it wouldn't surprise me, but hey, BAM, I am surprised. I forced myself to blink.

"You're lying," I said disbelievingly, trying to catch my breath. I didn't know why I was so surprised, but hearing about Tommy's sex life isn't really my bag. It just sort of disgusts me and makes me ill. It's one of those TMI moments, you know. Especially since he has such an overactive sex life. It's ridiculous. You would really think he'd slow down in his old age. Heh. The ripe old age of twenty-two/twenty-three.

Tommy just shrugged, raising his eyebrows. "Am I?" He countered mysteriously. It wasn't clear if he was lying or not. I groaned frustratedly. I hate this game. "Besides," Tom continued casually, as if he was talking about the weather, "I've nailed about half of the women you mentioned anyways." To him, I suppose it was like he was talking about the weather. Sexuality is such a part of him after all. That being said, I really didn't want to hear him admitting his sluttiness. He was bragging about it like it was a badge of honor. I guess it is to guys like that. I mean, he spent half of his teenage years on a tour bus with four other guys.

I punched him on the arm as hard as I could. So gross. "Tom! I don't want to hear about your sex life!" I shrieked, almost dropping the clothes in my arms. Tommy winced and rubbed his arm. Baby. Or maybe I was so mad it actually really hurt him. Tommy rolled his eyes at me.

"Hey, it's not like you're not in it too!" Tommy replied under his breath, shooting me a glare. I blushed self-consciously at my lie. That is popping up a lot lately, isn't it? Sure, it was immature, but... I don't know. It felt good to tell him that. It felt good to have him think of me like that. Like I was a person that someone could actually be attracted to, you know?

Okay, let's see... Where was I? How about Canadians? "Is she Canadian?" I asked somewhat intelligently. Finally, a smart question over the guess and check method! Tommy nodded, looking somewhat amused and a bit proud that I'd finally asked that question. Or really any sensible question. It's not something I'm known for.

Hmm... Okay. "Alanis Morissette?" Sure, she's a little old, but I can't really think of any people Tommy's age for some weird reason. He pretended to nod, then shook his head at the last moment. Cruel, Quincy, cruel... I could actually sort of see that going on. Alanis is pretty cool. Like "You Oughtta Know"? That's got to be, like, **the** best break-up song ever. I mean, mine just made Shay guilty... And it wasn't even about that twerp in the first place. But hers, man... That song made her ex look like a total dog. It's brutal. "Dirty Old Man" is sorta like that, I guess. But then, why didn't it work? "Shania Twain?" This time he shook his head fast. No. I don't really think Tommy likes Country much. But maybe he just doesn't like Shania much. "Sarah McLachlan?" People say I sound sort of like her, but I don't really see it. My slow songs, I guess. Haven't been singing many of those lately. No, eh? Well, I was happy about that. After all, she started Lilith Fair, and dating Tommy sort of went against all of that stuff.

"Celine Dion?" Okay, so that one was a stretch... Tommy shook his head no. Well, duh, she's been with her manager for like, years. I could never even imagine hooking up with my manager. Ew. Darius. Ew. And what's sad is that Darius and I actually have a smaller age difference. And he didn't meet me at fourteen. Plus there's Georgia, who rocks. And what was I saying? Oh, yeah. Well, I guess there is one more person I can guess, but... I don't know.

I mean, I think she'd sort of kick Tommy's ass rather than sleep with him, but hey, I thought I'd do that in the beginning too... And look how that turned out. You know, despite what everyone thinks, Avril and I are nothing alike. Firstly, we sound completely different. And my songs are a lot deeper than hers. Plus, her second album completely blew. Her first album was amazing. Mind you, I'm not an Avril fan. Hey, her music was way easier on the ears than Shay's pointless, self-indulgent crap... Oops, I mean rap. And I sure listened to that. So, I guess in that way my first album was a lot like hers. We both have our own definitive style, that is, until she sold out and went all girly and glammed-up. Though, with Darius as my manager, I really shouldn't talk. If he really wanted to, he could make me be like that. Luckily for me, however, Darius is too... distracted... to worry about me. "Avril Lavigne?" Tommy started laughing. Hysterically.

"Oh, yeah, Jude... You know I've got a thing for girl punk rockers," He muttered sarcastically. I, on the other hand, was pretty offended. I mean... I am a girl punk rocker. And he's supposed to have a thing for me, remember? But, then again, he's not supposed to have a thing for me because it's illegal, and he's dating my big sister. Oy, all this guessing hurts my brain. Finally, I just gave up. Tommy grinned victoriously.

"It's Evie's," He began. I blinked confusedly. And I'm supposed to know who that is how? Tommy rolled his eyes, but was nice enough to clarify it for me. "Evangeline Lilly." Her name sounds somewhat familiar. And then it hit me like a semi. Yowch, those things hurt. Anyways, she's on Lost. She's Kate. I know because Kyle has the world's biggest crush on her. He calls out her name in his sleep sometimes. It's cute, but boy, his girlfriend would be so pissed if she found out. Wally has a bit of a crush on her too. So they put Lost tapes in the VCR, and totally got all of us addicted to it.

I remember we were saying which characters we'd all be... They somehow voted me Kate, which annoyed me, because I wanted to be Charlie. He's the musician, after all. But Speed called Charlie's hot older brother Liam. And then Wally and Kyle forced him to change to Sawyer so they could arm-wrestle for Charlie. Kyle won, and Wally got to be Liam as a consolation prize. It's fitting, I guess... Except Kyle and Wally aren't druggies at each others' throats. And I thank God for that every day.

I mean, they're messed up enough as it is without adding illegal substances to the mix. Shay, hmm... He was... I think we made him Jin because he doesn't speak English or understand anything. No, no... We made him Ethan. Then Shay got scared again (he thought we were going to murder him) and had to catch a flight. Anyways, my sister became Shannon, and they made Kat Claire... And then we all got into this fight over Tommy. I figured if they made me Kate, that they might as well make him Jack. Wally and Kyle were strangely in support of this (because when you think about it, since Speed's in love with me, it makes a love triangle... sorta). Speed thought he should be Boone, which makes sense because Tommy's with Sadie and a pretty boy. But not dead. Definitely not dead.

That reminds me, what is up with killing all the women on that show? I mean, as if it's not bad enough that they get barely any screen time outside of Kate, they kill off the women that do. It's like as soon as a girl screws someone she's not married to on the island... Bam! They're dead. Why do they always kill off the women? I mean, there's like three on the island as it is...

I frowned, raising an eyebrow. Seriously, he did it with her? But I actually liked her, damn it. Tommy worked to rectify this, however. "No, Jude, it's not like that. We're friends... **Just** friends... I met her when we were recording in Vancouver a few years back," He elucidated, making stupid hand gestures. Ah... The time when Chaz met Ruby. Okay. Well, no wonder Tommy was "blocked". As if he knew exactly what I was thinking, he plowed on with his explanation. "I was trying to play incogito in a restaurant, so I ordered in French. And I wanted to just be a jerk. She was my waitress, and it turns out she's fluent, which kind of ruined my plan. She treated me like a normal person, so we hung out and became friends. She stayed here a few years back while I was out traveling the world... She left some of her clothes. And that's it," Tommy finished. Quite the tale.

But why did he feel the need to explain everything? Nah... I'm just imagining the things I want to see this time. I shrugged and tried to thank Tommy, but he raced to the bathroom. Does he realize he forgot clothes? The coast looked clear, so I was starting to undo the towel when in barges Thomas Quincy, Trainwreck. He didn't even look at me. In fact, he practically tore a random ensemble out of his closet and flew past me. He didn't take any underwear with him, so unless he wants to go commando... Bad thoughts, Jude!

I flushed at the thought, then hurriedly dropped the towel, pulling on the clothes. Except I couldn't fasten the bra because I couldn't reach the snap in the back, which meant that I couldn't put my shirt on. I pulled on the jeans, though. I know they must've been tight on Tommy... Not girljeans tight, but tight in a manly way. But they were hanging off me. Even with the belt, they hung low on my hips, covering my feet. I got a pair of flipflops out of his closet. Miraculously, they were a girl's, and actually in my size. Now I just needed to fasten this stupid thing and pull the shirt over my head.

You know, screw it. I smell food downstairs. Tommy can fasten it down there too. I saw a still-warm breakfast down there waiting for me. It wasn't that fancy, really. Just some leftover quiche lorraine. But it was some good leftover quiche. And then, sitting next to it was a big glass of milk and two aspirin. After I'd woken up and found my bearings, my headache had faded to that throbbing, stuffy sort of pain that only comes when you're distracted from the pain. I threw the aspirin in my mouth and took a single sip of milk, managing to get both down in one swallow.

I attacked my food ravenously, as if I hadn't eaten in days. I hadn't, really, to tell you the truth. Sometimes you're so stressed that you forget to eat. Plus it was warm. And then there was the fact that I'd been throwing up half the night (something Tommy had forgotten to mention in his little tirade). Really, I don't get why he wouldn't mention it. The guy held back my hair and everything. He gave me mouthwash and flushed the toilet and did everything right. That's a lifetime of favors right there.

Tommy came down sometime later, hair still damp from the shower (so hot). He'd already eaten, but he picked a piece of quiche off my fork nonetheless. Biting into air and then having your teeth crashing down on metal **sucks**, by the way. Through a mouthful of food, I asked him to fasten the back of the bra for me. Surprisingly, he did so in a matter of seconds without saying a word.

Still, his fingers lingered on my back. He didn't move an inch. He was close enough to smell, close enough to touch. He ran his fingers down the curvature of my spine smoothly, making me shiver and immediately straighten. Still, his hands did not stray; they remained firmly in place. "Tell me about that night," He requested huskily, trailing his fingertips up and down my back repeatedly in a reassuring movement. I found myself shuddering again, this time not from his touch. That night... That night I'd never felt.

I licked my lips nervously, glad he couldn't see my face. It would betray me in an instant. "W-what a-a-a-ab-b-out it?" I stuttered, feeling the blush on my cheeks. I am such a schoolgirl. Seriously. I have a problem. Correction: I have a **lot** of problems. With a big fat S on the end. Tommy suddenly looked almost as nervous (okay, half as nervous... I was seconds away from becoming a mouse) as I was. He bit his lip, shrugging.

"I want to know _everything_," He said in a tone that sent chills up my spine. It struck me as such a vague statement... And I had absolutely no idea how to answer it. I bit my lip nervously, but the pain wasn't enough to jolt me into thinking of something. But what to say? He could just as easily see right through me and my pitiful act. Tommy's not that stupid.

"Didn't we cover this earlier, when I was..." I trailed off, trying my damnedest to get out of talking about something that had never happened. It's too early for a decent lie. I smiled at the thought of what had happened earlier. How I wish I could turn back that clock... But Tommy gave me that look that makes me tell him stuff, so I opened up... sort of. "It was, just... wow," I stammered breathily, eyes fluttering at the thought. He better buy this because man, I am pulling out all the stops!

Tommy smirked cockily. Well, of course. Why, oh, why didn't I see that coming? But I can't say he's lousy because I know that's not true. Even without having sex with him, I know that's not true. You can just look at him, and... you know. A slightly evil look came across his face. "You strike me as a screamer. Are you?" He inquired provocatively, an interested gleam in his eyes.

I had the grace to blush. I bit my lip, not knowing what to say. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of acting ingenue, I answered him with a slight nod. "You know me. I just can't _shut_ up. And I do everything musically... You even complimented me on my range. Not that you're exactly silent yourself," I replied suggestively, glancing at him over my shoulder. Tommy smiled secretively and then pulled me a little closer.

His eyes suddenly softened, looking at me with so much compassion it made my knees go weak. Then he got nervous, because he looked down and suddenly, his eyes seemed to dart around, staring at everything instead of me. But, like we magnets always do, he came back... His icy blue eyes locked with mine, and I felt all the breath drain out of me. The chill in his stare had melted, and his fingers were anxiously playing with the snap on my bra. Together, apart, together, apart. It was driving me nuts. His stare was just... unbelievably tender. I felt woozy, but he caught me.

And then Tommy licked his lips. I envied his tongue. His lips just looked so soft and inviting. I started to lean in, but remembered Sadie and snapped out of it. I thought maybe he was going to kiss me or something, but that's not what he did. "Did it hurt?" He asked finally, almost killing me with that loving, guilty look in his eyes.

I knew exactly what he was talking about. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of one damn thing to say in response to it. I just... I didn't want to lie about this part. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. "If it did, would you kiss it and make it better?" I whispered back softly, wondering how I must look to him. Could he see the desperation in my stare? I didn't clarify it, so my dirty insinuation stands too.

Tommy kissed me lightly on my bare shoulder. Like that would help. It didn't help... but it felt nice. His arms came around my waist from behind, pulling me closer to him. He was so warm. I heard him sigh into my hair as he buried his face in it and deeply inhaled the smell of his own shampoo. Yeah... I wanted to smell like him. Just a little, though. Just a little. I wanted to have that one piece of his world with me. "You put a lot of faith in my kisses," He muttered pessimistically against my neck. And rightfully so, too! He sighed raggedly. "A kiss _couldn't_ make it all better. It doesn't even come close," Tommy said pathetically, sounding so resigned all of a sudden.

But what did Tommy know anyways? He didn't get the way my head worked. Just one kiss... One that was free of all these complications. One kiss he really meant. One that he didn't regret. Yeah, that could fix everything. In a heartbeat. That would mean everything. I grabbed his hand. Could I really make him see? "You're wrong. You're wrong, and you know it," I declared surely, a bit louder this time.

I could feel Tommy shaking his head. It was disorienting. My head moved a little too. He sighed again, fingers slipping off my bra, down my back... "I know... But I just _can't_," He acknowledged weakly. He played with my fingers absently but didn't move. I'd gotten him to admit it, in a sort of roundabout way, but he wasn't doing anything about it, as usual. What was the point in having him admit it? It was a huge victory, I guess, but I didn't feel like I'd won anything.

This time, I sighed. Way to bring me down. "I know," I said, plastering a fake smile on my face. Tommy smiled back. "I know." The smile fell off my face as soon as I turned around. It wasn't okay, damnit! And I was tired of acting like it was! It had been so long and I still... I still hadn't gotten over it yet. He kept... hurting me, and he didn't even know it.

Because I didn't tell him. And how could I tell him? I didn't want to make him feel bad for actually being happy. That is, if he even was happy with my sister. I hope he's happy. I mean, someone ought to be, right? I guess Sadie's happy. I love her and all, I really do... I mean, she's my sister. But it doesn't matter if she's happy. It matters if he's happy, really happy. And I just don't know if he... I guess that's the problem.

Tommy turned me around, flashing a friendly smile. I forced myself to smile back, but I suspected that the smile didn't reach my eyes. He grabbed the shirt out of my hands, holding it up in front of my chest playfully. "Hey, girl, how about you put on this shirt so I can actually drive you to school?" Tommy suggested somewhat sarcastically, waving the shirt in the air. I scowled at him. School? But it's almost over anyways, and I hate it so...

I crossed my arms over my chest irritably, pouting sulkily. "But Tommy... Why do I have to go? I'm not going to learn anything. And it's full of perverts. Plus it's almost over," I pleaded, sticking my bottom lip out to make myself look even more pitiful. Tommy wasn't sucked in by my kicked-puppy eyes, though. Or the pout. Of course, he practically invented pouting and sulking, so that actually makes sense. He was born with immunity.

Tommy shook his head sternly, tossing me the shirt. "Your parents already hate me. They'll hate me even more if they hear that I let you skip. I'm sorry, Jude, but you have to go," Tommy stressed, motioning for me to hurry up and get dressed. I hate it when he plays the responsible adult card. Especially since it's sort of a joke. I mean, he's barely been old enough to drink in the U.S. for two years. He's not even twenty-five yet. Or twenty-four, for that matter...

I sighed, rolling my eyes. But I pulled the shirt over my head anyways. Damn, it was small. I glanced down at it, noticing immediately that the shirt covered way too little. I don't like showing my stomach... That's true. That being said, I'm not afraid to show a little midriff. It's hard to find anything that covers all of your stomach nowadays anyways. A few inches was okay... One or two, you know? Yeah, that's sexy. You know, show them just enough to make them want more or whatever. Sadie just took it to insane heights.

I mean, she's the one who told me that. She told me that and yet... When she really likes a guy, she goes all out. I **do** mean all out. She doesn't show a little midriff... In fact, she shows you her whole stomach. Case in point: when Tommy, Sadie, and I were all at the farmhouse. Man, that was a sleazy ensemble. Then she pulls out the short-shorts or some ridiculously skimpy skirt. Stuff like that. I swear, her middle name's Exposure.

Ha. And if you thought that outfit Sexy Sades wore at the farmhouse was risque... Boy, were you in for a suprise. Imagine the top that she was wearing that day, okay? Yeah, it was about an inch shorter than that. Except it didn't have those slutty off-the shoulder, falling-off sleeves or the dodgy lace strappy things. Actually, I think that top was just an excuse to show off her bellybutton ring. She's rather fond of it. Dad isn't, though. He hates it... He just about blew a gasket when he saw it. Mom let her get it.

So I'm wearing this shirt that's about two inches shorter than Sadie's whoriest blouse. The jeans come down past my hipbones, showing a ridiculous amount of pelvis for this hour in the morning. Unless you're a hooker or a stripper, that is. You should've seen the way Tommy was looking at me! And if he's looking at me like that, well, you can just imagine what the other people would think.

I shot Tommy a vexed look, gesturing to the shirt. "Sure you don't have anything in a _bigger_ size, Quincy? Like, oh, I don't know, something **other** than a child's size small? What, did you rip this off a chubby six-year-old?" I bantered, clearly annoyed by the whole situation. It was so short that I was afraid my bra was going to fall out of it. Not that Tom would mind, judging by the way his eyes were fixated on my chest.

He fixed me with a smug look, patting me on the shoulder. "Actually, it's a child's size medium," Tommy corrected, sounding like a complete know-it-all. I just continued to glare at him, pouting petulantly. I threw my hands on my hips, swishing my hair around. Okay, so I was acting a bit childish, but that's not an excuse. This shirt is childish. And not just because it's a kid's shirt.

I got up in Tommy's face, getting deliberately close to him. "Do you think I'm a kid, Tom?" I growled in a low tone, almost on the verge of hysterics. I was being stupid, but I had a point. Tommy took one look at me, a hard onceover. Or another excuse to check me out. He didn't say anything. He just looked through me with that piercing stare and, very, very, very slowly... he shook his head no.

"Definitely not." I bit my lip, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. My shoulders slumped in relief. Then again, I guess he couldn't say anything otherwise, or I'd be mad. He answered it right, but I was starting to doubt his sincerity. But why should I doubt him? This was Tommy, after all. I glanced over at Tommy, who turned to look me over. A slight frown appeared on his face, and he handed me his leather jacket. The one I like best too. I smiled adoringly and followed him to the car.

He opened the door for me quite chivalrously, and I stepped in the car. The last time we'd been in the car, the music choices had been, well, not quite to Tommy's liking. So I was understandably a bit perturbed when he turned on the radio. He actually had a CD in. A Paper Moon cd... Yeah, that's right, more make-out music. This seemed to trigger something in Tommy because he immediately changed the cd. He had one of those CD players that could hold six CDs at once. Tommy likes to keep current with his musical taste. He has about ten iPods or something, I swear. He doesn't just like big bands, corporate stuff. After all, remember, he sang that sort of garbage. You'd never know it, but he's really into the whole Canadian indie music scene.

So this song by The Pettit Project started playing. Don't get me wrong, I've heard bits and pieces... But as we sat there listening to it in, well, pretty much silence (except Tommy was humming along), I actually started to listen to the lyrics. "_I, I, want, want, you and I to be together... Possibilities won't phase me. And don't all these, these, things that seem to stand in our way... Won't get you out home-free... You better hope to God you come around because you're what I want_," Tommy chirped, doing a surprisingly good imitation of the lead singer. It was also sort of amusing because he was hamming it up as usual.

But it turns out this song's about a stalker. Which is why hearing those words from Tommy's lips was rather flattering... and sort of scary. I mean, if Tommy's saying he wants us to be together in the car, much less singing, that's definitely party worthy. Even if he doesn't mean them because he's just singing along to a stupid song he didn't even write or work on... It's still nice to hear them, because I know he's never going to say them to me. But therein lies the rub because the lyrics reminded me of Quinn, and, well, that's just not a good road to go down, especially since I have his class next. It reminded me just how screwed I was. Or almost was? I... I don't know. Urgh, this is confusing.

"_I'm probably _wasting_ my time... trying to **ruin** your life. But I can't help it when you're batting your _eyelashes_... You're probably doing just fine, far from my twisted heart... But I think **maybe**... You _want_ me... **too**_," The singer finished, cheerfully as always. But the tone towards the end was a bit chilling to my frazzled nerves. Especially how close it hit to home. He was ruining my life, but I wasn't batting my eyelashes. I was doing fine... well, in relative terms... away from him. And the last part? Well, really, who knows?

I shrunk down in my seat, shuddering. I was not looking forward to this in the slightest. But I don't think Tommy noticed any of it. Aside from the humming, he was oddly quiet. Tommy's not big on the quiet thing. I mean, we're musicians. We hear music in everything, so we're always tapping something or humming a tune or talking or singing or playing something... You get the picture. But then again, Tommy could do the whole silent pouty thing like a pro. And he was. He made half his money pouting. The other half came from shaking his booty, which makes him sound like a stripper, and... Actually, that's not far from the truth.

I saw some of those videos. Let me tell you, they were pretty risque. Not that any girls cared. The guys and the dads did, though. Eh, they're just mad they're not that attractive. But Tommy makes everyone look hideous, even good-looking guys like Speed... and Jamie. Okay, so he was my first crush! I have a bit of a soft spot for old Jamers... And, next thing I know, we're pulling up at Hell. Please, kill me now.

I plastered myself against Tommy's seat, shaking my head and refusing to movie. But Tommy knew exactly what to do. He exploited my weaknesses. He sighed dramatically, once again pouting. He knows I can't resist that look. But I was determined, so Tommy had to step it up a little. Plus, the guy looks exactly like the creepy freak I was trying to avoid, so it only served to further remind me of what I was fighting for... and hiding from. Even though Jude J. Harrison is not the type to hide or run away from her problems. That's Tommy's job!

Then Tommy just got cruel. "I guess I'll just have to drink this _rich_, milky, steaming hot cappuccino all by myself. And I happen to know that my _favorite_ artist drinks at least six of these a day," Tommy remarked glibly, egging me on. He brandished the coffee almost seductively. What can I say? The jerk knows of my psychotic love for the brown stuff... Er, caffeinated Elixir of the Gods. Sheer brilliance, I tell you. It's like sunshine and puddles and puppies. Tommy is quite the tactician. Hip-hop tic-tac-tician. Okay, that's the last time I listen to "Let Your Backbone Slide". Ever. What does that even mean anyways? Just glide, and let your backbone slide? It makes no sense, I tell you. Unless you're grinding with someone, I guess. The Maestro can blend his crescendoes in a place that is not my brain on crack. Which is what I act like without my joe.

Tommy doesn't really like cappuccino. I do. Especially from the best coffee shop in Toronto. Naturally, Tom introduced me to it. After all, the man clearly has some culture and some taste. Plus, they completely don't care if your famous. It's a pretty sweet deal. He's completely in love with espresso though. Augh, I honestly don't get how he can drink that without any sweetener or anything... I suppose he likes bitter things. Then again, he is dating Sadie. Nah, wait, _I'm_ the bitter one! So why doesn't he like me? Better get off that depressing train of thought. I can drink studio coffee without sweetener. That's about it.

Tommy tricked me into drinking espresso once. It was at this doofy New Year's Party we threw back in the day at G. Major. Really, it was more of a lock-in party, I guess you'd say. The goal was to stay up the latest, but, you know, I don't really remember why. They had coffee and soda and stuff like that keeps you up all over the place. Tommy takes the contents of one of those teeny-tiny espresso cups and pours it into an opaque shot-glass (because I'd previously sworn to never, ever, ever drink espresso because it just **looked** nasty). He's sort of loopy or sort of drunk or sort of jittery... I don't remember which. Anyways, so Tommy hands me the shot-glass and dares me to chug it at midnight. So I'm all "okay, what could happen?" about it.

I take the shot at midnight... Gah, I should've known from that look on his face that he was up to no good. Or how Kwest kept giggling like a little girl... And it's the nastiest thing I've ever tasted. Worse than black liquorice, Windex, vomit, earwax, and whatever the hell they're eating on Fear Factor this week combined into a deadly cocktail. I swear, I practically choked, almost gagged, and just barely managed to get it down. Then I chased Tommy around and might've tried to kill him. I don't really remember very well.

He was force-feeding me espresso every night we were working on the end of the album. Because it's a lot stronger than regular coffee, and we kept pulling 20 all-nighters in a row. Just goes to show you to turn tail and run whenever someone tells you to "take your medicine". Let me tell you, it was true when you're little and it's true now. Unless someone really hot's telling you that. Then they could be propositioning you. That's what I thought Tommy was doing, because, like I said, the man was toasted.

Anyway, so Tommy was bribing me with coffee. I had to correct him. I drank way more than six nowadays. "Twenty, Tom, try twenty," I muttered under my breath. Hey, I've become all alliterative! Then Tommy gave me this smug smile and made out like he was actually going to drink my Elixir of the Gods. I snatched the drink right out of his hand and climbed over the door and out of the car. He absolutely hates that, but it's what he gets for being evil. Fine, fine... I go, I go. I walked around the car, looking back at Tom. "Okay, fine, Quincy. You tricked me into it. I can't even imagine how low the truancy rate would be if all truancy agents acted like you," I replied, still somewhat amused.

Mm, if they were all as cute as Tommy, I'd have a reason not to go to school right away. I wonder if they'd have to frisk me... Or if the school resource officer was hot. Crime might actually go up, then. But hey, I've been to jail, and from what I remember... It wasn't pretty. It smelled vaguely like feet, and there was an excess of steel everywhere. Very sterile yet gross and nasty.

I smiled, waving goodbye to Tommy. He waved back but didn't move. I turned around and started to leave, but I didn't hear the loud screech of Tommy's tires peeling out from the school. I thought that vaguely odd. Usually he was out of here in ten seconds flat. No, scratch that, two. The Viper goes from 0 to er... Some high number... in sixty seconds. Tommy likes to exercise his car a lot. He likes to exercise a lot of things... often. Dirty, dirty, dirty...

Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed my wrist. Considering my past experiences, I was a little freaked. But then I realized that Travis was inside... because he had classes to teach. Why does that sound so weird in my head? I can't put my finger on it, but something about that sounds a little off. And then I realized that Tommy and I were probably the only people in the parking lot. Plus I recognized his voice. "Jude, wait!" Tommy cried a bit desperately.

I turned around, feeling confused. What does he want from me? I mean, I'm going to school. That should be enough! "_What_?" I asked rather sharply. I placed a hand on my hip, shooting him one of my famed looks. Okay, so they're not famed... But they should be! Then Tommy did something completely surprising.

Tommy leaned up, placing his hand on my cheek. He gently pulled my head down a little. I just figured he wanted to tell me something. Though why he needed to get all touchy-feely about it was weirding me out a little. But Tommy Quincy's always been full of surprises. He's practically the God of Mixed Signals. And, true to form, Tommy sent me another one.

He leaned up and softly pressed his lips against mine. He didn't do anything, really. He just held his lips there, against mine, for a moment. The moment seemed a lot longer than it really was, but it was just that... a moment. One single moment in time. Nothing more, nothing less. Tommy pulled back, but stayed close to me. Oddly enough, it reminded me of that first time I ever kissed Tommy. There was also a slight air of embarrassment surrounding the whole thing.

I licked my lips nervously, wondering how in the hell Tommy was going to explain that one. It turns out he didn't. Not really, anyways. He ran his hand down the rest of my cheek and pressed a wad of napkins in my hands. Tommy cleared his throat and avoided my eyes. Maybe I'm not the only schoolgirl here. "Figured you might want your lyrics. Uh, I'll see you in at G. Major in a few hours for the filming," Tommy mumbled, clenching and unclenching his fingers around the steering wheel. For some reason this made him very, very nervous.

Actually, I know why he's nervous. And, honestly, I'm nervous for the same reasons. I mean, I'm a virgin, what the hell do I know about pretending to have sex? Plus I'm going to be on Tommy, literally. Can I really control myself? Especially after what happened this morning. I nodded to Tommy, who split without a goodbye. Gee, thanks, Mr. Inconsiderate! Is he going to be like that when we have sex too? Uh, erm, I mean, uh... IF! If we ever have sex, which we probably won't ever have anyways because knowing my luck he'll marry my perfect blonde sister and have fifty perfect children with the domestic diva. Nah, just diva. Both of them are... Divas, that is. Tommy's a boy diva. Sadie's a girl diva. They'll have little diva-kids too.

It suddenly occurred to me that I did not have a ride to the studio. My car was, well... I don't exactly remember where it was, to tell the truth. The studio... I wanna say? It's pretty far, but I could walk. Or catch the subway or something. Maybe PATH? And then there's always the bus. Or a cab. I guess. Oy. Whatever am I going to do? Could I sound any more like Scarlett O'Hara?

I certainly can't ask Speed for a ride. Augh. Speed. Another thing I don't want to think about. Well, I'd better get in there. Still, I couldn't help but brush my fingers against my lips. Tommy kissed me. What did that mean? It wasn't anything like the other times, really. We weren't sucking face or anything. Just two sets of lips brushing. Maybe it was innocent? Like, uh, a goodbye kiss.

Nah. That's stupid. I mean, don't you have to actually say goodbye for it to be a goodbye kiss? Augh. Tommy frustrates me. I walked inside the school just as the bell rang that signalized the end of lunch. One lunch, anyways. Judging by the time, I think it's my lunch. And I have to go to stupid Quinn's room anyways. I sighed, maneuvering through the crowd, pulling his jacket tight around me. How embarrassing would it be if they saw the Boyz Attack! t-shirt? I mean, really...

I scurried into the all-too familiar classroom and was relatively relieved to find that it was pretty empty. Even Quinn's not in here. Phew. I collapsed against the door a little. Then I forced myself up and walked over to take a seat next to Joan. Joan looked noticeably relieved that I was the intruder. Yeah, well, that makes two of us. With her in here, Quinn can't do anything to me. I asked Joan for a pencil and a piece of paper. She complied wordlessly.

Apparently she's still a bit shaken up from yesterday. She's still acting all strange and nervous. I bit my lip. Oh, right, I need an alibi in case Mom and Dad ask... Because I didn't do anything about that, and I forgot to ask Tommy... "Hey, Joan... If anyone asks you where I was last night, I was staying over at your place, okay?" I posed cautiously. Joan glanced over at me, actually smiling a little. I felt somewhat proud for being able to make her smile. Yeah, this is the Joan I met. Not that weirdo in class yesterday.

Speaking of Joan... let's just say I wasn't the only one who looked like I'd had a rough night. Her hair was even more tousled than usual. Her eyes weren't puffy, but they were almost embarrassingly bloodshot, as I'm sure were my own. She just looked immeasureably weary and so pale. She was wearing a black Beatles t-shirt (her dad was also a big fan, albeit a fan who had not resorted to naming his kids after their songs), baggy jeans, a red windbreaker-type jacket, and scuffed pink and gray sneakers. But at least she looked alive now.

She gave me a searching look, raising an eyebrow out of curiosity. "Okay, so where _weren't_ you last night?" Joan stressed, giving me a wink. I got the message. She would hold up to her end of the bargain. Hmm, where was I really last night? I mean, what do I say? I paused to think about it for a minute, then shrugged.

"To be honest, I don't remember much of last night. But I wound up in jail... And Tommy bailed me out. So I was at his place, I guess," I explained, feeling my headache resurging. Damn, hangovers suck. Joan smirked, and I found myself scowling at her. See, now I felt so much better. Joan had this knowing look on her face. That's the same look everyone has whenever they bring up me and Tommy.

Joan and I chatted about random details, like S.M.E., life on tour, and the random peculiarities of daily life for the rest of the time. The class slowly poured in around us until finally the bell rang. The bell rang and our "beloved professor" was not in the classroom. He showed up eventually. Five minutes _after_ the bell rang. Now, mind you, Quinn was usually the most put-together guy you'll ever meet.

Today, however, his dark hair was mussed and slightly wavy. I guess he hadn't used much gel, if any, this morning. It made him look somehow softer. I vaguely wondered if his hair would be soft or not... Then I realized that I was clearly losing my mind.

He was wearing a blue dress shirt that was wide open at the collar... At least three buttons had to have been undone. Maybe four. But the point was not that his shirt exposed a gratuitous amount of flesh, though it did... The point was that it bared the tantalizing arch of his neck, which featured at least two prominent hickies, one right below his jaw and another a little lower. He possessed one other that seemed to be perfectedly placed on his collarbone. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, showing off lean, strong forearms. The shirt was tucked into a pair of nice black slacks, but that didn't fail to disguise the muscles that lay beneath. I swear, over half the class immediately started drooling at the sight.

I can see that, I guess. He was attractive. Very attractive, actually. Especially today. He was acting so carefree... I just resented him more. How could he be so friggin' carefree! I mean, he's actually... heaven forbid... happy! How can he be happy when I've never been more miserable, confused, and conflicted in my life! Augh! I hate him!

Wait, I know exactly why he's happy! And Joan does too. It's because he got **laid** last night. It's practically written all over his damn face. He's so obvious it's sickening. He has one of those stupid smiles stretched across his face. I just want it to fall off. Joan looks positively disgusted. Then again, she was looking sort of ill when I got in here.

And that's another thing! I don't really remember what the hell happened last night with him. I just remember, um, making out with him in some nasty bathroom. Ugh. I'll be lucky to not have an STD. Then again, I hang around Tommy and Sadie, and I'm fine. I don't exactly remember what we did in there. He... He took off my bra! That's what I... How could I let him do that! Am I on crack! My jaw dropped in class, and I felt vaguely horrified.

What if... What if I was the one who... uh, laid him? No, no, no... Did him! I mean, it's ridiculous, right? Right? Because Tommy found me in jail... alone. Right? Hmm... Did I forget to mention that Quinn has this really nasty black eye? Maybe... Maybe Tommy didn't find me all alone last night. Maybe Travis was in there with me. For trying to have sex in a public place or... or something?

I shuddered at the thought. It would explain the black eye, though. Right? Something had to, I guess. Aw, jeez. Maybe he and Speed got into a bar fight or something? All this thinking's hurting my head. Stop, Jude, stop. Travis was apparently making jokes and exchanging pleasantries with the class. In other words, flirting like a madman. Boy, he really was in a good mood. Joan wasn't amused. Neither of us were. In fact, right now, we both seemed to hate him equally. Shocking, I know.

So Travis didn't even pick a fight with me. He launched right into the description of our newest project, still laughing. Look who's the Big Man on Campus today. Anyways, it wasn't so much a project. We were having a school concert tomorrow. Apparently we were all supposed to have something to play. That being said, we could go in groups... We could play anything, covers, original compositions... As long as he approved it, we could do it. I was only half-listening anyways. I knew I was performing in it anyways. Besides, I had a new song I was just dying for old man Quinn to hear. Insert evil laugh here.

Ooh, bad thoughts, Jude. Bad thoughts. I knew he wouldn't let me play my new song. Naturally. It would make him look bad. It'll make him feel bad too. Bwahaha. And that's why I'll have to trick him. I was copying the lyrics down off the napkins Tommy had given me while Quinn was yammering on. Even Joan wasn't paying attention. In fact, it appeared like she was nodding off. Not that that surprised me especially. Joan was always falling asleep in class. Just not Music class. Quinn didn't lecture much, plus he was pretty to look at.

He was, however, lecturing today. I didn't have to listen, though. It was a lot of crap I'd known for ages about the music industry. I could've written the book on it. And it sounded like he could have too... Hey, wait, does that mean he was in the biz too? I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? Speaking of the Devil, Travis walked over to Joan and me. I nudged her before he noticed she was asleep. She only jumped a little bit.

Joan's scowl widened when she saw how close Travis was standing. I swear, she practically had steam coming out of her ears. He smirked at the both of us, the insidious bastard. "Jude, you'll be the big finale. Joan, you get two songs. You're the only performer with two, so they'd better be good. You're right before Jude. You know, the whole saving-the-best-for-last-mentality," He directed, almost completely ignoring me. Not that I cared or anything.

He then turned to face Joan exclusively, putting a hand on her desk to support himself. I think he did that deliberately. We both could see halfway down his shirt. He was awfully close for comfort, but at least it was a nice view. But Joan thought of none of this as she swept his hand off her desk in a fluid motion. Her knowing eyes burned into him, and a brief uncomfortable look flashed across his face. Ooh, can we say shot down? Burn! Go Joan! "I'm not saying Jude's better than you are, Joan," He proceeded to explain in a simpering tone, patting her hand. Apparently he thought this was why Joan was irked. I snorted and Joan rolled her eyes, looking disgusted. But Quinn actually wanted to continue. Stupid asshole.

"In fact, I think that you'll be just as good as her, if not _better_, with a little practice," He assured her, stroking her hand. But his hand apparently had a mind of its own. Or rather, an absence of a mind that spurred him into action? Nah... An excess amount of hormones. His hand slid slowly up her bare arm (she'd taken off her jacket a few minutes ago, apparently while I was spacing). His hand got all the way to the crook of her elbow. Travis had this eerily at peace look on his face when he was doing it, too.

Isn't that a dead-on sign of perversion? I mean, that was relatively PG. Okay, there wasn't anything PG about the way Travis was doing it... But he wasn't you know, getting off on it. Well, he sort of was. You could obviously tell he was getting a bang out of it. But he wasn't literally getting off on it. Which is good because this is in the middle of a full classroom, and I had a front row seat. She gave him this look... This hard, disgusted look. She was absolutely revolted by his behavior. That much was plain to see.

She grabbed his arm by the wrist, sharp nails digging into his skin. A pleased look appeared on Travis' face as he stared at her, fascinated. Joan gritted her teeth and forcibly pried his fingers off of her. She twisted his arm backwards so suddenly that his mouth formed a perfect o from the pain. He hadn't seen it coming at all. But you know who did? Me! She looked him straight in the eyes, dead serious. "Hands **off**, Letourneau!" Joan snapped so loudly the whole room must've heard. Then she let go of him and shoved him backwards and away from her, hard.

To say that Travis was floored was an understatement. He was also incredibly embarrassed by the whole thing, as well he should be. But I think he got the message. You see, he wound up sprawled across his own desk. Which wasn't a look that few people minded. I could see the perverted intentions written in their eyes. All the girls wanted to be the one pressing him into the desk, and, well... You get the picture.

He didn't look so cool now, but he tried to pretend it was no big deal. The rest of the class complied and pretended that they hadn't heard anything, for the better, I suppose. Because, after all, they liked him, remember? They just wrote it off like it was nothing. I think he has a problem. That and the fact that some of the kids probably don't get the reference.

Well, she's American, and she said it, so of course she knows. And I know because I'm not stupid. Then again, she does realize that Mary Kay Letourneau actually married Villi and had two kids with him, right? And am I the only one that's noticed that all the female teachers that go after their students are ridiculously good-looking for teachers? I mean, I don't have any teachers that look like that... Well, except Quinn. Which might explain why I was making out with him. But it's not like I'm the one pursuing anything here! He's the pervert!

I was deliriously happy that Joan had put Travis in his place. I just about hugged the life out of her, I swear. But then, to my surprise, he came back. Joan sent him a decidedly hostile look, popping her knuckles threateningly. Travis gulped, and I found myself smirking. Power feels nice. It turns out he just wanted our song choices. How anticlimactic. I knew exactly which song I wanted to sing. The song I'd written last night, "Violation of Trust". But I couldn't tell him that.

So I said I'd do "S.T.D. Walking" (Considering it's about Tommy being a skank, you would've thought he'd like it). Yeah, that was a no. So I volunteered "Forbidden Fruit". But the Bible-thumpers and Puritans would have a problem with that one, so that's a no-go. "Dirty Old Man" received a resounding no, as did "Bleeding Ache" and "Giving Up". "Try something a little more cheerful," He said. Jerkhole. Then I offered up "Too Sexy Sadie", but, well, where do I start?

Finally, I gave in and said I'd do "Curly-Haired Wife Stealer", which is a real scream to do. Of course, I needed my back-up band for it, but remember, Travis has that thing against Speed now... And Speed has that thing against me right now... Urgh, why is he in love with me? Why can't Tommy be in love with me instead? Plus, I wasn't really going to be singing that song anyways. I mean, it amuses me and it's appropriate, but I'm gonna tell him off. I mean, I figure if the trick worked at that concert for Darius' birthday (he wanted me to sing "Stupid Girl". I sang "My Sweet Time", which totally won over the crowd. Plus, I like Garbage and all, but I don't sound like them), then it'll definitely work for this piddly little school concert. I mean, if Darius didn't have a meltdown, then what's to say that Quinny-poo will?

Poor Joan. Two songs and she has absolutely no idea what to sing. She told him that. He said he'd be back in a few minutes or whenever she raises her hand for him. Please. She's not going to raise her hand. Besides, she has him at her beck and call already. She had a few sheets of paper with lyrics and chords written on them in front of her, and she was rapidly shuffling through them, trying to make a decision. I was about to suggest Eeeny-Miny-Moe, but I decided to tell Joan what I was doing. She smiled and said that I'd just given her an idea of her own. Then she asked me to help her make the decision, because she's about the most wishy-washy person ever.

She had about... Five of them, I think. Yeah. "Chemistry", "Not Yours", "I Wanna Talk to You", the "Sixteen" one she'd already sung, and "Joan of Arc". I started laughing about the title of the last one because it was her name, but the lyrics were pretty good. We both had a sneaking suspicion Quinn wanted her to sing that sixteen one, but Joan didn't want to even use it as a patsy. I find that funny, really, because Patsy isn't a patsy, you know? I liked all of the songs, really, I did. But "Not Yours" was, well, kind of creepy. You'd get what I meant if you heard it. It just sort of freaks you out. And "Chemistry", well, you know me and anything Chemistry-involved... "Joan of Arc" was surprisingly deep and really amazing, actually. I had a feeling she'd completely rock it out.

But it was, like my song, the kind of song that comes from that raw place inside of you, and thus, a song Quinn would never let her perform. So I advised her to pick "Chemistry" (a slower song) as her patsy. She was going to do "I Wanna Talk to You" first because it was a damn catchy song, and I happened to like it a lot. Plus she could build up the crowd's excitement on that one and use the momentum to sweep into her next song. So, pretty much, in reality, she was doing "I Wanna Talk to You" and "Joan of Arc". I frostily informed Quinn of her suggestions.

I honestly think she could've gotten away with her real choice, considering how rattled Quinn was. He barely glanced at them, decreeing that they were stupendous... Or something... And then he gave her one of those smiles that's supposed to make a girl go all heart-melty over a guy. I think it might've worked if he didn't have those hickeys on his neck. Or maybe if he hadn't been flirting with every female in the classroom first. But the blatant fact that he had sex made it worse than the other two factors combined. Either way, it only resulted in Joan shooting him this look that screamed "What the hell do you think _you're_ doing!"

He looked away, ashamed, and Joan looked a bit triumphant. It was too awkward for him to remain there, so he made up some lame excuse and started making the rounds. About five minutes later the door opened... And surprise of all surprises... It was Kate. She looked much different than she had looked yesterday. Kate's eyes were bright and full of life, and her skin was positively glowing. Her hair was perfectly curled in messy ringlets. She was wearing a vivid red halter-top, black leather miniskirt, a jean jacket, and some ridiculously tall high-heels. I swear, it must've taken a model's poise to walk in those honkers.

What I really noticed was her smile. She was grinning from ear to ear, a slightly shy look on her face. At first she simply poked her head in the door, addressing our teacher. "Hey, Travis, am I late?" She asked casually, looking somewhat embarrassed. A smile crept up on Travis' face in spite of himself. He just shrugged noncomittally and motioned for her to come in. If it was possible, her smile widened as she slipped through the door frame, shutting the door behind her. She sashayed over to Travis, but not because she wanted to entice him or anything... It was just that hard to walk in those heels.

But I bet she had no idea how much she was driving the guys in the class wild. You know, finally, eye candy of both genders! Yay... Blegh. She walked over to Travis, sitting down on the edge of his desk, crossing her legs. Travis grinned at her. They had obviously gotten back together, and they had definitely had sex. Travis leaned in and embraced her. Oh, yep... She must be his girl from last night. At least... I hope, anyways. Though how serious they were was questionable.

Their embrace quickly moved past the school's acceptable boundaries for PDA. Travis' hands "slipped". Kate obviously didn't mind. A second later, Travis was kissing her. They were literally all over each other. It was like watching a Sex Ed video. Seriously, they were getting catcalls and everything. Surprisingly, Kate was the one who broke the kiss, flushing in what you might call a charming way. She played with Travis' collar, looking him right in the eyes. "Trav, we're in school..." She reminded him, gently pushing him away.

Travis shrugged, scowling slightly. Please, like that would ever stop him. It didn't stop him from kissing me, now did it? Then he turned to face the awestruck class, who were all unbelievably silent. Joan was so revolted by the whole display that she could not talk. She was, in fact, seething. Travis motioned to Kate, smiling enigmatically. "Class, this is a friend of mine... Kate Adams," He began, gesturing to Kate. I think the whole class snorted as he said "friend". Friend, my ass. That's like saying Tommy and I are just friends. But Travis continued undeterred.

"Kate's a rock 'n' roll journalist. She's written articles for Rolling Stone, Billboard, Creem, Chart, Punk Planet, Solid, Spin, UnRated, and Vibe Magazine... And that's just the music magazines. Kate is also one of the leading figures of the Riot Grrrl movement. She's toured with Sleater-Kinney, Bikini Kill, The Donnas, Heavens to Betsy, Bratmobile, Liz Phair, Sarah McLachlan, Jann Arden, and Hole to name a few, playing bass or lead guitar," Travis continued proudly. With credentials like that, even Jealous Joan couldn't hate her.

Kate was really nice about it too. She just smiled modestly and waved it off like it was nothing. Like actually touring with so many of my musical idols was normal. Well, the girl ones, anyways. That would seem completely unbelievable, considering how normal Kate looks. But then again, once you've seen her play the guitar, you can kind of see how that might be possible. With Kate there... I don't know... Everyone seemed to like the class for once. I mean, the guys liked that they had something pretty to look at. The girls genuinely liked Kate (despite her obvious relationship with Travis). And I think that everyone liked that we didn't have to do anything all class.

It was pretty much just picking out songs, Travis mentioning the concert (there were going to be A&R scouts there, he'd said. Apparently he's got connections. Then again, so do I), and then the happy duo alternating tour stories with tales about bands and the recording industry. It was pretty informative, and everyone loved the stories. Apparently Travis had also done some touring of his own.

You see, Kate had a sister in a big rock group. She toured with them for a while because her mother was ill. She met Travis backstage at a concert. He was a roadie, I believe. Either a roadie or a guest or... manager? I think that was it. Maybe. Well, who knows? Maybe the girls just pulled him backstage because he was hot. Travis was seventeen, and Kate was sixteen. So they'd known each other for eight years, five of which had been spent apart. They started dating when he turned legal... Okay, so the age 18 in my book is written up as LEGAL... I can't even count properly any more. It's always 1, 2, 3... 16, 17, Legal, 19, 20, Can Drink in the States, Tommy's Age... You get the picture. They got closer and closer as time went by, and eventually they wound up in a whirlwind affair. They hadn't even been dating three months when he proposed.

Of course, Kate didn't mention all of this in class. She told me later. Kate played guitar for us too... I think the whole class was blown away. Let's just say they didn't call her "Flying Fingers" for nothing... Come to think of it, that's a pretty lame nickname. So the class went by eerily fast. Kate left approximately five minutes before the bell rang, but not before sharing an intense make-out session with Travvy-poo. She didn't call him that, but hey, he was poo. Yeah, so what, that's immature... But he really is worse than dung.

Their little "goodbye" was starting to get a bit frisky, more towards the R rating, if you get my drift. Come on, who really wanted to see their Music teacher getting it on with someone? I mean, over half the class wanted to bang him. And the other half of the class wanted to do her. Something had to be done. Joan coughed so loudly that she shook and clutched her chest a little. Sadly enough, that was most likely not her faking it. A bit of a cold was running through the school. I'd noticed her coughing, but she tried to muffle it as best as she could, and let me tell you, the girl did a pretty good job.

She was pretty effective too, as the sickeningly happy couple broke apart at the sound of her cough. You should've seen the look on Joan's face. She plastered this innocent, sweet-as-pie (okay, maybe that's a bad analogy, eh, Cherry? Ugh. I hope no one heard that. Especially not his kids) look on her face. Joan blinked twice. "Oh, excuse me. I seem to be having a bit of a cough," Joan apologized with such sincerity that I almost believed her. Kate just smiled back at Joan, waving it off casually, blowing Travis a kiss on her way out. Joan liked Kate, don't get me wrong... And Kate liked Joan too... Its just, well, Travis was this huge Berlin Wall in between them. Both of them (no matter how strongly Joan denied it) had some sort of strange feelings towards him that vaguely resembled love. And love's complicated.

The rest of the class started to file out, but Joan had to fix her songs (they were all out of order), and I had to find all the napkin pieces, which meant I was crawling around on the floor a lot. This also meant that Travis stupidly presumed I was out of the room, and Joan completely forgot about my existence. Which meant I was about to see some primo fireworks. Travis slowly approached Joan, almost like a lion stalking his prey. Or in this case, a pedophile stalking his prey.

I wanted to look away or scream or something, but he hadn't done anything yet. And it wasn't like I would let him touch her. But then again, something told me that Joan wasn't either. He was just lucky Joan didn't notice. Or did she? He tapped her on the shoulder and I noticed that she rolled her eyes. "Don't feel bad about it, Jude. It's a tough decision to make. But, hey... If I was you, I'd **screw** Tommy Q. too," Joan replied distractedly. Considering that I had no idea what the hell she was talking about, I had a sneaking suspicion that she knew it was Travis tapping her on the shoulder, not me. But, hey, she just made it sound like I was contemplating sex with Tommy. And considering I didn't really explain last night to her, it's the best I can hope for.

Plus, it's not like Travvy can say anything about it. After all, he was the one who put the moves on me. And the way he looks at Joan is really criminal. I noticed Travis flinched rather noticeably when she said that she'd do my producer. I wondered vaguely how serious she was, but then decided that she wasn't serious at all. She was just trying to... to make Travis jealous? Like... like she'd been earlier. She just wanted to piss him off. And what better way to piss him off than saying she'd sleep with his worst enemy? You know, do you think Tommy knows they're enemies?

Quinn cleared his throat, forcing Joan to turn around. She plastered a phony surprised look across her face, even gasping a little, eyes wide. She fanned herself, brushing back a few strands of hair and pretended to look embarrassed. Did he see right through her, though? "Yeah... We need to talk about that, Joan," He murmured cryptically, pulling her up by the wrist. I was frozen in place, feeling like I was watching the Titanic crash... and I couldn't do anything to stop it. But maybe he... maybe he won't. Like he didn't to you?

Oh, please, for the love of God, shut the hell up! For once, okay, damnit! Travis placed his hands on her shoulders, and she eyed his hands warily for a moment before immediately shoving them off of her violently. For someone so small (okay, so we were about the same height), Joan sure had a lot of personality. She was a very different person when she was angry. I guess it's a good thing she doesn't get angry much. But what'd he do? Wait, what makes you think he...?

"I don't know what you're thinking, but I have a class to get to. And I certainly have nothing I wish to discuss with you. I don't even want to look at you right now, okay? Because you disgust me. You're a damn teacher, not some _hormonal_ frat boy. How are you even a teacher? You make-out with your girlfriend in class. You've taught me absolutely **nothing**. And you can't even be _impartial_!" Joan growled, glaring at him furiously. Travis just gave her one of those cool as hell looks, like he didn't give a damn about what she was saying. He was going to do what he wanted. And no one wants that.

He trailed a finger under her chin, gently pulling her closer to him, almost like he was reeling in a fish. Joan shuddered reflexively, blinking her eyes shut tight... as if this all was one giant nightmare. In some ways it was. Any more of this and I'm going to have to intervene. "At least you're my favorite," He whispered as his eyes ran over her simple attire. With a flick of his finger, he brought her even closer. Oh yeah, he had her just where he wanted. Joan's eyes opened suddenly, and she blinked, backing up just as he leaned in to kiss her. He wound up kissing air, which I found relatively hysterical. Of course, I couldn't laugh out loud. I could only snicker while invisioning it on instant replay.

Joan stomped down hard on his foot. "I'm not going to be any teacher's _pet_, thanks," Joan snarled fiercely, noticing how Travis jumped up and down a lot. Yeah, that's Bipolar Boy for you. But he's probably not owning that. Joan meant it too. You could tell by her tone. And she didn't just mean in the suck-up sense. She meant it in the other one... The kinkier one.

She gained back a bit of her self-esteem just then. "I ought to go to Jude's producer. Bet he could _teach_ me more in five minutes than you could in a whole lifetime," Joan declared brazenly, tossing her hair, and smirking at him. Well, it was nice knowing her. Tough noogies, girl. She was acting cocky, almost worse than Tommy sort of. Okay, so not really. That would be pretty damn impossible. Joan eyed Travis with a cursory, dismissal glance. Travis' eyes blazed at the first insinuatory comments, then his eyes burned as he saw the casual, uncaring look she sent his way. The sexual innuendo was pretty blatantly obvious. If you couldn't tell by the seemingly innocuous words, you definitely could by the way she said it.

"You don't even know how to **play** a _guitar_," Joan sneered, shooting him a dirty look. She ran her hands down her sides. Those hands finally stopped, resting firmly on her hips. Travis' hands twitched, and he was staring jealously at her stomach. It was clear that she wasn't actually talking about a guitar. It registered on Travis' face that he knew what she was referring to. And then it occurred to Travis that Joan had one guitar he was just itching to play. He was willing to do anything to get his hands on that guitar... so that he could have exactly what he wanted.

Travis apparently had his mind made up then. But if that was true, then what was he doing with Kate? Joan was wrong. He sure knew how to play a guitar, all right. Not as well as Tom, mind you, but... He knew all too well. Trust me. And it seemed like guitars weren't the only things he was playing. "You know me. I just _love_ the rock and roll... Getting my hands on a brand new guitar is like a religious experience to me. I get such a high from composing a new song, or even playing an old one... It's always a little different every time you play it and on every different guitar you play it on. I like it best when there's no pick... Then it's just me and the guitar with nothing to come between us. No impediments, no complications, none of the real world's trivial intrusions... There's just my hands there, strumming the taut strings, and everything's the way nature intended it to be. Sure, first you have to break it in a little, be a little rough with it... It hurts when you start playing, but it's a good sort of hurt. It gets better with lots of practice, until eventually, you only feel the pleasure... Pleasure doesn't quite cover it, though. It's something more even than that... It's nirvana. The feeling in my fingers when they're racing against those soft metal strings, hitting just the right chords at the right time makes up for _everything_... It's a rush. But you have to work for it, **really** work for it, to get it _just_ right... to hit all the right notes in the perfect sequence. It's _so_ hard, but in the end it's all worth it... When you feel that rhapsodic _thrill_ coursing through your veins, electrifying your nerve endings into overdrive, like the liquid ecstasy you feel once you finally come up to that big riff... that perfect climax. Now, that... _That's_ music in it's purest form," Travis breathed in a throaty whisper. He was clearly enraptured, caught up in some moment of fatalistic attraction that was bigger than he was, and bigger than both of them.

I suddenly realized that he was capable of deep, serious feeling for the first time in my life. Now had that beautiful speech been addressed to any person in particular, such as Joan or Kate or even... Or was it just about how much he loved music and how much he loved his guitar? It was about love. Some kind of love anyways. I knew that much, at least.

That settled it, then. I would never truly understand Travis Quinn. Every time I thought I knew who he was or what he was about, another facet of his character would pop up seemingly out of the blue to surprise the hell out of me.

And a sudden burst of passionate emotion was so unbelievably out of character for him. For it was clear, at least, that he liked to keep all the different parts of his life separate. Too bad I know first hand that never works. One day it's all going to come out in the open, and it'll all explode right in his face. Maybe mine if I stick around too long.

He had been describing it vaguely enough that it could actually just be about the guitar, but I wasn't about to buy that. It was clearly a talk filled with deliberate sexual connotations. Just like Joan's little number. Oh, he could spar with the best of them. He's very good at the whole words thing. But that... That was transcendency. That was beautiful. That was wicked... That was _brilliant_!

And if sex is even one tenth as good as that description... As good as it feels to do what he said... Then I'd best get a move on, eh? No... I won't. But still... It really makes you wonder. Just... just what it's like. If it's really as phenomenal as everyone makes it out to be. I think it is with the right person. Even if you don't know what the hell you're doing. Or if you both suck, and that one I don't mean in the dirty way. I don't really think it matters... well, it shouldn't, at least... if you love the person. Because if you really love them, then it should be great anyways, right...

It's as close as two people can come, kind of like a ridiculously tight kind of a bond. Everything changes when you throw sex into the equation, you know? You just become so much more invested in everything. Or you should be, if you're doing it right and you're in a healthy relationship. I wish I could...

I found it odd that he had just accurately described how I felt every time I played a song. And, perhaps even stranger than this was the fact that I found myself inexplicably attracted to him. There was something eerily magnetic about him as he shifted in front of Joan. He licked his lips seductively, leaning in a little more. I found myself sighing and remembering the feeling of his tongue, soft and wet against my lips. I didn't even realize I was licking my lips at first, just thinking about it... There's something wrong with me, isn't there? I shouldn't be thinking about him this much. It's not healthy.

Joan was trying her hardest to remain unaffected, but even she wasn't that great of an actress. She sort of swayed a little on her feet and bit her lip unconsciously. Travis suddenly swooped in and grabbed her hand. He turned it upwards, holding it underneath his lips. Joan didn't move. She didn't even blink. She just stood there like a statue locked in a staring contest with Travis. He smiled with his eyes, giving her a crinkly, mysterious look that made my insides flop. So I could only imagine what it was doing to her... Keeping his gaze level with hers, he pressed his lips against her knuckles in a chaste kiss. Joan's eyes closed and he turned, planting feather-light kisses all the way up her arm, right to the sleeve of her shirt. "You have the softest skin," He murmured huskily against her arm.

Joan seemed to have been jolted awake. Her jaw dropped and she pulled her arm away from him, taking a step backward. "No. I'm not that girl," Joan hissed, almost to herself, pushing him away. She picked up her things in a fluid motion and practically ran out of there.

Travis just stared after her until the door closed. Then he turned around and exhaled sharply, leaning against one of the desks. "Jude, you can come out now," He called knowingly, rolling his eyes at me. I sighed heavily and forced myself to stand up, feeling all the blood rush to my head... for reasons other than the hangover. Okay, so I was pretty embarrassed for being caught. Ugh, I felt like a voyeur. I shouldn't have seen that. He smirked, strutting over to me. I felt my muscles tense as the hair on the back of my neck rose. Uh oh. I suddenly had a bad feeling about all of this.

He approached me similarly to the way he had approached my friend only minutes earlier. Only this time, he leaned in even closer. Oh, so he figures he can push the envelope a few times, and I won't think anything of it! That is not a road I want to go back down again! For cripes' sake, he's my teacher. He has a girlfriend and a simultaneous crush on my friend. I backed up nervously, but his thin fingers darted out to grab the zipper of my jacket. I stared at his hands, which were entirely too close to my chest for my sanity's sake, for a moment. Then he savagely ripped the zipper down in one movement, pushing my jacket open to expose what was underneath. "Well, well, _well_... What **do** we have here?" He pondered aloud, staring at my shirt. At least, I hoped he was reading my shirt, rather than staring at my chest.

The seconds passed slowly, and I began to grow more fidgety by the moment. His eyes were lingering on my chest far too long. It was discomfiting to see him so focused on one area. I felt like he was practicing his x-ray vision on me or something. It just... wasn't right. And it was creepy. I knew he'd read the shirt. He had to. It was pretty obvious. You know "Boyz Attack! The World Tour" in bold all-caps letters...

I cleared my throat, even crossing my arms over my chest, but he refused to stop. So it was my turn to put a stop to things. I cleared my throat as a distraction, only his eyes didn't waver. Damn. "If you stare at my chest one more second, I swear I'm going to call the Safe Schools Hotline," I threatened vehemently, glowering up at him. He raised an eyebrow and finally met my eyes. A slight smirk played on his face, the smug bastard.

"For your information, I was staring at your stomach, considering that you're baring more midriff than a cheap challgirl," He replied somewhat coolly. This time, his eyes actually did settle on my stomach. I rolled my eyes, knowing that he'd been lying, but he just blew it off. His hungry eyes took in the sight of my bare abdomen, and he reached out a hand to touch my stomach. He obviously liked the feeling, as he pulled me so close that I could feel him... everything about him. The way he breathed so casually, the way his muscles flexed... I could feel a lot of things. Maybe too many.

"You'd know _all_ about cheap call girls, wouldn't you?" I bit back before I could help myself, sliding my hand over his and attempting to remove it. An irascible look passed over his face just then, but he got rid of it as quickly as it had appeared. He shrugged casually, placing his hands on my hips. He began to slowly rub his hands back and forth on my hips. His touch was light, but every time he dragged those guitar-calloused hands against my skin, I screamed inside. And not all from anger, either. I was literally going crazy here.

Travis surprised me then by pushing me back a little so that he could get a decent look at me. He took in my strange choice of attire, but said nothing at first. He just looked at me with this slightly miffed look in his eyes, peering at me curiously. Then he forced himself to snap out of whatever funk he was in. He pushed me back a little more to take a good look at my jeans, which were about a belt away from becoming a puddle on the floor at my feet. He probably wouldn't even have to do anything. Just take the belt off and let the pants fall where they may. I frowned, asking him what he was doing. Whatever it was, it was sure freaking me out.

After all, why do my jeans (okay, Tommy's jeans!) need such close scrutiny? Travis smirked, and I knew he had something good in the works. Grreat. "Seeing if I could get in your pants. They look like my size," He replied casually, shooting me a lecherous look. His hands dropped to the actual waist of my jeans as he peered at them. Ugh, perv. I mean... Get in your pants? That's pretty blunt. Great, just what I need... More weirdos to like me. He slid a finger in between the gap between me and my jeans, making me gasp at the unexpectedly intimate touch. I felt my stomach drop, and the breath caught in my throat. Had it always been this hot in here, I wondered, fanning myself with Tommy's jacket? I sure felt all hot and bothered.

At first, his finger wasn't really doing anything there. It was just maybe in about an inch or so, if that, but probably less, to show how the jeans hung off of me. I was freaked, yes, but still optimistic. I thought he'd quit of his own accord. And it wasn't that bad. But Travis is a guy, and an overtly hormonal one at that, so plans soon changed... or should I say, went south? Other fingers followed, sliding down a little below my hipbone.

I fixed him with a glare, fighting down the gasp threatening to bubble out from my throat as his lascivious fingers moved still lower. I just couldn't let him win all the time. And I definitely couldn't let him get away with touching me there. Period. "Well, they're _not_," I snapped childishly, yanking his hand out of my pants and throwing it back at his chest. His fingers had been previously employed idly fiddling with the waistband of my underwear. Hence the reason why as soon as that feeling registered, I jumped into action.

He simply smirked at me infuriatingly, flashing me a pearly white smile. I was so angry that I was surprised there was no stream coming out through my ears. I hated how he was pretending to act so innocent. His touch made me feel dirty... But not just that. Every touch seared itself into my skin, and my skin was still tingling from where his fingers had been only seconds ago. Correction: The skin there still burned, like a sort of white-hot, throbbing heat or something equally inexplicable. I felt like I'd been branded, and the feeling was spreading slowly in waves all over my body.

Travis shrugged nonchalantly, giving me a slightly flirtatious look. He reached out smoothly, placing one hand on the side of my waist. The other one was quick to follow. His arms slithered behind my back, eventually locking together around my lower back. "I guess I'll just have to try them on. Something tells me they'd be a _perfect_ fit," He murmured suggestively, raising his eyebrows. As if to prove his point, he pulled me against him, crashing my hips directly into his. I felt uncomfortable being so close to him... for many different, conflicting reasons. But even I had to admit that he had been sort of right. We did sort of... fit, I guess. Of course, if you ever tell anyone I said that, I'm going to have to kill you.

"They were made to fit someone **bigger**," I retorted, ripping his hands off me. I backed away a little, trying to catch my breath. I think it was pretty clear who I was referring to. His name starts with a T and ends in an ommy. Travis' eyes narrowed at me, and I found myself not liking the green spark in his eyes. There was a fiery intensity in those jade irises that I just couldn't trust. His hands toyed with my skin, touching as much as he could reach. He backed me into a desk.

I fell back on it just a little, so that I was sort of almost sitting on the edge, hands behind me, supporting me. He leaned in closer, and it was then that I became all too conscious of our peculiar positioning. One of his hands was supporting the arch of my back. His other hand crept across my mostly bare abdomen, dancing along the waistline of my jeans. My legs were pressed tightly against each other, and his legs were parted, practically right against mine.

But he didn't like that. Guess he wasn't comfortable enough. He pulled me up a little, so that I had to lean on him for support, draping my hands around his shoulders. I was, after all, afraid I was going to fall. But I'm lying if I say that the proximity didn't affect me. Because it did. It affected me entirely too much. While I was trying to maintain my stability... and my sanity... He slipped a hand between my knees, forcing my legs to part widely. I gasped, surprised at his sudden forwardness. I slid my hands off his neck, flinging them backwards for better balance. He firmly placed his hands on my thighs, slowly sliding them up the denim.

"I meant what I said back there, you know..." He mumbled so low I could barely make it out. Then again, I was more than a little distracted. I was just trying to make some sense of everything, keep myself from doing something monumentally stupid... And I was trying to keep my head. I'm not even sure that makes sense... I could just remember his hands, gliding up my jeans so slowly it was like torture. I was about to lose my head... my mind... pretty much everything, if he kept that up. Why am I so friggin' hormonal today?

What did he say back where? I dimly tried to recall, but I could feel the heat of his fingers through the airy, worn fabric. And that silenced all brain activity. It was pretty much all I could do to keep myself from throwing myself at him. There were holes in this pair too. The sensations those would cause... a frightening thought. "Meant what?" I whispered, my head spinning. Damn. I seriously need to get a grip.

Only, how am I supposed to get a grip when he keeps doing that? He skimmed his nails lightly up my thighs, teasing me. The skin beneath tingled, and I shivered involuntarily. His lips brushed against my ear, "When I was talking about how it feels to play my guitar, remember? Let's just say I wasn't exactly talking about my guitar." I knew all that, but his tone still sent shivers down my spine. I swallowed hard as his hands finally slid over my hips, pushing me back slightly.

"Kate or Joan?" I questioned haltingly, licking my chapped lips nervously. He peered at me intensely through his heavy eyelashes, eyes clouding over. He laughed, looking at me like... I can't describe it, really. He had a nice sort of laugh, really, but you could tell he wasn't the type that laughed a lot. It was this low, gravelly chuckle, kind of hoarse too. His glass green eyes were glowing almost feverishly. His stare was oddly serious.

His eyes zeroed in on me intently. Then he shrugged coolly, leaning in still closer. "What makes you think I wasn't talking about _you_?" He pointed out quietly, raising his eyebrows. I seriously think my heart stopped beating for a second there. Please tell me he's not insinuating what I think he's insinuating. But why does that surprise me in the first place. After all, I think he's made what he wants pretty obvious... Or has he? I mean, he's back with Kate, the love of his life, again, right? And yet he was acting weird around Joan, who obviously likes him back. And then there's me... I just don't get him.

His grip on my hips tightened, digging into the flesh painfully. He grinned at the surprised look on my face. I could tell he wanted me to say something, that he was waiting for me to say something. But I found that I couldn't think of a thing to say. What does someone say to something like that? I just bit my lip and looked away. That... what he said... couldn't have been about me. For starters, he said it to Joan, and he has a thing for Joan. Plus, he's dating Kate. So you see, it really couldn't have been about me. Because that would've just been ridiculous.

He pulled one of his hands off my hip, using it to tilt my chin up, forcing me to look at him. Anger was written all over his face. Does he always have sudden moodswings like this? I frowned but met his gaze, even though I felt a sudden wave of discomfort wash over me. His eyes widened, blazing with a dull green rage. I never realized it, but there were tiny flecks of gold mixed in with the green. The gold made his eyes shine, and, in this case, flash brilliantly. I hadn't done anything to make him mad, though... "Spend the night at Tommy's place?" He asked casually, pretending that he didn't care.

Gee, how could you tell? I didn't realize that I'd said that out loud until it was too late. His eyes narrowed in defiance as he proceeded to explain it to me. "For starters, you're wearing his jacket. You're also wearing an itty-bitty tour t-shirt that I'm sure Tom keeps around for this express purpose, like a memento. Also, you're drowning in those jeans. Not to mention that you've got his smell all over you. And it looks like you've had a rough night," He interjected critically, not bothering to keep his disdain for Tommy out of his voice.

How would he know what Tommy smells like? I mean, okay, so I'm wearing the guy's clothes... and his jacket. And I used his shampoo. But how would Quinn know that? Oops. I must've voiced some of my thoughts out loud again. He just chose to glare at me instead, judging me silently. Probably because he doesn't have an answer. What is he, jealous? Probably, considering how much he hates Tommy.

But that didn't matter. I was suddenly hit by a flash of memory from last night... And it only seemed to confuse me further. I needed to know what had happened last night... with us. Me and Travis, I mean. And why am I calling him Travis all of a sudden? When did the transition between Quinn and Travis occur? I don't remember it happening... I just, I wake up, and I'm suddenly calling him Travis? I needed to know, and I was going to have to suck up a lot of pride to ask him... but it had to be done. There was no way around it.

I gulped. Man, this was going to be hard. I cleared my throat awkwardly. How am I gonna say this? I'm going to choke on the words, just you watch! "This is hard for me to ask, but I have to know... What happened last night?" I managed to choke out, unable to look at him any longer. He seemed to be surprised by the question. Okay, so he didn't know I was wasted? I'm confused. He pulled his hands away from my hips, backing away from me a little. I cursed myself for missing the warmth his hands provided.

I chanced a glance up at him and noticed that he looked rather pensive. He was frowning thoughtfully, staring out into space. His brow's wrinkled, and it makes him look exactly like Tommy does when he's stressing over telling me something he knows I don't want to hear. Every time Tommy looks like that, I want to smooth away the wrinkles... because he shouldn't have to worry about me. It's all my fault, anyways. Well, at least he's not feeling me up anymore. I was snapped out of my reverie when Travis sighed suddenly.

I looked up immediately, like I was a scared rabbit. I felt my heart jump into my throat. He was going to say something bad, I could just tell... Something I don't want to hear. As usual, I was not disappointed. "To be honest, I was slightly intoxicated last night," He admitted, leaning heavily against a desk. Okay, now that was completely not reassuring. It does explain why he tasted like whiskey, though. Man, that's so stupid! Am I blonde or something? Of course he's drunk if he tastes like whiskey, because, hello, he drank the whiskey! But wait, there's more! Travis sighed heavily, leaning on the desk even more. I was surprised it wasn't breaking from the pressure. "Okay, I was pretty much plastered," He declared a moment later.

It sounded so much better when he said that the first time around. Plastered does not bode well for me. I mean, I got plastered last night, and I don't remember about half of it. Travis groaned, shaking his head. Oh, right, so I'm not the only hungover one here. But Travis wasn't done yet. How he could give me more things to worry about is just... crazy. "It's all sort of a hazy blur, really," He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. Great, just great. So he remembers even less than I do. I looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to drop yet another bomb.

He sighed again and finally looked at me. Well, that gives him points over Tommy. Ugh, but all the sighing has to stop. I mean, you don't see me sighing, do you? Augh, this must be how Tommy felt, not knowing. I feel bad about that. Maybe I should tell him the truth... He deserves to know. But if I do... Tommy'll get mad. He won't talk to me. Things will be even more awkward. But he needs to know. I can't live like this, can I? It's not fair to anyone. But I can't tell him, can I? So I'm pretty much trapped between a rock and a hard place. Great, just great.

"If you're asking if we... you know... Then the answer's no. At least... I think we didn't," He murmured, sounding about as confused as I was. He frowned and scratched his head. Those weren't exactly the most reassuring words. But, I guess... I guess they were all I had. So I didn't do it with him. That's good. Real good. I exhaled, feeling the weight mostly lifted off my shoulders. Phew. Glad that ordeal's mostly over and done with. Or so I thought.

Just as I decided to vamoose (seeing as the late bell had rung about ten minutes ago), Travis walked over to me, just out of the blue like that. I pushed myself off the desk, and he moved back a little to accommodate me... for once in his life. He should stay with Kate... She makes him a better guy. Then again, Shay said that about me. And look how that turned out. "Eden makes me feel cool just the way I am." Ugh. Pig. I should've said a real snappy comment back. Something about Eden being a skank or how my producer liked me, and so I should've just kissed him when I had the chance that morning. I should have, too, you know?

I just stood there for a moment, waiting for him to do something... anything. But he didn't do one thing, so I maneuvered around him. I had a class to get to, after all. And this is the second day in a row I've been late for Lyra's class. He grabbed my wrist (again! It's like a habit of his or something), only gentler this time. He tugged lightly on my arm, sending me spiraling into his chest. It was a rather hard impact. I forced a laugh and backed a little away from him. Then he asked me a question that practically made me keel over right then and there. "So, Jude..." The way he said my name made my skin tingle in anticipation. He leaned in closer so that I could smell his cologne. It was a heady, musky sort of smell. Manly and very, very intoxicating, I suppose. Girls were making comments about it all the time. "How do you feel about me?" He asked in a whisper, giving me a look.

I gulped hard. What the hell was I supposed to say! He's not supposed to ask me questions like that. Damn it, I'm still his student! And... What if I don't know how I feel? Because I don't, okay. I don't! I mean, one day, I'll think I hate him. And then I'm kissing him, and all that stuff sort of goes out the window. So I did the only thing I could, really. Acting like a five-year-old, I answered his question with another question. "How do **you** feel about me?" I retorted childishly.

Travis leaned in a little more. "A better question would be how _don't_ I feel about you," He muttered, leaning in even further. He was going to kiss me. And I wasn't exactly sure whether or not I should let him. Whoa, what the hell is wrong with me! I'm actually contemplating it when I know the answer should be no, no, NO! Plus, hello, we're in school and anyone could see. Anyone. And you don't want Speed to actually walk in on something this time, now do you?

Travis continued to lean in and... he was so close... I think I might've been leaning in too, but that's utterly ridiculous! And then I looked over his shoulder and saw Mason. I've never been happier to see a man in my life. I'm sure there's an exception involving Tommy somewhere in there, but still... Immediately, I ducked out of Quinn's grasp, walking past him to grab my things... Okay, so it was more like running. I ran out of that room, grabbing Mason's arm and propelling us out of the room almost violently, without even a look back. Mason raised an eyebrow at me, but followed nonetheless. I wordlessly pulled my hero into a full-on embrace there in the hallway. Mason was more than a little surprised. "You have no idea how much I love you right now, Mason!" I exclaimed, squeezing the life out of him. I did too, in that moment. But, hey, I was pretty confused.

Mason pulled away, smirking. "You move fast," He muttered, waggling his eyebrows. Mason didn't have a class then... He also didn't have a new song, so Tommy thoughtfully sent him to pick me up. About an hour early, though. Mason was just joking, but still, so many people thought those words were true of me.

I smiled at him as we began to walk down the hallway to my next class. I shrugged casually. "Hey! I let you fool around with me yesterday. I'm not the sort of girl who does things like that with boys she doesn't like, you know. And you never called me afterwards, you insensitive jerk," I joked, pretending at first to sob, but I wound up breaking into a wide grin. Mason laughed, but then covered his face, groaning. Let's just say Tommy wasn't so happy with good old Mase for what he saw yesterday. Apparently, Tommy grabbed Mason by the collar the minute he showed up for work. He threw him against the wall while growling and threatening at my poor buddy here. Oh, and then he almost punched Mason, but Georgia intervened. Tommy said he was trying to _inspire_ Mason. Or some crap like that. Maybe he was trying to make Mason write a hit... Or bugging him about that. Yeah, that's what he said. And then, fortuitously, he backed off for my dear Mason's safety.

Mason shook his face. This time, it was impossible to conceal the smile on his lips. "And now you want more. Girl, you're _insatiable_," Mason murmured amusedly. He winked at me. I threw my arms around his waist, growling at him playfully. Mason laughed again, and I pretended to bite his neck. I suddenly realized that I was still late for class, so we hoofed it to Music Theory. Long story short, Mason knows Lyra. He was a senior here when I was a freshman. I think. That was a fun class... Anyhow, so he drove me to the studio.

Where I had to make out with Tommy. Oh, the joy. Well, actually, yeah, that was going to be pretty frigging cool. Sadie's reaction when she finds out, on the other hand... Not good. When I got there... everything sort of became one fast blur. I was being dragged backstage, handed skimpy clothing. I'm surprised I managed to even get the clothes on right. Okay, so I'm going to tell you how it goes. Pretty much. I think. From what my script says anyways.

Okay, Tommy and I get in there, blah, blah, blah... He's hesitant about the whole thing. And, really, who can blame him? Tommy has a right to be nervous. But, using my feminine wiles, I trick him. He gives in to his hormones. We start going at it. That's the first bit.

Then, let's see... There's a shot where I fall back on the bed. I might get to be still dressed for that, but who knows? Tommy's a cruel bastard, so he makes me wait there. Then he attacks me and I start moaning and what not. We roll over so I'm on top, then Tommy moans out his lines. Then I guess he's supposed to finally rip off all my clothes or something. Not literally, of course. After all, this is a music video... and we're Canadian, not European. Plus, I'm a minor, so it's illegal. Ew, that would make it child porn. I just hope Mom doesn't try and press charges against Tommy for this... She can't do that, can she? It's just a music video.

Okay, next scene, well... Oh, yeah, right. Okay, so Tommy's kissing my bare skin. I don't exactly know where yet, but he's muttering sweet nothings, I assure you. I can also promise that he'll be pushing the limits of where it's still legal and not porn to kiss me, though. Damn perverted director. After that, I think I straddle him, hopefully still partially clothed. And while I'm on top of him, I throw my head back and laugh a rich, hearty laugh. According to the hambone director we've got here.

There are a few tamer shots... Me scratching his back and moaning. Nothing too revealing there. You know what, I take that back after looking at the script. That part's the worst. I don't even know what we're going to do there, but I know the lyrics. And there's a brief footnote of a close-up of Tommy's hips against mine and what not. Which pretty much means we'll be dry humping. If I'm lucky. I mean, if it were the other kind, there's no telling what I'd get... The only question is which one would it be? Hmm, syphilis, maybe? Or gonorrhea? Herpes is too messy for Tom. Hmm, chlamydia, you think?

So the next scene, right... Then we've got this close up on Tommy's eyes. He's supposed to be staring at me, eyes charged with lust. Or something like that. His eyes are supposed to be all dark and everything. You know, completely hot, giving me that... "I'm going to jump you" look. There's a close-up of me following that. My eyes are opening and shutting while I'm once again moaning. This is followed by another one of those bizarro close-ups where Tommy pretty much feels me up. Okay, runs his hands all over me, up and down. A wee bit risque, don't you think? But no one cares... No one but me. Besides, I'm sure Tom's done this millions of times. No sweat for him.

Now it gets a bit better since it's pretty much winding down. It's afterward, and I turn Tommy's arm so that it's facing up. There's a close-up on the arm. Then, I don't know... There's a shot of Tommy with his eyes closed, probably moaning. Either that or he's confused. Nah, he's confused either way. Oh, wait, never mind. Tommy's on top of me, groaning and moaning, and we're really going at it hard. Okay... It gets better. It's after, and Tommy's asleep, half on top of me... kinda nice, really. And then I lean over and kiss his hand. Then he moves closer to me in his "sleep". Can you say aww? And that's it, but we'll probably be filming it in order, so, whatever... It'll be a bit different.

You know, maybe the studio is going bankrupt. We're filming in the same room that Boyz Attack! practiced in, which I believe is coincidentally the same room that I got dressed in for my Sweet Sixteen. However, you couldn't tell it was the same room. For starters, all the lights have been dimmed. And, um, is it just me or did they paint the walls in here? I seem to recall them being violet, not scarlet. There was a very large bed... at least king size. It had white sheets (that, coincidentally weren't tucked in) and fluffy pillows. There was no coverlet. The lighting had been dimmed, and was mostly illuminated by candles. Scented candles. Are there seriously rose petals on the floor? Can you say corny?

I nervously walked in the room, noticing that there was a table next to the bed. It had a few, erm, interesting items on it. Okay... Not interesting so much as gross. What could we possibly need condoms, a vibrator, and that KY Warming Liquid crap for? It wasn't like we were actually doing it. So I marched right over to the director (everyone's eyes bugged out when they saw what I was holding) and demanded an answer. Tommy was asking the dictator whether he had to kiss me or not. Figures. You didn't have any trouble with it this morning, bucko. The director berated him and instructed him to "do what you normally do when you're having sex with a beautiful woman". Ew, the director thinks I'm hot. He wants to bang me too.

Tommy rolled his eyes and made what he thought was a joke. "Does that include taking off all her clothes?" He asked sarcastically, leaning in to whisper some probably obscene thing he could do to me. When the director nodded and clapped his hands excitedly, Tommy turned so white it looked like he was a ghost. I had half a mind to walk over there and smack the living daylights out of that director for saying that Tommy could take off all my clothes, let alone whatever else he okayed that Tom was so freaked about. Not that I minded especially if Tommy did those things. I mean, hello, it's Tommy! It was just the fact that the director thought he had the right to say what Tommy could and couldn't do to me. That wasn't what I had in mind for my video. I then brandished the overtly sexual items and demanded a what's what.

Oh, yeah... You won't believe the answer he gave me. The vibrator, apparently, was for "stimulation". In case, you know, Tommy and I weren't hot enough. Inspiration on my end, that is. Please, I'm in love with the guy and I'm hormonal and undersexed... Plus I almost jumped him this morning. Like I need any help. And the condoms were "just in case". Just in case, my ass. In case what? In case Tommy and I actually have sex? On camera? Please, that's the lamest excuse ever! So I asked him point-blank, "Do you seriously think that Tommy and I are going to have sex on camera?" He's European. He said yes, in fact, he thought it was a love story. Or something equally lame. I've never heard a faker French accent in my life. He sounds like a sleaze bag straight from some perverted horrid farm down in Texas. I think he's been to Neverland, all right?

Ugh. Tommy had to restrain me from punching the loser. Which was easy because Tommy looked fiiine. Georgia, on the other hand, did something fun. She told E.J. to send the guy to jail for something or other. Then she dumped the stuff in his lap and poured the warming liquid over his head. Look who's hot now! Darius is directing now. Great, just peachy. So anyways, Tommy was wearing jeans, a black leather jacket, and a tank-top. His hair was a little messed up, just the way I like it. I was wearing dangerously high stiletto heels, a short, pleated black vinyl skirt (because both directors like it kinky, apparently), a lacy red tank-top, and some inordinately complex system of lingerie. My hair was down and straight. It would get curly later, trust me. My eye make-up was dark and smoky, and my lips were bright red, blood red.

Tommy and I walked unto what I guess was the set, both unbearably nervous. I glanced to Tommy, feeling suddenly apprehensive. I didn't know how to do this. I looked at him, distraught. "Tommy, I don't think I can do this!" I shrieked, moving to run away. It was sure damn hard in these heels. Tommy grabbed my hands. Ooh, I sense a pep talk coming on.

But it wasn't so much a pep talk. Tommy was just as scared as I was, if not more. It was understandable. He was scared he'd lose control... Scared of what his girlfriend was going to do when she saw this... Scared he'd lead me on again. Scared he'd get fired, lose his job, and be shipped off straight to the slammer. "Just follow my lead," He whispered hoarsely into my ear. It didn't perk me up, but at least we were in this together. Then Darius counted to three, and Tommy attacked me. I'm talking bruising lips, hands everywhere, stumbling toward the bed sort of kissing. The kind that knocks every thought out of your head.

And I thought my mind was clouded before. We were halfway to the bed when Tommy (who, oddly enough, knew his script rather well) broke the kiss. I was breathless and dazed. So dazed that I almost kissed him again. He was so close it physically hurt to stay away from him. Tommy had never kissed me quite like this. Never. I don't know what was different. Maybe this was Tommy actually meaning a kiss. Or maybe it was Tommy trying to seduce me. Only he didn't need to try. My lips felt bruised, burnt, and blistered, but I didn't care. I just wanted more Tommy. He was like oxygen then. And I was a drowning woman.

"Are you sure about this?" Tommy gasped, looking me straight in the eyes. He almost had me believing him. I knew I was supposed to say something, but in that second, words failed me. I nodded enthusiastically and pulled Tommy into another passionate kiss. I roughly tore his jacket off. We blindly groped our way over to the bed. Let's just say we're lucky we didn't run into something, especially considering how clumsy I am. Neither of us wanted to do another shot of this. I know it's rare to do a music video in a few shots, but Tommy and I were seriously desperate to finish this _fast_. I kicked off my shoes with a flourish, not caring where they landed. His kiss blistered my lips raw; his touch burned white-hot. Tommy softly broke the kiss and lightly pushed me on the bed. I fell backwards, landing on the bed with a quiet groan.

But Tommy was supposed to make me wait. So I propped myself up on my elbows, giving him an impatient look. Tommy still didn't budge, so I pouted and whimpered helplessly. My hands clenched and unclenched around the sheets bunched up in my hand. Tommy couldn't resist me for long. The smirk fell off his face, and he slowly climbed on to the bed, positioning himself over me. I pulled Tommy down to me, unzipping his jeans with my other hand. Tommy grunted accidentally, surprised by the sudden development. I licked Tommy's lips, plunging my tongue deeper into his mouth. Any more of this and I'm going to have his dental records engrained in my head.

Tommy wrapped an arm around my back, positioning it low enough so that he could unzip my skirt. He did, too, flinging it on the floor, and then Tommy moved on, practically ripping the shirt over my head. I tugged on his jeans, which soon wound up halfway across the room. This time I seized his shirt, pulling it over his head and dropping it haphazardly on the floor. He moved a little away from me, so that he could look down and give me that seductive look. It's just as irresistible as you'd think. Without thinking, I bent up to kiss him again, almost violently rolling him over. Our lips were still attached. I straddled Tommy, and, true to form, threw my head back and laughed. Damn, that felt stupid and so awkward. Tommy pulled me back down urgently. I felt mortified, realizing that everyone had seen me in the skimpy lingerie by now. Great, just great.

But Tommy had his ways of distracting me. Both Tommy and I were moaning about as much as we had in the song. Tommy moaned his lines exactly like he was supposed to. Then he gently turned me over and practically plastered himself against my skin. I always knew he was a mind reader. It was like he didn't want everyone else to see me like this. Which was awfully sweet of him. His lips crashed into mine again, and I lost all sense of time and place. I just opened my eyes, and Tommy had pulled a sheet over us. His skin was as damp with sweat as my own. I pulled the sheet down, exposing his back. I wrapped both arms around Tommy, digging my fingers savagely into his skin as he kissed me painfully harder to compensate for the pain.

I couldn't even hear my song playing in the background anymore. I don't think Tommy did either. We were caught up in a fit of passion that one rarely ever experiences. At least, in my case. I'm sure it's a regular thing for Tom. It was impossible to describe. I'm surprised I'm doing it now, but the story must be told. Tommy pulled back slightly, running his calloused hands all over me and then starting to plant kisses all the way from my collarbone down to my belly button. It felt like heaven. Neither of us were faking a single moan then. Tommy kissed all the way down and back, up to my neck. He sucked on my neck almost vampirically, creating what I was sure would become another hickey.

Then, without even realizing it, I'm sure, Tommy's hands crept up to the elaborate bra I was wearing. It fastened in the back. His fingers swept over the silky fabric so smoothly I barely felt a thing. I didn't even realize it until he'd undone it, and only then because there was a loud, audible snap. He immediately broke the kiss, leaning back hesitantly. I could tell that he was embarrassed for getting caught up in the moment. Georgia actually yelled "CUT", and I think both of her and Darius exploded at Tom, who was still directly on top of me. But I didn't hear any of this. At least, nothing registered. And the cameras all kept rolling, contrary to Georgia's orders. Hey, it would've made for good television.

Apparently Tommy didn't either, but he pulled back even more and looked at me, horrorstruck. I know he wasn't supposed to do that. I didn't exactly want him to. And it definitely was not what he intended to do. But I also knew a thing or two about movies... And I've always been one to push the envelope. What can I say? I just didn't want to have to film this part all over again. Honestly, I don't think either of us could handle that. I just wanted to kiss him again. So I pulled Tommy back down to me, surprising even him.

I looked him firmly in the eyes. "No, Tommy, it's fine. I flashed you last night... It's nothing you haven't seen before," I stated stubbornly, like the whole thing wasn't a big deal. But it was, though. I think Tommy knew that too. I mean, hey, if I'll let a guy I don't even like take off my bra, why can't I let Tommy do the same? Man, that makes me sound like a whore. Maybe the tabloids are right about me. This was different than that. Tommy and I weren't alone and this was all being filmed. But I didn't care. I leaned in and roughly pressed my lips against Tommy's again. "I'll be fine just as long as you keep me covered," I whispered in his ear.

That was all the encouragement Tommy needed. He carefully removed my bra, wrapping his arms around my back to block everything from sight. He just kept kissing me and kissing me and kissing me until I had no air in my lungs. Then he remembered we were supposed to be pretending to have sex... A cold panic ran through me. How am I supposed to know how to do this when I've never slept with anyone? Tommy crashed his hips into mine. Well, I guess that answers my question.

Was I the only one conscious of the fact that the only thing keeping us from actually... you know... were two thin pieces of fabric? Apparently not, because Tommy wasn't as under control as it sounds. I could tell every time he slammed his hips against mine. He stiffened a little every time I moaned. I just kissed him harder. Doesn't he know that it looks bad on camera for him to be that static and stiff? Makes it look like he's not as involved as I am. I moaned and writhed beneath him, clutching the sheets in my fingers. My eyes fluttered open and shut in ecstasy. Tommy had just about lost it. He started driving his hips against mine harder and faster. Which makes it sound like we were actually doing the deed. We weren't, though. We were about two seconds away from going at each other like rabbits, though, I assure you.

One of us was bound to explode sooner or later. Tommy and I are like nitroglycerin. A dangerous, fragile compound. That can be set off by the slightest variation in temperature or vibration. And we kill people. Well, um, sorta. You get the picture. You know, Dad's going to kill me when he sees this. If he's not in prison for Tommy's murder already. I'll just point out that the label (Darius, really) made me do it. Yeah...

Tommy pulled the blanket higher around me as his fingers trailed down my side, finally settling against the skimpy underwear I was wearing. I exhaled sharply as Tommy pulled away to suck in a breath of air. His eyes fluttered closed, and I was hit by a sudden, unwanted reminder. There's that uncanny resemblance acting up again. I gasped, stunned, and Tommy thrust his hips hard into my abdomen again. We moaned louder and in a faster succession as Tommy kept ramming into me rougher and rougher. Was I going to get bruises from this? It sure felt like it. His hand slid under the thin fabric, brushing against my hipbone electrically. I let out one last, loud scream, before slowly ceasing my grunts and whimpers.

Instead, I remained there, skin slick with sweat. My chest heaved as I panted exhaustedly, finally collapsing wearily against the bed. I subtly tugged Tommy's hand out of the waistband of my lingerie. That was just a bit too comfortable for a music video. Tommy flopped down, landing heavily on top of me. The mattress sagged under our weight. I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. And, apparently, so did Tommy, who seemed about as tired as I was. Man, why do I feel like I just had sex? I didn't, but still... Tommy moved a little away from me, lazily pulling the sheet up to cover me more (so he could move further away from me without embarrassing me. The proximity was affecting him a little more than he was willing to admit). He draped his arm around me, burying his head in the crook of my neck. He was still half on top of me.

I turned his arm over so that his wrist was facing upwards, catching the dim light. I ran a finger down his arm, and Tommy jerked his arm. Hmm, is someone ticklish? Or maybe it was the sparks that made him do it. His skin looked strangely vulnerable and almost fragile in the dark. Two things I was sure Tommy wasn't. The industry (Darius) and fame had hardened him. The underside of his arm appeared almost translucent under the weak lighting. In contrast, his veins shone bright blue against the pale skin. My eyes were immediately drawn to the thin white lines on his wrist. I brought his wrist to my lips, kissing it softly as I was supposed to, and then placing it carefully back down.

"Round Two, Kids!" The director people shouted. Seriously, they want us to do this again? Tommy opened his eyes blearily and kissed me drunkenly on the lips. I kissed back sloppily, almost missing his face. Fortunately for the two of us, they called the final cut less than two seconds after that. In fact, they had to tell us to stop kissing because the video was over. Rather disappointing actually. Tommy shot out of that bed like a horse at the racetracks. I held the sheet up to my chest, awkwardly bending down to grab the bra. I sat up slowly, sliding it on and fumbling with the clasp for a while. Tommy threw me my skirt, which I put on awkwardly under the blanket. I picked up the shirt, finally dropping the sheet, and pulled it over my head. Tommy was completely dressed by this point, that is, except for the jacket.

We both reached for my shoes at the same time. Tommy let me have them, but we met eye-contact nonetheless. It was inevitable, as were the sparks I was feeling. It was so awkward. We just nodded at each other in acknowledgement, like we were both guys. "Harrison..." "Quincy..." And then we pretty much turned in separate directions and left. Over my shoulder, I heard him talking to Kwest. "Don't even start, Man!" Tommy reprimanded. Yeah, he better not. Or I'm telling you his dirty little secret.

I sighed heavily, still feeling so dizzy. I rocked on my heels exhaustedly and made my way out of G. Major without saying a single goodbye. I caught a cab to the Music Garden. I didn't have my guitar this time, but I needed to think. I needed to catch up mentally. My brain and body were way out of sync. I exhaled wearily and sat there, ignoring the strange looks I got, for what seemed like years. I thought everything over and came to a few conclusions. My mind was blissfully clear. I left the park, hurrying even more as I saw what time it was. I had a date with Tim in like... thirty minutes. I practically flew home.

I ripped off all the trampy clothes, put in the auburn dye, and changed into some tailored black pants with a cultured-ish sort of shirt and some classy, mature jewelry. My hair was curly and wavy. Then I put on my shades and a beret and scrambled to get to the karaoke bar. I couldn't wait to see Tim!

But my thoughts lingered... everywhere, really, except on the road or the date. In the part, at school, at home. Even as I applied my ruby red lipstick in the mirror, he refused to leave my thoughts. He just lingered there, haunting me and mocking me until I nearly went crazy. Per usual, I had the wrong guy on the brain... make that wrong _guys_. For, you see, I had come to a very startling revelation at that relaxing little park. Or not so relaxing, I suppose... Considering what dirty little secret of my own I'd uncovered.

You see, I'd been thinking. And, long story short, that had lead me to finally figure a few things out. I finally really understood now. And this is what I understood.

I was head over heels for Tommy, yes. And, yeah, I was probably falling for Tim on some weird level. But, and there's really no way of getting around it here... It was a thought that made me more sick to my stomach than I had ever imagined, but it was there. It was there. It was loud. And, most importantly (and annoyingly), it wouldn't go away. So I had no choice but to suck it up and face the music yet again. I might love Tommy Quincy with the fire of a thousand sons. And I might be falling hard for Tim. All that was true, yet... I was in **lust** with Travis Quinn, my Music Teacher. And, consequently, I was also completely screwed.

Loren ;

* * *

Another thing... I find it weird that people are so apt to make Chaz a producer. Because he's not a producer. He's a promoter/person who lines up talent for Music Helps on the show. I mean, in the one ep he was in, he just wanted the band to perform together. Like when Tommy made the new mix, Chaz didn't even notice. He was all "oh, isn't that nice?" and then was all "let's go totally retro, give the fans what they've been missing". So he has no desire in producing. He would be perfectly content with a reunion tour, and that might be about it. I mean, he didn't seem at all dissatisfied with his boyband days.

Here's an excerpt that was originally supposed to be in this chapter. I'll add Jude's name in there so you can tell who's who. The second person was originally supposed to be the director, but, well, you can see why it isn't.

"Can somebody get me a ring?"

"Why do you need a ring, Jude?"

"Well, I'm supposed to be having sex with Tommy, right?"

"Yeah... What's your point, Jude?"

"I'm not that kind of girl!"

"It's not a liaison if you're married! And you're obviously not married, Jude."

"Okay, fine... Engaged then?"

"Tell you what, Jude, we'll think it over. Stick a promise ring or something on that finger, got it?"

"Good enough for me."

Okay, anyways, yeah, I'm done. I'd think of something to say now, but my wits were used up on the writing. Anyways, thanks to everyone who's reviewed! Even anonymous people, because I can't PM-thank-you. I honestly don't know where I'd be without you guys. You all rock!


	29. Violation of Trust

You have Kerilyn for this update. I promised her I'd have it up in the morning, so I got my butt in gear and finished it up. Oh, sorry if the ending sounds rushed. I'm kinda not supposed to be up, you see. Hehe.

Okay... Here's the deal about this chapter. It's undoubtably the longest chapter in the fic. And I'm hoping it might stay that way for longer than two seconds... because I'm hoping that the next chapter will be shorter. Anyways, so I was writing the chapter, and I was like, whoa, damn, I haven't even finished up the talk with Travis and it's still 32 full pages ('cause I start writing these things while I'm writing the chapter and then delete and what not) So I'm so, _so_, **so**, so, **_so_**, _so_, **so**, **_so_** sorry that I wasn't able to include Jude's date with Tim. I'll do it next chapter. I swear. I really mean it this time. Honest! I really didn't mention it in this chapter, but there are a few hints during/before Jude sings. I dunno, let's just say it's like... When you have something that good, you don't want to ruin it by talking about it. Yeah, let's go with that.

Especially as I have little planned for it. I think. I hope, really. The next chapter's going to be called "Minor Liaison", featuring the song you've all been dying to see for a while. Phew. And it's mostly going to be the music video premiere. Yeah, they, um, edited it fast. Anyways, I'm going to try to get it updated soon, but I do want to update my other fic... Here's the thing. I'm going to be gone for a good portion of the month of July. So don't expect many updates during that month. I'll try, though, I really will.

Aside from that, it should be noted that a good portion of the dialogue in this chapter is in French. Now before you go worrying about that, remember that in my story Jude speaks French. So she'll translate most of it. There will be bits and pieces she can't translate, mainly because they're talking fast, and they don't exactly teach you the "colorful" words in school. And while I may be in French, I don't actually know this much French. So I got the insults/swearing (er, most of them, anyways) from under the swearing section, and then the French and Quebeçois sections. I would, however, advise you against going there, because they have some pretty risque personal pictures along the sides. Ugh. Trust me, you don't want to see them. I also used an online translator (but not for anything really huge, just for words and tenses that I don't really know. Not whole phrases unless I was checking) and a French Dictionary. Let me tell you, looking up all those words is NOT fun. But if you really must know exactly what it means, you can use an online translator or that site I mentioned but did not recommend. Ugh. Just know that if you use the translator, the words won't always have the literal meaning... Like baiser, for instance. And brancher, which literally means to connect according to the online translator... but it also can mean to seduce/try to seduce someone. But I actually did do a LOT of this myself, and I'm rather proud of it. Though of course, watch, someone'll tell me I got it all wrong. Which wouldn't really surprise me.

After Jude and Speed talk, she starts thinking about Tommy and whatnot. Anyways, a lot of it is redundant and rather boring, so feel free to skip it. I give you my permission. You won't be missing much of anything.

Aside from that, I feel that now is the time to make a public service announcement. No, really. Since I read this book called "Teach Me" (drove to the bookstore today. One of the most harrowing experiences of my life. Eh, so I thought I'd get it for research). That book scared the hell out of me. It made me feel like I was losing my mind. And I only got halfway through it, and I was cringing but trying to read on. I dunno. The book's brilliant, though. Well, it's pretty good research. Very inspirational. And that's why I have to go on with this public service announcement. I don't care how cute he/she is... Don't hook up with your teacher. It messes with your mind. And it's illegal, but that's not the point. It can have severe psychological repercussions.

That being said, I have also realized that Travis never actually seems to do any teaching. He's either talking/fighting with/to someone, announcing a project, or, uh, doing illegal things. That being said, this chapter in particular is very revealing as towards his character. You see whole new sides of him. I swear, he's got a million different facets. And then he pulled one on me. I swear, the guy runs the full gamut of emotions in this one. Oh, if anyone's wondering about the T-thing... Well, look at the Braxtons: Toni, Towanda, Trina, Traci, and Tamar. ;)

Now, let's see if you can guess when I was listening to Joan Jett, Alanis Morissette (I only put her last name 'cause it rhymes with Jett. Hehe), Shelley Poole, Heavens to Betsy, Le Tigre, The Police, or Alexz. Hehe.

Okay, I don't own IS, Don't Stand So Close to Me, or anything else that seems familiar and thus, obviously does not belong to me. I'd go in more depth, but I'm tired, and I've earned the right to pass out. This chapter's a killer, and I do mean literally. I'm 'bout dead right now and risking getting grounded just to post it. Makes it more dramatic, no? Lol.

Mmmkay, random spoiler offer here... Dude, seriously, I would go crazy if I found a copy of Patsy singing... Anything. And I try and I try, but I can't. It makes me sad. Lol, connect the dots here people. ;)

Anyways, I hope you like the chapter. I worked REALLY HARD on it (37 OpenOffice pages, yeah, baby!).

* * *

You ever get that feeling that you're losing your mind? Well, I get that feeling all the time. Obviously. Especially right now. I'm at the concert, in the crowd. Speed's about two feet away from me. Tommy's here too, somewhere. I think he's avoiding me, though I really can't blame him. I mean, we did practically have sex yesterday. Can you even imagine how awkward that conversation would be? "Oh, hey, Jude... I'm gonna act like we didn't almost have sex yesterday. I'm gonna act like you didn't know exactly how aroused I was." Yep, that'd be going real well. I would probably have a very... interesting reply.

Like I said, Speed's a couple feet away from me. And he keeps looking at me. It wouldn't annoy me if I couldn't feel his eyes burning an accusing hole into my head. Plus, he keeps looking away when I turn to look at him. I just want to grab him and shake some sense into him. Guess what else pisses me off about Speed. Come on, guess!

He's refused to play with S.M.E. His own friggin' band! Now, whether it's because of me or Travis is beyond me, but still... It's stupid. Then again, this is Speed we're talking about, so I should be expecting it. Of all the boneheaded moves... So it's pretty much just going to be Wally and Kyle up there. You know, maybe I'll play guitar for them. If Speed doesn't get his act together. I have to talk to Speed. I have to fix this.

Okay, that's it. This band sucks, and Speed acting this way sucks. I can't do this anymore. I can't ignore it. I set my jaw in a firm line and marched over to Speed, taking him by surprise. I grabbed Speed by the arm, roughly dragging him through the crowd and out the auditorium doors, into the hallway. We needed someplace private to talk in. I glanced around the hall, seeing that it was empty. Good, we can talk.

I threw Speed against the lockers none-too gently. He winced in pain for an instant, and then he pushed himself up against the lockers, glaring at me. "Oh, so you like it rough. I'll keep that in mind. So, tell me, Jude, is that how it was with Travis?" Speed remarked snidely. I fixed him with a murderous look, stepping toward him menacingly. He did _not_ just bring up Travis.

I glanced furtively around the hallway to see if anyone had heard him. Fortunately, no one had. Or, at least, that's what I thought. I resumed glowering at Speed. "I wouldn't know. Tell me, Speed, how was it with _me_? What exactly did you tell the guys about our **wild** night, huh?" I questioned angrily. My eyes narrowed at him as I shoved him in the chest.

Speed literally smirked, the bastard. I swear, I had to resist punching him square in the face. He gazed out into space, smiling dreamily. "I told them that you kissed me everywhere... and that we did it... oh, five times. Or was it ten? Let's see... the bathroom, the shower, the tour bus, your bed, the stage, the dressing room, my bed, the studio..." He elaborated, obviously imagining it. Man, Wally wasn't kidding. He really, really wasn't. Speed's smile widened, and I found that I couldn't hate him anymore. But I was still mad.

"Who else did you tell, Speed? Who else thinks you _rocked_ my world?" I asked bluntly, almost desperately. Wally knows it's not true... And Kyle, well, it isn't really his place to care. But please tell me he didn't tell anyone else... like the whole school. Or Tommy, because that would be terrible to explain. And he already thinks I slept with Shay... And fooled around with Mason. And that I did something with Speed, you know, when my dress was inside out? I can't afford to have him think any worse of me.

Speed shrugged way too casually for my liking. There was this annoyingly flinty look in his eyes. Uh oh, he did something bad. Who'd he tell? Not Tommy. Not Tommy. Not Tommy. Not Tommy. Please, not Tommy. Anyone but Tommy! Not Tommy, not Tommy, notTommy, nottommy, notommy... "I might've let something slip to Travis," He said vaguely. My jaw literally dropped. He told... my... our Music teacher? I...

Well, at least it isn't Tommy. I don't care what Quinn thinks of me. I don't. Really, I don't. I'm... I mean, he couldn't have picked someone better to tell. Travis already thinks the worst of me. Who doesn't, though, nowadays? Even I think the worst of me. I can deal with that. I can. I nodded, forcing myself to remain calm. Damn it, it shouldn't be this hard! "And I might've said a word or two to Tommy a second ago," Speed continued.

Okay, that's it. Now I was actually going to kill him. He told Tommy. He lied to Tommy about me sleeping with him. Then again, can I actually be mad at him for that? Especially since I've done the exact same thing. Only the him in question was Tommy. No, no, I can. I love Tommy, and Speed told him, Tommy, that I nailed him, Speed. But I can get that. Speed loves me, and he did it for the same reasons I lied to Tommy. But normally, when you love someone, you want them to be happy... even if it's not with you. Like I want Tommy to be with my sister. Only... I guess I'm not happy, am I? Maybe Speed thought he was making me happy. That's sweet.

But he wasn't thinking about that! He wanted to one-up Tommy and Travis because he thinks I'm doing the both of them. And Speed's insecure because he doesn't think he'll measure up, because, well, that's some pretty stiff competition. I mean, hello, we're talking about Tommy, who was every teenage girl's dream guy growing up (including mine, you know, I can say that because I was fifteen when I met him). And then there's Quinn, who's the star of the dirty dreams of every hormonal girl at this school. Speed's an ass anyways. Telling the guy that I love that I... Ugh. It's too horrible to even say.

"_Tommy_! You told **Tommy**! You lied to him! How could you do that? _God_, Speed, he's my friggin' **producer**! I have to see him every day. And if you ever want a solo album, you shouldn't be burning bridges with one of the only great producers that might actually **touch** you... as a favor to _me_," I shouted, flinging my hands in the air. Okay, so much for calm. But he told Tommy, damn it! Tommy, of all people! I was starting to hyperventilate. I paced back and forth, suddenly stopping to point at Speed furiously. Without even noticing, I started up again. "I could care less what Quinn thinks of me, okay! He's had it out for me since Day One. But Tommy? Why _Tommy_, of all people? I... I... Augh!" I exclaimed, clutching my head tiredly. It's not like I could tell Speed I was in love with Tommy.

Now I really was hyperventilating and pacing so fast that it was making Speed dizzy. My thoughts were racing at a million miles a minute, and I was on the brink of completely losing it. Speed surprised me by grabbing my shoulders and shaking me so hard I got whiplash. I could only stare at him with wide eyes and a mouth that was gaping open, surprised. "Jude, _breathe_. Tommy thinking we did something isn't the end of the world," Speed said calmly, trying to make me relax. He demonstrated a yoga breathing technique. Oh, no, I'm not falling for your stupid Jedi mind-tricks! You will not make me happy. His stupid lackadaisical attitude only made me even more furious. Not a pretty sight, Speed-o.

I shoved Speed away from me violently, screaming at him, "**Yes**, _Vince_, it _is_! I mean, as if it isn't enough that the whole flippin' **world** thinks I'm a whore... My parents think I'm going to orgies with boybanders. My sister thinks I'm a boyfriend-stealing tramp. Tommy... oh, _he_ thinks I'm becoming a girl version of him as a teenager! And you think I'm _hooking_ up with my music teacher! You know, **Mason** doesn't judge me... Maybe I ought to date _him_ instead!" I screamed hoarsely. Upon contemplation, the idea sounded wonderful.

Speed's jaw dropped, although I'm not exactly sure why. Oh, the dating thing. Man, who's he think I'm dating? What, he didn't know I was dealing with all of this? Oh, come on. That's just plain ignorant. I leaned against the locker, needing desperately to regain my strength. I was going to have to go on soon to make my stand. Ugh. Kill me now. I glanced up and saw Speed in front of me. His eyes were glinting amber in the florescent lighting. "Tell me, Jude, who's better? Tommy or the **cheap** imitation? Or is it Mason? 'Cause I always thought that moody cowboy look he has going was a little too _Brokeback_, if you know what I mean," Speed drawled, smirking cruelly. What, is it Pick-On-Jude-Month? Nah, year! Yeesh, this dude's worse than Jamie!

My eyes narrowed at the implication. I placed my hands firmly on my hips. "Right now I'd say that they're all probably better than you, _Skidmark_. And, you know... Just because Mason's actually a decent guy... That doesn't mean he's gay. Plus, you're the one who slept with Shay, so it's not like you're one to talk!" I snapped back, glowering at him. I jabbed him hard in the chest with my finger. It felt nice to make the little asshole hurt too. Oh, about that story... It happened on tour. Great story, really... I'll tell you sometime.

Speed flushed as red as a tomato. He stuttered, but he couldn't say a word. Good, exactly how I like him best. "Besides, he's a better kisser than you," I remarked snidely, turning up my nose. Ugh, kissing Speed. Right now, the thought disgusted me. Speed disgusted me. Speed's face fell, but I didn't care. He just looked pissed. Yeah, well, so what? God, why do I keep surrounding myself with boy divas? They're all so friggin' moody. And, you know what... Tommy and Travis are the worst. And it's not like they even have excuses. I mean, they're both men, hello. I mean, come on, Tom would be a college grad now if he wasn't in a boyband. Who knows, maybe if he'd dropped out early, Tom might even be _my_ music teacher now. Do you think I still would've fallen in love with him if that had happened?

Look at how you're feeling about Travis, okay, Jude? It's way obvious that you still would. Honestly. Somebody's being a total dip today. Other than Speed, of course... Nah, wait, he's more of an asswipe. Definitely. Speed grabbed my arm, a determined look in his eyes. "I meant what I said last night. I'm quitting the band because you disgust me. I'll leave you to tell the guys that I'm leaving because you're a _slut_ who hits on anything with a dick that can play the guitar," Speed growled, glaring at me with such fury I was afraid I was going to spontaneously combust. I realize I like guys who play the guitar, but that's not fair. I don't deserve it. And, besides, Shay never played the guitar. He's too stupid for that.

I got right in Speed's face, feeling the waves of fury overtake me. He should know better than to piss off a Harrison woman. We're like elephants... we don't forget. Come to think of it, most women are like that. But I'm the most unforgiving. Sadie keeps grudges... And Mom, well, she's frosty when she wants to be. Hey, we got out mouths from her. Not just the actual lips, either... The sharp comments.

"The only dick I see around here is _you_!" I yelled accusingly, advancing upon him menacingly. Speed backed up nervously... until I had him against the gym door. I like having Speed backed in a corner. Ha. Even more proof in the stupidity of blonds and males. Somehow, I don't know... Speed actually had the nerve to snort.

"Oh, **really**? You don't see Travis when you're sucki-" Speed began antagonistically. He was scaring me just a little. I interrupted him before he could finish, not believing that he could say such terrible things about me. He had to have known that I was not going to take that lying down. Or even take it at all. I wasn't that kind of girl. I mean, it's not like I've suddenly gotten a personality transplant or anything. I won't take it. I won't let jerks like him treat me like crap. You know, maybe he shouldn't be my guitarist anyways. Maybe I could find someone who isn't such an ass. At this point, I think I'd rather teach Jamie how to play. And Jamie plays the guitar like a dying cat.

"Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence." Speed opened his mouth, moving to do just that. I slapped Speed hard across the face. Guess who just forgot his plan. Wow, second time in three days. Tuesday, Thursday... Next day oughtta be Saturday. Grrreat. Of course, then I had to launch into a detailed explanation. Why? I didn't owe Speed anything. I didn't need to tell him... or explain. It was none of his damn business what or who I do or do not do. He's not my boyfriend. He's not even my friend at this point. "No, _Vin_, I don't. Because I **didn't** have sex with him. There, you happy? I didn't do it with the guy. I have _taste_, Vin. I have _class_, Vin. Two things that you obviously know nothing about. Hell, you barely even **shower** half the time. You're tackier than white-trash! So, _no_, Vin... For the record, I did **not** have sexual relations with that man!" I confessed loudly, enraged. I was two steps away from throttling Speed. Hard, with my fingers digging into his neck so he bleeds too. Oh, yeah, choking the life out of Speed sounds great right now. Grreat.

Speed rolled his eyes, once again scoffing at me. What is it now? What does he want from me? I denied sleeping with Quinn THREE times. Three damn times. I think it's pretty clear that I didn't sleep with the asshole. I might want him... Ugh, wait... No, I don't. I lust after him. That's different. Very different. You see, wanting involves wanting to be with the person. Lusting is just hormones gone terribly awry, even though he is almost freakishly attractive. No, no, no... No, he's not. Tommy is. Of course Travis and Tommy are practically friggin' clones, but still... "You know, Bill Clinton said a very similar thing. And everyone knows he nailed Monica," Speed retorted flippantly, fixing me with a look. Oh, so he thinks I did the dirty deed with the dirty old man? Thanks for the vote of confidence, Speed!

I crossed my arms over my chest coolly. "And who does that make you, Speed? Linda Tripp? Come to think of it, I guess you could use that nose job," I rejoined icily. Hey, if anyone was going to tell on Quinn, it was going to be me. Or Joan. Maybe Joan, just because she's new and more credible and all. But then again, she actually likes the guy. Well, damn. Speed scowled, putting a hand over his nose and slowly patting it down. Yeesh, the boy is insecure. His nose is fine. It took Speed forever, but he thought up a dumb comeback.

"And you could use a boob job," Speed pointed out bluntly, staring straight at my chest. Pig! Hey, my chest is of decent size! Bigger than decent. Good. Awesome. Killer. He did not just say that. Man, and he loves me? Or even likes me? I mean, he does actually want to be with me, right? Maybe Wally was wrong. Yeah, that has to be it. I mean, I knew Speed even liking me was crazy, much less loving me. I swear, I'm gonna smack him next time he says something absolutely idiotic like that. I glared threateningly at Speed. He was so in for it.

I narrowed my eyes at Speed. It was time to play hardball. I knew exactly what to use against him. My body. Hehe, he'll never know what hit him. "You know, _Vincent_... I'm not stupid," I began, taking on a rather adult tone. Oh, yes, I had a plan. And so what if Speed snorted when I said I wasn't stupid. In like... two seconds... I'll have him eating out of the palm of my hand. I continued undeterred, batting my eyelashes a few times. "I see the way you look at me," I murmured, licking my upper lip seductively. I saw Speed bite down hard on his bottom lip. He swallowed hard. Oh, yeah, I was affecting him, all right. "I _know_ how you feel about me," I whispered, leaning in so my breath brushed against his lips.

Speed's eyes widened, obviously taken by surprise. Good. He fell back heavily against the door. If I hadn't grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him away, he'd be flat on his ass on that floor. Maybe even trampled. The boy so owes me. I pulled Speed closer to me, and he didn't do anything. He just let himself be reeled in like the fish that he is. I laughed slightly, leaning forward accidentally. My arm brushed against his arm... accidentally, of course. Speed was shocked by the sensation. So, looking down, I placed my hand on his chest. I slid my fingertips over to where his heart was. It was beating so fast... almost erratically. "And let's just say that I _also_..." I said, trailing off. Honestly, I had no idea what to say.

So I just looked up at Speed with wise, little-girl-lost eyes. Speed leaned in to kiss me, but I moved back at the last second. "Go back to the band, Vincent," I hissed, giving Speed a look. Speed frowned, confused. He hadn't exactly heard me. So I told him what I'd said, and, naturally, he refused flat out. Oh, trust me, I'll talk him into it. Oh, yes, I will. My hand slipped down his chest, lower and lower. I heard Speed's sharp intakes of breath. I saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed and then swallowed again... trying to maintain control over the situation. Baby, fat chance.

I was most assuredly in control here. That hand trailed down his side, resting on his hip. I placed my other hand on his other hip, then let a slow, seductive smile spread across my face. I pushed my hands backwards, so that they entwined behind his back. I moved closer and closer to Speed, loosely draping my arms around his back as I got closer. Pretty soon, I was fully pressed up against Speed. There was barely an inch to spare. Perfect. Just... perfect.

I "accidentally" let one of my hands fall down a little and graze his butt. Then I pressed that hand against the small of his back while I used the other one to grab his ass and squeeze. Speed's eyes widened and he just stared at me, slack-jawed. Ooh, almost there. I leaned my weight on Speed a little, almost collapsing on him. And then, for the pièce de resistance, I let out a little moan, like I was trying to stifle it or something.

Speed groaned, and I knew I just about had him right where I wanted. "Oh, _Vincent_..." I muttered, exhaling heavily against him so that he could feel my chest heave. Purr-fect. He's all mine now. I can make him do anything I want. I leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Play with your band, Vincent. Play for _me_." My breath brushed against his neck. Speed nodded, dazed, and I pulled the door open, gently pushing him inside. I sighed, leaning heavily against the wall. Ugh, that felt so... wrong.

But I had to do it. I just had to, for the sake of the band. However, I was startled a few minutes later when the door opened and a very, very angry Speed emerged. Damn, he _was_ all hot and bothered. He glared daggers at me, grabbing my wrist hard and pulling me to him. "I can't believe you, Jude... You knew how I felt, and you used it against me. You got me all worked up and then you left me high and dry!" He growled frustratedly, jerking me towards him, even closer this time. I gulped. Uh oh... This wasn't going to be pretty. "I meant it, Jude. I'm quitting the band," Speed reinforced quietly. I could tell he was being serious. That was the sad part.

I knew I couldn't let this happen. I couldn't be the Yoko to my own band. I had... I had to fix this. And fast. I glanced around fleetingly, hoping for an answer in the hallway. Suddenly, almost out of the blue, it occurred to me, but it would be a huge sacrifice on my part. Then again, if what I did managed to save the band, then it's all worth it. Speed was just about ready to leave, so I had to make a decision... and fast!

He was leaving! Okay, okay, okay! I'll do it! I'll take one for the team! "Hey, Speed... Would you like to go out with me sometime?" I blurted out, immediately regretting it. I almost clapped a hand right over my mouth. Holy crap! Had I just asked Speed out? Apparently I had, especially judging by the look on his face. But I did what had to be done... for the good of the band. And, hey, Speed wasn't ugly or anything. Who knows? Maybe it could actually turn out okay.

Speed nodded, even more dazed than before before verbally expressing his enthusiasm with an emphatic "Sure!" I sighed in relief and smiled at Speed. Now just to get him onstage to perform with the guys. I'm sure this will fix it all. I pushed him through the door, forcing a smile, almost encouraging him to go onstage. Speed just can't make anything easy for me. "No, wait... Come on, Jude, seal it with a kiss," Speed asked with a shrewd look in his eye. Well, fine! I'll do it!

I grabbed Speed forcefully by the collar, pulling him into an intense kiss. The kiss was slow and just wet enough. Mm, not bad. But Mason really is better. However, Speed can hold his breath longer... even longer than me. And I can hold my breath for three minutes. If I try, four minutes and thirty seconds. Who knows what I could actually do if I trained myself? I might even hit ten minutes. Whoa, where did Speed learn how to do that thing with his tongue? That's new.

When I couldn't breathe anymore, I broke the kiss, gasping for air. Yes, that was a bit embarrassing. Speed grinned radiantly at me. I... I made him that happy? I can't believe that! I made him happy... Wow. Maybe, maybe going out with Speed isn't such a good idea. I mean, really, he's a good guy. And I make him happy. He's cute... He's funny. Sure, he's not serious. And he thinks fart jokes are funny... but... This could be a good thing. Or it could be a trainwreck. Semantics.

Speed frowned at me, pouting a little. Please tell me he's not trying to emulate Tommy. "Where'd you learn how to do that?" He questioned curiously, obviously meaning the little seduction trick I pulled back there. Well, I'm a woman, so it's inbred in me. Ugh, not inbred... or in me. Those both sound squicky. In the genes. Genes with a G. Not a J-E-A-N-S. That's dirty. And look at who I live with.

"They don't call my sister _Sexy_ Sadie for nothing," I said cheekily. Speed rolled his eyes at me. Well, it's partially true. She's got this freakish control over men of all ages and sexes. Okay, okay, okay, fine... I'll tell him, but he's not gonna like it. He'll hate it, in fact. "Besides, how do you think Tommy gets his way all the time?" I remarked sarcastically. I did say gets, right? Not has his way... as in with people... like me. Yeah, that was totally not confusing.

Speed's eyebrows rose exponentially. Great, now he thinks there's something goin' on with me and Tom-Tom. Gr-reat. Okay, he's heard enough. I smiled at him goodnaturedly, then I winked at him and shoved him through the door. Hey, someone's got to go take the stage. I know the set list. SME's up next. He'd better get a move on, or Kyle and Wally will never forgive his sorry, sorry ass. Augh. Phew.

I stayed out there in the hallway for a while after that. Don't get me wrong, I love the guys. I mean, I had a crush on Speed back when I was too stupid to know better. He was still in his "girls-have-cooties" stage, so I don't even think he noticed. Whatever. I was sort of embarrassed that I liked him. After all, Kat and I made fun of him in kindergarten. Let's just say he had a little paste addiction. Mm, Wally. You know, we went out in seventh grade. He was a good boyfriend, if I remember correctly. I mean, he didn't take me on bad dates, like that one disasterous date I thought I had with Speed. You see, I wanted to see if I was over Speed, so I arranged what I thought was a date. Psh. Can you believe that I actually thought he was a little more mature?

Well, turns out it wasn't really a date at all. It was tackle football. I was on his team. And that's how I hooked up with Wally. I was flirting with Wally like a fiend. Man, was he distracted. Speed was all muddy, since it had sort of snowed, only it was melting... So we were all pretty wet and gross. I remember when we won... And I mean that we totally annihilated them, since I had very effectively distracted Wally. Kyle and Speed were pretty much immune to my limited feminine charms. Anyways, so Speed tackles me. Not a little tackle. I mean that he went at me like he was a friggin' quarterback. Then we sort of wound up mudwrestling, and then... Then we weren't so much tackling. He was more hugging me. And then, out of nowhere, Speed plants a big wet one on me.

But I digress... Let's see, I was talking about dating Wally. Wally always knew the right thing to say. He remembered my birthday, our anniversary, and Valentine's Day. He always waited for me to get ready. My parents absolutely loved him too... though, really, who doesn't like Wally? We went out for a while... Come to think of it, I don't really remember why we broke up. He wasn't jealous of any other guy or anything... I mean, I'm no Halle Berry.

No, wait, I do remember. Speed had just found out about me and Wally. He threw this big stinking fit about it... Because I guess he didn't like me or something. Who really knows, though? It was so long ago. We started dating towards the end of the year... It was actually a little after Christmas, January, I think. I remember, because it was after my birthday. That's the thing that sucks about having a birthday in December. We always get out on like... the 20th. And my birthday was before that, so I always got stuck going to school on my birthday.

Jamie's birthday's in August, the old timer. Kat's birthday is in October... Would you believe it's Halloween? Hence the name. Her mother looked at her (Mama Benton was a little tripped out on Demerol, you see...) and she looked at Kat. She thought "black", which is pretty stupid, since Kat's mom has the exact same skin-tone. Like I said, her mom was out of it. So she thought... Black Cat. Like the fireworks and the superstition. Except she spelled cat wrong, and added an -erina, because she was watching figure-skating. Don't ask. Not that I'm one to talk. I mean, I'm named after a Beatles song because my mom was passed out when I was born and let Dad name me like a moron.

So, right, Wally and I broke up in, erm... May. Man, that's depressing. I think I dated Wally longer than Shay. AND Wally was a better boyfriend. Actually, the Wally thing sort of surprised me because I didn't know him all too well. I had previously been going through a dry spell you wouldn't believe. Ugh. It was dreadful. You see, it wasn't Speed that had me all broken up. It was this older guy. He was, um... A ninth grader, I think. He was popular too. I knew him because he was friends with Sadie. Well, he knew Sadie. I guess. Okay, what am I saying? He dated Sadie. He was like, her first bo... No, wait. He wasn't her first boyfriend. Her first boyfriend was Little-Timmy-Across-the-Street when she was four. Ugh. To this day I can't say his name. My first experience with love, and I got a broken heart out of it.

Well, okay, so I had a crush on Jamie first... But that was the first time I ever did anything about a crush. And it turned out so badly. He said I was too young for him, not his type. Then the asshole goes around and dates my sister! Does that sound familiar? Yeah, let's just say Tommy's not the first guy that I've lost to Sadie. Yeesh, I'm like Tommy's older brother in this situation... Only my older sister's the one who steals the guys I like. What can I say? Carmen Electra I am not. Actually, I ought to give the guy a bit more credit. No, wait, Sadie deserves more credit. He asked her out less than a week after the whole fiasco. And Sadie didn't even know about that. She just knew that I liked him. Impressively, she said no for a whole two and one-half months. She was a better sister back then. Really, she was.

But I guess Tommy's always been her dream guy. And I'm just in love with him. Well, maybe it'd be different if she actually knew that I loved him. But she loves him too. Aw, damnit. Now who's in the right? Hey, I am! I know Tommy the Person, not Tommy the Idol. Sadie's always idolized him... Which puts all of her feelings for him in question automatically. God, why doesn't Tommy see that she's just an overgrown Boyz Attacker? He deserves more than that... some sort of hollow love. He needs someone who loves him for who he really is... like me. Like, okay... I know a lot about Tommy.

Let's see... His favorite color's blue because "it's the color of your eyes, girl". Always a charmer, that one. And, er, he drives an electric blue Viper with white racing stripes. Not to mention the two Hummers... The white one and the other one. I can see why he got rid of the other one. I mean, Sadie did throw up in it. Oh, and the Cobra. And the motorcycle. What? Sometimes he drives different cars to work. Oh, and the plate on his Viper... The front one... stands for "You only love once." I can't remember how the letters go, because I suck at the little shortenings... "uluvonc". Is that it? It seems to have too many U's. Or did it have an e on the end? Oh well. It's the last thing his grand-mère Juliette ever said to him. I can't remember why she said it, but he said she was a very passionate woman. Yeah, and this is Tory's mother, okay? I don't much see it either.

He said she died of a broken heart two months after her husband died. She loved him that much. It's just amazing, you know? To love somebody that much. I mean, I don't even know if I... Tommy's grand-mère seems like an interesting character to me. Juliette met her husband while she was still married to Tommy's grandfather Laurent (who refuses to speak French because it reminds him of that whole mess, despite the fact that he lives in Montreal). Now you'd think that was bad enough, right? Well, the guy happened to be her first cousin, Silvain, who was only a few weeks away from taking his vows and entering the priesthood.

She tried to fight it, she really did. She didn't sleep with Silvain or anything, which is very respectable. In fact, she had another kid with Laurent... Tommy's aunt. But, eventually, she could stand it no longer, so she ran off with Silvain, who left the monastery. Juliette took the kids too. Laurent didn't approve of that, though. If you can't tell, he's of the strict and boring variety. Hence why Juliette ran off with her cousin, who had a sense of humor. So Laurent filed for a divorce, which caused a bit of a scandal, but she had run off with her cousin... so it was more okay than it would've been.

He sued her for custody and won because "incest was an abomination". So he raised Tommy's aunt, mother, and two uncles (Thiery and Etienne). Or whatever. Juliette got visitation rights, though. She and Silvain had five more kids: Jean-Baptiste, Jean-Pierre, Jeanne-Marie, Melisande, and Chantal. Five! So Tommy's mother was one of... 9? If you count the five half-siblings. Some of them had to be pretty young, though. Well, actually, Jean-Baptiste, Jean-Pierre, and Jeanne-Marie were triplets. Maybe Tommy's mom's so messed up because her messed-up dad raised her. Yeah, that's probably it.

I think she was trying to give him advice, trying to tell him to settle down. She died right after Tommy's marriage to Portia broke up. Or was it to sacrifice everything to live and love? I think she was talking about that crazy sort of love that makes you act like an idiot and take enormous risks. Something like that. She loved music... Juliette's own grand-mère, Satin, was a can-can dancer straight from the streets of Paris. Obviously, with a name like Satin, how could you not be a can-can dancer?

And his back license plate said "souvien". That stands for the motto of Quebec: "Je me souviens." Tommy didn't tell me that one. I put two and two together after reading my French book. It means "I remember". I think it had a deeper signifigance with Tommy, probably involving his grand-mère. In case you're wondering, Tommy told me that story one day when we were driving really far away, for some reason. Just me and him. That was a nice day. Oh, I remember. That was the day he pulled me out of school and got us two days off from the studio and surprised me by driving to Montreal. Shh, Mom thinks I was with Dad. Dad thinks I was with Mom. Kat thinks I was at Jamie's. And Jamie thinks that I just ran off and played hooky for two days. Well, okay, that's sort of right.

That was towards the end of my first album. Kat hated me then, so she assumed I was shacking up with Jamie, who was stewing in his own juices in his room, watching Sleepless in Seattle and sobbing into his Chunky Monkey ice cream. And Jamie just figured that I'd run away because I couldn't deal with everything. Plus, he was too depressed to think. Mom and Dad were separated and not talking to each other... So that was pretty much the perfect deal. Sadie was hanging out at friends' houses, so she didn't even notice. I'm a master at miscommunication. It was before Music Helps, but after my mall concert and Jamie/Kat's break-up. I still felt sort of guilty about that. I'm sorry for being so needy, Jamie. Yeah, that was the day after Kat had told me to go to Hell. I think. Kat told me to go to Hell a lot those days.

Tommy sort of wised up and realized I needed a break to breathe. Plus, Tommy wanted to smooth over everything and make it so that we were on proper speaking terms once more. It was a lovely four-day weekend. We stayed in Tommy's house in Montreal. Damn, that was one big house. I swear, the family must possess a real estate empire or something. It was this giant house that he apparently grew up in, in the middle of the city. The place was an old castle. I swear. And I think I stumbled into a secret passage that one time I wound up covered in dust and cobwebs. Ugh. I showered three times and still couldn't get it all off. Yuck. My room was really nice and comfy though.

I'm not sure where Tom's room was, but I think it was in a whole different wing than mine. Just so he didn't get up and do something stupid in the middle of the night. Of course, he knew his way around the house, so I doubted that would stop him, but whatever. There was that one night that we were in his room (I couldn't show you where it was in that castle even if you gave me a map), watching TV, and we fell asleep there. That was sort of kind of really nice. Best sleep I've had in a very long time. Tommy cooked too. He made me anything I wanted, which was really just a omelet or soup most of the time. But he insisted on making strangely good family dishes... like a whole fish platter. And he made crêpes for breakfast that one day. Mm, just like Mom made them. He made crêpes for dinner once too. But the stuff for dinner is much different than breakfast. It's all nice and warm, and the eggs are still runny and hot. Oh, and then there were the pastries. I swear, he made a new one like every ten minutes. Well, I was taking a lot of naps. He'd always have some new pastry when I woke up.

It was really an excellent way to suck up. I have to give him credit because I can't possibly think of a better way. Those really were an excellent four days. That's when I found out that Tommy doesn't wear clothes to bed. An excellent revelation, I tell you. Ah, I remember that night very vividly. There had been a thunderstorm, so I was scared, and I'd had a nightmare and woke up in unfamiliar surroundings. Not that I'm not used to waking up in weird places. Like the studio, the couch, the jail, Tommy's bed... You see now why I didn't flip out then? But I was scared now.

So I was terrified, and I set out to find Tommy. Oddly enough, we were the only two people in that entire house. I wandered around that castle for hours in the dark. It was like something right out of Scooby Doo, only no one was chasing me... I was running towards something. Well, not running. Tom's house has stone floors. Running's just an invitation to wipe out or kill yourself in that house. Come to think of it, it's not really a good house for young children. Maybe that explains a thing or two about his childhood. It sure seems like a place Victoria would set up house in. Plus it's like her family's ancestral home or something. There was so much metal hanging on the walls that I was scared I'd scrape myself on something and wind up getting lockjaw. Not to mention all the valuable things made of glass or equally breakable things in my way.

Somehow, I didn't crash into anything, and, in fact, wound up right at Tommy's door. I knocked on it sort of quietly because I was shaking like a leaf. I waited for what seemed like forever, but Tommy finally came to the door. A sheet was wrapped across, well, everything below waist-level, so I didn't get to see any of the fun parts. Still, it was a very nice view of his chest I had there. I saw him shirtless for the first time on that trip. Not just because I barged in on him in the middle of the night. They've actually got an indoor swimming pool in the house.

Anyways, Tommy was sort of flustered and kind of embarrassed at being caught off guard, but I told him what happened. He was really sweet about it too, considering that I'd woken him up in the middle of the night. He hugged me with one arm and kissed me on the forehead. I think I just about melted in his arms. But then he had to go into his stupid closet and leave me. He didn't have to get dressed. At least, he shouldn't have. But he came out wearing a little pair of boxers that were well, about as short as that shirt I wore yesterday... which made it sort of worth it. My throat went dry, and I think I just about passed out on the spot. Of course, Tommy sort of snapped at me to get in the bed then, so I did. I think I made some flip comment about Tommy acting all dominatrix-y or something, so he glared at me. But I mean, come on... If somebody like Tommy tells you to get your ass in the bed, what are you supposed to think?

He wasn't there when I woke up. Typical guy. He wakes up and doesn't want to stay around for the awkward moment that's soon to ensue. Naturally. Boys. In fact, Tommy displayed remarkable control and niceness that whole weekend. So out of character, but hey, we were cool again. He showed me all the sights. Man, I love Montreal... probably because I love Tommy. I mean, let's see, shall we? He's from Montreal, evidence A. He took me to Montreal for four days and showed me around, evidence B. I kissed him onstage in front of millions of people in Montreal, evidence C. We made out in my dressing room in Montreal, evidence D. I punched Shay's lights out in Montreal, evidence F. Great town, really.

Let's see what else I know about him. Wow. I really do know more than I thought. I've been to his apartment, a feat even his girlfriend has yet to accomplish. He lives in the rich part of the city, pretty close to the studio, I guess. He owns the whole building, but he lives in the penthouse. He has the biggest music collection I've ever seen. And I know he's from Montreal because I've been to his childhood home. He has two brothers, one older and one younger. Both of their names start with T (I think), and the younger one's my age and named Taylor. He hates his older brother and will deny having one. It's a touchy subject for him. He's been married once to Portia, his ex-manager's little sister, but it only lasted a month. Oh, and he got married on tour, so she dumped him because she couldn't take it.

Tommy also slept with both of his ex-wife's sisters... Cambria and Regina, my ex-boyfriend's mother. He broke up Regina's marriage. That's so gross when I think about it. I mean, he screwed Shay's mom, and Shay wants to screw me. Yuck. It's like some weird, incestuous chain. Of something. Blech. Hmm, Tommy met Kwest when he was, er, sixteen? Or was it fifteen? The band was just starting to get big, so he was a bit of a jerk. Kwest was an engineer, even then, and so they sort of hit it off... Or whatever. Kwest is probably his best friend, followed by Chaz and the guys, since they made up...

Now I'm just going to go for the really obvious stuff. He's dating my sister... Ugh, don't remind me. He's a producer for G. Major Studios, but he's only here out of a favor to Georgia, a family friend... so he's, ugh, freelance. He used to be in a rather famous boyband, Boyz Attack!. Tommy was the youngest, hence the lame-o nickname. His brother was originally the frontman, but he quit because there was no "musical integrity". Then Chaz was the frontman, but Tommy was cuter so then he became the frontman. Obviously, the band fell apart when he was eighteen because they all hated him. Darius used to be his manager. He made him do taco commercials and witheld Tommy's long-lost demo, "Frozen". Pah. Weak song, my ass.

He has blue eyes that change depending on his mood. He also has brown hair that always has like... ten bottles of gel in it or something. It takes him longer to do his hair than it takes for me to get ready in total. Sad, huh? When he's really nervous, he runs his hands through his hair, and it stands on end... Like when I did Under the Mike. That's how you can tell he's not really in a good place. Tommy's gotta be the biggest perfectionist on the planet. It's true about everything too... He's a neat freak and always has to have everything properly in order. He makes you spend hours recording... singing over and over until your throat's so raw that you can't even really talk for a day. Unless I get it right the first time, which is pretty rare. Then he spends a really long time editing it... Usually about a week. Unless he gets stumped. Or if both of us know what we want to do with the song (I think half of the two weeks is us arguing or Tommy asking Kwest for input). When a song stumps him, he sort of pretends to give up, but you can tell it's driving him crazy, so he listens to it on repeat over and over and over again. He'll play the chords over and over again on guitar and piano. He'll fiddle with the switches and turn the volume up or on or off or down. Then he sings it to try and experiment, to see how it sounds on his tongue. You know, stuff like that. It's sort of endearing, really.

Take "Your Eyes", for instance. That song really had him bamboozled. It was practically a month-long project. But I don't quite remember. I was in my Shay phase then. Something about the background was bothering him, I think. Sounded fine to me. But, really, who knows with him? He gets paid to be nit-picky and neurotic, and hits are produced. He's no stranger to overtime. In fact, I think it's his middle name. I really can't count all the times Kwest and I have been stuck in here recording in the middle of the night. And somehow, I think I'm the only artist he ever does that to... weird, eh? Hmm... He cringes every time he hears "Time to Be Your 21". He thinks I don't notice, but I do. It's not that he hates it... It's just, well, the memories. I guess I can't blame him for that.

He hates everything he wrote for Boyz Attack! Pretty much. He's really a much better songwriter than people give him credit for. I mean, I envy him. Sure, I might be able to churn out like... ten songs a day (hey, that was a good day!), but most of them suck. Tommy can write about anything... in any style. Obviously, there's the pop... Pop/rock for me. I hate that classification, by the way. I'd rather be punk. Ugh. You know, I'm not pop/rock. Soft rock/rock. There, that's better. He can also write hard rock and indie rock... And he actually wrote some stuff for Shay, so he does rap too. But Tommy really doesn't like that last part getting around. It's embarrassing to him. Co-writing's in the job description, so most people just think he does that. It's not true, though... I've seen him writing songs in this little black book. Er, at least I hope they were songs, not girls' numbers...

He does it when I walk out of the room to get a drink. Or when Kwest is making a sandwich. You know, break times... Or when I'm supposed to be doing my homework. Really, watching Tommy is a lot more fun, though. Sometimes he just starts writing stuff down when I'm singing, which is pretty rude sometimes. I think he gets a new notebook every week or month or something, because he sometimes has different colored ones. He thinks I'm stupid... That I don't notice. Then again, maybe Tommy's journalling or something ridiculous like that. Nah. He's not the type. That would mean admitting his feelings in a forum where anyone could see them. I wonder what he's writing about...

And when things get bad, Tommy throws back drinks like you wouldn't believe. He also smokes as a coping mechanism. As I said before, he loooves red licorice, especially the raspberry kind that has to be imported. He's really big on red fruit. His favorite meat is steak, and he likes it so rare it's still twitching (his words, not mine). I know because I asked one time when I was sort of loopy because I'd just had some Pixy Sticks I'd found in my backpack that were pretty freakin' old and it was the middle of the night. Tommy gave me this look like "Girl, you are crazy". Actually, come to think of that, he also said that. He loves Italian food, and he cooks, mostly French stuff... Ooh, like that great wedding cake of his! I would die for that cake. He speaks French, Italian, and English fluently... Maybe Spanish too, but I don't remember. I've never heard him speak it, though. I suppose all romance languages are similar, so he could at least understand, I guess.

I've met his mother, yep, because she's my lawyer. Like Tommy, she has the tendency to slack off, well, when it comes to me, anyways... Has Sadie met Victoria? I don't think she has. I'm sure she would've mentioned it because the woman's pretty crazy. He also likes girls named after Beatles songs... Sadie, Lucy, Michelle (the crazy chick who tried to marry him, remember?), and, er... Jude? Ooh, and he's a model chaser. You know the type. He's dated like a gazillion famous people too. Oh, and he absolutely loathes Justin Timberlake.

He collects cars, which he loves... especially the Viper. He refuses to let anyone drive, well, except that one time he took me out for a driving lesson. He yelled at me about as much as my dad does, except my dad's, um, quieter. Tommy's loud and very possessive of his precious car. He loves that car more than any girl. He looks really hot, though, when he's all riled up. That's why I was such a bad driver that time, you know... I kept looking at Tommy, but I don't really think he noticed. He loves horses too because of that farm his grandpa had. Somehow I don't think that was Grandpa Laurent... Who'd want to go to his house?

His middle name's Jean-Jacques (yeah, like Rousseau)... He plays the guitar, bass, and piano. Plus he sings. Girls love that sort of thing. Oh, and he's a really good dancer. His birthday's in November, and he'll be 23. Oh, and when Tommy was younger, he was a model. Obviously, because he's ridiculously gorgeous. I didn't see any pictures of him as a kid, but I'm pretty certain that he was like, the most precious thing ever. He was sort of a child actor too. You know, he did some commercials... made a lot of money doing it too. I think he had a few parts in some TV shows, maybe a movie or two. No, Montreal's for movies. Okay. And then he was in some community musicals or whatever... I guess that sort of stuck with him.

But let's get down to the important stuff... How he feels. He cares about Sadie. I know that for sure. Straight from the lips of the man himself. And, er, I still don't think I know how he feels about me. I mean, he's my friend and my wingman, so I know he cares. He has to. He just... can't. He doesn't really act like it sometimes. He wrote that he loved my rawness, edginess, and intensity. Well, I do hurl myself into things without looking where I'm going.

Chaz thinks Tommy's in love with me. Having been in Tommy's situation, he would probably know. I mean, nobody knows Tommy better than Chaz. Except maybe Kwest. Or his family, but they don't seem so close. And Sadie's obviously worried about me. But that really has little to do with Tommy. She knows that I like him, and, well, she's got something to worry about. Not to mention those songs he's written... "Girl, I'm in Love with You". The title says it all on that one. Not to mention "Walking Contradiction", which was about me. Tommy had admitted that to my face.

And then there's that speech he gave old Auntie Paulina. Except I have to wonder if Tommy meant a word of it. He said I was beautiful, but he's said that before... So I guess that one's true. Tommy thinks I'm beautiful. That's always good to know... And sort of flattering. Okay, so it makes me feel all warm and heart-melty inside, but I love him, and I'm just sixTEEN-years-young (more fitting for this situation, don't you think?), and I'm hormonal and stupid and completely, totally, deeply, utterly, head-over-heels crazy-mad-in-love with him! What do you expect! Then again, he also called me smart, amazing, and mature.

We can immediately negate those because none of them are true. I mean, look at my math and science grades if you don't believe me! Well, I guess he did call me amazing once, so he thinks that. And I guess he wouldn't have a problem with me if I wasn't a little mature for my age. You know, because I'm his mental age and we're probably at the same maturity level. He never really did get to grow up, you know...

My songs _move_ him. That means so much. I don't know how, but I know that's true. I just do, and that means so much to me! My songs are sorta supposed to move him... into having feelings for me, since they're all about him. He said I brighten up the studio and sort of implied that I make him happy. Ha, I wish. I just make the studio a lot less boring and lonely. That's all the truth in that statement. I mean, sure, we have our moments... I guess... But so does everyone. He said he'd fallen for me himself, but I don't buy it. He wouldn't admit in front of his girlfriend's sister if he meant it.

When have I ever picked Tommy up off the ground? I don't ever think I've helped him like he's helped me, you know? I couldn't ever do that. Tommy's done too much, really. Sure, I can push his buttons, but that doesn't take much. I mean, Sadie does that to everyone without trying. And Chaz pushes his buttons too, so it's not like it's an exclusive-to-Jude thing. Girl of his dreams? Now that's just a joke. He's the guy of my dreams, though... I want it to be true, but I know it's not. And spending the rest of his life with someone? Now that's just insane. Tommy could never stay with one woman. Not even Sadie. I mean, he's sorta cheating on her every time he kisses me. Okay, there's no sorta about it. He is cheating on her. With me, her own sister! Man, I suck. So what's to say he wouldn't do the same thing to me, assuming that Tom ever lost his mind... and we hooked up. Which we're not, of course. That's just ridiculous, and he doesn't like me.

Period.

But, still...

It sounded so real. I wanted to believe it. I wanted to believe in him, really, I did. But I just couldn't. I knew that he was lying. You know what they say... If something seems too good to be true, it usually is. That was true in this case. That explains it all. Tommy was just saying it to make his aunt back off and get off of my case. Nothing more, nothing less. Almost sincere, almost genuine, almost bona fide... Almost the real thing. Almost, but not quite. I hate almosts... They break your heart. They really do. Because a thousand almosts will never add up to anything concrete. They just leave you with other heartbreaking words like... Close. Maybe. Perhaps. Possibly. Could be. Virtually. Nearly.

A bunch of empty words that will never make it whole. A million of those words won't consummate anything. Really. Truly. Completely. Fully. They can't accomplish anything. They're not fulfilling. It's coming just short of the real thing and stopping cold in your tracks... Not doing anything. Never executing it, that last move. Never taking the final step. It's going almost all the way and then never really carrying it out. Nothing is achieved. Something is ventured, but nothing is gained.

It's like Tommy and me. Tommy's a chicken. Or maybe I'm the chicken for always taking no for an answer. Who can really say? But I've tried... I've pushed it all I could. And nothing... Just emptiness, not the fulfillment I'm craving. I can't get any satisfaction... Only more frustration and aggravation and exasperation. Oh, and don't forget the desperation. _That's_ the worst of it.

But Tom's such a great actor, don't you think? He almost had me believing him. But it was just too unrealistic, too out-of-character, too incredulous... To even think about and analyze like I'm doing right now. It's a simple comment, a pack of mushy compliments that are all flagrant lies. Anyone can see that. And yet, there's still a part of me that believes in it, thinking it's true. A tiny fragment of me that's too idealistic for her own good and believes that if you want something, it'll become true. And no matter how much I want to or need to, I just can't kill that part off. Hope springs eternal.

It's a dangerous thing to live without hope, but right now, I just wanted to give up so badly. I was sick of playing these dangerous games. I wanted something simple, something easy. A relationship that wasn't one-hundred percent wrong from the get-go. But I wasn't getting any of that anytime soon. Just like I wasn't getting Tommy, the thing I wanted most in the whole world. Because, and here's the thing... The more you want something, the less attainable it becomes. That's the real truth of the matter.

Oh crap. How long have I been sitting... Standing here... Thinking about Speed and Tommy and people? See! I am losing my mind! Ooh, this is not good. That's the end of Joan's first song playing in there. I have to haul ass because I'm on after her. One song until I'm on. Well, technically two, because she's not done with this one yet. I'm supposed to be backstage already. Damnit. Why'd I have to space about TOMMY again?

Well, gee, Jude, don't you think the answer to that one's a little too obvious? YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH THE MORON, YOU LOVESICK FOOL! Sheesh. And, damn it, I was supposed to see Georgia in there and have a talk with her about people to sign. Damn it. Grr. I'm so beyond late. Well, I'd better get in there before my ass is completely screwed. Eww, ew, eeew. Wait. That's sick. It sounded so much better in my head.

This is your head, stupid. You didn't say it out loud, you know.

Hey! I do not have time to get in an argument with another one of my personalities, Miss Thing. So would you shut it? Because I already have to be in two places at once, and that's really hard to accomplish. I have a crapload of things to do, and I cannot do them with you internally yelling at me. It just does not work like that. Got it? Good.

Okay, so first I have to go in there. Hey, I'm working on it! Then I have to find Georgia... Or Darius... Or E.J. Or Tommy. Or Kwest... I have to discuss the music briefly. You know, recommend signing Joan or whatever. And I have to avoid Travis like the plague. Ooh, Speed too. I have to listen to Joan, and I also have to get backstage before her song's over. Oh, crap. The first one's over. She's starting in on the second! Well, I'd better get a move on... Here goes nothing. I sighed and slid through the door, scanning the room for a familiar face.

"Okay, so right now I'm supposed to sing this song, "Chemistry". But I'm not really feeling it... So I'm going to sing a different one instead. I just hope you'll forgive me," Joan said, introducing the song with a wink. She was certainly in good spirits... And kind of sweaty, but I'd bet that Travis doesn't mind that at all. He'll hate her song change, though. He has a bit of a soft spot for her, though, so there's no doubt in my mind that she'll be forgiven. Although I don't think that's what Joan wants.

This wasn't the same girl from yesterday. Today Joan was... different. Joan had been wearing her hair up in a high ponytail, but she ripped the rubber band out of her hair. Her brown and hot pink (she must've had it touched up) locks spilled down, and Joan reflexively smoothed her hair. She was wearing a flimsy metallic, silvery spaghetti-strap top that was first of all, illegal... You're not supposed to wear spaghetti-straps. And it was also a little too low-cut for her own good. I mean, I know dressing that way is empowering... But does she really want Quinn to come on to her twice as hard? She might as well have written "Bang Me" on her stomach. She was also wearing a pleated miniskirt that was a little, ahem, too tight... And high-heeled black leather boots. Bet it made Travis' jeans all clingy and uncomfortable.

Assuming he's wearing jeans, of course. I mean, he was earlier, but I think he's changed. I don't know... I took one look at him and walked right out of class this afternoon. It was just too awkward, you know? Yeah, I guess it's not just Tommy I'm weird around anymore... Besides, Mason and I went out for lunch instead. That boy really likes driving my car. Then he brought me back for Music Theory. I've been here, helping set everything up ever since. And, by some miracle, I haven't seen Travis once. Whew.

Okay, I can do this... Just look for Georgia. Georgia, Georgia, Georgia. Joan started up playing the melody, which was bluesy like her usual style, but edgy and rough and utterly rock and roll. Her voice was raw, plaintive, harsh... Almost sort of husky. You could tell that she really felt the emotions she was describing. "_You **stole** from me, robbed me **bare**! You ripped a **part** of me, and you **tear**! You **took** my pride! You **took** my joy... And **still** you ask why I dress like a boy!_" Joan screamed, knowing that her voice was sort of breaking. It wasn't real screaming, like it was when Patsy sang. This was more of the Janis Joplin variety. The intense stuff. Why I dress like a boy, though? Oh, wait... The song _is_ called "Joan of Arc". Duh.

Whoa, wait, just what was Joan trying to insinuate here? What happened to her? I was pondering these things when I ran into Georgia. She looked sort of depressed, though whether that was from the song or her sister's presence was anyone's guess... Probably Paulina's presence. Stupid bitch. Paulina was there in a horribly out-of-place cocktail dress, yawning loudly. Of course, Joan was really rocking it out, though. Paulina just has no taste in decent music. Ooh, yikes... She might wind up running out studio. Then again, maybe it'll be okay. I mean, things run with idiots as their leaders. Not exactly well, but they function. I mean, look at the U.S. It's still kicking.

Joan ignored Paulina and continued on undeterred. She leaned into the microphone, her hair falling down to obscure half of her face. Her tone was steely, uncompromising, and accusing. I think the both of us knew exactly who she was talking to. I hope Travis feels bad for whatever the hell he did to her. "_You've made me something that I'm **not**! Stripped me of who I am **outside** and inside! Don't know what your actions have **wrought**. I was out in the **open**, and I couldn't hide! You took that from me too, but I **fought**!_" Joan cried somewhat painfully. Joan brought her head up suddenly just then, pulling back a little to gaze out at the crowd... as if determined to search a certain someone out. Her eyes narrowed as she undoubtably locked eyes with her target, an electric rage running through her.

Her tempo sped up very noticeably, becoming more jagged. Joan's lip curled upwards in a sneer that would've made Sid Vicious proud. Then she jerked her head up for a short nod of acknowledgment... The type that guys do all the time. Only what Joan was really saying was less of a greeting and more of a way of saying piss off. Her hair flew out of her face with the nod. With a sashay of her hips, she stepped back up to the microphone. I took the opportunity to glance over at Georgia, who was watching Joan with rapt attention. This was a once in a lifetime sort of performance, I guess. There was just this atmosphere surrounding it that drew you in completely. Kind of like Travis himself. Georgia said nothing. She just reached over and grabbed my hand tightly. Her knuckles were white.

"_You took from me what you **wanted**... Like I was that thing you **needed**! You were **brutal**... You had no **scruples**! Your eyes ran over me... **rapaciously**. I didn't like those looks at **all**!_" Joan shouted, voice quivering. Her eyes were bright and blazing. There was something slightly crazy about her dark stare. Her singing sent a shiver up all of our spines, I think. Every riff she played was hard and shrill, dangling on in a fading echo. Georgia smiled sadly at me, looking at me for only a second. Then she stared at Joan again, a somewhat nostalgic look in her eyes. Maybe Georgia has some rock 'n' roll roots of her own too. Joan tossed her head since she didn't have a free hand to push the hair out of her face.

Joan launched into the chorus again. She was eerily self-possessed and intent on her playing. She added intricate little notes into the regular, plain chorus. "_You've **made** me something that I'm not... **Stripped** me of who I am... outside and **inside**! Don't know what **your** actions have wrought... I was **out** in the open, and I **couldn't** hide! You took that from me too, but I **fought**..._" She drawled stubbornly, as if she was twisting the words around on her tongue... to try them out first or something like that. Joan stared down the crowd almost fearlessly. I had never seen her so alive. She looked down, focusing on her guitar, and bobbed her head to the beat.

Joan charged back up to the microphone, hair streaming behind her. She was so close to the microphone that her lips brushed against it. Yet her voice was amazingly clear... and filled with pain. Joan was really furious now. "_I can't get any **respect** for what I **do**... But I've got **God**, I don't need **you**! You didn't **care**, and you weren't **there**! You didn't **try**, and you let me **cry**! I'm better than you, so I'll **forgive** you..._" Joan sang loudly. As they say, to err is human... to forgive divine. I don't think Joan was just going to forgive Travis, though. I mean, why would she? Travis wasn't backing down. The man never backed down. He never seemed to change his mind.

"_You've made **me** something that I'm not... Stripped me of **who** I am outside and inside... Don't **know** what your **actions** have wrought! I was out in the open, and I couldn't **hide**! You took that from me too, but I **fought**!_" Joan warbled, enraged. She was really getting pumped about this, wasn't she? And, by the looks of it, so was the audience. Maybe they weren't listening to the lyrics, which were rather depressing. Georgia sighed, and I took the opportunity to look for more familiar faces. Oh, ew... Darius is actually making out with Paulina.

Is it okay if I go over there and punch him? Because he should be smacked for making out with a whore like that. And for doing that to poor Georgia. Then again, he might drop me as a client if I do that... Hey, wait, what am I talking about? That's a great thing! He's just lucky Georgia doesn't see. Bet she'd kick his ass. She should. I mean, he says he likes her and then goes to what? To boff her sister? Or maybe Georgia's ignoring it... Well, it looks like this is the test. She's looking over in that direction. Georgia's eyes locked on the pair (just as Darius slipped his hands under Paulina's skirt), and there was this sort of heartbreaking look in her eyes. It was kind of like something inside of her had just snapped. She looked a little downtrodden.

Georgia forced herself to look away, shoulders slumping a little. She sighed somewhat raggedly and turned to me. Oh, aha, I get it... That's Georgia's work face. She's thinking about business now. You know, I wish I had a switch like that. Then I could just permanently go into business mode and stop thinking about Tommy. That would be for the best. Then again, I'd be missing out on so much... Hey, if Mary Kay Letourneau can do seven years, I think I can wait for, um, one year and three-ish months? I need to make me a calendar for it. Then again, Mary got to nail him. More than I can say about me.

"She's good," Georgia began, gesturing to Joan, "I like her sound. You know her?" Do I know her? Well, duh. I associate with all of our school's up-and-coming rockers. I smiled. I think I know Joan a little too well. Not like that! Just the Travis thing. Ugh. If he's going to harass minors, he ought to stick to at least one. Then when he claims to be in love with her and that she came on to him first, they might actually believe it. Actually, he would claim to be in love with Joan. Then he'd say that I came on to him. Pah. That's a lie.

I nodded to Georgia. "Yeah. She's a friend of mine, actually. We're in the same music class. Why, you want me to give her a pitch when I go backstage... so G. Major can get to her first?" I explained, offering to convince Joan to talk to Georgia first. She was really that good. Or everyone else was just so bad. Nah, that wasn't true. Joan just really stood out. Georgia nodded with wide, desperate eyes. Oh, so there's still a chance that Paulina might go all hostile takeover on her own sister. Man, that's just messed up. I mean, first she goes and steals her man, then her job? Sadie wouldn't do that to me. The second one, that is. Please. Paulina doesn't even have the brains to set up a hostile takeover on her own. She's a twit.

I stayed to watch Joan sing the next verse, but I knew that I would have to go backstage soon. "_Oh, yeah, I **will**... because I'm Joan of **Arc**! And though I may **cut** my hair short... There is no **Devil** on my **skin**, no mark! I was a pure **maid**... the ball's in my **court**! If I **wish**, I could turn the tide of the **war**..._" Joan yelled, her voice hitting new highs. Then a thought occurred to me. I hadn't told anyone from G. Major about this. Not even Tommy. I mean, yesterday, after... I just sort of cleared out and ran off on my date with Tim. So how were they here? How did they know? It didn't make any sense.

"Georgia, how did you know about the concert? I didn't tell anyone about it, and I only heard about it yesterday," I pondered curiously, turning to face my mentor. Georgia shrugged, gesturing to the other industry folks here scouting, but a trace of a smile remained on her lips.

"An old friend of mine told me about it. I think you might know him as your music teacher? He recorded some tracks at G. Major in the past..." Georgia explained, grinning. Ew. Grinning, why is she grinning about my music teacher? This is just too weird. So, wait... She knows Quinn? What the... How did I not know about this? I stared at Georgia slackjawed for a minute, then I remembered that I had to haul ass backstage. So I waved goodbye to my mentor and headed backstage. Oh boy. Something told me that this would be nothing like I expected.

"_You've **made** me something that I'm **not**... Stripped me of **who** I am! **Outside** and **inside**! Don't know what your actions have **wrought**... I was **out** in the open, and I couldn't hide! You **took** that from me too, but I **fought**!_" Joan screamed like a caged animal trying to break free. I would tell you what she looked like singing it, but I wasn't watching her. I was maneuvering through the crowd as quickly as I could. I couldn't be late. And here's the funny thing... I know her song was about Travis and all, so I could really relate to it on that level... but... It got me thinking about how I'd changed since Instant Star.

With Darius managing me, I was just lucky I'd maintained the status quo. I know I'm way too independent for Darius, but I sell records. But even if I wasn't doing so well... And he made me do what he wants... I don't think I would. I mean, sure, I know I can't say that for sure since it hasn't happened. And, honest to God, I hope it never does. Because that thought scares the hell out of me. Sometimes I feel like my career's the only good thing I've got left. Where would I be if I couldn't express myself?

I'm lucky Darius hasn't transformed me into a pop princess. I know that. And I'm lucky to work with such great people. I'm lucky I even got this chance in the first place. I know it's tempting to give in, or whatever... To someone like Darius, a literal star-maker. It's easy to think that a guy like him who knows the ins and outs of the music business knows what's best for you and your career. I suppose some artists would be content to do that. Only... not me. I don't care how famous Darius could make me. I don't care if I'm top of the charts for weeks with a quadruple platinum album. Because all of that would come with a price. A price that I'm not willing to give.

I'm not going to change my looks or my music to gain mass appeal. Then they'd just be buying my CDs for my image, not at all for my voice. That's not what I want. It'd be a hollow sort of fame. And, you know what, it's not like my image is even that bad. So what if I don't dress up to walk the streets? So what if I still unload the groceries? So what if I still go to regular school? What does that have to do with the way I sing?

I'd be just fine without all this. Probably better off, to tell the truth. I know you can lose it in an instant... But I'd rather lose my career than lose my principles. I mean, sure, there's caving a little... and then there's giving in completely. And there will always be another record career if you're a good enough singer. At least, if I lose my career... people will know my name, and they'll know what I stand for. They'll know that I walk the walk and talk the talk. But if I abandon my principles, then I lose my dignity. And I'd rather be able to look at myself in the mirror than on television.

I'm not bleaching my hair blonde. I'm not tanning my skin... Hey, this way I don't get skin cancer! I refuse to wear uncomfortable fancy clothing... To dress like some pop star in skintight barely-there clothes that I can't breathe in. I won't learn dance routines. And I will not sing a song I don't want to sing, especially if it's not mine. I won't write shallow songs that don't mean a thing. I'm not getting a boob job either. He's not going to turn me into a Britney or Christina Wannabe. I don't want to compromise my values, my morals, and my integrity like that... hey, do you think that's how Tommy's big brother felt? Whoa, creepy. Besides, pop music is out anyways.

"_I am the angry avenging angel... As I charge our troops into **battle**! And I am sure you'll be sent to **Hell**... For how you've treated me **so** unkindly! I will rise, I will rise above this **all**... I will **rise**, I will rise above this all, I will **rise**!_" Joan finished emphatically, with a loud, in-your-face guitar solo. She threw her head bac and then forwards. Back and then forwards, and finally... upwards. Joan glanced up, almost as if she was reasoning to God, an eerie calm falling over her face. She leaned into the mike and whispered her last words.

She was finished, and I wasn't on stage. Crap. I was so screwed. But, luckily enough for me, Jamie popped onstage. I should explain that he was the student manager in charge of the concert. He clapped, smiling brightly at Joan. "Wasn't that great? Anyways, my girlfriend just informed me that we have heard absolutely no hip-hop tonight. And we just happen to have a very famous rapper in the audience... Mr. Darius Mills, everybody!" Jamie introduced as a spotlight was shown on Darius. Darius was still tangled up in Paulina, so Georgia walked over and hit him with great pleasure. I would say that Darius was embarrassed, but he's a rapper... He's Darius Effing Mills. Darius just smiled brightly and waved at everyone. There were uproarious cheers. Darius had no idea what was coming next. Guess he couldn't connect the dots too well. "Now, who wants to hear Darius perform his platinum single, "Let Your Backbone Slide"? C'mon, everybody!" Jamie encouraged enthusiastically. The crowd broke out into loud cheers. Cheers that could not be denied. And Georgia was all too happy to throw him into a crowd of people who threw him onstage (a la crowd-surfing). Jamie had just bought me five minutes.

I shot Jamie a thankful look and scurried onstage while they were still persuading Darius to rap. Oh, trust me, he would rap. In fact, Darius had three encores... So he sang four songs in all. I managed to get backstage when he was almost halfway through Backbone. I made my way towards the front, grabbing my guitar and pick in preparation. Did I look okay?

Joan stepped backstage proudly, dabbing her damp forehead with her forearm. I wanted to go up to her and congratulate her, but someone else beat me to the punch. From my position at the doorway, half obscured behind one of the curtains, I saw a person hand her a towel. Joan sighed exhaustedly and gratefully grabbed the towel, using it to wipe off the sweat from the performance, starting with her face. She was just starting in on her arm when she realized something. Her guitar clattered to the floor as she looked up. The person moved forward, and I was able to see that it was Travis. Oh, great. Well, I couldn't go in there now.

Joan countered by taking a big step backwards, but wound up tripping over her guitar. Joan started to fall, but Travis grabbed her hand just in time to keep her from hitting the ground. A moment later, he was easily pulling her into a standing position. He had achieved in a second what she'd almost fallen to avoid... He'd brought them closer, probably too close. "You know, I can't help but think you were trying to send me a message with that song..." Travis murmured with a sly grin. Oh, yeah. He knew it was intended for him.

Joan scowled back at him, glancing down at his hand and ripping it off of hers. Travis just shrugged noncommittally, almost as if he knew she'd be coming back for it later. Joan's eyes bored into his, but she didn't step back. Not this time. Bad move, Joan... Bad move. Joan nodded curtly, her lip curling into that sneer from earlier. She placed her hands firmly on her hips and stared him down. "Yes, Mister Quinn. The message was that you took advantage of me earlier. And I'm not going to let it happen again," Joan stated boldly, eyes narrowing in fury.

Ooh, he's not going to stand for that at all. Travis raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not believing it for a second. He chuckled, only further managing to enrage Joan. Joan hated not being taken seriously because of her age. She was a pretty serious person at times. So Joan bravely continued on. But I knew he wasn't going to listen. He never did. This guy just never got the message. "I **mean** it, Quinn. If you so much as _look_ at me funny... Don't think I don't notice when you undress me with your eyes. If you look at me weirdly... If you do anything that seems inappropriate with me or **any** other student ever again... I'm going _straight_ to the school board and **then** the police. This is a warning, and you only get one. So, do what's best for everyone and stay the **hell** away from me!" Joan growled threateningly. She definitely meant business. She even punctuated her statement by poking him in the chest for emphasis.

Overall, though, I've found touching him is not the best approach... In that it, in fact, only provokes him further. But Joan wouldn't know that, would she? Poor, sweet, innocent, stupid Joan. Okay, Joan's not stupid... in normal situations... But when it comes to Travis... the girl's a moron. She doesn't know him and his pedophilic ways like I do. And trust me when I say I wish I didn't know him and his pedophilic ways, but I do... and I have to live with that. And him, ugh. Better me than someone else, right? Travis licked his lip and snatched the towel from her hand. Joan let him. Suddenly, there were much more important issues than her being hot and sweaty... but there's pheromones in sweat, and hormones in Travis. And that, my friend, equals one hell of a bad cocktail. Pardon the pun.

He didn't do anything at first, so Joan let her guard down a little. NEVER ever let your guard down around Travis. Never. His hand crept around her waist without her even noticing. How that happened, I don't really know. All I know is that seconds later he'd made his move... not unlike a python. He had an arm wrapped around her waist so she couldn't move. The other arm held the towel, which he started to use to brush away the sweat on her long, pale neck and then lower... the top of her chest. He lingered there, especially on the ample cleavage the dress afforded. Oh, yeah, he was getting his kicks and jollies outta this. His eyelashes fluttered as he leaned in even closer to Joan, licking his lip before starting to whisper to her so that his breath came out in warm puffs against her face, "Letourneau, eh? Does that mean you're in _love_ with me too?"

In love with me **too**? What does he mean by that! Does he mean that like Vili is in love with Mary Kay... Or does he mean that like she's just another girl who's into him? Or does he mean it like Kate's in love with him? Or does he think that I'M in love with him? Nah, that's too ridiculous, even for him. Even he's not that delusional... Unless... Do you think he meant it like he's in love with her also?

Now that's scary. Damn skippy. Actually, that's terrifying. I mean, my eyes are as wide as saucers. Joan looked similarly perplexed. She frowned softly, and realizing that he was still close, jerked away, shaking her head. Travis let the towel drop to the ground carelessly. It was no longer an important prop in his scheme. "No, _no_... It's nothing like that," She muttered almost to herself, turning to look away from him. She frowned, even more confused. The girl really ought to sit down. She really has no idea how persistent Travis is, does she? I pity her for that. If it was me, I would've... maybe... cleared out ages ago.

And, just for the record, that was a great comeback. He knows it too. Travis stalked closer to Joan, advancing upon her, but not making a sound. Joan didn't even notice until he grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. The two were dangerously close, especially for Travis. I could hear the warning bells going off in _my_ head. At first Joan was just shocked and a little surprised. She had to catch her breath for it all to hit her. Then a bitterly unhappy look crossed her face, and she tried futilely to push Travis away. She struggled hard underneath the strong grip he had on her arms. "Don't Stand So Close to Me! What part of that do you **not** understand!" Joan snapped fiercely, even desperately. She was just desperate, like I had been, for him to go away. Too bad he had no intentions of doing that.

He just smiled and laughed at her. He wasn't at all phased by her attempts to break free. He remained stoic, like a statute... no matter how hard she tried. He let out a husky laugh, brushing a strand of wild hair behind her ear. He leaned down to whisper in her ear in a gruff tone that sent shivers up my spine. "Isn't that my line?" He murmured in a low tone, chuckling slightly. Joan stiffened at the casualness of his voice.

"Watch out... The _Police_ might catch you," Joan sniped back sarcastically, shoving against him harder. I grinned at the reference... and dual meaning. She's really not joking. Well, props to her. I'll testify with her. Oh, yeah, Joan was a fighter. That's something we have in common. Go out fighting and making sarcastic comments, that's what I always say. Travis just smirked, slowly maneuvering his head towards her lips this time. Joan turned her head away, but I had no doubts that Travis would get what he wanted. Exactly what he wanted... from the both of us... by the end of that night. He always did, didn't he? Even if you didn't want to give it. Travis was good at that.

"_Young teacher, the subject... Of schoolgirl fantasy..._" Travis drawled, fixing Joan with a very lascivious look. Ooh, shame, shame. Honey, you're her teacher. Get with the program and stop trying to make beautiful music with her. That's a producer's job. And if my pitch goes as planned, we might be sharing one. He was right too, you know. He's young. And practically every girl in the place wants him. So badly. Even me, to some degree. But it's not like anything's going to happen. I won't let that... happen. Besides, Kate's nice. And he's obviously into Joan. You don't steal your friend's man, you know? I learned that one the hard way.

Joan just snorted loudly. Okay, don't serenade Joan. He better file that away for future reference. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him, giving him a look. Yeah, _that_ kind of look. If her eyes had bullets, he'd be dead by now. "Someone has a high opinion of himself. Cocky much?" Joan said derisively, glare intensifying. Well, yes, now that I think about it, Travis' ego is rather inflated. Yet another thing that makes him so similar to that man that he hates so much.

Travis just smirked, undeterred. "_She **wants** him **so** badly..._" He continued almost mockingly. Once again, Joan stopped him, looking too irate for words. I can see why. Travis said that Joan wanted him. Could he get any more cocky? You know, I actually think he's worse than Tommy. At least Tommy has a reason. And besides, Tommy's cute when he's cocky. Er, cuter. Joan glowered at him in silence, trying to say something... but nothing came out. She was too angry for that. Joan just made a frustrated noise and threw her hands in the air.

Travis smirked once again, clearly amused. He thought he had the upper hand. Ooh, I really don't think he should underestimate Joan. It's a bad, bad move. I have a feeling she's going to shake his little world right up. Joan glowered at him, narrowing his eyes. "Hardly," Joan replied, rolling her eyes, "The only thing I want from you is for you to **go** away." I can sympathize.

He scoffed loudly in response. Too bad he doesn't realize that Joan is actually serious. She's not sending him any mixed messages there. "_Knows what she wants to be..._" Travis whispered, moving closer to Joan. Uh oh. I know what's coming next. Not good. Not good. Travis put a hand on Joan's waist, leaning in dangerously close. Seems innocent, doesn't it? Yeah, well, Joan thought that too. Then Travis slid his hand down her skirt, slipping his fingers underneath the fabric. "_**Inside** her... there's longing_," He murmured, his hand creeping up her thigh. Holy crap. I cannot believe he just did that. Hell, I cannot believe I just SAW him do that. Looks like he's taking the "inside her" part a little too literally. You know, I always thought that part was so perverted. I mean, when you hear it in the song. It looks fine on lyrics sheets. That is so cliched. I can't believe he's actually singing that to her and feeling her up. Who does he think he is, Sting? God, he's not sexy enough to pull that off. He doesn't have the accent. When Travis acts that way, it's not cute. It's just sleazy and perverted and... Creepy enough to make my skin crawl with revulsion.

Joan gasped and reflexively slapped his hand away. You go, Girl! Then she pushed him away. Strike two! "You sick, twisted pervert!" Joan shouted, slapping him hard across the face once. Only seconds later, while he was still reeling from the first slap, Joan slapped him the other way. Nice. His cheeks were a little flushed from the impact, but it's not like hers weren't either, from her performance. Travis recovered remarkably fast. Then again, I should've expected that from when I punched him in the stomach. He recovered fast then too.

Travis stood stock still for a moment and then advanced upon the poor girl. "You know, you _lied_ to me. You never had any intention of singing the song you were supposed to. People in the business don't _like_ it when you change up a set. That was taking an awfully big risk. Are you sure you can deal with the consequences?" Travis growled, actually sounding like a teacher for once. And he wasn't happy. He was downright pissed off. And is it just me, or did he just threaten Joan? What the hell is he going to do to her? I swear... if he does... I'm barging in. If he even looks at her wrong, I swear... Besides, he can't hurt me. I still have a song to sing.

That stuff about people in the biz hating it is a little true. But as long as the song's good, and the audience likes it, they'll go with it. You've gotta take risks if you wanna make it in life. He, of all people, knows about taking risks. He was harassing us counting on the fact that neither of us would say anything. Well, that's going to change. I'm reporting him after this. I'll give him an ultimatum. Because I can't take anymore of his crap. I can't keep putting up with him day after day. I deserve better treatment than what he gives me.

Travis was actually remotely dressed up tonight because it was sort of an opportunity to meet the kids' parents. This meant that he was wearing one of his much-beloved (by both himself and his little fanclub) blue dress-shirts, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. This time he looked a little more demure: only the first two buttons were undone. He'd obviously put on a little cover-up to hide those hickies. He was wearing black pants with a crease down the middle of both legs and dress shoes. Boooring. I was sure that there was a matching blazer around here somewhere. He probably took it off when he saw Joan.

Bet he wants to take a lot more off after seeing Joan. And not just clothes that are his own. Yeah. I rhymed. It's hard to rhyme anything with Joan... Well, okay, so maybe it isn't! Joan, bone, loan, alone, phone, telephone, known, own, blown, shown, cone, sown, cologne, throne, atone, shown, flown, unknown, postpone, bemoan, dethrone, disown, intone, Sierra Leone, hipbone, overgrown, overblown, overthrown, unbeknown, bourgignon, drone, hone, gone (if you pronounce it g-own), done (same deal), sewn, thrown, pone, moan, groan, grown, zone, clone, stone, prone, tone, lone.

Actually, you can use a lot of those in this whole Travis situation... I'll show you. Joan is her own person. Travis looks like a Tommy clone. He wears too much cologne. Travis wants to hone Joan's skills when they're alone. If Travis gropes her again, I'll make sure his cover is blown. Travis is prone to want to get in Joan's zone. Travis wants to bone Joan, but she's having none of that. Travis hasn't known Joan for very long, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't want to make her moan and groan. Oh, how he wishes she were already grown! Okay, I'll stop now.

Oh, he was also wearing this big green tie that matches his eyes. Ugh, I'm getting all poetical about... Travis. I need to write a song. Badly. He's wearing too much cologne again. I don't care how good it smells... I can smell it all the way from here! Joan's eyes narrowed, pulsing with wrath. She pursed her lips tightly, staring out at him. That kind of stare could lead to world conquest. Travis better watch his step. And so should Joan. "You are in absolutely **no** position to threaten me, Mr. Quinn. After all, you're risking your career and your freedom by touching me inappropriately... and yet _you_ don't stop," Joan stated icily, raising an eyebrow at him. Don't challenge him. He'll only rise up to it.

Travis rolled his eyes at her, chuckling to himself. Oh, so he finds her threat amusing? Joan isn't going to like that. Not one bit. He placed a hand on Joan's shoulder. "Come on, Joanie... We both know you're not _really_ going to go through with that threat. You like me... You don't want to see me in jail like some common criminal. Besides, you like it when I touch you, don't you? This can be our dirty little secret. No one has to know," Travis appealed flirtatiously, leaning in and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Travis smiled secretively at Joan and bent down, pressing a kiss against her bare shoulder. Joan shuddered at the contact, and Travis took that as a good sign. Whoa-oh... Is she seriously considering this? I mean, her eyes are CLOSED and everything... It makes a girl wonder. And Travis does have a way with words...

Joan answered my question a second later by shoving his arm off her shoulders, ramming her elbow into his chest, and turning all confrontational on him. I'm so proud. Damn, I wish I had some popcorn and something other than "Conductin' Thangs" as background music. Ooh, and a chair. That would be nice. This is like a soap opera... "School Days of Our Lives". She put some well-needed distance in between them and turned to glower at him. How very punk rock of her. "I meant what I said, Travis. You _are_ a criminal. You touching me... that's against the law. Breaking the law is criminal. I'm not keeping this a secret any longer. Soon enough, everybody will know, and you'll have to deal with the stigma. You're going to regret **ever** laying eyes on me, Travis Quinn," Joan hissed menacingly. The look that she and Travis exchanged was intense. She made sure he knew that she meant every word.

That's when it finally clicked in Travis' brain. Joan wasn't joking. Maybe I underestimated him. Hell, it wouldn't be the first time I've misjudged the guy. It'd be the millionth. Desperate times call for desperate measures. "This isn't about any of that, is it? It's about Kate," Travis blurted out just as Joan headed towards the door. Ooh. I winced. Dangerous waters, man. She hates it when he's full of himself. Doesn't he get that?

True to form, Joan bristled at the assumption. Sure, she was jealous of Kate. Not that Joan would ever admit that. Admitting that meant that she reciprocated Travis' uh, well... She reciprocated whatever the hell he felt for her. At the very least. While I'm on the subject, what does he feel for her anyways? I mean, he seems to be attracted to Kate, Joan, and, unbelieveably, Yours Truly. And I have the feeling someone's getting played here. Travis' eyes twinkled as he brightened up a little. Joan wasn't going anywhere for a while. "It has nothing to do with your girlfriend," Joan began irritably. This time, Travis interrupted.

"I never said Kate was my girlfriend," He replied coolly. Smooth. But that was obvious to anyone with a freaking pair of eyes. That's almost like saying that Tommy and I are just friends. Ha. Haha. Hahaha. Nice joke, Mr. Comedian. Joan rolled her eyes at him, not buying it for a second. Of course, it does make her look a little jealous. Ah, poor, poor Joan.

"Oh, _please_. Do I look like a two-year-old? You two made out in _class_. People who are just friends don't do that. People who are just friends don't sleep together. And don't act like you didn't because everyone knew why you were in such a damn good mood. Because you got **laid**! _There_, I said it! And everyone saw those hickies on your neck. We're not blind, okay? I can put two and two together, damnit!" Joan yelled, clearly infuriated. Travis was just really pushing her over the edge. He was good at doing that. It sounds like she was a bit hurt by the whole thing. Hmm... I wonder why?

Travis cut Joan off, a scowl etched into his face. "I almost _married_ the woman, Joan. What the hell do you expect from me? We have a history, Kate and I. Having sex with her... Means nothing," Travis snapped, clearly frustrated. Was he frustrated because of Joan's attitude or just... because of her? Curious, curious. Joan's eyebrows went up into the air at the little revelation. Oh, right, she'd missed that fight. Man, why am I always around watching Travis fight with someone? Can't he get along with people! Maybe he skipped Kindergarten. Play Nice is like, the Number One Rule of life. Or that's the Golden Rule. Whatever.

"What, did you get that from Little Tommy Q's manwhore training camp? You know, for someone who hates the guy, you sure act a lot like him!" Joan retorted passionately. There was a self-satisfied air about her. As well there should be. Comparing Travis to Tommy is one of the worst insults there is. I've taught Joan well. Travis' eyes narrowed in sheer fury. His eyes were a dark, dangerous, stormy green. Almost like the sky before a tornado. He looked like he wanted to smack her but was restraining himself. Well, it's nice to see that he can restrain himself on some things. Bravo, Mister Q. Bravo!

Travis' jaw tightened, but he wisely opted to say nothing. "You kissed me the same day you screwed her. How the **hell** do you think that makes me feel! It makes me feel like the Other Woman! And I don't want to be that sort of girl... Just who do you think you're leading on here, huh? I'm _done_, Travis. I used to think you were a nice guy, but now I see you for what you really are. A lying _asshole_ who likes to perv on his students. You started coming on to me and trying to confuse me... And you know what? I just can't **take** it anymore! I can't keep wondering who you're dating or what _other_ students you're coming on to. It's driving me **crazy**! I'm not going to wait around for you to make up your mind! Because the answer _isn't_ me! It never has been. So just do us both a favor and forget about me... Go after someone your _own_ age for a change," Joan screamed at first. But then her voice broke and she started to lose her voice entirely, so Joan just spoke in a low, resigned tone. Right now, the poor girl just looked tired. I felt her pain.

Joan walked away from him and started to leave. I ducked behind the curtain, peering out to see what was going on. How was this going to end? I know Joan wanted it to end there, but I had a feeling Travis wouldn't make things so easy for Joan. He never did, did he? Actually, Travis did something that surprised even me. Believe it or not, Travis pulled a Tommy... Is that the... No, it's not the right word. I guess I could say that he did what Tommy did at my sixteenth. Ah, a "You're asking the wrong guy" moment. Like his enemy, Travis lost it completely. Dropping every ounce of pretense, Travis ran after Joan (and he was not athletic), grabbing her by the wrist.

Joan sighed wearily, trying weakly to jerk free from his grip. She was just so exhausted from the performance and the fight. Who could blame her? She just had no energy left in her body. Travis didn't that stop him. He refused to let her go. "You're _not_ the other woman," He muttered huskily, before hastily grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her into a perfervid kiss. His hands slowly closed around her arms, so she wouldn't run away.

Not that Joan wanted to. By the way that she was kissing Travis back, it was obvious that there was no place she'd rather be on earth than there with him. She leaned forward on her tiptoes, bracing herself by putting her hands on his shoulders. Both of their eyes were closed. Joan must've realized what she was doing because she broke the kiss a moment later. She stared at Travis for a second with wide, disbelieving eyes. Yeah, tell me about it! I can't believe he just did and more importantly, said all that. Joan didn't move an inch. Travis opened his eyes for a fraction of a second before kissing her again almost ravenously. His hands slid down her arms, eventually wrapping around her waist to pull her still closer to him. Joan responded with equal vigor. This time Travis pulled away for oxygen. Wow... deja vu. So that is what Tommy and I looked like minus the rain, the alley and the tears, in different outfits and, er, both with brown hair. Good to know.

Joan moved back first. Oh, right. She was the one who didn't want this to happen. Well, I'll be damned. I never thought I'd ever know someone more hung-up on age than Tommy himself. Joan shook her head no, and I could've sworn I heard her mutter, "Not again." Hmm. Joan sighed and looked straight in Travis' eyes. "You've got Kate. You don't need me anymore. So stop... Stop trying," Joan mumbled pathetically, looking helplessly down at the ground. Travis' eyes narrowed indignantly.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" He questioned harshly. Okay, now that's just creepy. Now he's quoting Tommy. He even sounds exactly like Tommy when he says it. Could he be any more like Tommy if he tried? Oh, right... Tommy has a problem with hitting on minors. Ha. Joan sighed and forced herself to look up. Whoa, deja vu again. Only my answer was different than hers.

Joan rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips. "You've been fooling around with me because you think that it'll be easy to get in my pants. You thought that you'd make me think I'm in love with you or something and then... you know? People think they can take advantage of people younger than them. After all, it's why seniors date freshmen... Anyways, you don't have to _waste_ your time trying to seduce me anymore. You have Kate for that now. I'm sure she can keep you plenty satisfied," Joan replied jadedly. Bitter at such a young age. I can't wait to see his reaction to that.

Travis frowned, eyes wide. What, he's actually surprised? Are you kidding me? That logic makes perfect sense to me. He hesitantly placed a hand on Joan's shoulder. Joan didn't shrug it off. "Is that really what you think?" He asked, somewhat in disbelief. Yeah, dude, she just said that's what she thinks. Sheesh. Idiot. Joan nodded, giving Travis a look that expressed the sentiments I just shared with you. Travis shook his head no, looking oddly serious.

"It's not true. Do you honestly think that's why I kissed you? If that was the case, don't you think I would've chosen one of the ditzy girls in my class that's half in love with me already? If I was looking for an easy lay, I wouldn't have picked you. I _like_ you, Joan. You're not like all the girls I've met. You don't like me because I'm attractive or because I sang some stupid song or... In fact, you repeatedly push me away. You say no. You fight it. You don't take any crap from me. I like that, Joan. You're your own person. Would I keep chasing after you if I didn't see something I want? We just... connected the day we met, and I know you felt it too. I'm not going to give up on you, Joan. I care about you _far_ too much to do that," Travis professed boldly, explaining it all in depth. His eyes shone almost feverishly. They were a vivid bottle-green. He impulsively reached out to grab her hand.

WHOA. What the hell just happened here! Excuse me! Did Travis Quinn just admit to having feelings for someone other than himself? It's a sign of the apocalypse! Well, that shouldn't come as a surprise to you, Jude, considering he basically admitted that he had feelings for you yesterday...

And he's saying this to Joan today? That dirty manskank. No... He's definitely telling Joan the truth. She's got him whipped like cream. That's as plain as day. I bet he was lying to me because he thought he'd get in my... No, wait, he has Kate for that. Well, I give. I don't get why he chases me either. Problems for another day, my dear. Just focus on the song you're about to sing.

It'll hit him harder than Joan did. Maybe. "You know," Travis whispered, stroking her hand gently, "You were electric on stage. I'm really proud of you." He smiled at her, and it was clear that he wasn't lying... about that at least. Joan smiled slightly, but that weak smile fell a moment later.

"No means no, Travis," She insisted wearily, though her tone was tinged with regret. As she said this, she extracted her hand from his and walked towards the door. Oh, yeah. Tommy and Travis put together have nothing on Joan. She has more control than the both of them put together. Joan didn't look back, but she wasn't running out of there like I would have. Too bad, I guess.

She missed Travis' rare genuine smile as he called out, "I wouldn't have it any other way." But I can tell you right now, if Joan gave him the chance... He so would. I wonder if Kate knows the truth about their relationship? And, this might seem like a strange question, but does it seem like he's kind of, oh, I don't know... In love with Joan? Or is that too strange for even my warped mind?

Joan walked through the doorway, and I knew I had to talk to her. I snuck out from behind the curtain and grabbed her arm. Oh great. Now she's going to think I'm Travis. "Before you freak, Joan... It's me, Jude," I began somewhat nervously. Joan immediately relaxed and turned around to face her. "I'm here because, well... I go on next, but I was talking to the owner of my label while you were singing... And she wants to meet with you! Isn't that great? Here's her card. Georgia Bevans is her name. If you hurry, you can probably find her in the audience. Anyways, I gotta go," I explained hurriedly to Joan, handing her Georgia's card. Joan nodded, taking the card and nodding at me. She heard a noise in the room beyond... probably Travis... Joan visibly shuddered, and she waved at me and scurried out of there only seconds later. Bet she was afraid Travis changed his mind and was trying to come after her.

Well, that being said, it was about time for me to go onstage. Darius was finishing up his fourth song, "Quintessential" (how did he sing it without Choclair?). I raced to the small mirror up against the wall, peering at myself in it for a few seconds. I was wearing a Kat original (hey, she's as prolific with her designs as I am with my songs). I have to hand it to Kat... She did a good job. By all means, this outfit should be terribly uncomfortable. I was wearing black skintight pants with a matching shirt. The shirt was made of a softer fabric with a low scoop-neck that bared my shoulders and my collarbone. The sleeves stopped just short of my elbows, and there was a zipper right down the middle of it. It was unzipped about an inch or two at the top. Yet the entire outfit was made of light material that stretched a little and let me breathe. I was also wearing the tallest open-toed spike heel pumps I had ever worn in my life. What can I say? Kat might be tiny, but she loves high heels. Probably because she's tiny.

We happen to have the same shoe size. Then again, I guess it is a pretty common shoe size. There's a belt of bullets around my waist... What do they call those things anyways? I have no idea where Kat got this, but... It feels right. Heavy, but weighty enough. I was wearing bangles on my left wrist, the same silver bangles I'd worn at that mall concert. They clinked merrily as I adjusted them. I looked over at my right wrist and tugged my star wristband (the black one with the white star) down a little. Sure, it looked a bit strange and out of place on practically the middle of my forearm, like it had ridden up or something while I was playing... but I had to make sure that it covered up the white gauze underneath. The wristband also served the dual purpose of insulating my sore forearm. As usual, my star ring was on my right middle finger, with another ring flanking it, and a bumpy thumb ring on my left thumb.

I was wearing my black studded bracelet along with my watch on the other arm. As usual, the much-beloved guitar pick necklace was tied around my neck. I touched it, smiling at the remembrance of what Jamie had done for me seconds ago. I stared at my face in the mirror... I looked the same as always. Black mascara, thick black eyeliner (even thicker than usual), grey eyeshadow, crimson lipstick. I smoothed my straight hair, exhaling deeply. Okay, Darius was finishing up. All I've got to do is enter the lions' den and walk out alive. Hey, if Daniel can do it... Then again, Daniel was a Hebrew prophet. Yeah, I'm about as far from a prophet as you can get. I mean, I can't even figure out my love life, much less a vision.

I took a deep breath, picking up my guitar, and walking briskly through the room. I sensed Travis' presence, yes, that much was true. It was impossible for me to not notice Travis in a room. Luckily for me, however, I managed to avoid looking at him this time. I forced myself to focus on moving my feet... and my body... right out that curtain and onstage. I thought I heard him make a sound so I ran, jumping through the curtain and landing on practically the edge of the stage. One more inch and I'd be crowd-surfing. I guess you can say one thing about me, though... I sure know how to make an entrance.

I stumbled a little, smiling sheepishly at the crowd and backing up so I had a more secure grip on the stage. Like everyone else, I clapped when Darius finished, and as was the custom, hugged Darius and kissed him on both cheeks... Hey, I didn't come up with it! All us girls have to. And maybe guys who've known him really long. I can't be sure. Though the thought of Tommy and Darius in a bear hug, kissing, sounds just priceless. Darius smiled, in a good mood from performing. It must be nice to learn you still have fans. Ooh, burn, Jude! Darius left the stage, and I plugged my guitar into the amp, then I stepped up to the mike.

This is where I belong. No doubt about it. I felt all my troubles melt away as I stared out at the crowd. It was amazing how easily I was able to pinpoint Tommy in the crowd. But I only glanced at him for a second. After all, the song wasn't about him, and I didn't want him to think it was. I knew it could be interpreted that way, but I didn't want to take any chances. And, hey, if I only looked at him for a second, then he couldn't think it was about him. Right? Right. I grabbed the microphone. "I know I'm supposed to sing you a completely different song... But I've never really been into doing what's expected of me. My manager can attest to that. And I have a feeling you'd like me to sing a more heartfelt song anyways. This song means a lot to me. I wrote it just last night and, uh, well... It's called "Violation of Trust". I hope you like it," I replied with a smile. Darius smirked at the reference, nodding proudly to Georgia. Georgia smiled shyly. Aww, yay, he's not going to make me sick by making out with Paulina!

I replaced the microphone and leaned in, starting to play the tune on my guitar. "_You **used** me, and you **stripped** me bare! Took what wasn't **yours** to have from me... But what bothers me most is you **don't** care! You're a **thief**, and you hurt **me** ruthlessly!_" I began loudly, my voice piercing into the people's ears. I wanted people to hear me loud and clear. I wanted everyone to understand exactly what I was saying.

I didn't want to seek Travis out. For all I knew he was still backstage. I couldn't afford to look at Tommy. Wow, I haven't sung without looking at someone for a while. I forced myself to think of what Travis did to me. How completely violated I had felt. Sure, I might be lusting after the guy now... But there was still that spark of repugnance I felt deep down inside every time he touched me. "_I **hate** that way that you looked at me! I hate remembering those **things** you did! I look at these **scars** and the memory hits me... Of the **deep**, raw pain inside that I hid! I hate the feeling of **your** hands on me... I hate that you **won** with the lowest bid! Mostly, I hate that you're **still** allowed to live..._" I enunciated clearly, but not too clearly. I didn't want to sound robotic. This performance was anything but robotic. I made sure of that.

I meant every word more than I think I've ever meant anything in my whole life. Except when I told Tommy how I felt when I was drunk. I'm starting to remember a few bits and pieces about my drunken escapades. And that, my friend, was one of them. Unfortunately. I am never getting hammered again. "_I gave to you willingly in the **beginning**... Before I knew what you were **able** to do. You **used** me, but you're still not **winning**! It's your big **debut**, what **will** you resort to? Never thought you capable of such **sinning**... But there's a lot of ways time can **change** you!_" I sang painfully, feeling my throat hurt a bit. Maybe I had been a bit willing in some of my encounters with Travis... These lyrics still confused me a bit. Then again, I wrote them out when I was drunk. More of it rang true, though, than I was willing to own up to. Tonight was Travis' debut. And there were limits I had thought even he wouldn't cross... He seemed to enjoy surprising me most of all. I hate surprises, and I hate him too.

I can't help but think that he wasn't always like this. Sometimes you see a flash of someone different. Someone kinder, warmer, friendlier. Maybe he's always that person... to other people. Maybe I just don't see it. "I hate that way that you looked at me... I hate remembering those things you did! I look at these scars and the memory hits me... Of the deep, raw pain inside that I hid! I hate the feeling of your hands on me! I hate that you won with the lowest bid! Mostly, I hate that you're still allowed to live!" I screamed wildly, full of spite. I remembered his stare. That curious, probing sort of stare... eyes narrowed almost like he was irritated. It was a cold stare, and his eyes would always sweep over me dismissively. But he'd keep looking anyways, giving me that long once over and over and over. I saw his too-green eyes floating around on the back of my eyelids, leering and glaring and sneering at me.

My eyes shot open, and I attempted futilely to erase the memory. But some things don't go away. "Y_ou were in total **control** of the situation... Always knew **exactly** what you were doing. I didn't **fight**; I lowered myself to **prostration**... How **could** you spend so much time pursuing, If to you, our relationship didn't **mean** a thing?_" I questioned, feeling the tears I had promised wouldn't come sting at the corners of my eyes. I couldn't cry. Not over this. Not over him. It wasn't worth it, I told myself. He was in control, too. I hated that. Always, always, always in control. Even when he was drunk. I bristled at the word "relationship". That was a stretch to say the least... but it was something I truly didn't get. Why me? He'd singled me out even before Joan. Like... Like he knew I'd be his student and... Like he knew, okay? I don't know a better way to explain it than that. He knew. He just did.

I sighed wearily and unintentionally, immediately regretting it. No signs of weakness, Jude. We can't let him win. We just... I can't. "_I hate that **way** that you looked at me... I **hate** remembering those things you did! I look at **these** scars and the memory hits me... Of the deep, **raw** pain inside that I hid! I **hate** the feeling of your hands on me... I hate that you won with the **lowest** bid! Mostly, I hate that **you're** still allowed to live!_" I charged on bravely, swallowing over the lump in my throat. The hickey, the scar I had to commemorate the occasion, burned white-hot on my chest accusingly like some sort of brand. Thinking of that made me think of the other ways I felt branded by Travis. The bite marks on my chapped lips... The thin, tiny red initial forever inked unto my left hip where no one could see it or feel it unless they...

I swallowed hard and continued on, the letter dancing in my head, mocking me. It had Travis' voice. "_I fell for it, for **you**, hook, line, and sinker... Should've seen through every **lie** you fed me! Leave me here, **always** the wishful thinker... What you did was **wrong**, you do it and **flee**! Oh, why was I so **stupid**, why did I ever agree?_" I continued, trying my hardest to keep my voice steady. Bits and pieces of this song weren't about Travis at all, were they? I was stupid, and what he did was wrong... on both accounts.

Maybe this wasn't just about Travis. "_I hate that way that you looked at **me**! I hate **remembering** those things you did! I look at these scars and the **memory** hits me... Of the deep, raw **pain** inside that I hid! I hate the feeling of your **hands** on me! I **hate** that you won with the lowest bid! Mostly, I hate that you're still **allowed** to live!_" I snarled fearlessly, forgetting my sadness for the moment. It was much easier to let the rage control me... and much less painful. I was tired of feeling so much pain all the time. Tired of broken hearts and headaches. People tell me I wear my heart on my sleeve. I guess sometimes I do. Although, if that was really, and I do mean really, true... How could anyone look at me and not see how broken I feel?

"_You **took** without asking me even slightly politely... All you could think about were **your** own selfish needs! And after the fact, you told me **far** too forthrightly... Those words won't ever measure up to your **unclean** deeds!_" I growled viciously, getting carried away with my anger. Unclean deeds and STDs... Could be the story of Tom's life. Tommy and Travis were very different. I swore that this song wasn't about Tommy. It isn't, but everything I write comes back to Tommy in some way. Only Tommy didn't take from me without asking. Tommy didn't make me do anything I didn't want... at least anything important. He was selfish, though. All men were. Travis might have a silver tongue, but even he won't talk me out of this grudge.

He's just lucky he isn't in prison. Of course, everything can change in an instant, if you know what I mean... I grinned bitterly, even evilly. He will get his come-uppance. "_I hate that way that you **looked** at me! I hate remembering those things **you** did... I look at these scars and the memory hits **me**... Of the deep, raw pain inside that I **hid**! I hate the feeling of your hands **on** me! I hate that you won **with** the lowest bid... **Mostly**, I hate that you're still allowed to live..._" I warbled clearly, feeling a slight strain on my voice. My throat felt dry, but a little water could fix that. Some aspirin would do for the migraine. But nothing could ever fix the pain that he'd inflicted on my poor, battered heart. He's not supposed to affect me this much. He's just some asshole with an obsession, so why am I fixating on it? Why? He's an irritation, nothing more, nothing less.

The moments we'd been together flashed before my eyes in pieces. The horrible montage almost made me miss my cue. It was a nightmare, a literal nightmare. "_You stole something I didn't want to give! Oh, you **took** it away, and then you **betray**! Always treating me badly, I just **can't** live! Tricked me **hard**; it doesn't work that way... Truth is that I'd rather **die** than to forgive!_" I lamented, hearing my voice break like it had when I'd sang "Skin". I meant that even more, every last word. I can't live like this. He stole more than a kiss and a feel that day. He took a part of me. I can't deal with this kind of treatment. I just... I can't. And, finally, I would rather die than forgive him. It's never been my strong suit anyways. Besides, the bastard doesn't deserve it.

The tears blurred my vision. I could no longer fight them as I had earlier. The tension in my head relieved a little. I took a deep breath, staring out into the crowd with my piercing blue eyes. It was audible. "_I hate that way that you looked at me... I hate remembering those things you did. I look at these **scars** and the memory hits me! Of the deep, raw pain inside that I hid... I hate the feeling of your hands on me... I hate that you won with the lowest bid... Mostly, I hate that you're still allowed to **live**_," I repeated for the last time, in an almost whisper compared to earlier, slowing down the chords instinctively. I remembered the feeling of his hands on me... up and down. How his callouses felt against my skin... There was so much untapped strength in his muscles. It scared me. He could do anything to me... so much more than he did. I remembered his warmth against my skin, the feeling of his fingernails as they trailed dully up my arms... The way his embrace felt, how it felt when he pinned me. I remembered his lips crashing against mine, dropping wetly down my skin, his five o'clock shadow scratching my cheeks. I remembered everything.

His hand creeping down the bare skin of my hip... All the times his body had been pressed up right against mine. His hands skimming over my body through the thin fabric in the closet. I remembered all too well. "_I never expected you to betray or to **burn** me... I never thought **you'd** be the one I'd **break** for! And how **easily** you could manage to hurt me... You, of **all** people, should **know** I'm no whore!_" I finished loudly, feeling the tears start to slide down my face. My voice broke several more times, proving my point. I didn't think I'd ever let Travis affect me this much. I didn't think he was this important. That I'd give him so much damn power. Well, I guess that's the problem. I didn't think. I didn't think he'd make me snap. Or that he was able to hurt me too. I... It shouldn't be like this.

As for the last phrase, it's been getting so bad lately that even my own family thinks I'm a whore. And who am I to disagree, right? Indeed. I forced myself to fake a bright smile for the crowd, waving at them excitedly and turning to leave after muttering a quick goodbye. As soon as I got offstage, I leaned my head against the wall, arms coming up around my head for protection and support. I forced myself to take deep, shuddering breaths, but that didn't stop the tears that followed. I vaguely remember hearing a voice that resembled my enemy's... announcing maybe the end of the concert, but I wasn't paying attention. It only made me sob harder. Slap, slap, slap. Drop after drop fell to the ground. I stayed there, shaking and quietly sobbing for a few minutes before I took a deep breath and pushed myself away from the wall. I sighed, wiping at my eyes. My mascara was waterproof, thankfully. I just... It felt good to get all of that out. I felt better for once. Then, steeling myself for a possible encounter with the man I loathed, I began to make my way to my destination. I glanced around the room he'd been in minutes earlier, but he wasn't there.

In fact, there were no signs that anyone had been here, much less Travis. Except, of course, that is, for the familiar smell of his cologne that still lingered in the air. Musky like the smell of old books. I held my breath as a precaution... a superstition... as I passed through the place. Don't want any memories to linger either.

Being onstage was such a rush! I wasn't near as sweaty as Joan, but I had forgot how hot those spotlights were. No wonder I'm not an actress! I walked back through the stage area, into the room that was generally used as the girls' dressing room. Seeing as I was the last performer, there was obviously no one else in here. I'd stashed my working clothes here much earlier, when I changed just before the show started. I mean, you're seriously nuts if you think I wore this ensemble to school. I shut the door behind me, but upon reflection, decided to lock it. After all, I did not want Travis barging in on the wrong moment... When I was changing and practically half-naked or whatever.

It was your typical room, really. There were a bunch of old costumes from plays and musicals on racks and mannequins. There were cubbies for normal clothes storage at the back. And then there was a huge wall of a make-up mirror, complete with little light bulbs around the frame. There was a sink too, just for washing off hands and make-up and stuff. It was pretty standard as dressing rooms go, I guess. The first thing I did was kick off those horridly uncomfortable shoes. I pulled the key out of my outfit and opened my cubbie. Then I took my shoes out of the box, which I then tossed the heels in. I sat down and put on my combat boots.

It was pretty stupid actually. I would probably have to remove the shoes to take off my pants anyways. Maybe I knew that I would be interrupted. Either way, I suppose it's for the better that I didn't. Because, just as I stood up, realizing how stupid it had been to put on my boots first, the door opened. We have really crappy old locks in this school. I almost cursed aloud, but then I remembered that Travis wasn't wearing jeans. Tommy was. I relaxed a bit and walked towards Tommy. He closed, locked, and deadbolted the door behind him (had that deadbolt always been there? I didn't remember seeing it).

Why did Tommy lock the door? Was it to lock strangers out... or was it to lock me in? Either way, he wanted to insure that we had our conversation in private. Which meant it was obviously important. I gulped reflexively, feeling a chill run up my spine at the thought of being all alone with Tom. Okay, Jude... You can do this. Whatever Tom says... You can deal with it. Just... relax. With that thought in mind, I exhaled softly and focused on Tommy. He looked conflicted, to say the least. His eyes were pained, and his lips were caught up in an oh-so pretty frown. The man looks gorgeous even when he feels horrible.

Tommy hesitantly placed his hand on my shoulder, as if he was almost afraid that I'd push it away. I'm not the skittish one here, Tom. I didn't mind in the slightest. Now, see, if it was Travis... Then we'd have a problem. It's Tommy, though, so I am good... possibly in Heaven. Why doesn't Tommy see that? Tommy's eyes were intent and penetrating, as if the something he wanted to share should be ingrained in my memory forever. "Jude, words cannot express how sorry I am. I feel absolutely awful for what I did to you... I had no idea that you felt that way... How can I ever make amends?" Tommy apologized regretfully.

Whoa, whoa, whoa... Wait just a second! He thinks that I wrote that about him? Okay, so it was a bit conceited of him, but I do write most of my songs about him... And plus, there were bigger fish to fry here. Besides, it's not like he didn't have a point in thinking that it's him. It makes some sense. I just... I have to fix this, self-absorbed or not. Ho-ly cow. This is bad. I have to fix this and fast. I clamped my hands down on Tommy's shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. Tommy jumped a little and looked a bit intimidated. Relax, Tom. I'm not going to kill you. I just want to set things straight! "That song wasn't about you. You... I trust you, Tom. I don't feel violated by you. I could never... Unless you like, raped me or something... But you wouldn't, so that's just ridiculous. You know?" I rambled awkwardly. I started out strong, but then it just slowly went further and further downhill, you know what I mean? Seeing as Tommy literally flinched when I said the word "rape". It's not like he has anything to worry about. But, shh, keep it down... Tommy doesn't know that.

Tommy sighed and looked down. He was silent for a moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity of awkwardness. Tommy sighed again, trailing his hand down my arm. His hand stopped on my wrist, and he rubbed his thumb across the bone there. I shivered at his touch, but Tommy didn't notice. Then again, maybe that was deliberate. "I'm sorry for judging you. I have no right to call you a whore when I'm not exactly the picture of celibacy myself," Tommy whispered, looking down as if ashamed.

I snorted at the last remark. The picture of celibacy was a monk. And Tommy couldn't be any further from a monk unless he was a male prostitute. And aside from having sex with men (to my knowledge), Tom was pretty much that. Tommy gave me a dark look. Oh, don't give me that look like you're so innocent. 'Cause we both know that's just an act. And a pretty lousy one, considering you've screwed half the continent. "Compared to you, we all look like nuns," I muttered half under my breath. Tommy smiled despite himself.

Still, the apology meant a lot. Especially since I don't deserve the rep as I haven't slept with anyone. Except him, er, that's what he thinks... anyways. Actually, I am practically a nun. Well, except I don't think nuns make out with people... or kiss them... or touch them... or almost have sex with them. Other than in "Sister Act", I've never seen a nun who rocks. I mean that musically, of course. That's why I needed Tommy to know the truth about my, erm, experiences. I exhaled briefly, then took upon myself the lengthy task of explaining the truth to Tommy.

"Okay, here's the deal... I'm not a slut, whore, tramp, harlot... Whatever. That thing you saw with Mason was... It wasn't anything. I realize how it looked, but, really, it wasn't _anything_. I was just showing him this bruise I got... And it doesn't matter. Now, I never, **ever** did anything with Shay. And, I don't know what Speed told you, but I never did him-I mean, it. It. I didn't do _it," _I elaborated as best as I could, but it came out sounding more like, well, a trainwreck. It was just a huge fiasco. I think Tommy started laughing at me. Damn those Freudian slips. I pouted and crossed my arms over my chest.

Tommy just smiled goodnaturedly for a minute, nodding. However, only seconds later, a somewhat guilty frown crossed his face, and he exhaled deeply. "About yesterday... There's something I didn't tell you," He began rather ominously. I gulped. Uh oh. What now? Jeez, is this how Tommy felt when he woke up hungover and still dressed? And by still dressed, I mean wearing underwear. "You came unto me when you were drunk... and I didn't exactly stop you," Tommy confessed, looking a bit ashamed. Well, jeez, Tom, it's okay. You did the exact same thing when you were drunk. Oh, wait, bet he looked at me naked too. Well, I don't care. Hey, if it gets him to FINALLY see me in a different light... Then to Cary Grant it, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn!" I just shrugged in response and Tommy relaxed immeasurably.

Now that we were over that bridge, let's progress on to something a little MORE awkward, shall we? Tommy smiled at me awkwardly and then leaned in. I thought he was going to kiss me. Stupid, stupid girl, that Jude. I smiled blissfully, probably grinning at him like a total loon. Aww, damn, I bet I have that idiotic dreamy look in my eyes again. I seriously have a problem here. Tommy doesn't want me, exactly like Speed said. But then again, Speed's probably wrong. He was just jealous. Maybe.

I mean, if Tommy didn't want me... Well, that doesn't explain yesterday at all. He wouldn't have unclasped my bra if he wasn't at least attracted to me. After all, I'm not an ugly girl, now am I? No. Or I wouldn't have so many guys all over me, wanting to get in my pants. I mean, let's see, huh? Okay, count, girl. Shay, That Creepy Guy at the Club, Tim, Speed, Jamie (at one point), Wally, Travis, Tommy... That's a helluva lot, isn't it? Especially for one girl. You sure that they don't want Sexy Sades instead?

Insecurities aside, Tommy lightly pushed my hair over my shoulder to better reveal my neck. Seeing him squint, I craned my neck to the side, so Tommy could get a better side-view. He brushed the hickey we both knew was there with his thumb fondly. See, I told you he doesn't hate me! Told who? I'm losing my mind. A sexy smile played on Tommy's lips. "I gave you this?" He asked somewhat flirtatiously, though we both knew the answer. The red mark was on the right side of my neck, only slightly above my collarbone. He tapped the tender skin there, and I bit my lip in pain. I merely nodded in response.

Tommy frowned down at me, looking thoughtful. He stared off into space for a moment longer, focusing that stormy stare of his on some random object that didn't matter. I guess it was one of those moments he has where he needs some space. You can't really do anything about it. You just have to stand back, take a breath, and let him do what he has to do. Patience is the key. I find that in order to be friends with Tommy, you have to have a lot of patience with him. He needs a lot of space to be comfortable. He just hates committing to things... Not just _relationships_, but even things like a job or friendships... Committing to do my second album was actually a big deal for him. He loathes to be tied down... to anything.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence (simply maddening to us musicians... why do you think I talk so much? Even in my head! See, I'm even doing it in parentheses! Doing it... Ugh. This is what happens when you stick me in a room with Tom. Two seconds, and my mind goes straight to the gutter)... and distance... Tommy cleared his throat and looked at me. His clear blue eyes were so penetrating; it was almost like he saw right through me. He did, too. I was so transparent here. I might be the one with cloudy eyes and a stormy disposition, but a single look from those baby blues can completely rip down your defenses and see right down to the bone... to who you really are inside. Does that sound as corny as I think?

He sighed heavily, planting his hands gently on my still bare shoulders. I felt suddenly conscious of how revealing the outfit was. I felt the cool air of the room hit my neck and felt suddenly cold. Not that Tommy's warm hands couldn't fix that in an instant. The warmth they provided simply by being there was just so comforting. Tommy exhaled softly, and, as if he couldn't stop himself, his hand swept all the way across my smooth skin. From my lower neck to the very edge of my shoulder, where the sleeves started. I felt just a little short of breath at his touch. Come on, Jude... It's just Tommy, the love of your life. He's done this with a million other girls, so you shouldn't be getting all rattled about it. So what if it's a bit of an intimate touch? Tommy's not shaken up by it, so you shouldn't be either.

His lips started to move, and I forced myself to listen to what he was saying. It was probably important anyways. "Jude, if it wasn't me, then _who_... Who made you feel like that? Violated..." Tommy questioned gently, sympathetically. The look in his eyes knocked me out... It was so tender and wonderful. I felt completely undeserving. Oh, yeah. You think I can actually tell Tommy the truth? HA. Oh, yep, Tom, I, uh... Well, I'm gonna tell it like it is, 'mmmkay. So, well, here it is... I kinda made out with my music teacher, you know, the one that I hate? Yeah. Him. And he gives me a hard time and all, but I'm lusting after him something awful. What can I say? He's an asshole, but I want him for his body. Because he looks like _you_.

Yeah, that'll go over real well. I can just picture it now. Oh, yeah, hey Tommy... By the way, he did sort of grope me and make me feel violated. But that was on Tuesday. Morning. Later on I was at the club, you know, and he sort of ambushed me... I wrote "Dirty Old Man" about him, Tom, did you know that? No, of course you didn't. You didn't even listen to it. And I can't decide if it's because you hate the song, you think it's about you, or if you're mad that you weren't involved in it. Whatsoever. Or because of how it disturbs you. Anyways, so I sort of let him feel me up, and then he took off my bra. And, I'm not sure, but he's sorta uh, I don't really now. But it's inappropriate and he gave me that hickey you must've seen when I flashed you. I kinda like him a little too much. It's really very unhealthy.

I shuddered at the question, turning away from Tom. I missed his warm hands. "I **don't** want to talk about it," I said shortly, trying to cut him off. I winced at the edge in my own voice. Well, at least it wasn't a lie. I couldn't tell Tommy. He'd kill Travis and then... And then I don't know what.

Tommy reached out for my wrist, the pained one. And don't you know it, but he grabbed me (and squeezed) right where the bandage was. I moaned, jerking my hand free from his grip, but I eventually turned to face him nonetheless. "You can talk to me, you know," Tommy pointed out. He sounded a little whiny about it... unless he's actually hurt. But that's obviously not possible. He did have a point, though. I COULD talk to him, but if I did, Travis' life would cease. I really don't want to be responsible for a murder and Tommy's imprisonment. I mean, why do you think I haven't seduced him yet. Ha, that's a laugh! Oh, yeah... You know me. I'm dead sexy. Whoo! Fan the flames, baby!

I guess maybe... he could possibly be... somewhat hurt. Tommy's my mentor, my friend, my... producer. Of course he wants to look out for me and guide me through things. He doesn't want me to wind up like him, burned-out and terribly unhappy before twenty... But I am, hell, I am before I'm even legal. He just wants to protect me. I get that. In this case, I could probably use it. Or maybe I could've used it earlier. But now... I'm not too sure. I'm not too sure about anything nowadays. I nodded understandingly and sighed, running my hands through my hair. "I know, Tommy, but..." It was too much, you know? "You don't know him," I blurted, rubbing my throbbing temples.

That's a good excuse. Yeah, that'll work. Just as long as I keep Tommy and Travis very, very, very far apart for the rest of their lives. That's not hard at all. It'll be fun, like that puzzle pieces thing I had goin' for me a while back. Except my puzzle sort of fell apart. Shay dumped me... Tommy's, well, you see... Uh, the studio's good. Except a blinged-up rapper's managing me. I prefer a manager who has enough braincells left to remember how to properly fasten his shirt. Or just to fasten it at all, really. It's Canada, not California. And home is... Well, Mom and Dad are back together. And that's all that matters. Sadie's, well... Not the point. Okay. So I just keep the school separate from the work, and never hang out with Travis. Sounds simple enough, right?

Wrong, wrong, wrong... as I was soon to find out. Sometimes the very thing you don't want to happen happens anyways, even despite your best attempts towards the contrary. Sometimes the other variables make their own decisions, even though you don't want them to. People are difficult that way... But life's like that, I guess.

Well, I suppose that could possibly be true. Though he'd have to know Tommy to hate him so intimately. Or not, I suppose. I mean, I hated him purely for principle back in the day. I think Jamie still hates him for that. Or maybe it's the fact that I'm so into Tommy... It might be that. Tommy surprised me with a friendly hug. Okay then... That feels nice. It reminded me of when I woke up yesterday. I smiled at the thought, but Tom pulled back a moment later. He peered at my neck and gently touched the red mark he'd passionately given me earlier at the shoot. The skin tingled, and not just from the pain. Sounds innocent enough, right?

When Tom's finger grazed the bruised skin the next time, I almost spontaneously combusted from the shock. My breathing sped up involuntarily, and I found it harder to swallow over the lump in my throat. It was also harder to swallow the crazy urge to kiss him. I would have too, and he probably would've kissed me back, but suddenly... I heard the door click open, and we both reluctantly broke apart. Somehow the deadbolt started to open, and I got a sudden idea. I had a feeling a certain unpleasant someone was just about to barge in. So, that being said, I grabbed Tom's hand and pulled him into a rack of clothes. Only I wound up falling on top of him, and clothes rained down on us. Well, as long as we were completely covered in dusty clothes... Trust me, we were... There was no problem. We were covered, and more importantly, the hell out of Travis' watchful sight.

Or so I thought. I heard the sound of Travis' shoes stomping around the room. There was a tiny eyehole that I could peer through between the clothes, so I saw him walking all around the room. I was afraid to even breathe, so I breathed with my mouth open. It was quieter that way. But what I didn't realize was that every time I did this, my breath danced across his stomach. And every time that happened, his muscles tightened as a sort of flinch. Seeing as my head was resting on top of his lower abdomen, I could feel it every time. I reached over and placed my hand over Tom's mouth, feeling my own muscles tense as Travis continued to walk around the room. When is he going to leave? I can't stay like this much longer!

Okay, okay... Travis is leaving! Yes! The door finally shut behind him, and I was free to get up. I grunted and pushed myself up, but out of nowhere, a clothes hanger blindsighted me. "Ow!" I muttered softly, collapsing on top of Tommy again. I just hope that wasn't loud enough for Travis to hear. The door opened again, and I heard the familiar sound of Travis' shoes echoing against the wood. He paced around the room a bit, but didn't see anything. So I thought we were in the clear. Ha. I'm so stupid sometimes.

Tommy sneezed. I can't blame him. After all, the room was dusty as hell. Next thing I know, Travis is pushing the clothes aside like he has a vendetta against them. And then, BAM, we're all exposed like there's a frickin' spotlight on my forehead! I looked up at Travis, who raised an eyebrow at our positioning. I flushed the color of my hair, realizing how it looked. "I knew you were a slut, but you must be _really_ desperate for another taste of Tommy if you're trying to do it with him **here**, of all places," Travis exclaimed coolly, looking around at the place. Okay, so I see his point.

I groaned and rolled my eyes, still blushing. I buried my head in his stomach, gesturing backwards dismissively with my hand. "Tom Quincy, meet Travis Quinn... my music teacher," I mumbled, my voice muffled by Tommy's stomach. I didn't glance up to see the look on Tommy's face, but I bet it was an unpleasant one. The way Travis looked at Tommy... It was like daggers piercing into his skin. At that point, however, I just didn't want to see any of it. I wanted to bury my head in Tommy's nice, warm, flat stomach... Hell, I just wanted to bury myself in Tom. Or is it the other way around? This was not happening.

Only it was, and I was kinda screwed here. I couldn't see his face, but the coldness in Tommy's voice was more than enough to give me a clue as to how he looked. Hello, Frosty. "We've met," Tommy said shortly, a noticeable chill in his tone. Tommy paused almost artfully for a moment before continuing. "I see why you hate him. I bet his class is just terrible," Tommy hissed venemously, starting to get up.

As I was on top of Tommy, I was forced to push myself up and stand. I stumbled a bit when I rose, and Travis steadied me. I didn't miss the smug look he shot Tommy... or for that matter, the way his hands lingered on me. It made me uncomfortable to stand there in such a... tight outfit with these two guys who were both, at the very least, attracted to me, and they wanted to kill each other. Or something. I guess I don't really know, now do I? I pushed Travis' hands off of me somewhat distractedly as Tom rose to his feet. I gulped. Ooh, there was way too much testosterone in the air. Something bad was definitely going to happen, of that I was sure.

I crossed my arms over my chest uncomfortably as I fidgeted there, practically hopping from foot to foot. I just stood there, looking between Tommy and Travis so fast it made my head spin. Travis eyed me in a sort of sleazy way that made me feel totally violated. See, Tom, I wasn't lying! On that note, I think Tommy might've noticed. Travis rolled his eyes at Tommy. "Oh, like _you're_ one to talk about class," He snorted. Uh oh. This is going to be bad. And it only went downhill from there.

Tommy literally growled at Travis. As I was directly between them, I was a little worried for my own safety. Naturally, I did what any sane girl would do, which was back up a lot and edge a bit closer towards Tommy. Tommy made me feel safe. Travis, on the other hand, still scared the crap out of me. I suppose that's because I know what to expect from Tommy, whereas Travis still manages to routinely confuse the hell out of me. Sometimes I swear he does it on purpose, just for kicks. Jerk.

Tommy and Travis moved away from me a little, which relieved me. However, two seconds later, they moved closer to each other. That definitely sent off the alarm bells in my head. Tommy stared Travis down, eyes full of an unbelieveable amount of venom. Travis responded by glaring daggers at Tommy. Ohh, if looks could kill... I think I'd be the only survivor in this room. If looks can kill, then words can smack you in the face. As Tommy and Travis soon decided to prove to me. "Bonjour, **salaud**! J'espere que ça va _mal_," Tommy said pleasantly, feigning politeness. Of course, he just called Travis a bastard and said that he hopes he's doing bad. But what's the difference? "C'est quoi la différence entre ta cravate et la queue d'un chien? La queue du chien elle cache **tout** le trou-du cul!" Tommy snapped mockingly, pulling on Travis' tie. After he made that statement, he dropped the tie like it was contaminated.

Now, my French is a bit rusty... And Tommy was talking incredibly fast, it being his native tongue and all. But is it just me or did he just compare Travis' tie to a dog's tail? You know, it didn't really look _that_ bad... Travis scowled at Tommy in response as he thought up something to say. Maybe Travis doesn't understand what Tommy said. Yeah. Maybe that's it. Or not. "Ne joue pas avec moi, Thomas! C'est bon de donner le cul pour une demie heure, _putain_!" Travis retorted irritably, scowling at Tommy. Ooh, full first name usage. Hmm... I didn't quite catch that. Travis told him, er, to not play with him. Ew. That sounds messed up.

And he might possibly have called Tommy a whore. I think. Though I don't get why that would piss him off. I mean, after all... It's kind of... No, it's just flat out true. Tommy is a whore. That being said, his eyes flashed furiously, and he looked like he wanted to punch Travis. Somehow, Tommy managed to restrain himself, though he was seething. He struck out with words instead. "Non, merci. Mais, tiens, _Trav_, tu peux... Et va jouer dans la traffique, conasse!" Tommy replied with faux politeness. He was good at saying nasty things with a smile. So pretty much, no thanks, but you can. And go play in traffic! Didn't catch the last part. By the way he said Travis' nickname and the way Travis' eyes flashed... I guessed that it meant something bad in French. Yikes.

Travis' eyes narrowed in fury. I watched with trepidation as he took another step towards Tommy. This wasn't looking good. You see, what we have here is a classic clash between two alpha males. Only Tommy's more dangerous and stronger. He could totally kick Travis' ass. I am so rooting for Tommy in a fight, which might just break out in like, ten seconds. Assuming Tommy holds back, and Travis doesn't strike first. As if. Travis is such a coward. It's written all over his skinny scholarly white-boy ass. "Ne me fais pas avaler ça! Tu es... Je n'y crois **pas**! C'était _ta_ faute... Toute. Et tu, tu me fais chier. Ta _gueule_, Thomas!" Travis shouted back, his face turning red with fury. Uh oh.

I didn't think Tommy's eyes could get any narrower, but, oh, apparently they can. Now he too was getting red in the face. Maybe someone ought to cool them down. Aww, damn, I don't see a pitcher of water. Mud? Ooh, jello... I don't care, but they need to be wrestling. Shirtless. Now. Ooh, and if they're all wet... Kill me now. Mmm... Nice visuals, though. Oh, right. What did Travis say? Mind you, I'm barely a French 3 student... Um. You are... Uh, I don't believe something... It's your fault. All. And then blah, blah, blah... Thomas. Travis says Tommy's name weird. Well, he says it the French way, I suppose... Toe-MAH. Except now I think I hear him emphasizing the S. Tome-ASS. I think he's doing it on purpose.

And I think it's working, considering how pissed Tommy looks. I don't know how, but somehow Tommy wasn't punching Travis, which made me think that Travis maybe had something on him. I probably would've hit him by now. Actually, I would've hit him the second he called me a slut, but that's like a badge of honor for Tom. And I'm still not exactly sure what was actually said. So, I dunno... Maybe Tommy said something worse. Why am I rationalizing this? I noticed that Tommy's fists were clenched. He looks like he's going to blow. Everybody, duck and cover! "**Calice**!" Tommy exclaimed savagely, throwing his hands in the air. Travis looked mildly offended, but Tom just laughed at him. "You always were too damn religious for your own good, _Trav_... Je le déteste, et je **te** déteste! Retournez à la _salope_ qui t'a accouchée," Tommy snarled, sharply jerking up his head, so his nose rose in the air dismissively.

Travis shook his head and squared his jaw. I saw a vein in his temple throb. "Maudit christ," Travis muttered half under his breath. Tommy grinned widely in response, obviously proud of himself. He actually liked whatever Travis had just said about him. Well, I caught the part in English of what Tom said. That was about it. Apparently Travis is religious. Though why was he comparing Tommy to Jesus? You know, come to think of it, that makes a lot of sense (not the Tommy and Jesus comparison. That doesn't make sense in any universe)... Considering the whole priest abuse scandal. Those guys must be his mentors. I would really love to hear his confessions: I groped my students today. You know, the ones I told you about. Jude and Joan. He's such a perve. That's what I want to tell Tommy. But I can't because then he'd kick Travis' ass, and they'd send him to prison on assault charges. "Je **t'emmerde**!" Travis shouted vehemently, so loudly that his face became even more flushed.

Tommy's eyes were narrow slits. He merely stared straight at Travis. For once, Tom was the cool one... the calm one... the collected one. But, as usual, it was all an act. Silly me. I should've known better. Tommy's always been hot-tempered, which is really ridiculous when you consider that I'm the redhead. Not to be outdone, Tommy had to shout out something even worse. I know that what Travis just said was probably very vulgar, so let's see what Tommy says. "**Baise**-toi!" Tommy screamed thunderously, seemingly on the verge of committing murder. The eerily primal screams of both men had sent unpleasant chills all the way up my spine, and that chill hadn't yet vanished.

Why would Tommy say that, though? Kiss yourself? It made no sense. Really. Then again, maybe I'm missing something here. Eyes glinting dangerously, Tommy continued in on his little spiel. Only he was much more calm now. His face was almost back at its normal color, and he was Mr. Cool and Collected again. Tommy smiled, or should I say smirked... His teeth shone as pearly white as a shark's. That's fitting, I suppose. Tommy was a shark in waiting. This time, Tommy's prey was Travis. His tone was light and breezy, his expressions and mannerisms pleasant. I knew Tommy, though, and I knew that there was something sinister hidden behind this kind facade. Tommy was never so nice to an enemy unless he was about to strike. "Ta copine a dit cela quand je l'ai séduit. Elle m'a dit... _Baise_-moi, Tommy. S'il **te** plaît? Je te veux _seulement_... Travis peut **se** baiser. Elle m'a dit autres choses aussi... comme plus _dur_... et plus _rapide_... et **maintenant**! Elle était un tigre, vraiment? J'aimais faire l'amour à elle... parce que elle est sa femme. Mais je ne pense pas qu'elle est sa femme, n'est-ce pas, _Trav_?" Tommy continued smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tommy said all of that rather fast, so I don't really know how much of that I go, but, um... I think he said something about Travis' female friend saying, uh, kiss yourself. No, she told Tommy to kiss her. Please. She only wants Tommy. And Travis can kiss himself. How kind of her. Ew. I think the rest of it was sorta dirty sexual talk... Tommy called her a tiger. I think. And, I dunno, he said something about doing her, I think... I don't really know. He was talking pretty fast. Travis, of course, understood every word. Is he from Quebec too? Maybe they were friends back in Montreal. Or maybe they met in the business... Didn't Georgia say something about him laying down a few tracks at G. Major? I wonder...

Travis' eyes darkened in rage. He looked like he was about to fly at Tommy, but something restrained him. It was probably the fact that Tommy could kick his ass, and Travis knew that. Travis visibly flinched at the rather filthy details I'm sure Tommy included. Whoever this girl was, Travis did not want to hear about her doing Tom. Come to think of it, neither do I. Travis tried to distract himself from the argument by unbuttoning his jacket, fiddling with his tie... None of it worked. Travis took a deep breath to prepare himself, but that all changed when he looked up at Tommy. They were immediately locked in a stare, a sort of duel. Something seemed to occur to Travis a moment later because he suddenly smirked widely at Tommy.

And I think I had some idea why. I noticed Travis' eyes flick over me briefly. His smirk seemed to widen further. He was so infuriating! Travis pretended to be casual, putting his hands in his pockets seemingly distractedly. I saw his eyes gleam victoriously, flashing a bright, jealous emerald. And then he spoke. "Thomas, tu as le coup de foudre pour Jude, non?" Travis asked seemingly innocently. I knew he wasn't saying anything even remotely innocent by the way Tom's eyes flashed. Had I a red marker, I would draw on the horns, hooves, and tail myself.

"Ne va pas là! Occupe-toi de tes affaires!" Tommy seethed ferociously. Steam was practically coming out of his ears. The expression on his face was stony. It was clear that Travis had touched a nerve, and, by the way Travis was smirking... You can bet he knew exactly what he'd done. Travis rolled his eyes; he was obviously going to do exactly the opposite of what Tommy said. Naturally. Travis smirked wider, as if what Tommy had said was only confirming something he'd suspected.

What Tommy said? Hmm... Don't go there? Mind your own business? What had Travis asked? It was about me. I know that much. I mean, I did hear Travis say my name. I'm sure of that. Travis smiled thinly, eyes dancing with simmering fire. It looked like he was going to flare up like a sunspot in a few minutes. "Thomas, je veux être **juste** comme tu," Travis replied placidly, blinking innocently. I just want to smack that innocent look off his face. I mean, who the hell is he kidding here? He's a dirty pervert. Hey, wait... So is Tommy. Sort of. They already are way too alike as it is. I don't see why he wants to be more like Tom. I mean, it's so damn confusing! Tommy looked rather confused by Travis' sudden proclamation and out of place sincerity.

Travis' smarmy smile widened slightly, but I think I was the only one who noticed. Travis looked up, fluttering his eyelashes, appearing somewhat wistful. "Je veux faire les choses que tu fais..." Travis continued casually. Was I the only one who heard the sarcasm there? Then Travis looked up, moving purposefully closer to Tommy. Tom likes his space, sure, but he didn't stop Travis. Travis grinned evilly, and that was when I knew that I was in for trouble. Big trouble arrived moments later. "Je veux piner... niquer... **baiser**... _fourcher_..." Travis murmured slowly, deliberately looking at me and wetting his lips. He stared at me for five seconds, pausing for both suspense and sheer cruelty. Then he said one word that made me go through a myriad of emotions. I flushed pink. I felt warm and tingly all over. My skin burned desperately. A bead of sweat made its way down my cheek. My blood ran cold, and a sudden chill overpowered me. My heart pounded faster and harder (stupid Tommy) in my chest. My thoughts raced at light speed. I took a few steps backwards, wanting to collapse against something. What one word could elicit such a bizarre reaction from me, you ask? "_Jude_."

Tommy almost spontaneously combusted from either shock or rage. It's impossible to tell with Tommy. Now, I didn't really know what Travis said. Even though he spoke so slowly, he practically spelled it out for me. Hey, Tommy's the one fluent in French... I'd never even heard most of those verbs. But fourcher reminded me of a fork for some reason. Travis wants to fork me? That makes no... Wait, ew! That sounds so dirty and perverted and just plain wrong! Hey, wait... you don't think Travis deliberately meant that in a sexual context? He's not Tom, but... still. I think... Never mind. Tommy was restraining himself, but it was really taking a lot out of him. His eyes were so wide and startlingly blue. Tommy's mouth on the other hand, was closed completely. In fact, his lips were pursed tightly. His face was red as an apple from anger.

I was surprised that he had refrained from doing something to Travis. I was, however, surprised by what Travis actually did next. Okay, so I was more like floored by the man's insane audacity. Although I shouldn't have been, considering that I'd seen him feel up a very **un**willing Joan less than an hour ago. "Elle est si belle, n'est-ce pas?" He asked softly, walking over to me. Tommy was still trying to control his ire, so he was focusing intently on that. He didn't even notice Travis approach me... at first.

Travis gestured to Tommy, motioning to me. "Regarde ces traits formidables... comme Vénus," He whispered, sounding somewhat in awe. He moved closer to me, and I glanced worriedly to Tom. Not that he was doing anything about it. He was just staring blankly at the two of us. Travis took yet another step closer. "Telles hautes pommettes..." He said quietly, brushing a thumb across one of my cheekbones. I flushed at the sparks that exploded through my senses at the simple touch. Travis let his hand linger there for a moment longer than he should have before he removed his hand and took a step backwards. I wondered if I was the only one who had heard him sigh deeply. I looked to Tommy, but his face was blank and emotionless.

Travis' eyes sparkled in the light somewhat mischeviously. For a brief second, they flitted towards Tom, but then shot back over to me. There was something eerily predatory about that golden gleam. "Ah, sa peau laiteuse... Elle brille presque chatoyant comme les opales lumineuses dans l'aube. C'est si _lisse_, non?" He replied lightly, licking his lips seductively. A moment later, he gently picked up my arm, turned it over, examined it in the light, and rubbed his cheek against the pale skin of my bare forearm. His cheek was smooth against my arm. He must've shaved this morning. Just like Tommy, he hates to go without shaving. Stubble ruins that whole put-together appearance he's going for. He let go of my arm.

"Et ses jolis yeux ceruléens... Ils étincellent comme le plus bleu de saphirs," Travis continued, eyes twinkling with amusement. This time he was looking straight at me and straight into those blue eyes he'd just spoken of. I was terribly confused by what Travis was doing, so I was breathing fast. In case you don't know French, and you're wondering what the hell Travis just said, let me tell you that he was being very complimentary. Earlier he had said that my features were gorgeous and compared me to Venus, the goddess of beauty. He said something about how I have high cheekbones. It was strange, but I found myself understanding most of what he'd said. He spoke almost deliberately slowly... though whether that was for Tommy or me was still questionable. Then he said that my milky/creamy skin shines almost iridescent like luminous opals in the dawn. He commented on how smooth it was. As for my eyes, he said they sparkle like the bluest of sapphires. I told you he has a way with words.

He smiled at me then, but not in the smug sort of way he usually did. The smile he gave me was soft and seemingly filled with real warmth. However, this was Travis, whose middle name should be Ice, so I didn't trust it. He was obviously up to something, and I had a feeling that that something would only wind up pissing Tommy off and confusing me even further. His eyes were drawn to my hair, their exact opposite in color. Isn't it funny that I never realized that. It's strange what things like your eye color and hair color say about you. My hair says that I'm bold, fiery, passionate, prone to violence, that I wear my heart on my sleeve, and not to piss me off, or I will unless the fury of a woman scorned upon you. Probably in song. Travis' eyes said that he was secretive, mysterious, intelligent, and generally calm. And maybe that he had an abnormal fondness for nature, but if that's true, I have yet to see it. Speaking of my hair...

"Je n'oublie pas ses cheveux rouges brillants. Ils sont chaud comme ton vin préféré. Chaque mèche les lueurs comme les rubis plus riches dans la lumière. Ses cheveux ont l'air si souple... Veux-tu les caresser?" Travis declared boldly, shooting a look to Tom. He meant the question. Tommy made no move to fondle my hair. In fact, Tommy seemed distracted and oddly... silent. It seemed like he was in deep contemplation. Just what was he thinking about? I was dying to know. Tommy's sudden inattention only seemed to spur Travis on. He grinned contentedly... I honestly think he might've been able to do anything to me (if I'd let him), and Tommy wouldn't have batted an eyelash. And I do mean anything... What Travis actually did was much more demure, luckily for me. And for Travis, I suppose. Tommy might've pummelled him if he'd actually pushed the limit. Travis was suddenly right at my side. I was blown away as he gently tucked a strand of slightly damp hair behind my ear. He caressed my hair, acting for all intents and purposes completely docile. He even leaned in to sniff my hair, his hand still on top of my head. After glancing at a still oblivious Tommy (with relief), Travis quickly pressed a brief kiss to my forehead, mumbling into my hair, "Ah, ils se sentent comme la soie..."

He thinks my hair feels like silk, in other words. I was even more confused by this point. He just kissed me... _innocently_! He can do that! That's a first for Travis. On the forehead, too! What the hell did that mean? Sometimes I think he does stuff like this on purpose. Just because he knows how it's messing me up inside. He removed his hands from my hair a moment later, when Tommy's eyes started to register some interest in the scene before his eyes. Well, it's about damn time. Okay, so how weird is this? I mean, Tommy's not flipping out like the jealous maniac that we all know him to be, for one. And Travis is touching me in front of Tommy, well, not right now... But you get the point, don't you? Tommy hates Travis and vice-versa for some unknown reason that involves a girl. And who knew Travis was so damn fluent in French? Not just fluent, verbose! I had to look up half of what he said when I got home.

"Oh la la... Et ses lèvres vierges sont comme pleines et alléchantes comme les cerises mûres," Travis said slightly breathlessly, still directing his words to Tommy, but staring blatantly at me. His voice had dropped an octave by accident. Then again, maybe he'd done that on purpose so Tommy couldn't hear him as well. Of course, Travis should've known better. Tommy is a producer. The man has freakishly good hearing. He should too, since he gets paid to listen to tracks all day, figure out what's wrong with them, fix it, mix it, and turn it into a hit. He gets a lot of money for it too. I bet half of the money I've made off my album went to his salary. Okay, so that's ridiculous, but you get the point... But according to Travis, my virgin lips are as full and inviting (or tempting... take your pick) as ripe cherries. Oy, there's a blast from the past. That just reminded me of Van the Shock Jock and his annoying habit of calling me Cherry all the time, which doesn't exactly put me in the mood.

That was what Travis was going for, after all. Sure, I wasn't running away, but I wasn't reacting or anything. Not like he probably wanted to. Here's the sick thing... Maybe he's doing all of this... with me... for me... whatever... Maybe he's doing it to prove some sort of twisted point to Tommy. Only why would he do that? And then the answer came to me... Because he thinks we're involved. I hate to burst his bubble, but... I opened my mouth and was about to tell Travis this when he started to talk. "Elles sont veloutées et douces comme les pétales rougies de rose," He croaked somewhat hoarsely, looking at me nervously. What, is he seventeen again? Uh, dumbass, he's been trying to nail two sixteen-year-olds. So he is, then. There was nothing anxious about any of his following actions, though. Travis interruped my thoughts by trailing his fingers against my soft lips delicately. All the thoughts pretty much jumped out of my head then. He smiled at me lazily, and I think I just stared at him, feeling vulnerable.

His index finger swept across my lips, going back and forth a few times. I closed my eyes and let the sensation take over as he stroked my lips. Then, breath hitching in my throat, I swallowed too hard and forced my eyes open. My eyelids were so heavy, though, so my eyes remained only half-lidded. I could feel my heart pounding faster as my pulse reached a dizzying speed. My head was spinning from the tingling in my lips. Only now the tingling had spread all the way down to my toes, through my fingertips. And it wasn't so much a tingling anymore... more of a searing burn... like that of desire... longing. Something must be wrong with me because feeling this way just isn't right. I was getting way too much pleasure out of this. It couldn't be healthy. My teeth grazed his finger warningly. Don't get too close, Mister! My sensible side had a brief relapse. I promise it won't happen again. Just stop teasing me! It's driving me crazy!

I moaned softly, eyelashes fluttering. His fingers stopped moving, but he didn't remove them from my lips. I gasped for a fleeting breath. My eyes widened to their normal size. Better, I thought. Or is it, my traitorous brain questioned. Shut up, I muttered in my head, feeling tormented. Great, and now I have a freaking headache. From talking to myself. Well, it wouldn't be the first Travis-induced headache I've ever had. There was something completely unnerving about the way he was looking at me, but I forced myself to overlook it. C'mon girl, you're tougher than this! One man should not be able to turn your mind to mush! You're too strong to fall under someone's spell. Unless it's Tommy, but you're allowed to fall for anything Tommy does. Because he's... My thoughts were cut off sharply as Travis leaned in closer to me, carefully removing his fingers from my lips. We weren't touching anymore, so why did I still feel out of breath?

Apparently my lips are velvety and soft like blushing rose petals. I think Travis must've missed his calling as a poet. Or a lyricist. I think he's written songs, though. Well, obviously. The guy teaches Studio Music, which means that he's been in a studio... Something G confirmed. And so he's at least a performer then, right? I've heard him sing... He was good enough to land a record contract, I think... So he's a washed-up has-been. Wow. Another thing he and Tom have in common. No, that's insulting... to Tommy. Tommy will always have my loyalty, first and foremost. Though they both wound up not as singers (Tom's trying to change that), but in other professions involving music. Music... that's the common thread here. The thing that connects us all.

Travis licked his lips, which made me conscious of the short distance in between us. Had he always been this close? It seemed like he was leaning in... He's going to try and kiss me in front of Tommy! He must be crazy. And so am I, since I don't think I can bring myself to fight him off. "Elles goûtent probablement aigres comme les frambroises trop mûres," Travis remarked casually in an even lower tone. Come to think of it, it wasn't really casual... Just informal. My lips probably taste sour like overripe raspberries. Hey, I happen to enjoy the taste of overripe raspberries! Only they don't taste sour... they taste more tart. It's hard to describe, but they taste better because they're overripe. Now I licked my lips in a wide, sweeping motion, starting with my upper lip, then the bottom one. Travis' eyes darkened with lust, the gold flecks in them giving him a bewitching stare. I was hypnotized by his gaze, hanging on his every word. Travis started to close the distance in between us, but I didn't move. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. If his lips came any closer to mine, we'd kiss. "Les lèvres te _mendient_ presque les baiser..." He breathed in a low whisper. Lips that almost beg you to kiss them... True to his words, his lips skimmed mine, but only barely.

Which was for the best, I suppose... As Tommy forcibly yanked Travis away from me by the collar. He practically threw Travis across the room and (most importantly) as far away from me as possible. Immediately, he moved to step between us, wrapping an arm around my waist, placing his hand on my lower back. Grrrr, somebody's possessive. Tommy's eyes glared icy daggers at Travis. Oh, if looks could kill. Something was holding Tommy back. "Tu veux un **autre** oeil au beurre noir? Ou, es-tu juste completement débile? Je ne te **laisserai** pas marcher loin cet fois, _pisseux_! Ne la touche pas!" Tommy snarled in a slur, shaking his fist at Travis threateningly. His words were no less sinister. His words ran together in a sort of Montreal street slang almost. Who does he think he is, Tony Soprano?

You want another black eye? Yeah, I don't get how you get that from black butter eye, but oh well. Or are you just a complete imbecile? They both were. I won't let you walk away this time, coward! This time? So there have been other times? They've fought other times before? Travis has walked away from a fight? Why does Tommy want to start a fight now? Don't touch her, he orders. Hmm. If I didn't know better, I'd say that Tommy actually cared.

Travis just gave Tommy a smug, self-important look. And the student has surpassed the master... teacher. Ugh. My teacher's a pervert. And my producer's a pedophile. Well, isn't that just faaantastic? Why can't I have a normal life? Travis stepped forward, completely fearless. He should be afraid! Hello, this is Tommy, of all people! Travis crossed his arms over his chest, grin widening as he stepped closer and closer to the two of us. Tommy pulled me closer, his grip tightening on my back almost fearfully. I don't think that Tommy was afraid, though. I think he was afraid for me, for what Travis could do to me... especially when he wasn't there to protect me. To tell the truth, I was afraid of that too. I bit my lip nervously as Travis opened his mouth to speak. The same lips that had been fleetingly pressed against mine only seconds before. I remembered the brief spark that had shot through me at the touch and shuddered. I bit down on my lip harder for penance. Bad Jude. Bad, bad, bad Jude. "Ce n'est pas nécessaire. Je l'ai branché," He stated smugly, pronouncing each syllable, beaming with pride. That's not necessary. I seduced her...

Why that little...! Tommy's eyes flashed furiously, narrowing in irritation. He was staring at Travis like he was a roach Tommy wanted to stomp. I hate roaches. A wave of anger pulsed through me at the thought of how Travis had just made me feel. He used me! He used me to piss off Tommy. Wow. It hurts the other way around, doesn't it? I glowered right back at Travis, the urge to say something horrible bubbling up within me. "Si tu touches ma fille encore, je te tuerai!" Tommy growled possessively. This wasn't just about me, you know. There were deeper issues afoot. Of course, it'd be hell getting either of them to even utter a word on the subject... If you touch my girl again, I'll kill you! Romantic, huh? That's my Tommy for you.

Travis was about to say something, but I made up my mind that this had already gone on for too long. So maybe I blew a fuse. "**Fermez** les bouches!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. Both Tommy and Travis stared at me in surprise. Oh, come on, this is Canada! Do you think I'm going to take Spanish? I rolled my eyes at them irritably. "Quoi? Vous ne savons pas que je parle le français aussi?" I retorted irritably. I saw both of them turn pale as they realized that I'd understood at least some of what they said. I smiled, crossing my arms over my chest. Tommy sighed and started to calm down a little.

Tommy slowly steered me towards the door. I didn't mind. I was so confused in so many ways. I just followed him, leaning against his side tiredly. Neither of us were prepared for the little surprise Travis had in mind. "Possessive much, Mottola?" He called after us. Tommy turned around immediately, pissed off at the flip comment. Obviously because of the similarities between himself and Tommy Mottola, but I'll save that for another day. You know, since he's Tommy... I guess that makes me Mariah. Cool! He thinks I sing that well?

Tommy's eyes narrowed further. He has a bit of a sensitive spot towards things he's guilty of. He rolled his eyes at Travis. "Better him than Clare Quilty!" Tommy snapped venemously, giving Travis a pointed look. I don't get what paper towels have to do with anything! Yeesh, and why does Travis look all offended? So what? He called you a brand of paper towels. It doesn't matter when he's Brawny.

Oddly enough, a wry smile... I guess you could call it that... appeared on Travis' face. Yeah, at some remark Tommy said. One that was obviously meant as an insult. I still don't get it. Travis chuckled, nodding. So he's admitting to perversion? I'm assuming it has something to do with perversion, because, well, it's Travis! "So, I assume that makes you Humbert? How fitting. Then again, I always knew you'd kill me someday," Travis replied perfectly casually. There was no emotion on his face. He laughed mirthlessly again and clapped for his enemy. "_Bravo_, Tom. I'm impressed you remembered my fondness for Russian Literature. Guess you're not as stupid as you look, eh, Pretty Boy?" Travis said, grinning, eyes squinting up. That was a backhand compliment if I ever heard one. Living with Sadie, I've heard a lot... too much of such things.

It looked like Tom was about to do something stupid, but I tugged him towards the door. Tommy just gave Travis a dirty look, muttering under his breath before turning away like a disciplined child. In a few short strides, we crossed the room. "Jude does make _quite_ the Lolita, doesn't she, Tom?" His voice asked quietly, suggestively. Tommy gripped the doorknob with white knuckles but refused to turn around. Nice self-control there, bucko. He's learning. Good boy. Tommy started to open the door, but once again Travis interrupted. Stupid asshole. "I need to talk to Jude... about her performance," Travis stated simply. He did too.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, glaring at him suspiciously. I think I can do this... as long as I remember that Travis is an ass who just used me. I gave Tommy the five-minute sign, motioning for him to wait for me. He didn't leave like he was supposed to, though. I had to reassure him that he could barge through the damn door if I didn't come out at the promised time, which happened to be in ten minutes. Yeesh. Tommy very reluctantly closed the door behind him. My breath caught in my throught as I realized that I was trapped there alone with Travis for ten whole minutes. Oh crap. Why the hell did I do this again? Oh... Right. We _do_ actually need to talk and someone always interrupts us when we try. Mason, Joan, Tommy... Or was I imagining that last one?

Travis walked towards me, and I realized with a dull sensation that the door was locked behind me. Just great. Okay, Jude, act a little more confident. "What, Travis, do you always come to me after Joan's rejected you?" I snapped venemously, crossing my arms over my chest. Surprise flickered briefly in his eyes. "Yeah, _Trav_, I know about that," I sneered, glaring daggers at him. Oh, you should've seen the way he paled.

Hey, look at that... I'm in control. Hmm. This could be fun. "I'm not stupid... And this is what I see. I see you and Kate acting like a couple. I see you and Joan fighting. I see you coming on to me. Now, Travis, this is the part that I don't get... You kissed Joan, you made out with me, and you had sex with Kate all on the **same** day. How messed up is that?" I stated bluntly. Man, and I thought Tommy was the manwhore. Come to think of it, he also came on to both Joan and me on the same day that he showed up making out with Kate.

Travis rolled his eyes. "Oh, like _you're_ one to talk! You screwed Spiederman and made out with me at the club, and then you spent the night at Tommy's place! All in one night," Travis hissed, eyes darkening. I can't believe he's calling me a hypocrite. I have never had sex with Speed. I've only even kissed him a handful of times. And yes... I did spend the night at Tommy's. But I didn't have sex with him... no thanks to Tommy.

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. My reputation precedes me. "I _never_ had sex with Spiederman. Or Tommy. Not that that's **any** of your business. I was so drunk I don't remember how I wound up at his place, but I didn't sleep with him. _Tommy_ wouldn't take advantage of me like that," I asserted, feeling fed-up. He's the player. He's a teacher too... How can a teacher be a player? I don't even want to think about what Travis would've done to me when I was drunk. Wait, why the hell did I tell him all that? It's none of his business whatsoever. Travis' eyes narrowed at the unspoken comparison, and he snorted in response.

He didn't say anything, though, so I felt the need to go on, to defend Tommy. It was my prerogative. "You see, I _know_ Tommy. And I trust him, which is more than I can say for you," I snarled, feeling slightly smug. Travis just rolled his eyes at my apparent naivete. Whatever. I wasn't stupid to trust Tommy. I'd be stupid to trust him, Travis. That was just dumb. His eyes glittered with malice. Oh, yeah, I'm so afraid.

And then it hit me. I wasn't afraid of Travis... At least, not now. Singing that song had empowered me. After putting it all out there... I knew exactly what to do about Travis... for once in my life. "If you knew what was good for you, you wouldn't. Trust me, if you give Tommy your faith and your trust... He'll only betray you. 'Cause _that's_ the kind of guy he is," Travis growled, eyes turning dangerously cloudy. Like that weird green sinkhole pond we saw down in Mexico. The one the Maya sacrificed people in.

He sounds like he's speaking from experience. Well, too bad. He's seriously cracked if he thinks I'm trusting him over Tommy. Oh yeah, I'll trust a pervy teacher whom I hate over my friend and inspiration whom I love with all of my heart. Yeah, _that_ makes sense. "Trust you? Trust **you**! How stupid do I look!" I screamed a little too loudly, pausing for a second to catch my breath. My throat felt raw and dry. "Let's talk for one second about what kind of guy _you_ are, shall we? For starters, you lie pathologically. You told Joan that Kate means nothing to you... Yet Kate was hanging all over you in class. You tell one person one thing, and another person the opposite. So no one ever knows what the _hell_ you really mean. Not to mention that you don't take no for an answer. And then there's your fetish for your female students, which is both illegal and emotionally scarring. You're a lying, pushy, perverted bastard. Now, you're definitely playing _someone_ here. And I wanna know just who it is. You might as well tell me because either way you're in for an ass-kicking," I chastised irritably. My patience was pretty much shot by that point.

Travis laughed at me then. I guess he didn't think that I actually could or would kick his ass. Hell hath no fury like... That expression was written about me, I tell you. There was really no right answer to that question. I suppose he answered it the best way he could. "Who do you think?" He questioned, somewhat annoyed. By that point, it didn't really matter what his answer was. I just knew. Me. It was me.

I placed my hands on my hips, standing up as tall as I could. "You know, it's something I've wondered... You chose me. You've singled me out from Day One. I wanna know _why_ you picked me. Did you do it just because you knew it would piss Tommy off?" I snapped, one weighty statement after the other. I didn't move. Travis just shrugged and didn't say anything. His silence said more than any word he could've said. Well, gee, thanks, Asshole. I so enjoy being used. But I can deal with that. I mean, I hate him already. I just... hate him more now. And that's working just fine for me. I nodded stiffly, not expressing any of the blinding indignation I was currently experiencing. "And what about Joan? Why'd you pick her? You just using her too?" I continued viciously, preparing to tear him apart.

Instead, he just looked vaguely surprised that I was even asking the question. He blinked disbelievingly for a moment. Yeah, I'm going to question your motives. I mean, the asshole just admitted that he was using me. Does he think I'm okay with that? No girl is. A pained look crossed Travis' face. "I... I didn't mean to get involved with Joan. Just you. I just... I'm not using her. I didn't mean for it to happen, but I..." Travis mumbled by way of explanation. He avoided looking at me. Oh, yeah, he's not like Tommy. He's worse.

At least he's not using Joan. Though that means he's using Kate. Poor dear. She doesn't deserve it. I'm guessing he's big on revenge, though, so that doesn't surprise me. Only I don't get what I ever did to him. Just you... The words stung me...Well, it works both ways, Trav. It works both ways. "Do you love her?" I asked primly, pursing my lips and staring right at his face. I visibly saw him squirm and flush. Oh, so it's like that? He couldn't look at me. Well, well, well... If that's not damning evidence, I don't know what is.

Travis finally composed himself. His eyes shone with intensity. "What business is that of yours? That's like me asking you if you love Tommy! Utterly ridiculous," He muttered testily, starting to pace. No, it's not. It's really not. Me asking Travis that is like Travis asking Tommy if he's in love with me. It makes perfect sense.

"No, it's not," I replied petulantly, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling the sudden need to sit down. "You wouldn't even have to ask." Because it's obvious. I sat down on one of the benches in the center of the room, crossing my legs. "But I'd answer, which is more than I can say for you," I remarked coolly, leaning against the cubbies. The metal was cool against my skin. "Then again, I guess I don't have to ask you that either. It's _obvious_," I murmured with a shrug, closing my eyes. He's whipped. And Joan doesn't even know.

The fatigue hit me then. So much intensity in one day. I didn't get much sleep last night. My lips curled into a smile just thinking of Tim. Of course, as he was prone to do, Travis ruined the brief moment of happiness. Well, I could've guessed that he wouldn't be happy about those comments I just made. "That song was about me, wasn't it?" He sneered cockily. I felt sick hearing his voice, and I couldn't tell him. But his voice mocked me, repeating over and over in my head. So I got angry.

I shot up like a rocket and stared at him for about two seconds, steaming. The way he said that reminded me of Tommy visiting me in my dressing room after I'd sang "Skin", only it was a hundred times worse. I was seeing red and not thinking clearly. "Not everything's about _you_, Quincy," I snarled, not realizing my mistake. Travis visably recoiled at the name, even though I'd only done it by accident.

I was surprised by what he actually did. He looked like he wanted to hit me. I was afraid of that for a second, but then I remembered his black eye and knew I could take him out. And if I couldn't, Tommy was waiting outside. It relaxed me just a little bit. "Even after everything that's happened between us, you still can't forget about Tommy!" Travis shouted, throwing his hands in the air. He says that like he actually cares.

But what he really cares about is that I'm focusing on Tommy. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy... Who's the fixated one now? "Of **course** I can't! I _lo_..." I exclaimed, realizing what I was about to say. Panicked, I immediately cut myself off, letting the unfinished word hang in the air between us. Oddly enough, Travis looked surprised.

Oh, please. He knows about Tom's reputation as well as I do. Travis crossed his arms over his chest, surveying me with a shrewd eye. "You what? You _love_ him?" He demanded aggressively. I refused to answer, and he threw his hands in the air. I don't think he noticed that I couldn't look at him or that I didn't deny it. He's not as observant as he likes to think he is. "Now that's just stupid, but then again, why am I surprised?" He continued, cruelly berating me. I'm not the stupid one here. He came on to me! Stupidest move ever.

Why would he risk it all for me? He doesn't like me. He was just using me. You don't risk your job, your career, your reputation, your freedom, your whole damn life... for something you don't care about. Unless he's even more twisted than I thought. And here's the sick part. I think he is. He didn't risk it for me. He risked it all for revenge for something Tommy did to him. _That's_ what's ridiculous. "You wanna know why I picked you, Jude? I'll tell you... It's because you're one of those stupid girls I was telling Joan about. All you need is a little coaxing, and you're putty in my hands," Travis said antagonistically. He smirked evilly.

Naturally, I wanted nothing more than to throttle him to death right there. I was so infuriated that I couldn't say anything at first. As if that smug, annoying comment wasn't enough, he decided to _prove_ his point too. "I hate you," I hissed unintentionally. A moment later, he'd ferociously seized my hips and pulled me flush against him. Then he was kissing me, and I'll be damned, but once again all my thoughts had flown out the window. Thereby proving his point. Sort of. His hands skimmed down my sides, one catching on the zipper of my shirt and starting to pull it down. His other hand pressed against the front of my pants, looking for a zipper. Too bad there wasn't one... for his sake. The second I felt him literally trying to get in my pants, I knew I had to stop him and pronto.

I roughly pulled my lips off of his. "Hands off," I grunted, pushing him away from me. I pulled my zipper back up, feeling a little bit better. Travis came at me again. He must've missed the lesson in Kindergarten on keeping his hands to himself. Plus he's invading my personal bubble. And that pisses me off. Maybe no one taught him the concept of personal space in all that school he went to. I sidestepped him, but he was relentless. He attacked just when I let my guard down a little, pinning me against the mirror. It hurt a little.

He leaned forward, and I writhed against him, moving my back further away from him in an almost reptilian manner. I clawed at his hands, determined this time to not give in. I didn't even want to think about him touching me... regardless of how good it felt. I grimaced at the thought and tried to jerk free of his grip, but he had my hands and was pressed against me. In times such as those, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. I remembered something I'd seen in one of those superhero movies Jamie had dragged me to. Honestly, the guy's obsessed with comic books! I just go for the hot guys. I slammed my forehead into Travis' (I couldn't exactly pull the knee-in-the-groin move, considering he had me pinned, now could I?).

Pain exploded in my head, and I heard him cry out loudly. I used his momentary distraction as an excuse to get away from him with a slap to the face from my free hand. I was free! I put some distance between us, heading towards the door. Sure, my head ached, but I had to get out of here. Travis approached me once again. I shook my finger at him, walking backwards towards the door. "Don't you **dare** touch me!" I yelled shrilly. Travis didn't care. He only advanced further, getting closer. I started to get freaked out as I watched the distance between us narrow. "I swear to _God_, Travis... If you _touch_ me again, I **will** castrate you," I snarled ferally, eyes narrowing in a predatory way. I felt my hands clench into fists in preparation.

He didn't take me seriously, but I could deal with that. I rose to my full height, placing my hands on my hips and taking a defiant stance. I looked him full on, straight in the eyes. I meant business. "I won't stay silent any longer. I'm not going to let you continue to have power over me. Your little secret's coming out... whether you want it to or not," I threatened, giving him a dirty look. A smile spread easily across my lips. "If you're lucky, I won't tell Tommy first." All right. So I know I was pushing it a little with that one. Okay, a lot.

Travis gave me this look, like "who are you kidding?". Oh, but Tommy would believe me. Hell, I would only have to tell Tommy half of the details, and he would still punch the guy's lights out. Sometimes Tommy being an overprotective freak has its advantages. I met his stare, undeterred. He was not going to stop me. No one gets away with making me feel like he made me feel. "I'm not going to be the scared little girl anymore. I have dealt with things worse than you, and I've made it through. So you better _believe_ I'll deal with **you**," I avowed, eyes steely. Travis said nothing, maintaining a blank face. Except for his eyes. The intensity in his gaze, per usual, completely blew me away. I gasped softly, staring helplessly into his eyes.

I didn't even notice him approach me slowly, cautiously. I don't even think I blinked. My eyes watered a little, the fierce stare taking a toll on me. I blinked away the blurriness and almost fainted when I noticed how close he was. He painstakingly placed a hand on my shoulder, being careful to avoid getting me angrier than I already was. Once again, I found myself confused. How familiar. His grip on my arm was warm and surprisingly comforting. I leaned into his grip a little. "You're playing a dangerous game now, Harrison," He muttered in a low, almost dark tone, leaning in to whisper it in my ear. My eyes were drawn to his fingers tracing a pattern on my shoulder. The circular motion felt nice, so I didn't say anything. I just let my eyes flutter closed, the gesture slowly relaxing me. I felt his breath, hot against the side of my neck, just below my ear, where his lips still remained. He was sort of leaning his head against my neck. "Guess it's a good thing I happen to _like_ games, then, isn't it?" He whispered huskily, planting a wet kiss on the area his breath had just brushed.

I flushed from head to toe, and Travis pulled away from my neck to look at me. His hands framed the sides of my face, caressing my cheekbones almost reverently. He was so close! Close enough to kiss... but he wasn't going anywhere, and I couldn't go for it. No matter how... appealing it appeared. "They don't call me a player for nothing, Jude," Travis murmured, finally leaning in and capturing my lips. Finally! I responded immediately, throwing my arms around his neck and opening my mouth against his. My hands tangled messily in his hair. Travis pulled away after a few moments, hands gently slipping to my bared shoulders. I noticed him suck in a breath. He must've felt the skin-on-skin electricity too.

He gripped my shoulders a bit tighter, and I pouted like a blonde, only wanting to kiss him again. "You will do no such thing. You're embarrassed by it, and you don't want the press thinking any worse of you than they already do. What jury would honestly believe you? You have guts, Harrison, and you have them in spades... but even **you** don't have enough guts to do that," Travis pointed out in a soothing tone, rubbing my shoulders. And, just like that, I was back to hating him. I jerked his hands off my shoulders as if burned.

"Oh, _really_? Well, why **not**!" I snapped, ignoring the backhand compliment in there. It was slightly insulting, but a compliment nonetheless. Travis never had very many compliments for me. For instance, in a casual discussion with one of his other classes, he labeled my debut album "pop drivel". Said it was Second-Wave Avril. Ouch. He said it was over-produced, too polished, derivative, and lacked any originality whatsoever. Oh, and he also said I played the guitar worse than Sid Vicious played the bass, and that it was a very good thing I had finally gotten a back-up band to play for me so everyone wouldn't be forced to listen to my tone-deaf power chord-heavy riffs. Please. Speed does twice as many power chords as I do, complete with the windmill motion. And I'm not even going to go into what he said about "Pick Up the Pieces".

Travis easily placed a hand under my chin, forcing it up so I'd have to look up at him. Ha, like he's actually some kind of role model! He just gave me a casual, somewhat dismissive type of look coupled with the vintage Sid Vicious scowl. Yeesh, that's the sixth Sid Vicious reference in one day. I have problems. Okay, okay... So I might've had a crush on him when I was little. Okay, so maybe I was in love with the skinny punk. Yes, I realize that he died like, ten-nine years before I was even born... Seriously, I even dyed my hair blonde that summer I turned eleven because I thought it would make me look like Nancy. It did, too. Except Jamie said that it made me look like a cross between Courtney Love on drugs and Sadie with no make-up, so I dyed it back. I was pretty sick that summer too. And then I found out Nancy was dead, and I made up a special dance 'cause Sid was all mine. But then Sadie pointed out that Sid was dead and even showed me an article about it. I cried for three days straight. I really thought we were gonna get married. Or at least hook up in a bar.

I wrote a bunch of songs about him. "To Sid with Love", "Too Vicious", "I Wanna Be Your Heroin(e)", "Sex Pistol-Whipped". And then Sadie called him a murderer, and I threw a piece of glass at her, screamed that I'd hate her forever, and shaved right down the middle of her head. I had her looking like a hardcore punk. I might've been a bit of a strange child, yes. I mean, sure, other girls drooled over Nsync, The New Kids, Backstreet, and Boyz Attack!... while I played Pokemon with Jamie and crushed on Sid Vicious, Johnny Rotten, Paul Simonon (I saw him on the album cover, smashing his bass, and fell in love. It was sooo rock and roll... giggle), Tommy Ramone (see, it's a habit!), and Kurt Cobain. Explains a bit about me, doesn't it?

"Because, Jude," He drawled, sounding almost patient. He took another step towards me, and I swallowed hard. Travis' lips curved into a self-satisfied smile. He liked being able to affect me like that. "You have feelings for me," Travis finished, sounding completely sure of himself. At first, I could only gape at him, disbelieving. I still can't believe he said that. It's so sickeningly cocky. My first immediate thought was: what the hell is he smoking? I still couldn't think of anything to say. I guess he took that as some sort of bizarre acceptance that his theory was right, because, if it was even possible, his smirk widened. Finally, I realized that I had to immediate fix him thinking it was true, so I closed my jaw.

So, I did the typical punk thing to do in the situation. I punched him in the other eye. I like to call it... Instant Black Eye: Parte Deux. "No, I **don't**, you stupid prick! And if you do something crazy like that again, I'll rip out your nonexistent heart with my bare hands and _cram_ it down your throat," I growled virulently, desperately grabbing his shirt by the labels and shaking him violently. Don't tempt a crazy woman, I tell you. Travis' eyes widened drastically, and he looked absolutely petrified for an instant. Because, like I said, I was a crazy woman with a vendetta. I shoved him backwards with both hands, turning around to leave. "Go get stuffed!" I shouted over my shoulder, dashing to the door before he could trap me in there any longer.

"The lady protests too much, methinks," I heard Travis call after me. The bastard always has to get in the last word. _How much, methinks, I could despise this man... _Shuddering, I threw the door open and almost hit Tommy in the face. I could tell Tommy wanted to go in to see what had gone on in there, but I slammed the door behind me, wanting to forget about everything that had just transpired. I was going to have to figure out how I really felt towards Travis sometime, yes, but now was not that time. That time would never come, if I could help it. Tom just shrugged, wrapping an arm around my waist. I smiled at the familiar gesture as we began to walk out. Our strides matched automatically like it was meant to be.

I forced a smile, though it came a bit easier since I was looking at Tommy. In reality, my head was still spinning from all that had transpired in such a short time. Tommy probably asked me something, but I was so distracted that I heard nothing. Tommy grabbed my wrist suddenly and we stopped walking right there in the middle of the hallway. Damn, I really wanted to get out of here a.s.a.p. I repeat... damn. Tommy looked troubled, obviously wondering what Travis and I had spoken about. I think he expected me to tell him because we just stood there in silence for a few minutes. I started to move, but Tommy stayed firm and eventually relented, asking a question I knew he wanted to ask. "Jude, you trust me, right?" Tommy questioned softly, looking even a little vulnerable

I raised an eyebrow, surprised that that was his question, but I answered it nonetheless... with a vigorous nod of the head. Tommy smiled, looking slightly relieved. He ran a hand through his hair, nodding to himself. I guess he had to get his act together before he looked at me again. Oh, who ever knows with him? I mean, really? Tommy sighed, as if he was forcing himself to get this out. "Look, whatever Travis told you... It's not true. Don't believe him," Tommy pleaded with wide eyes. Once again, I nodded, not feeling up to speaking. There was something peculiar about this behavior, however... What did Travis have on him? I mean, I would ask Trav, but that means that I'd have to speak to him, and I just can't do that. Tommy grabbed my hands, eyes round and begging. "Jude, _promise_ me something," Tommy requested, an almost scared, worried look in his eyes. I only nodded, motioning for him to go on. Tommy did. "Promise me that you'll stay away from him." His tone was urgent. There was no need to ask who "him" was.

And I hated to do it, but I had to tell Tommy the truth. "I'm sorry, Tommy, but I _can't_," I grunted wearily, throwing a hand over my eyes. Hearing his shocked gasp, I continued to elabortate further, even if it was only pointing out the obvious, "He's my music teacher. And how bad does it look if a musician's flunking music?" Tommy nodded, his mouth forming an o-shape. Like, oh... Jude told you that, you twit! And she has a point. Hey, if Tommy gets to ask questions, then why don't I? I decided to break that rule with one of my own. We had started walking again. "Hey, Tommy... What's the deal with you and Quinn?" I inquired, trying to sound as casual as possible. Maybe if I pulled this off properly he'd actually answer it.

Tommy sighed, looking at the ground, putting his other hand in his pocket. Okay, so somebody doesn't want to talk about it. Gotcha. Well, I guess I'll have to fix that, now won't I? "We grew up together. I guess you could say we were childhood friends. Anyways, we both wound up in the business and... Travis wasn't doing as well as me. So he got jealous, and I stole a girlfriend or two of his 'cause he was pissing me off... You know how petty people are in the industry... He just never got over it and he's hated me ever since. It's nothing big, really," Tommy elucidated reluctantly, sounding a bit harried. Some of that sounded fishy, but I didn't care. It was a story, and that's all I wanted at the time. It was good enough for me... for now.

Tommy and I walked all the way to his car in relative silence. He opened the door for me, and I got in. He followed shortly afterwards, and while I was fastening my seat belt, I was surprised to feel his hand on my face. What's Tommy up to? He moved his other hand to hold my cheek. The other one was currently resting near my mouth, with his thumb right on the top of my upper lip, a little underneath my nose. His hand felt heavenly warm, but I didn't dare close my eyes and risk missing the moment... The loving look in his eyes... The way those icy-blue orbs sparkled, zeroing in on me. Tommy's thumb absentmindedly stroked my lip for a minute.

I shot him a curious look. His eyes widened a little, almost nervously, like he'd been caught doing something wrong. And in a way, he sort of had. He gently wiped around the edges of my lips with the pad of his thumb. "Your lipstick was smeared, girl," Tommy mumbled, gesturing to my lips and flashing fingers stained crimson from the lipstick that covered them. I flushed, clearly embarrassed, while secretly wondering if Tommy suspected that Travis and I had done what we'd actually done in there... God, I hoped not.

Won't kiss off, my ass! Tommy frowned at his fingers, trying to wipe them off on his jeans and then muttering under his breath about how on Earth he could ever explain this to Sadie. I just forced a nervous smile, peering at my slightly swollen lips in the mirror. Well, maybe Tommy hadn't noticed. Maybe he doesn't look at my lips.

Yeah, Jude, Tommy looks at your _eyes_... Yeah right. Fortunately for me, when I finally came up for an explanation as to why the lipstick was smeared, Tommy was too busy driving and muttering about how Sadie was going to flip over these mysterious feminine stains on him to care or even notice. "I guess that's what I get for buying cheap lipstick," I murmured, sneaking a glance at Tommy before I resumed staring out the window. I wiped at my lips even more, harder. I wanted every trace off. Then maybe all of the madness would stop. Maybe I wouldn't be in this predicament. Maybe if I got the taste of Travis off of my lips, it'd get the thoughts of him out of my head. Permanently.

And just what, exactly, am I supposed to do about the whole reporting-him thing, by the way?

'Cause suddenly... I'm not sure I even have the guts to attempt it.

- Loren ;

* * *

Oh, and in case anyone's wondering... I wrote Joan's song after watching the Joan of Arc movie with Leelee Sobieski. If that's how you spell it. Because there's this one part just before the end where the evil priest guy, erm, one of them... Or maybe he's an evil British guy... But he tells this other guy to do something... And then she's sort of crying and, er, touchy. Kinda ambiguous.

Oh, and as for Jude's song, I actually got the inspiration for it after reading this IS fic on the CTV site... Desperate Measures by chyeah. You'll get how if you read it. Only then I changed the lyrics around a little, 'cause I was like, whoa, this song could sorta fit Travis. So, if it sounds slightly weird to you, it's because it was originally written about something else. Well, most of them, I think. I wrote bits of the chorus earlier... Oh, and thanks to Krystle, who probably isn't reading this. But she was up with me when I was writing it, and helped me on deciding which verses to dump. Though I have to say that her song is one of the LONGEST songs I've written. So, as usual, it was pure misery to incorporate. Actually, most songs are like that. Except "Over Me". And I suppose "Forbidden Fruit" wasn't too bad.

More thanks go out to Krystle for putting up with me asking stupid questions about what Travis should wear and what his tie should look like. Oh, and thanks to everyone who had to put up with me whining about not knowing what to make Jude wear, lol, especially Sis and Ruby. It took me a while, but I finally decided! Yay!

Fics to check out: "A Bittersweet Homecoming" by shakabuku. Check it out on the ctv site. Just type in www. instantstar. com, and it'll take you there. Minus the spaces of course. If it wasn't amazing, I wouldn't be typing this bit at three in the morning. ;) She's really good at dialogue. I mean, you can actually imagine the characters saying it. Ooh, and especially the connotation work that she does... Sundae will never have the same meaning to me. ;) So if you aren't reading it, you should be.

"Unexpected" by CJMJM. Aww, come on, you know you wanna read it. Besides, I wrote the song that's going to be in her next chapter. ;) Seriously, she's like the nicest ever. I mean, she named the psycho bitch character after me. How awesome is that? Lol. I mean, it really is what the title says. You look at where it started, and you go, WHOA! Seriously, the whole Loser thing... She really did her research! It's so realistic, and it makes you want to just reach out and smack somebody. She also updates pretty regularly, unlike yours truly here. ;)

"Natural Disaster" by Scented Candl3s. So hot. It's a wonderful AU fic where Jude didn't win IS, but it has the good old people in it... Gotta love that forbidden affair angle. And Jude's lovelife is so confusing you need to navigate it with a compass, but it has Speed in it... Tommy too. It's just hot. And deliciously dark. Very intense. Amazing, really. Check out her other stuff too.

"Bang Theory" and its sequel, "Tit for Tat" by GiliWasCool (I started writing this note before she finished, lol). First of all, it's absolutely hilarious and riddled with thousands of wonderful, obscure pop culture references. If you like mine, you'll love hers. It's in Jude's POV too, though I think hers is way more hilarious than mine. Plus that last chapter was... smokin'. It makes fun of everything, and I think it's absolutely brilliant. The chapters are also pretty long. Yay! It's just a great load of fun to read. It really is.

Ooh, and this is my Capital R for Rubious Pick of the Day... "Song to Say Goodbye" by iamthatplace. It's rated R, kiddies, but it's not perverted or crude or anything. Not really. And from what I remember, I don't think there's that much violence or cursing. It's really beautiful, deep, and well-written. And it gets way too few reviews, and I've resolved to fix that. It's got a new twist on an old plot, but you'll love it. At least I do. It's pretty dark, but that makes such an impression. It stands out from all the fics I've read because it's not afraid to take it to that dark place, teetering on the edge of sanity. Masterful.

Oh, and another thing... In French-Canadian slang, words that have religious meanings are sort of curse words. Just in case you were wondering why Tommy said: "Chalice!" Lol. Oh, and maudit christ according to the site I got it off of means "antichrist". Lol.

So, Tommy's apparently Jude's "demanding svengali-like manager". According to this article-thingy. But Tommy's not Jude's manager at all. That's Darius. He's her producer... Oddly enough, aside from a svengali meaning someone who tries to persuade/force someone into doing their bidding (coughDariuscough). However, Svengali (noun) is a musician in a novel that controls another character's singing hypnotically. Now see, THAT sounds like Tommy.

Anyways, reviews are extremely appreciated, especially long ones. So if you review, that'd be cool... Whatever floats your boat Either way, rock on!


	30. Minor Liaison

My friends, prepare yourself for something amazing... a.k.a. my most opulent thirtieth chapter. Really, it's my magnum opus or something. I'm suddenly very fond of it, randomness and all... But I'm at thirty. What a milestone... I toast to you all!Everyone party... Celllllebrategood times, c'mon! Excuse my dubious sanity for a moment, as it is five in the a.m., a time at which, obviously, no sane mortals are awake. Ahem, as I was saying... 'Cause this chapter has it all. Actually, nah, it's probably not amazing. But this chapter does have it all. So... if you like lusty lovers, reckless destruction of property, crazy bets, angst up the wazoo, contradictions left and right, Beatles' songs, evil mothers, saints, bondage, vows that were meant to be broken, pirates, dirty music videos, Travis actually teaching, numerous music references, and "I Ran"... Then you're in luck. 'Cause this chapter touches on just about everything. Bwahaha. And surprisingly, the chapter is actually shorter than the last one. Victory!

So about where I was, because maybe I wasn't clear enough about this. I could've sworn I mentioned it in one of the author's notes for another chapter, but who knows... Anyways, I was in Europe/traveling for ten days. I assure you that I probably would've finished the chapter had I been in the country. I tried to finish as much as I could before I left and was actually thinking about posting it, but the chapter was only like... I dunno 15ish or something pages, and I hadn't even gotten to the music video part. I didn't think that the parts with Tim and Patsy were interesting enough to stand on their own, so I didn't post it. I also didn't post because I literally promised that the next chapter would be the premiere. So it is. Because I really hate breaking promises to you. Now that brings me to my second problem, which is that I'm leaving for Guatemala pretty soon. So I'm gonna try and finish it before I go to Guatemala. If it kills me.

You know, I'm surprised no one raised a question about why Jude had gauze on the middle of her forearm. Or what she meant when she said she had a thin, tiny red initial inked unto her left hip... An important note: Remember that Jude and Jamie didn't get those stupid J tattooes.

This chapter is rather unique in the fact that it has a dedication. To a boy. Lol, I can just hear those "Ooh la las" in the background... But yeah. He will probably never read it and probably doesn't even remember my name, but I'm okay with that. Hey, you have to have some experience on which to base your writings, right? So this one goes out to Jared, especially the Tim part, which I wrote way before I even saw him. I guess you could say that he sort of reminded me of Tommy, only less volatile... 'Cause he was about... 4-5ish years older than me, maybe? Which is why it really sucks being sixteen sometimes. So this is for Jared, who probably has no idea of how much he inspired me.

Now, let's see... I think I owe a lot of people thanks for this chapter. For instance, Eleanor, who was our tour guide in Europe. She was awesome, and she put up with so much. So mega props go to Eleanor. Also to our chaperones... who were really nice. Lol, and Tiffany, my new friend, 'cause she's crazy and don't be surprised if "I Think We're Alone Now" pops up in this chapter. Hm, and Vicki too, 'cause someone had to be there to be hit on by crazy Italian gus with me. Oh, and Rachel and Robin for the first reason. And Elizabeth, who was really cool, kinda like that big sister I always wanted. Let's see, and then there's the usual suspects, Six and Ruby, for putting up with my questions about whether I should put up the chapter in two parts. Especially Six. She really helped me with that. Lol, and Ruby deserves a medal with putting up with all of the random PMs I send her. Oh, and I can't forget Shakabuku for nagging me about the chapter. ;) I like that sort of thing. It shows people care. Well, with this story anyways. With the other one, I feel like I'm always two steps away from being stabbed by villagers or chased with pitchforks and torches or something... And, finally, thanks to Kerilyn... for helping me so Jude didn't have a "wardrobe malfunction". Lol.

On the bright side, I thought a lot about the ending of the fic when I was gone. I thought up a lot of lines. And I now know what's going to be the final track on Tommy's album. Oh, and it's going to work this way. I'm putting it in capitals since it's a lot of big ideas, and it will most likely take forever to actually occur. But I love the ideas anyways. First there's The Revelation, then there's The Big Fight, which is followed by The Big Gesture, and then The Aftermath, and The Resolution, and finally... The Epilogue. Or maybe the last two are the same. Who knows? Anyways, I also apologize if I tend to go off on rather long rants about characters in rock 'n' roll history, musical genres, anything involving Europe, saints, or, um, I think that's it. What I go on about is generally stuff I've read about on Wikipedia. And I just read about The Beatles, so I wouldn't be surprised if there's a bunch of references even after all the songs I put in at the beginning 'cause I just had to go back in and edit, naturally. Oh, and in case you get confused by Patsy mentioning various T-names, she's actually talking about Travis. She's just reprised that habit she has of calling people by similar names... or in this case, not so similar names. ;)

Anyways, another thing, so I did one of my little research projects on genres of music, so if you're wondering why Jude mentions them a lot. Okay, another thing... I do not own "Julia", "Savoy Truffle", "Something", "When I'm Sixty-Four", "If I Fell", "Golden Slumbers", or "Let It Be". They respectfully belong to John, Paul, and George (for "Something"). Anyways, I blame the inclusion of "Let It Be" on the fact that it was partially stuck in my head while I was traveling around Europe. Because one of the things I do is randomly break out in song. For instance, Joan Jett's cover of Gary Glitter's "Do You Want to Touch Me". That happened often, and I would frequently punctuate it by pointing out the irony of the song, being that Glitter is a convicted child molester. My roommates really didn't notice me singing it oddly enough. Lol, until I got to the chorus. Anyways, so I had the beginning to "Let It Be" stuck in my head, since I didn't exactly know the words. I did a lot of walking, so I'd be muttering it under my breath incorrectly, of course. Ex: _"When I'm in times of trouble, Mother Mary comforts me..."_ I also do not own Joan Jett's "Fetish". Awesome song, that. I also don't own IS.

A little note about the beginning... Uh, it's not very descriptive, but I think you can understand what went on. ;) Anyways, about Tim in this chapter. You're either going to think he's the corniest loser ever and how could Jude fall for that or you're going to think he's the most romantic thing ever and want him all to yourself. I'm hoping it's the latter, personally... I'm kinda worried also that people will think Jude's being all overemotional in this chapter, so if she is, I'm sorry... Oh, and as of this chapter, my little story is now over 400 pages in Open Office. Yay!

* * *

He bit his way down my stomach, taking little nips at my skin as his hands ran over my naked flesh. "Kiss Me Deadly" played quietly in the background. The sound was muffled as my shirt was currently covering the radio. I barely registered the song choice as appropriate. He took the song's meaning literally, so I wasn't really thinking much about anything... except kissing him. I sighed dreamily, moaning as his lips trailed down my neck, sweeping across my collarbone lightly. The skin there tingled beneath his lips. 

I ran my hands through his hair, combing through the tangles. It was so soft. I groaned, pulling him closer to me, forcing his lips back on mine. I'd missed this... I'd missed him. It felt so good. His hands swept down my sides, caressing my skin tenderly. My eyes briefly fluttered open, but my vision was blurry. I closed my eyes, twining my arms around his neck. I dug my nails into his upper back. He growled and lightly dragged his nails across my stomach. Rawr, somebody likes it rough!

I responded with a grunt, pushing him over so that I was on top of him. He grinned against my lips as I ran my fingers down his chest. This time I was the one smiling. He has such... chiseled muscles. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. Skin pressed against skin, and electricity followed wherever we touched... even slightly. His hands dipped down lower around my back. This was too good to be true. I felt delirious with the pleasure. I also felt slightly drugged... So I leaned back into the pillow. We weren't exactly going at it anymore, but he was still halfway on top of me. Next thing I know, I'm asleep.

Well, it was tiring, considering just what it was that we were doing... had done. I didn't know I was asleep until the door slammed open. Before I knew it, I'd lazily opened my eyes to find one very angry man at the door. His face was red, and he was literally steaming. My eyes were sort of blurry, so it took me a while to notice just who it was. But then my vision cleared to reveal one very angry Thomas Quincy.

Now here's the real humdinger, okay? If Tommy was standing right there, looking murderous, then who had I slept with? I don't just mean that literally either... if you get my drift. I swallowed hard and glanced over at the person who was in bed next to me. Let's just say that the words I uttered are unprintable. Actually, I screamed and fell out of the bed in horror. Travis. It was Travis! That's my worst nightmare come to life.

Tommy looked disgusted... though I couldn't tell if it was because of me or Travis. He threw me his jacket to uh, cover up my nakedness. It wasn't really sufficient, but I found my underwear on the floor and frantically put it on, wrapping Tommy's jacket around me. I curled up there on the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees, carefully watching the two. Travis was looking cocky as hell. He had a smirk plastered all over his face that could eclipse the sun. He yawned and waved at Tommy merrily.

I shuddered at the gesture and almost jumped when Tommy started walking towards Travis, who was still in bed. He stopped about a meter short of the bed. "I don't know who I'm more disappointed in," He muttered in a low voice, looking alternatively at both Travis and me. How did this happen? I looked down at my feet, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. I couldn't say anything to that. Tommy was right. "How could you do this?" Tommy asked bitterly. I had a sinking feeling that he'd directed that one at me and me alone.

What, exactly could I say to that? He was right. How could I? I must've been drunk or something. I had to be on something to... to... to do... that. Him. Ick. I shook my head at the thought. Ew. He's my teacher. Ew. He had just seriously crossed a line. Okay, that's it. There's no doubt in my mind now. I have to report him. Whatever was holding me back... I just need to let it go. Because how I may or may not feel doesn't matter. What does matter is that I did not initiate things. I did not want this. And even if I did, he's a teacher, and he has no right to take advantage of me!

"I had to have been drugged or something!" I muttered under my breath. I took a sharp intake of breath as I noticed both of them look at me curiously. Crap. But I valiantly decided to continue anyways. "There's no way I would _voluntarily_ consent to have sex with that weasel!" I hissed, sickened, gesturing to Travis with disdain. Tommy also glared daggers at Travis. I almost sighed in relief. He was on my side now. He obviously saw my point. I wouldn't. I found Travis repulsively attractive, but that didn't mean I'd sleep with him.

Travis, however, did not look amused. He adjusted the sheets a little around his waist, but made no move to get out of the bed. He just shrugged, shooting me a look. Tommy was going to punch him. I could smell it. I bet Travis could tell too, because he made a sudden move to speak. "See, that's not the way I remember it. I seem to remember you coming on to me... You _love_ me, remember, Jude?" Travis replied smoothly, in that sarcastic way he had of talking. Tommy turned his stare on me, forgetting all about Travis. The look in his eyes sent shivers up my spine.

I was stricken, and I turned as white as a sheet. I couldn't even speak. I almost choked on my own saliva, in fact. I could only shake my head no. I didn't love Travis. I would've never said I did... Never, even if I was bombed. I tugged on my hair nervously. "I would never say anything like that. I would have to be out of my mind!" I exclaimed irritably, praying that Tommy would believe me. I wouldn't, would I?

Travis just gave me a disapproving look, shrugging and leaning against the pillow. "I didn't hear you complaining," He replied dismissively. I just looked at Tommy in horror, feeling the tears start to form in my eyes. I was so confused. What had happened? I forced myself to breathe and then quietly closed my eyes to collect myself. I couldn't look at Tommy anymore without feeling guilty. How had I done something... someone... so horrible? I closed my eyes and let the tears stream down my cheeks. It all felt so unreal.

And it was. I was dreaming. You have no idea how relieved I was when I woke up in that bathroom stall. No, I didn't fall asleep on the toilet, although nowadays I really am that tired... Technically, I was sitting on the toilet, but the lid was over it. I had come in here about fifteen minutes through Quinn's class, when I realized that I couldn't look at him anymore. I felt sick to my stomach whenever he looked at me. Finally, he made some comment, and I couldn't take it anymore! I felt like I was going to throw up, so I ran out of the room. I came in here and puked my guts out. Then I washed my mouth out and decided to skip class because Mason still had my car. So I came in this stall again, and, well, I guess I passed out.

I glanced at my watch. I love this watch, by the way. It's kick-ass. Anyway, Quinn's class was about halfway over. I hadn't been asleep that long. Bummer. So I had some time to kill, I guess. I thought back to the lesson in class. For once, my asshole of a teacher actually had a lesson. Yeah, I know. It surprised me too. It was on how to properly write a song. Apparently he thought our performances were substandard last night. I swallowed over the bitter lump in my throat.

"The key to every great song, aside from a great opening hook and a killer melody is the right chorus. 99 of songs have a chorus. The exception is if you're Alanis Morissette, but she's so famous she can pull it off," Travis began, writing out words on the board. He's talking about Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie. You know, I must say... That is a great name for an album, don't you think? Not quite catchy, but cool. It sounds smart, and then BAM, you see the word "junkie". I wish my album's had cool names. But no, I have the boring stand-by for first albums... plastering your name on the cover. Self-titled debuts are so boring. It's like... well, gee, I'm going to insult your intelligence and say that you don't know who I am, even though you're obviously looking at me, and you've found me alphabetically in the CD rack. And then, to add insult to injury, it's like saying that the person who's picked up the album is so stupid that they cannot even remember my name. Like they got momentary amnesia 'cause one of the rods that's holding up the roof of the Best Buy just plumb fell out of the sky and conked you right on the head clear in the middle of the store... And you miraculously didn't die, but suffered amnesia. Here's the real question: If you suffered amnesia, how could you still read? I mean, wouldn't you at least have a concussion?

I looked at the words, bored out of my skull already. Then again, Travis was "teaching"... Chorus, bridge, verse, line... Chords, notes, lyrics, harmony, melody, crescendo. Words any true songwriter already knew. We're not all newbies, you know! I hated his passive-aggressive way of patronizing me. I hated the fact that he made few distinctions in ability. I hated everything about his damn class. I even hated the way it smelled.

Musty, like books, if you must know, with the charged atmosphere of a stage when I've got my Telly all plugged in. "Looks like someone's got a thing for Alanis... Not that it surprises me," I mumbled to Joan... or maybe to myself, halfway under my breath. Joan turned to look at me and nodded knowingly. She had obviously overheard me. A moment later, however, she turned away, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Not that Joan resembled Alanis strongly... but she did have brown hair and brown eyes. Minus the pink streaks, but still. I could tell that Joan was slightly creeped out.

I guess Mr. Quinn must've overheard me. I honestly don't know how. It was under my breath and I was... Okay, so I was sitting in the front row. Of all the days to be late. It's not my fault, though. I was going to skip automatically, but Joan dragged me in (I think for moral support, but then again... She also pointed out my shoddy attendance record thus far). But still, he was at the board! "What's that supposed to mean?" He practically growled, suddenly right in front of me. He was leaning against my desk, both of his hands resting on its surface. I wanted to scream out loud in frustration and leap out of the chair. But I couldn't. He'd used those same words last night. To Joan. Then again, if he said that to Joan... in a totally different context, then why am I stressing over it? After all, Tommy said that to me on my sixteenth and... I don't want to go there, do I? No, I don't. 'Cause that means I'm comparing two men who were never meant to be compared. Ever. In any universe.

God help me. I shrugged, flashing a fake, cold smile. He was so fake. I just didn't know how much more of it I could take. "You Oughtta Know!" I retorted snappily. I heard a few snickers and smiled amusedly at my own comment. Sadly enough, though, it was true. He did know. That wasn't actually the song I was thinking of, though.

Joan voiced that very song a moment later in a whisper. Travis was long gone by then, back up at the board, furiously writing notes on the board about songwriting, glancing back and lecturing. "Hands Clean!" Joan exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, glancing at Travis. I don't think she thought I'd heard. I did, and I knew what she meant. Trust me, I, of all people, understand the meaning of that song. Sad thing is... I think Travis knew that that was exactly what the both of us were thinking. He sort of glanced back at Joan and smiled. She immediately responded by looking down and going back down to the song she was writing. Hey, I write songs in class all the time too! Joan looked frustrated, though it was unclear if it was a result of Travis or the song.

Anyways, back to Travis... I mean, he's not stupid. He's many things, but not stupid. For instance, he _is_ an asshole. Not the point, though. Because I don't want to dwell on that class. So I think I'll think about something happy instead. I mean, yeah, I could go over every little mean thing that jerk said to me, but I don't want to do that because that just means that I'm thinking about him. And that is _exactly_ what he wants.

So... Tim. Now that, my friend, is a great subject. Sometimes in class, I just randomly find myself thinking about him. So let's see... We went out on Tuesday, right? It was sort of late. I know I haven't really mentioned it to anyone, but there's a good reason for that. For one, he thinks I'm Julia Stanley, enrolled in college... Etcetera. Aside from that, though, things are just... going so well. I'm totally not used to it. So I figure I can keep it my little secret. Things are still so new with us and... great. Great doesn't even cover it. He's so... freeing. I feel like I can really be myself around him, more than I am around anyone else, that is.

Except the music thing. And music is such a BIG part of my life, so it's weird having to keep it from someone. It's such a HUGE part of me. But in some ways, it's relieving, you know, 'cause I don't have to put up with all of this fame stuff. I can just be normal. That's nice. I didn't realize how much I've missed that. I just think that if I talk about it too much, I'll like, jinx it or something... I mean, if I do, something will go wrong. And I need someone like Tim in my life, so that can't happen.

Trust me, someone would put a stop to it. My friends, my band, my label, my parents, my sister, my manager, my ex, my producer... Especially my producer. After all, I'm only sixteen, right? And Tim's definitely older, but I really don't care. Has age ever mattered to me? Hell no. Seriously, I think I have more issues with labels. Take Tommy, for instance. Okay, I have no problems with him being older than me. Or being my producer (except when he keeps me up all night... trust me, it's not as much fun as it sounds!). My biggest issues are the fact that he's dating Sadie, which equals guilt and a general ickiness to the whole crush-thing. And the other one, of course, is the fact that he was in a boyband. Seriously, no joke. I could care less about the reputation or the experience or the cockiness, but... It's not the band I'm against. It's just that for years and years and years... I stood against people like him. I'd feel like I was compromising my values. And that is one thing I just can't stand for.

My problem with Travis is that he's my teacher. And he hates Tommy. And I hate him. And he's got a thing for Joan. Oh, and the age thing. Hmm, weird. Ugh, off that dreadful subject. What am I thinking! Tim, right. Tim. Okay, so let's see... I had just finished dry humping Tommy. Sort of. Let's get off that topic. It's weird to think about and... It makes me feel weirder. Okay, so then I went to the park and fooled around, thinking for a bit. Then I ran home and dressed in some non-trampy clothes. Well, I wouldn't say that...

I was wearing my rockstar pants, which is basically this tight, low-slung pair of black pants with my stud belt. I was wearing this really low-cut sort of corset-style top. It was electric blue and made it sort of hard to breathe, but hey, it made me look hot. I can't say that about many outfits, you know, without them being too trashy. Like the hooker clothes Darius is fond of making me wear. Case in point: Performing at the IS 2 finals and my music video. Enough said. I also was wearing a leather wristband (or is it a bracelet? It's my spike bracelet), which, ironically enough, came in handy later.

Anyways, on to the actual date. I met Tim at the record store this time. I got to browse around a little before the date, but that CD I'd seen was gone. Still. I even asked the guy about it, but he had no answers for me. Lousy jerk. I liked the store and all, but I was pissed. So maybe I nicked a couple of CDs. Jeez. One of them was my own. The other one was an old Boyz Attack! CD. Okay, so sue me, I have an obsession. A top-secret one at that, so shut your mouth. Tim looked really good... well, at least, I think he did. You could never tell in between the hat and the shades and what not.

Maybe you could if he had any distinguishing features, but he didn't really have any. You know, like moles or a cleft in his chin or dimples. Well, I guess he had dimples. He didn't even have stubble or a beard or anything. Just a blindingly white smile, and those lips... I saw him, and my first thought was of kissing him. So that's just what I did. Hey, I was kinda dating the man, so wasn't I entitled to all the perks of it? Tim was a little surprised, but he sure came around fast. Unfortunately, some old fogie was walking on that same sideway and yelled at us to "Get a room!". I wish.

See, here's the deal... I barely know the guy. Actually, I don't know him. Period. Anyways, yes, it was our third date. And I've watched the TV shows, I know what's supposed to happen. It couldn't, of course. I mean, not that it's not legal or anything. Because it is. The consent age is fourteen here. I looked it up the day after I met Tommy. What? That's not strange at all. I was just thinking of... Jamie! I swear. And, look, if I have sex with Jamie, it's totally legal. You see? Yeah, I was thinking about Jamie. Heh. You see, as much as I wanted to jump the guy (Tim, that is. I'm no skank)... I couldn't. Seeing as he didn't know that I was, in fact, Jude Harrison.

I don't technically know from experience or anything... Seeing as my limited sexual experience consisted of drunkenly making out with Travis in a bathroom and letting him take off my bra and the equally vivid image of me and Tommy in bed together in front of a camera with two pieces of fabric between our skin... Well, the point is that I kinda think you're supposed to be able to, oh, I dunno, see someone's face when you're doing them. I couldn't have that happening. He might break it off with me if he knew who I really was... the age again, I'm afraid. Aside from that, my life was complicated enough without me jumping into bed with some man I barely knew and winding up with an incurable sexually transmitted disease or a baby out of it.

I broke the kiss and immediately demanded that he get me drunk. Well, not really. I just... I wanted a drink. And if I have one drink, I don't really get drunk. I get a little buzzed is all. I can still walk straight and everything. I was aching to blow off some steam. Really, aching. So Tim and I walked to this bar and he bought me a... Actually, it was a Sex on the Beach. I turned pink when he ordered and giggled. Tim thought it was endearing, so he played with a strand of my hair while we waited for the drinks. We talked about some really stupid crap, too. Hockey scores. It's not like I'd talk about music. Sure, I could go on for hours and hours about music... but still. He might connect the dots.

I asked anyways. But that was after the second drink. It was a wonder I wasn't calling myself Jude by then. Nah. I wasn't that drunk. Just drunk enough to ask. "What kind of music do you like?" I questioned with a slight giggle. Have I mentioned that I hate giggling? Just like I hate my Julia voice. It's too bimbo-y. Ugh.

I think Tim smirked. He was so serious about his answer that I almost believed him. "Boyz Attack! Seriously, I'm a sucker for those harmonies... Oh, and when they shake their little butts..." He barely managed to get it out before we both collapsed into a fit of laughter. I hit him on the arm for making fun of me.

I shook my head, taking another sip of my drink. "Hey, you're crazy if you think any girl can turn down five hotties singing a love song giving that puppy dog look. And the booty-shaking was the best part," I remarked cheerfully, feeling a bit tipsy. Tim snorted, but I noticed the smile playing on his lips. A second later, Tim pulled me up to dance. I stumbled automatically, but he caught me. "My knight in shining Raybans," I muttered sarcastically, lacing my arms around his neck. Tim chuckled, placing his hands on my waist for support. It worked too. As much as I was swooning staring at him, smelling his cologne, I never fell once. That felt so beyond good. Who knew it could be so... easy... and not painful... to fall?

Certainly not me, of all people. The music currently playing in the bar was, well, not my choice. By that, I don't mean that it was Britney's biggest hits. Or death metal. I'll have you know that despite the atonal screamageness of it, I'm rather fond of metal. Just not death metal. It's hella depressing. I mean, who sings songs about death? It's just depressing. Makes you want to go fling yourself off a cliff or something. Actually, it was some dreadful synth-pop. Now I know people probably think I've got something against pop music, which maybe is a little true, although I worship power-pop... But synth-pop just sucked. Oh, you know what it is. It's that stuff from the '80s that you see on I Love the 80's that you make fun of. You know, where the only instrument playing is a synthesizer. Now, I love me some synth, but in small amounts. It shouldn't dominate. It just sounds corny as hell if it does that. I mean, I think the song must've been by A Flock of Seagulls. That was the worst, lemme tell you. Actually, yes, it was.

It was "I Ran", a.k.a. the most annoying song on the planet. Yes, even worse than "Achy-Breaky Heart". After all, at least he actually sang and was pretty to look at. Seriously, I think that band is the worst thing to ever come out of the U.K. And I love the U.K. I mean, look at me. My sister and I are named after Beatles' songs. I'm in love with a guy with the same name as one of The Who's albums/rock-operas (sadly, I don't see my Tommy as being a spiritual leader or a pinball wizard... Way I see it, Tommy's really good at three things... music, fighting, and, well... you know). And my favorite bands are The Sex Pistols and The Clash. But, seriously, A Flock of Seagulls practically ruined the island. I mean, how did that single ever chart? I mean, come on... See, that's why Tommy says concept albums never work. I find that ironic considering he's got the same first name as one, but, hey, whatever... Yeesh, "I'm in Love with My Guitar" totally kicked that song's ass. "I Ran (So Far Away)", that is. I mean, Jamie might call it "pop drivel", but at least it wasn't "god awful". I mean, "I'm in Love with My Guitar" at least had deeper lyrics than that. After all, the song was a metaphor for... other things I loved. Not the point, though. The point is that whoever wrote "I Ran" should be shot. Oh, you think I'm being harsh? Trust me, I'm not.

Speaking of which, that guy had the ugliest haircut I have ever had the horror to witness on a human's head. Seriously, even Darius, whose fondest wish is to have a full head of hair, would not want that ugly... thing... on his head. I'm not kidding. I've seen the way he sends longing looks at Tommy's hair. You see, at first I thought he was into Tommy... You know, like _that_. But then I noticed that he was just staring at Tommy's hair. Which was actually good, because I was about to make a probably homoerotic comment in reference to his habitual Tommy-watching (one of the few sports in which I am a more than willing participant) at that particular moment. Though that brings up the question... Why doesn't Darius get a hair transplant? It's not like he can't afford it or anything. Seriously, though, even little toy poodles laugh when they see that hideous as sin haircut.

I was cringing at the song, even in my slightly inebriated state. For some reason, Tim found this incredibly amusing. He dipped me down low. Considering our drunkenness, I was afraid he was going to drop me. He didn't, though, to my relief. Hey, that dance lesson with Shay scarred me for life. I guess that was symbolic. I should've known we'd break up... That, once again, he would drop me on my ass. Tommy too. That's what love is like for me... I fall on my ass. Tim was different, though. He laughed, pulling me up, sending me crashing into him. I had a feeling that Tim didn't mind the impact one bit. "_C'mon_, Julia... This is **our** song," He coaxed, twirling me. I think he said that because it mentions some auburn-haired girl with tawny eyes or something like that. I winced, but then Tim kissed me, and I found myself nodding stupidly.

Suddenly, I found myself not caring about the music. Tim and I had a song! _We_ had a song, and who cares if that's the worst song in history. It's still our song, and _we_ were a **we**! "Yeah," I muttered softly, leaning against him. I closed my eyes and put my head on his shoulder. Tim's grip on my waist tightened a little. I snuggled into his warm shoulder. He smelled so good. Mm. However, moments later, a stupid jerk said we ought to get a room, as this was no club. That made me mad, and I was about to punch him, but Tim stopped me. He told the guy that we would each have one more drink and then leave. I got a Cosmopolitan, and Tim got something manly. I can't remember. I just remember the Cosmo was pink and it tasted goood.

Then Tim and I left the joint. We wandered around for a while, eventually going to one of the parks in the city. Tim tackled me, and we sort of got into a tickle fight. That was nice, but then we just sort of laid there on our backs, looking up at the stars in a comfortable silence. Tim propped himself up on one elbow, leaning over to face me. "_Half of what I say is meaningless... But I say it just to reach you... Julia_," He murmured, smiling at me softly. I'm not going to lie and say that he had a good voice, but... I was touched. Not only did he remember that I was named after a Beatles' song, but he actually knew the lyrics. Coincidentally, according to Butch Vig of Garbage (who produced Nevermind, one of the best albums EVER), Kurt used to jam to it regularly. So you can see why I chose the name Julia. From one crush to another...

I smiled stupidly, leaning up a bit. Tim took that as encouragement to continue. "_Julia... Julia, ocean child, calls me... So I sing a song of love, Julia... Julia... Seashell eyes, windy smile, calls me... So I sing a song of love... Julia_," Tim crooned, caressing my cheek. His voice was a little scratchy and out of key/off-tune. But it didn't hurt my ears to listen to it. Remember, I grew up on Bob Dylan and punk music and hearing my sister sing Boyz Attack! songs at the top of her lungs, so I'm used to the whole off-key atonal thing. Actually, come to think of it, it's weird I have any sense of pitch at all, growing up in an environment like that. Eh, that's what I have Tommy for. He has perfect pitch, which is really helpful in composition. I'd like to say that he's an Elton John type, or that he's better with words, but I can't really say either. I'd classify it as more of a Lennon-McCartney sort of partnership. I'm John, and he's clearly Paul. This is because Paul was a poppy sort of guy who wrote better songs anyways. Well, actually, that's debateable. He wrote all the good love songs. Yes, let's go with that. John wrote the more important politically significant songs. Er, neither of us are really political types, though. But, like I said, Tommy's Paul 'cause he's a perfectionist and a producer and "the cute one". Though I personally find Ringo and George to be cuter, but whatever... And I'm John, because my love screws up things, and I wrote a lot of the shorter songs. Although, Paul was the only Beatle who didn't divorce his first wife (something Tommy had already accomplished at the tender age of 18-19), and he happened to be freakishly loyal and in love with Linda until her death, so... maybe I'm wrong. But back to Tim's singing, which was not at all reminiscent of any Beatle. It was, however, a sort of endearing, pleasant sound. Okay, so maybe I'm just highly susceptible to a guy serenading me under any name. I leaned in and kissed him. Tim broke the kiss, smiling at me.

"_Her hair of floating sky is shimmering... glimmering... in the sun_," He whispered, reaching over and toying with a piece of my hair, holding it up to the stars in the darkness. It couldn't possibly be glimmering in the darkness, so I giggled lightly. "_Julia... Julia, morning moon, touch me... So I sing a song of love... Julia_," He held out for a few moments before leaning in and kissing me again softly. I broke the kiss to catch my breath and then swooped in for another. It was all so romantic there in the moonlight.

I shivered, pulling back. Tim must've sensed that I was cold because he wrapped his arms around me. I leaned my head against his stomach, and he took the opportunity to pull me over him. He did this so that I was lying directly on top of him, looking up at the sky. I felt tingles spreading from the ends of my hair to my toes. It was a warm feeling. I glanced back at Tim, which was hard to do, considering how we were positioned. I smiled at him and noticed that he was smiling back.

A sudden idea popped into my head. I bit my lip, feeling suddenly nervous. Well, I was a schoolgirl, so I was entitled to be nervous about it. "_Cool cherry cream and a nice apple tart. I feel your taste all the time we're apart. Coconut fudge really blows down those blues. But you'll have to have them all pulled out... After the Savoy truffle_," I sang weakly, bopping him on the nose. He laughed, looping his arm around my waist again and pulling me into another kiss. We stared up at the stars for a few more minutes before we got up. Tim was leading the way, smiling. I didn't think he was the type of guy who smiled a lot. Then again, how often had I smiled in the past couple days? Yeah, don't answer that.

We wound up in a club. Given my bad experience with clubs, you'd think I'd protest, but I didn't. I was starting to sober up, so Tim and I got a few more drinks in... So I was mildly drunk. I couldn't really walk straight, but I was all over Tim anyways. So it was okay. I don't remember much of that. I remember dancing very close. And Tim definitely requested that they play "our song". My response was garbling that we should get a song that I can listen to without wanting to vomit. He pointed out that I was drunk, and drunk people vomited anyways. Hearing him say that made me feel ill again, so we went outside.

Long story short, we wound up at a tattoo parlor. I know, not really my thing or Tim's, but... It made more sense at the time. When I was drunk. Off my ass. Kind of. Tim and I didn't actually stand out as much as you'd think. It was pretty late, and the place was almost deserted. I was a little apprehensive about the whole thing at first, to tell the truth. Tim approached the biker-esque tattoo "artist" first. How brave of him! The artiste informed Tim that there was a two-for-one special. Tim raised an eyebrow at me, and I knew what that meant.

I made a face, but he pouted. And when I didn't give in then, he walked back over to me, whispering lyrics into my ear, "_Something in the way she knows... And all I have to do is think of her. Something in the things she shows me. Don't want to leave her now... You know I believe her now._" The Beatles strike back. I was even more touched this time... That's a George Harrison song. Yeah, I gave in big time. Tim and I sat down in two chairs that were right next to each other. Tim volunteered to go first, and the scary guy handed him the Big Book of Tattoos. Tim flipped through it for literally two seconds, pointed at something, and the tattoo guy nodded. Ick, dirty pool. Dirty pool. And yet, here I was, swimming in it.

I noticed that Tim tugged his jeans down a little bit on the right side... Nothing obscene. Unfortunately. It was just low enough for me to see his hipbone. Hence that was going to be the location of his tattoo. Either that or he was drunkenly trying to flash Tattoo Man. But I don't think Tim swings that way. He said he had a _girlfriend_, not a boyfriend. It didn't take very long, but I noticed Tim was biting his lip, presumably in pain. I had a bad feeling that this was going to hurt.

Next thing I know, the tattoo guy's smacking me on the shoulder. It stung. Yowch. "I'll have one that matches his," I mumbled, pulling my jeans down low enough to reveal my left hipbone. I shuddered, not quite liking the way Tattoo Man was eying my bare skin. I glanced over at Tim and swallowed nervously. He smiled back weakly... It was all he could do. Tattoo Man pursed his lips, jerking his thumb over towards my quasi-boyfriend. What? What about Tim?

"So you want a J too?" He questioned nonchalantly, through a very thick accent that I couldn't quite place. It varied a lot. I bet this guy's a criminal. He's probably traveled all around the world. Wait, J? As in Jude? As in Julia? As in... me? I immediately looked over at Tim with wide eyes, not that he could see them through the shades. He smiled at me reassuringly, so it was all I could do to smile back.

Then I shook my head no firmly, talking to the Artiste. "I want a T. Same calligraphy... in red," I demanded bluntly, motioning to my hip. Tattoo Man smiled a putrid smile, nodding patronizingly down at me. His breath smelled awful and his teeth looked rotten. I almost vomited right there from the horrid combination. Then came the pain. I didn't feel much of it, though. The tattoo was thin, simple, and small. I didn't look. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see any blood. It was over in a few minutes. I didn't even realize that he was done when he finished. I was just thinking about how now I really had Tommy under my skin. Tommy, Travis, and Tim. Damn T-names. I wasn't just getting this because of Tommy. After all, I was doing this for Tim. This way we matched. In blood red ink.

I didn't want to think about how I'd ever explain this to anyone, but I figured that it was in a private enough place that no one would see it. Unless I wore a thong or a string bikini. Same difference, as I won't be wearing either of those any time soon. Tattoo Man covered it with a secure bandage. I flinched at the flick of his fingers against my skin, however brief. Where had this dope's hands been? Wherever it was... I didn't want to know. It's called hand sanitizer and soap, man! Use it! Less than a second later, I tugged my pants back up. I felt so damn relieved I can't even say it.

Tattoo Guy was still sort of leering at me. "You know, you both sort of got little tattoos. Tell you what, I'll charge those two for the price of one if you get another one..." He offered, giving me a sly smile. I was vaguely creeped out and glanced to Tim for reassurance. Tim was getting out of the chair. Could Tim be... leaving? Leaving me here all alone to deal with some weirdo freak who could rape me? What kind of man is he! I thought he wasn't like the other guys... I thought he was decent!

He _was_ decent, by the way. Just thought I ought to say that, so you don't go around thinking that Tim actually did ditch me there and leave me for that guy to have his way with. Tim wants to have his way with me, I'm pretty sure, so I don't think he'd do anything as stupid as that. Tim just got up so he could pay the guy for the price of both tattoos. Which means that he paid for me to have a second one. What is it with these guys wanting me to get inked up? Tim then retired to the corner to read a magazine. Hey, at least it was one I liked. Rolling Stone. So, pretty much, I had no choice but to get a tattoo. The guy handed me the book of tattoos, but I didn't need it. If I was going to have a tattoo, it would be under my terms. I knew exactly what I wanted. "A solid black star, middle of my right forearm. Sound easy enough?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and lowering my sunglasses a little. It didn't matter. Tim was too absorbed in the magazine to notice me, and besides, my eyes were green anyways.

Tattoo Guy raised an eyebrow at me too, but he smirked. It wasn't actually in a creepy way this time. It was more in a... grudging respect sort of way. You know, very rock 'n' roll. He nodded curtly, cleaning off my arm with the antiseptic. I winced, jerking away from him at the coldness. He rolled his eyes at me, pulling my arm back, needle in hand. Man, that was a huge needle! I never realized that it was that big. He's gonna ink me with that thing?

Is it bad if I admit that I'm afraid? I'm a rockstar. I'm supposed to be fearless. But seeing this needle is making me squirm. Tattoo Guy looked me straight in the eye. Unbelievably, "Smells Like Teen Spirit" came on the radio. Yeah, I think that's a sign from Kurt that I'm doing the right thing here. Even though he hated that song, and there's a brand name in there... "Suck it up! You're a rocker. If you can't deal with a little pain, how are you gonna survive in the industry?" Tattoo Guy snapped harshly. He practically shook me.

How did he know? I stared at the guy in awe, my mouth hanging open. Yeah, I've really got to work on expressing myself through my music. You know, I have a sudden urge to write a rock anthem. What's really rock 'n' roll nowadays? Or punk, for that matter? It's all commercial, corporate rock nowadays. I wanna take it back to it's roots. Damn, I wish I had a pen. So I did what I could, when I could finally respond. I flashed him the rock-on sign, holding my arm out to him. Tattoo Guy grinned that rotten smile at me. "You're right. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger," I told him, but I was really telling myself too.

I took a deep breath as the needle descended on my skin. At first it was like a dull scratching, then it was a bit of a tickle. Then it was a full, blown out itching sort of pain. I wanted to rip the needle off myself. So I screamed. And I screamed along to the music. I must say, I think I did a pretty good Nirvana impression. I know what you're thinking... If I was singing, how didn't Tim recognize my voice? Well, I have Kurt's almost unintelligible drawl to thank for that. That and the blaring guitar solos. Jude Harrison doesn't exactly do hardcore stuff. Well, I'm up for opening up a new chapter in my life. I need a bit more of an edge, to, you know, fight off all these slut rumors. Augh, they really drive me crazy! I'm Canadian! The only slutty Canadians that even exist are Tommy and Pam Anderson. Heh. Tommy and Pam Anderson. You know, I think he's hooked up with her. When she was off Tommy Lee... Must have a thing for Tommys.

My arm was killing me, and I just wanted to tear it away from the guy. The song was over and now I was just screaming. Tim might've been absorbed in his magazine (he wanted the tattoo to be a surprise, apparently), but he definitely heard me screaming. I am nothing if not vocal. Obviously. With the singing and the yelling and the arguing with myself in my head. Tim put down the magazine and walked over to me, plopping down in the chair next to me. He held my hand in his and... I can't even tell you how much better that made me feel. So I just stared into Tim's eyes... well, his shades... through my shades, since I'd pushed them back up. But you get the picture. I stared into Tim's eyes and suddenly, the pain was just a light, repetitive sting. His hands were cool against my inflamed skin.

As if that wasn't enough, he started to sing. I wasn't lying when I said Tim couldn't sing, but somehow, I didn't mind. It wasn't really that bad. Maybe that was just my brain hearing what it wanted to hear, but I preferred his voice over any other singer at that moment, and Tim wasn't even a singer. "_When I get older, losing my hair... many years from now... Will you still be sending me a valentine... birthday greetings, bottle of wine? If I'd been out 'til quarter of three... would you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me... when I'm sixty-four?_" Tim chanted jovially, absentmindedly stroking the back of my hand with his thumb. His touch jolted through me like an electric shock, but his tone made me laugh. It was silly. It was really all very surreal, come to think of it. Then again, it makes perfect sense, doesn't it? A girl named Jude Harrison being seduced by Beatles' songs. Only it wasn't quite a seduction. He was making me fall in love with him, the bastard, and that scared me. After all, it's no secret that I've had bad luck with love. Actually, bad luck is putting it mildly. My life's a bit like a Greek tragedy in the field of romance. I just hope I don't find out any creepy twist that ruins this thing I've got going with Tim. Well, at least I can rule out the whole Oedipus/Electra sort of tragedy. And I don't have any brothers, so I can't be Antigone. Hmm... This might just work...

Tim shifted in his seat, moving a little closer to me. "_You'll be older too... And if you say the word... I could stay with you_," He finished sincerely, turning my palm so it was facing up, and holding it loosely in his hands. He glanced down at my hand, not saying anything. To be honest, I was a bit shocked. I could tell by his tone that he meant it... at least a little. And was it just me, or... Could he actually sing? That sounded... good. Better than good. But that's probably just what I want to hear. If a guy professes his love for you, you don't want it to be off-key. Oh, heaven forbid that would happen to me! Not that that was any sort of admission, really... But, seriously, for a minute, I didn't even know what to say. What could I say to _that_? That was... pretty heavy. It was completely silent in the room except for the buzzing of the needle. When I heard the needle, it sent pain jolting through my arm. I glanced over at the tattoo, which was only half done. I saw blood and almost fainted. See? In my life, silence never means anything good. But then... It came to me. A ray of inspiration courtesy of John Lennon himself. And Paul, but he's still alive and kicking. I'm sure Heather and Beatrice can vouch for that... Well, thanks. I love having rockin' guardian angels... I knew exactly how to answer Tim.

A slow smile spread across my face. I really have my dad to thank for this, though. Mental note: Find a way to make it up to Dad. We haven't spent any time together lately. mm, I hear there's a Neil Young concert next week. I bet I can swing some free time since I've been working triple time lately, and I have a bunch of stuff recorded... "_Send me a postcard, drop me a line... stating point of view. Indicate precisely what you mean to say... **Yours** sincerely, wasting away! Give me your answer, fill in a form... Mine for evermore! Will you still need me, will you still feed me... when I'm sixty-four?_" I sang quietly in response. I wasn't showing off or anything. For a moment, Tim gave me a bit of an odd look. I was worried that perhaps I'd sung a little too well and... maybe he was on to me. But, luckily for me, a moment later, he just smiled back widely and crashed his lips against mine. Tattoo Guy said later that he'd barely been able to keep me from moving my arm. I think I believe him. I sure had the bruises on my arm and felt the jerking of the needle to prove it.

As you can plainly see, the sentiments were mutual. Very, very, very mutual. I was so involved in making out with Tim that I didn't even notice Tattoo Guy finishing and bandaging up my arm. He roughly tugged the wristband over my bandage (I guess he knew I wasn't legal), jerking me out of my fun little make-out session. "Hey, lovebirds, it's closing time!" He muttered irritably, shooting me a glare and shooing us out of the room. As Tim had already paid, we smiled drunkenly (hey, the shoe fit!) and left.

If this were some sort of storybook, Tim would've walked me to my house. However, my story was more of a Cinderella story. Only it was sort of the opposite, wasn't it? Like Cindy, I was pretending to be someone who, well, I'm not. That's only half true, I suppose. I am Julia. Only I'm not normal. Not anymore. I left that behind a year ago when I entered a silly talent competition, never thinking I'd win... Only I did. It seems like that's all my career is... one surprise after another. I never thought I'd have a boybander as a producer/co-writer. I never thought I'd fall in love with him. And I never thought I'd have the whole country talking about me. Never saw Shay coming, either.

As I said, Tim actually walking me home was impossible. Not that I could very well drive home, being currently halfway wasted. See, that's another reason why this isn't a fairytale. My "prince" wears shades and a hat. Our date consisted of getting drunk, staring at the stars, and getting matching tattoos. Oh, and he seduced me with Beatles' songs. Well, it was the third date. At least I didn't sleep with him. Then again, he wanted me to sleep with him on the first date. That wasn't even really a date so much as an accidental meeting. That's almost something I'd expect from Tommy... But Tim is definitely not Tommy. Tommy's way more guarded... frosty/frozen. You get the drill. And Sadie is very, very possessive. She would never allow him to date ANYONE other than her.

Of course I can't sleep with him, though. I mean, there's the fact that he doesn't know who I am. And despite my legality, he'd freak about my being jailbait. Not to mention... Even if I was all over Tim, it's kinda hard to sleep with someone who won't even let you see his eyes. Plus I'm saving myself for Tommy. Shh. He doesn't know. And he thinks he's already nailed me. Again, shh, he doesn't know that's a lie either... So, anyways, that left me with a bit of a predicament as we were walking towards where we met.

I had several options. Option Number One: Let Tim walk me home. I really don't have to list why that's a bad idea, do I? Option Number Two: Go back to Tim's place. I know it's the third date, but come on! Then I'd really be the whore the media made me out to be. Option Number Three: Drive home... and kill myself when I crash into something or someone. I don't wanna die tonight. Option Number Four: Walk home. Yeah, and pass out in the gutter? I think not. Option Number Five: Bum a bed at a friend's who lives nearby. Hmm. Tough call. Let's see, Jamie's next-door and hates me. So no Jamie. Kat... not close enough. Joan, well, I don't even know where she lives. Mason either, for that matter. G. Major was close enough to the record store to go to... and Tommy's apartment. But I don't think Tommy would appreciate me just dropping in on him like this. Although he does have a bunch of empty apartments. Then again, if I know Tommy, he'd want to keep an eye on me. So that option was out.

Option Number Six: Bunk in the good ole car. Yeah, only if I'm really desperate. Plus Mason still has it. I have seriously got to talk to that boy about scamming my ride. And that leads me to Option Number Seven... Get a room at a motel/hotel. Naturally, that was the option I chose. Considering I ruled out all the other ones. Anyways, so as I was pondering this, Tim stopped at the record store. This was where we were to part. Unfortunately. I was sorry to see him go. Tim was just... such a breath of fresh air. I didn't have to be Jude around him. I didn't have to always be on the defensive, the offensive, fighting for my reputation and my rights. All I had to do was hide my identity. Hey, if Superman could do it with just a pair of glasses and a suit, I think I can do it with hair dye, contacts, sunglasses, a hat, high heels, and revealing clothing. See, I have way more stuff. Although... That must be hard to keep your abilities secret for so long, always being on your guard... And the people in Metropolis have to be really stupid if a tie and glasses throw them off-track.

People are idiots. Take me, for instance. I've been standing here like an idiot, thinking, when Tim is clearly trying to tell me goodbye. I forced myself to snap out of my daze, feeling myself flush. Tim smirked, which made me frown. Too many men smirk in my life. And it's never good when they do. It always involves making fun of me. "I'm going to be sort of busy this week, but I can't go a whole week without seeing you. So, how about we meet up again on Sunday around seven-ish... at the park we were at earlier?" Tim posed, looking excited at the prospect. I nodded like an idiot, and Tim grinned.

I felt my face heat up again. I always do stupid things around guys. Always. Tim and I stood in awkward silence for a moment before I decided to... well, put my heart on the line. I was drunk. I wasn't thinking clearly. Then again, I do stuff like that all the time when I'm sober... I mean, I did the exact same thing (in theory) that day I kissed Tommy at the Vinyl Palace... just in actions then, not so much in words. While it is true that I am a woman of action, I am also a songwriter... and, thus, a woman of words. Not that you can tell most of the time. Words have more meaning to me. That's why I didn't just talk about it like a normal person. Actions accomplish things faster.

I looked down, taking a deep breath. Okay, girl, you can do this. "_If I fell in love with you... would you promise to be true? And help me understand? 'Cause I've been in love before, and I found that love was more... than just holding hands_," I whispered plaintively, forcing myself to look up at him with wide green eyes. My glasses had slipped down a little bit, so the bright blue-green of these contacts stood out in the dark. For a moment, Tim just stood there like a statue, staring at me. It seemed like an infinity to me.

Then Tim's perfect lips curved upwards into a smile. He grabbed me around the waist, pulling me into a passionate kiss. I closed my eyes, tangling my arms around his neck. I felt like I was floating, but that was probably just a combination of the disorientation from the alcohol... and Tim picking me up, lifting my feet off the ground. I slammed my lips against his, stifling a moan when his nails dug into my back in surprise. Tim used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, an act the both of us were grateful for, judging by the guttural growl in the back of my throat. His hands were warm through the fabric of my shirt. He has such a... gentle touch.

Eventually, however, we had to break apart for air. Tim gently set me down. I was entirely breathless and flustered. He'd really kissed me senseless. I licked my lips thirstily, tasting him on my lips. My eyes fluttered closed at the flavor. Tim always tasted phenomenal, hence why I kiss him so much. Man, his girlfriend must be a total idiot. If I were her, I wouldn't let a guy like Tim out of my sight for even one second. Then again, I probably wouldn't ever get anything done since... Hey, if he's that good at kissing... then just imagine what he could do in...? I know. I was busy thinking of all the deliciously naughty things my new paramour could do to me when he lightly pressed his lips against mine again.

And that pretty much shut off all my thoughts for like... the rest of the night. Tim kissed both of my cheeks reverently. I knew I was blushing, but there was just something so intimate about the gesture. It was very dark and sort of foggy that night. The streetlight above us was going out as we were standing there on that street corner. In fact, the light went out just as he pressed the last kiss to my cheek, so I was feeling fairly confident that he couldn't see me too well. I thought there was no chance that he'd recognize me in the dark.

To my delight, when the lamp went out, he drew me closer to him... as if he was afraid something could happen to me if I wasn't plastered up against him. I didn't mind, though. Not one bit. So, with only midnight's new moon for light, I let him remove my sunglasses. I didn't need them anyways. I was feeling so at peace that it didn't even matter if he found out who I was. I let Tim remove my shades... and nothing happened.

And, yet, when he took off his own glasses, I was more than eager to sneak a peek at his visage. And I found myself disproportionately frustrated that I couldn't see anything. I saw the light fall on his cheekbones, but that was it. That and his eyes. He had haunting eyes. They were a dark, dark blue... almost black. But I could tell that they were blue. The area around the pupils was brighter, and there were tiny flecks of silver in his eyes that light refracted in, making his intense gaze glow. There we were, naked, face to face in the dark... And we couldn't see each other. I had a feeling that I wouldn't see his eyes again for a very long time, so I used my opportunity to stare back at him. There was just something ethereal about the way he looked at me... energy crackled almost magically in the air. No, wait, those were the fireflies.

Tim leaned in slowly, gleaming white smile playing across his lips. He carefully placed his hands on my waist, pulling me into a warm embrace. He smelled wonderful. I could drown in his cologne... I could drown in him. "_Golden slumbers fill your eyes..._" He murmured, tenderly kissing my closed eyelid. His bottom lip grazed my eyelashes. "_Smiles awake you when you rise..._" He continued softly, pressing his impossibly soft lips against the other eyelid. I swear to you that I practically melted into a puddle of goo at his feet. Tommy Q. who? "_Sleep, pretty darling... do not cry_," He whispered gently, brushing his fingers lovingly across my lips. "_And I will sing a lullaby_," He finished, pressing a soft kiss against my forehead. My eyes opened immediately, missing the warmth of his hands on me. He pulled back slowly, but I didn't get a better look at him.

I just stared at those haunting eyes as he moved further away from me. His hand, however, grasped my arm... just in case. I welcomed the possessive feeling. It showed Tim cared. "You'll be okay getting back on your own, right? I don't feel right leaving you here," Tim questioned worriedly, sounding concerned for my well-being. I nodded dumbly. There was a motel about a block over. While I was nervous walking over there, virtually in the dark, I trusted that there was better lighting over there. Most likely nothing would happen. I would be safe. Then again, that's what I thought about school and Travis. So one can't be sure of everything.

Tim looked relieved, and he gave me one of those heartmelty smiles that makes me go from goony to swoony in two seconds flat. He pressed my sunglasses back into my hand. The plastic was warm from where he'd held it in his palm. He'd even been sweating a little... over me! The thought was incomprehensible. Tim was, literally, the man of my dreams. It was just so unbelievable that all of this was really true and real and happening to ME! Tim's hand slid off my arm, and I frowned. So he was really leaving then. Why was it so hard to accept? I'd just had one of the most amazing nights of my life... Much less _days_ of my life since I'd practically had sex with Tommy twice that day. Tim must've seen my frown, though, because he stopped moving. He grabbed me roughly by the shoulders and planted a smoldering kiss on my lips that I wouldn't forget for a long time afterward. I didn't get a wink of sleep all that night. I was too busy thinking of Tim.

But eventually Tim let go of me and backed away slowly. I saw the sad look in his eyes. He didn't want to go either, then... I felt a sudden surge of hope. "_When I cannot sing my **heart**... I can only speak my mind, Julia_," Tim crooned enigmatically, shooting me a decidedly mischievous look before he turned back around, putting his shades back on with a flourish. As I anxiously watched him walk away until I could see him no longer, I realized that my heart was literally in my throat. Does that mean that he's falling for me too?

Suddenly, all the things I was feeling at that particular moment were completely overwhelming me. I was on the verge of bursting open, spilling my heavy, over-full heart everywhere. My heart was still all aflutter from his impromptu serenading. So I also discovered how Tim's going to get me in bed. He'll get me drunk and then serenade me with off-key love songs as well as plying me with affection. Tommy ought to take notes. I'm falling for Tim, all right... head-over-heels. I think I might be in over my head here. With that thought in mind, still wondering about Tim's feelings for me, I walked to the motel in a daze.

I barely had enough money for a room, but I didn't care. The room was disgusting... filthy and plain. Decrepit. But I didn't care about that either. I didn't care that the pipes were rusty and that the toilet ran. I didn't care that I was up all night with insomnia. I didn't even care that I was alternatively leaning over the sink, toilet, or bathtub, vomiting my guts out (which I found odd, since I hadn't eaten much of anything all day). All I cared about was that I had just been on the most wonderful date of my life. And I was falling for him... fast and hard. Not to mention that I hadn't thought of Tommy once in all the hours I'd been with Tim. Not until I was all alone in my room did Tommy even cross my mind.

Was it strange that I actually found that to be kind of a relief? To get my mind off Tommy for one night? But I felt sort of guilty about it too. I'd almost had sex with him twice in one day and this... this was how I repaid him! By not thinking about him and going out on a date with another man? Just what kind of girl was I? Well, most certainly not Tommy's, that's for sure. I wasn't even deserving of the generic, uncreative, and lousy gender-and-age-specific nickname. But, you know what? I'm not dating Tommy. I _never_ dated Tommy. And I've never done the deed with him. He's never even asked me out! He's dating my sister for crying out loud! I **love** him, and he's dating my sister! I don't owe Tommy anything! So why do I feel guilty about... about being happy for once?

Because I love Tommy, first and foremost. I will always love Tommy. He's the love of my FREAKING life! And I feel like I'm neglecting him. Only he's neglected me first, so it's only fair... And it's not exactly mutual. I'm just a loser with an overgrown crush that needs to die. Only it won't. It won't go away. No matter how much I want it to... Need it to. I'll ruin my own happiness, again. No wonder Shay cheated. He cheated because I cheated first. He sensed my emotional adultery, how I was still so hung up on Tommy... He sensed how much I enjoyed that Tommy had admitted having feelings for me. How I liked that, for once, I was the unavailable one. That he was the one left wanting for once!

You know what, I can't think like this. Not anymore. I felt suddenly claustrophobic there in that tiny stall and knew I had to get out of there. So I bolted to the door, scurrying to unlock it. I raced towards the sink, turning the water on, and splashing some of it on my face. Maybe that would cool me down. Or maybe it wouldn't. I had maybe fifteen minutes until the bell rang, and I knew just what to do. I was outta here... as soon as I made one little stop.

I looked at myself in the mirror, noting the dark circles under my eyes. I hadn't slept much lately. Tommy and I had been up late last night recording. You know Tommy, ever the perfectionist... Ugh. And they said Brian Wilson was nuts. Actually, he sort of was, but an army of psychiatrists sort of fixed that. I don't think an army of psychiatrists could fix Tommy, though. Well, on the bright side, at least he's not Phil Spector. Wall of Sound technique or not, he's still a psychotic murderer who threatened The Ramones, ruined The Beatles' last studio album, and rewarded John Lennon's kindness by discharging a firearm while he was in the room. Then again, I guess that's just what happens when your parents are first cousins.

Tommy's more of my George Martin anyways. I sighed raggedly, wiping off my face and heading out. I was charging, determined, towards the office when, BAM, Patsy burst out of the boys' bathroom. I raised an eyebrow at her as she barreled towards me. We almost crashed into each other, but Patsy stopped practically two inches in front of my face. I jumped about twelve feet in the air because she practically gave me a heart attack. Patsy cackled, grinning wildly. She threw back her head, hair flinging backwards, pulling a cigarette and a lighter out of her pocket.

The lighter was silver. But still, one had to wonder what Patsy was doing in the boys' bathroom. "What were you doing in there?" I asked curiously, gesturing towards the aforementioned bathroom. Patsy smirked, flicking her lighter on. She waved the flame about in the air dangerously for a few precarious moments. I hate the smell of burning hair, so I backed away immediately. Patsy started laughing hysterically, bringing the flame down slowly to light her cigarette. Her movements were deliberate. I didn't appreciate being laughed at. Not one bit. Patsy's cigarette was finally lit, so she flicked her lighter off, tossing it in her pocket.

She laughed once more, a deep, throaty chuckle, before taking a heavy drag. As usual, she was dressed in dark clothing. Black bracelets with sharp silver spikes adorned each of her skinny wrists. Patsy was tall, I guess, but rather emaciated looking. Kind of like Joey Ramone, only not as tall. He was a frickin' giant. She was wearing some heavy chains around her neck (not like Shay... one of them was a bicycle chain. It really looked like she was was wearing dungeon chains too, actually). Patsy was wearing a black tank-top that rode up, exposing a rather wide expanse of her stomach, underneath a black leather jacket, as well as a pair of frayed and baggy, low-slung blue jeans. She wore black combat boots that were a little too big for her (maybe they were her boyfriend's?).

"Smokin' in the boys' room," Patsy hummed in a low voice. She looked like the cat that ate the canary. I smiled back, getting the reference. Great song, by the way. She grinned at me, and we started walking down the hallway together. Patsy nodded at me. "So, Cherry _Bomb_, what are we doing? Aren't ya supposed to be in _Travis_' class?" She drawled, shooting me sideways look through the haze of smoke. She made a sound that resembled a bomb crashing, imitating an explosion with a hand gesture. You should've heard the way she snarled Travis' name... with such a venom. It even rivaled my own. I winced at the mention.

"He was makin' me sick to my stomach," I responded in the only way I could, trying to avoid my real reasons. I wasn't completely lying... I did find him revolting. Patsy nodded knowingly, lip curling in revulsion for the man. I smiled in appreciation. Finally, someone I could relate to. I wonder why Patsy hates him. Is he hard on her too? Ew, not like that. Not like the way he's got a hard on for me... Bad, bad, bad Jude! Naughty thoughts, make them stop!

Patsy nodded emphatically, almost to herself. "I know the feeling. If Tremain calls me too punk or calls those phony-ass alternative bands that everyone's in love with nowadays punk... real rock 'n' roll in it's purest form... If Trey does that one more time, I'm gonna kill him _dead_," Patsy swore, eyes narrowing in fury as she tapped the ashes off the end of her cigarette. I thought that was a bit redundant, but Patsy pulled out a switchblade... And she uh, switched it, I guess. She made a stabbing motion through the air to punctuate the statement. Seeing as Patsy was armed and dangerous, I made the wise decision to keep my mouth shut, lest she practice her killing spree tactics on me first.

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just... didn't. Patsy looked at me funny. "You got a deal with the asshole too, eh?" Patsy asked, cocking an eyebrow. I let out a brief laugh, nodding. To say the least. My issues with Quinn are legendary. "You're going to the office to report the perv, aren't you? What, did Timmy show you the time or something?" Patsy questioned crassly, eyes wide and dark.

My jaw dropped in disbelief. Timmy... Ooh, close enough. "How did you know?" I gaped, staring at Patsy in awe. This time Patsy raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat amused. I saw her give me a subtle once-over, ending in a rather disappointed frown. She shook her head at me, placing her hands on her hips. And then, a few moments later, Patsy smirked at me.

"Well, Cherry Bomb, I stole your diary," Patsy replied, batting her eyelashes amusedly. She took a drag on her cigarette. I don't have a diary, by the way. Well, okay, so maybe I do... but they're all buried in my closet, behind my guitar, underneath my clothes and the carpet and the loose floorboard and my song journals. In a safe. So it's a pretty impregnable situation. I mean, do you know what Sadie could do with my diary? Besides ruin my life and completely humiliate me? That girl's devious and out for blood. And, unlike Patsy... Sadie's not on my side. So, anyways, I knew Patsy was lying. I gave her a look, this time rolling my eyes at her.

Patsy smirked. "Nah. I stole your wallet, though, Janis. I can't believe the red's natural, by the way. Thanks for the twenty," Patsy replied cheerfully, handing me my wallet. I gaped at her in awe. Stupid kleptos. I can't believe she stole from me! How did she... I didn't even notice! It must've been when she came out of the bathroom and scared me to death. Patsy kept walking. Of course she knew the way to the office. She must have her own chair in there by now. I mean, she's a hardcore punk anarchist who is also a klepto and a pyro. She's very destructive... Into the whole vandalism scene and breaking things.

"Anyways, nah, I didn't. Not until you basically admitted it," She pointed out, grinning because she'd tricked me into admitting it. There was an awkward silence in the hallway before Patsy interrupted it. She is so tactless. "Now, Jude, _this_ is what I don't get... If Travvy was good in the sack, why're you gonna report him?" Patsy pondered so bluntly that it made me wince. I **had** to report him. Why didn't she get that?

I had to show him I was serious. "I didn't... He's just touched me inappropriately for someone of his standing. He's taking advantage of his position," I justified, stepping up the pace. Had the office always been this far away from the bathroom? Patsy gave me a look, rolling her eyes at me. She caught up to me. Damn.

She sucked in a puff of smoke thoughtfully. "I _know_. I saw you making out with Trippy at the club on Tuesday. You weren't exactly complaining. He dump you or something?" Patsy continued casually, talking about it like it was perfectly normal for such relationships to go on. I winced. Patsy had seen me at the club? If Patsy had seen me, then who else had? Had Speed...? Just how could you dump someone you'd never dated? Besides, he had Kate and Joan already. We don't need another J added to the equation. She exhaled the smoke somewhat raggedly.

I found myself fast becoming irritated with Patsy. Where was the damn office already? This conversation was quickly progressing into the insanely personal. "No," I retorted sharply, "I wouldn't date him if he was the **last** man on Earth!" Patsy coughed, clearly surprised. It wasn't like it was a revelation. Everyone knew I hated him. I rolled my eyes at her and started to walk faster. Patsy started laughing hysterically.

"Hey Jude, _where_ did he touch you inappropriately?" Patsy questioned in a sing-songy, sort of mocking tone, batting her eyelashes. Her tone was almost sickeningly suggestive. I don't appreciate being mocked. And the "Hey Jude" thing again! Argh. Sometimes I hate my name. Named after a Beatles' song... Smoke curled around Patsy's lips as she circled me, peering at me as if she was trying to discern just where exactly he'd "touched" my life. Oh, wait, that's the kind of touching teachers are supposed to do! I didn't answer. She's crazy if she thinks I'm gonna answer. Stupid me. Patsy's crazy anyways.

Patsy walked back around so that she was in front of me now, blowing out glorious rings of smoke. She looked proud of herself. And who wouldn't be with an accomplishment like that! Patsy then proceeded to laugh, gasping as if she was shocked, and clapping a hand to her mouth. "Oh, did Tom go down on you? Or did Tyson just finger _you_?" Patsy mused curiously, almost unbelievably casually... as if that was the sort of question she asked virtual strangers everyday. Then again, knowing Patsy, that's probably true.

It'd be redundant to say that my jaw dropped and my eyes bugged out. And it would be a lie if I said that I kept my cool. And was she actually talking about Tommy or Travis? It was hard to tell. "NO! **God**, Patsy, mind your own business!" I screeched so loudly I entered the whistle register. Patsy grinned evilly, having fun. She knew she'd gotten me riled up. Patsy just shrugged, and it was all I could do to prevent myself from strangling her.

She took a long drag on the cigarette, flicking the ashes off. "I wouldn't blame you. Tupac's an asshole, but he's hot as hell. I'd do Tybalt in a heartbeat," Patsy muttered, blowing out another ring of smoke. My eyes widened in shock from what she said. She merely stared at me through half-lidded eyes, shrugging. She briskly dropped the cigarette to the ground, stomping it and grinding it into the floor. It left a black burn mark behind, but Patsy only admired her handiwork.

Patsy grinned evilly as she continued on, playing with her fingers... almost as if she was imagining just what she wanted to do to him. You know, on second thought, maybe I feel a little bad for the guy. Wait, I hate him... So, no, I don't. Patsy started to sing. Did I mention that? "_Ooh, look good in **latexxx**! Get **off**! Having rough **sexxx**! **Surpriiiise**! 'Round and 'round my bed! **Restraaained**! While I fu-_" Patsy screamed in a sultry voice. She tossed her switchblade in the air casually. My eyes widened. "Fetish" by Joan Jett... Oh, so Patsy likes it kinky. Why does that not surprise me? S & M. I should've known better. Well, in that case, she can whip Travis into shape all she wants. Actually, I'd pay to see that. Revenge is sweet, my friend.

"_You are my fetish_," I finished amusedly. Patsy raised an eyebrow at me, as if surprised. She walked closer to me, peering into my face once again. Patsy could be so completely unnerving sometimes. Patsy applauded me. My singing wasn't really that great. Patsy's strange. So strange.

"Well, I'll be damned. Didn't think you listened to _dirty_ music, Pop Princess," Patsy muttered, letting out a low whistle. She ruffled my hair somewhat affectionately, smirking widely. I resented the nickname, but Patsy proceeded onward as she always did... fearlessly. Besides, what does she know? I happen to like Joan Jett... And apparently, so does Patsy. Then again, that's not really surprising either... "Yeah, you know, I just wanna dirty good old Teddy up, don't you? Tab's such a conformazoid. I think a little bondage would just loosen him up, don'tcha think?" Patsy suggested mischievously. Her eyes gleamed deviously, reminding me of that very same look on the aformentioned I gaped openly at Patsy's suggestion. Ew. Patsy dirtying Travis up was just too much. A moment later, I laughed at the irony of bondage actually loosening someone up.

Travis would never do it anyways. He's too much of a control freak to let someone else have the control. Patsy continued to smirk, and her eyes were illuminated with an idea. She looked thrilled and leaned in towards me to whisper something. "I just got the best idea. How about I sneak into Tyreak's room after hours... You know Tertius is around here _forever_... I'll just slip in there after last period. I'll get all dolled up in black leather lingerie... And I'll be laying there on Tavorian's desk, ready to beat him into shape. I bet the look on Tanav's face would be priceless," Patsy whispered gleefully, in a conspiratorial tone. She glanced around anxiously.

The thought of Patsy seducing anyone amused me. I knew she could do it, though, having seen what she did to Speed onstage. And that was onstage! It was an interesting test. It'd be funny just to see how it worked out, come to think of it. And the look on his face _would_ be priceless. I snorted. But it was too unrealistic. He'd never go for it. "I think you're **crazy**," I replied finally, pausing to control my laughter. Patsy flipped the switchblade around in her hands menacingly, so I gulped and forced myself to finish it. "Besides, he'd never go for it." It was true. Travis was so... not like that. He was pretty square, to tell the truth. Patsy only smiled and shook her head, running a finger down the blade of the knife.

She looked at me shrewdly, as if thinking. She placed her hands on her hips and squared her jaw. "I bet he _will_," Patsy said stubbornly. Okay... I agree. I didn't want to cross her. Yeesh. Maybe she could threaten Travis into doing it... "Dare me to do it," Patsy demanded impatiently, jutting out her hips. Okay... So she couldn't do it on her own? I knew she'd do it, but why does she need my permission? Besides, it'd never happen anyways. Travis wouldn't go for it, like I said. If I know anything about Travis, I know that much. And I can think of one good reason why, too. One: Patsy's not his type. So not his type. He likes 'em independent and feisty, yeah, but not crazy... And then there's the more important reason of Joan.

Then again, I guess she's not really putting out, so there's Kate. I just shrugged and laughed. Might as well, huh? "Okay, Patsy... I dare you to seduce our music teacher," I declared, trying to keep a straight face. It was still as hysterical as it had been before. Patsy cackled and rubbed her hands together. I was suddenly worried for the professor's safety. Patsy would give him a heart attack. "It'll never work," I muttered a moment later, still in disbelief. Especially since she can't even remember his name.

Patsy grinned widely, winking at me. "He has a thing for brunettes," She said assuredly. She sounded so confident that it was going to happen. And I couldn't argue with that. Both Kate and Joan were brunettes. It wasn't that unbelieveable. And Joan fought with him, so he liked the abuse, I guess... Plus Kate's this Riot Grrrl reporter... Not too far from Patsy, well, yes, but... Maybe Patsy's crazy plan just might work. Maybe, just maybe.

I nodded, seeing her point. Okay, let's see. Kudos to her if she manages to break the Ice Man. "Okay... But do it tonight... And you have to get it all on video- either way," I capitulated, giving in to the idea a little. Patsy grinned even wider, and proclaimed that a brilliant idea. Even better. She'd have proof.

Patsy looked at me. "I bet Trevelian gives. Easy." And I bet Trevelian-I mean, Travis... doesn't. I didn't say that, of course. You don't piss a crazy person off. Or you die. Patsy thought for a minute, to think of what she would win. She's not gonna win, though. I assure you. "If I win, you come to school dressed as a dominatrix on Monday. If I lose, I take a meeting with those industry dinks at your label Jimmy's been wanting me to meet," Patsy proposed, smirking. I assume she meant Jamie. Patsy's bad with names. Really bad. So I nodded and agreed with her. We shook on it. I know how much Patsy hates industry people. Can't wait 'til she meets the Big D. As for me, I was just gonna see how far Patsy really went with this scheme. I didn't even know if she was really serious. Travis was never gonna know what hit him. And I was _so_ winning this thing.

I chuckled at the strange conversation we had just had, and Patsy grinned at me insanely, tossing the knife in the air once more. We were now at the office. Patsy threw the knife into the wooden door. It stuck hard in the wood. She kicked the door open for me and motioned for me to go in. I didn't move, staring at the knife, but Patsy shoved me. "Come **on**, Judith, get your ass in there! I've got some work to do on this door!" Patsy snapped, pushing me inside. I walked inside with some trepidation as Patsy got to work on the door.

I walked in, forcing a thin smile when I spotted the receptionist. Must be polite. I gingerly stepped up to the woman, clearing my throat hesitantly. Remember, Jude, you're doing the right thing here. And not just you. For the other students too. "I'm here to file a complaint," I said meekly. Buck up, Soldier. Where's the rock goddess in you, huh? You think you're going to scare anyone acting like this? El Duce of The Mentors is laughing at you from his grave. He is making things up about Kurt Cobain's death and otherwise defaming my hero's memory. El Duce is saying to his bandmates... "Hey, look at that girl! She's too chicken to report us. She's weak, easy... I can totally rape her onstage, and no one will bust me for it." To which I have to say... At least my name isn't Douche Bag. And also, look who's the dead one. Eh, what can I say... Karma's a bitch. The asshole had it coming.

The thought of the darker elements of shock rock was enough to snap me back into reality. Travis is a pansy compared to the asshole I was formerly criticizing. What am I freaking about? I'm a girl. They'll believe me. Besides, Joan and Patsy have my back. And Tommy. There are far worse choices for a posse, you know... And, on the plus side, I can get Tommy to kick his ass for free. So I see no downside. And they'll definitely kick him out of school... all positives from here, my friend! It's not like I'm playing Folsom Prison or anything. Although the concept is much like going to school... Minus the murderers. Travis and the older teachers are the pervs... But the thought of going to a prison filled with large men all named Bubba... or bitches of Bubba... does not appeal to me. Oddly enough. Gee, I wonder why. I mean, it's bad enough being looked at like a piece of meat everyday here, but there... It would be like walking the alleys of South Africa at night.

I know what you're thinking... The _secretary_ liked me. The receptionist, though... She doesn't like me one bit. In fact, a moment later the lady rolled her eyes at me. "You and me both," She muttered under her breath, going back to her paperwork. Augh! I can't believe she just IGNORED me like that. I pounded my fist down on the desk, smiling as I noticed it jostled her precious papers. Revenge is sweet. The receptionist looked up, scowling at me immediately. Witchface.

I cleared my throat. "I'm serious. I would like to file a complaint against a teacher," I began, glancing around for the prerequisite papers I was sure that I would need. I didn't see any. The receptionist only laughed and rolled her eyes at me once again. Okay, yeah, I realize how I sound... But she's the immature one here! No wonder no one wants to go to the office... I'm just trying to report my teacher. How hard is that.

"So would everyone, Princess," She mumbled irritably, "So why don't you just go talk about it at lunch like the rest of them?" She shot me a dour glare, scowling at me. Frostily, she returned to shuffling her precious papers. What part of the urgency of this doesn't she get? I bet she wouldn't act this way if some teacher had touched her kid like Travis has touched me... And I know she has a kid. I see the ugly-ass picture of him on her desk. Ouch. That's a face that only a mother could love... a blind mother. Okay, now it was just time for some force. I've tried diplomacy and that hasn't worked. So here we are. Threats work. Threats are good... Wait, no... They aren't. Oh well. I'll just... improvise... I leaned forward on her desk, getting an idea.

"Fine. But I just thought you might like to know that I have some serious allegations of wrongdoing here. Sexual misconduct with a minor. That's a pretty heavy charge... And would you really want to be known as the secretary who discouraged a girl from filing charges against a notorious pervert? Think of the national stir it would cause... You could lose your job," I exclaimed loudly, glibly. I shot the receptionist a smug look, placing my hands on my lips. She'd better do something. Or I am seriously getting the hell out of here. That's okay. I'd just go to the school board instead. Think of how bad my school would look after that... I clucked my tongue and shook my head in shame. Tsk, tsk.

The receptionist sighed shortly, pulling out a paper and a pen, and handing it to me. It was a simple form, so I grabbed a book to write on and a chair to sit in. Okay, let's read this... Blah, blah, blah... Very serious allegation... Fraud or perjury may result if the victim is uncovered as a liar... Yadda yadda yadda... Okay, enough of that. _Name of Accuser: Jude Janis Harrison. _Simple enough, no? Complaint is against student or teacher? _Teacher._ Check. _Name of Accused: Mr. Travis Quinn. _No, not Mister. Erase, erase!

_Crime... Sexual Harassment. Severity of crime... Unwanted kisses, groping, verbal abuse, pressure... List what happened..._ A personal account? I have to actually write it all out? I don't even know what to mention. Should I bring up the club? Or what happened backstage yesterday or... Should I bring up Joan too? Or is that just her and Travis' business? I... I don't know. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all... But I have to try. I just have to. Okay... Let's do it. _The supposed adult in question has assaulted me on numerous occasions. He first pressed me against a car and forced himself on me. Then, another time, he pulled me into the janitor's closet and accosted me there. He has also come unto me after class and after my performance at the school concert. I am worried that this behavior will continue to go further involving other students and more severe forms of harassment. Therefore, I would recommend that he be stopped immediately, fired, and that steps be taken to prevent him from teaching other minors._

Well, I'll be damned. That actually sounds decent. Better than decent, actually. Pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. I'm proud. Okay, so all I do is sign here, initial there, and date and... I'm done! Okay. I got up, walking it over and handing it to the receptionist. I didn't want to see the look on her face when she read it... the stigma I'd get... So I practically dropped it on her desk and flew out of the office so fast Tommy would be envious. Well, I try. A girl has to. Patsy had finished the anarchy sign she'd been carving. She'd also had time to finish a pentagram on another door, not to mention a series of Latin words that seemed to resemble a curse or a spell. Patsy was sort of a goth-metal-punk Martha Stewart... in her own little way.

I cleared out pretty soon after that. I had to be at the label supra early to deal with the whole music video premiere debacle. A disaster that, trust me, I was regretting more and more with each second. I mean, I knew it was going to look bad, so we had to have a lot of preparation, you see... I, however, had no idea just how bad it would look. That was about to be seen. For instance, take my orders to E.J. about the premiere... "I can't be sitting near my parents. I don't want to see the horrified, disappointed looks on their faces. And my sister can't see me... Because she **will** kill me. And don't you try to say she won't! Because you _don't_ know Sadie. Trust me, I **know** my sister, and I know my sister in a jealous rage. Mind you, she's actively tried to kill me when she _doesn't_ hate my guts. Like the time she poisoned me when I was six and that other time she pushed me down the stairs... Oh, and that wonderful day when she told me I would fly if I jumped off the roof. Malicious little thing, ain't she? Oh, and Tommy's a no-no too. I mean, that would be awkward beyond belief, not to mention akin to getting struck by a bolt of lightning. All those dreadful eyes on me and those terrible side-glances I'd be getting would only be multiplied with Tommy by my side. I think I need some heavy duty bodyguards too. And not just for me. For Tommy. 'Cause I know Mom and Dad are literally gonna want a piece of him once they see the video... Ew, that sounds wrong. But I need to be sitting in a nice, approving environment. Like... in between Mason and Chaz. Do I have to go to this thing anyways?" I rambled rapidly.

I really wanted to get out of the whole ordeal. I had no desire whatsoever to even see the video. E.J. painfully informed me that yes, I did in fact have to go to my own screening. And, while it would look much better for me to be sitting next to my costar, my seating could be arranged. The bodyguards were apparently a prerequisite, but I don't think she bought all I said about Sadie. That's just a shame, too, considering that what I said was entirely true. I swear, no one takes me seriously.

They all think I'm some stupid kid, or worse, they think I'm like... this Avril Lavigne-wannabe. That could not be farther from the truth. It's not that I don't respect Avril musically. I do. Some of her songs have some very positive messages. And she does write most of her own songs. Although she has had a lot more co-writers than me. I guess some of us just need a little more help than others... All I have is Tommy. And that's enough for me because it's, well... Tommy. I mean, I even like a few of her songs. From the first CD. Her freshman album totally kicks the sophomore one's ass. And the girly-glam look sorta works for her, even though it's a total betrayal of all of her old values and whatnot. But you know what, she's not even punk. And yeah, yeah, I know Avril said she wasn't... blah, blah, blah. That's crap. If you dress like she did, and I can say this because I actually do dress a lot like she did in the beginning... minus the ugly ties and plus a lot of band t-shirts... If you dress that way, it's kinda like you're making this huge statement about who you are. It's basically saying that she's punk. If you dress that way, people tend to get that sort of idea. So yeah, people call her a poseur because she's not only a soft-rocker, but because she was a fashion punk. Strictly.

I can say this because she didn't even know who The Sex Pistols were. Everyone who's a real punk knows The Sex Pistols. Hell, even a good portion of the posers know who they are. Well, they did back in the eighties. That was Second Wave Punk, in case you don't know. We're in Third Wave right now. Come to think of it, even people who aren't into punk know The Sex Pistols. If only for the fact that they're named The Sex Pistols, and they have an album called Never Mind the Bollocks. Anyways, everyone knows The Sex Pistols because they pretty much started punk rock as we know it. They were the First Wave... The Sex Pistols, The Clash, and The Ramones. Those were the big bands. Even so, The Sex Pistols is not an easy name to forget. Especially not with the characters contained within the band... case in point, Sid Vicious. Now, I realize that the late '70s was about a whole five-year period before Avril was born, if not more, but Sid lives on. Even he cringes at her ignorance, and he couldn't play the bass to save his life. Ignorant and untalented and raw as he was, he was punk rock at it's core.

Oh, and she doesn't even own a Ramones CD, according to some article with a magazine. I, on the other hand, own every Ramones album readily available to the public. Even the B-sides and some rarities. I even own the sucky ones with other Ramones like Richie and Marky... No one could compare to Tommy's mad drumming skills. So I find those comparisons very insulting. After all, rock is something I take very seriously. And my clothes aren't a reflection of personal style... not so much. I mean, maybe a little, but mostly comfort. I need good riot clothes, you know? That's what punk fashion is really all about... Being able to comfortably beat someone up in them and freak people out at the same time.

So, instead of changing into some inordinately fashionable gown, there I was, sitting in one of the currently abandoned rooms. This happened to be the place where Tommy had told me the infamous "It never happened". It was actually quite near to Tommy's office, which meant I ran the risk of running into him. I didn't think I would, though. He was probably thinking of how he was going to explain this to Sadie. To my knowledge, he hadn't even told her about being in my video, much less that we were practically having sex in it. Like before, I was sitting on the piano bench, praying all my worries would go away and thinking, as usual, about my chief worry, the ever present problem of Tommy.

This room was seldom used, and if it was, it was mainly for practicing. That was why it was a fairly safe hideout. Despite being large and rather airy, it was one of the few doors in G. Major that generally went unopened. Most artists didn't even know about it. Just like they didn't really know about Tommy's office. I wasn't expecting anyone to walk in as only Tommy would know where I was, and he was busy getting his story straight. However, life has a funny way of proving you wrong, which it did when Chaz walked in. I heard the noise, but I didn't turn around. I just assumed, like last time, that it was Tommy. "Go away, Tommy!" I exclaimed, burying my head in my arms.

I heard him walking towards me and felt my pulse speed up. Remember, I thought he was Tommy. Chaz tilted my chin up and grinned. "Not Tommy," He remarked somewhat cheerfully. I looked at him like he had three heads. I didn't understand how anyone could be cheerful. I was so nervous I wanted to jump off a cliff.

I glared at Chaz and pushed him away, but his unfailing optimism struck again. I didn't understand how he could be optimistic after losing the love of his life. I sure wouldn't. Hell, I'm not even optimistic now! Chaz, however, seemed to be a bit more perceptive than Tommy, since he noticed my discomfort. And bless his heart, Chaz decided to do something about it. He also sat down on the piano bench, seeking to cheer me up. He placed his fingers on the ivories and began to play a very familiar tune. "_When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me... Speaking words of wisdom, let it be. And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in **front** of me... Speaking words of wisdom, let it be... Let it be, let it be... Let it **be**, let it be..._" Chaz began adventurously. His voice dropped to a whisper as he finished the verse, "_Whisper words of wisdom... Let it be._"

He gave me this look that seemed to ask if I recognized the song. Well, of course I did! My dad sung that to me as a lullaby when I was little. That and "Hey Jude", anyways. My much-beloved grandmother was also named Mary. Not that I ever met her. She died a few days after I was born. Dad actually added Mary on to Sadie's middle name after she died. This is partly because I take after Mom's side of the family, and partly because this way Sadie can claim a decent middle name. I mean, she does have a rather unfortunate name, if you think about it. For instance, the song was originally about their maharishi, who had allegedly hit on some of the groupies. Sexy Sadie works better lyrically anyways. And then there's the Manson follower who had that as a nickname. Plus, she's named after Cher.

I smiled weakly. The song did make me feel just the tiniest bit better. It was an involuntary response. I hesitantly placed my fingers on the keys. I was slightly nervous, since I wasn't exactly the best piano player. I had learned how to play many years ago, but abandoned it as I became progressively more in love with my guitar (pardon the pun). Tommy started reteaching me a while ago, but I was still way too rusty. Chaz motioned for me to mimic his movements, and I did, barely indenting the keys. "_And when the brokenhearted people... Living in the world **agree**..._" I sang quietly, unsurely. Chaz smiled and joined in on the next line. "_There will **be** an answer. Let it be_," We said together, a bit more reassuringly. "_For though they may be parted, there is **still** a chance that they will see... There will be an answer. Let it be. Let it **be**, let it be... Let it **be**, let it be_," We chorused, our voices growing louder.

I don't know why, but I felt stronger, more confident. I am more independent than I think. I'm in rock 'n' roll, and as long as I'm doing what I love... making music... then everything else is no one's business. Theoretically. It doesn't actually work that way, but I shouldn't care about what people think. I should mock it, refute it... not let it get to me. Only I'm not quite that strong. I don't need Tommy. Well, I do... I really do. But I don't need Tommy to write songs. He might make them better, but it's mostly me. I think I finally believe what he tried to say. Only I still need him... but not like a crutch. I skipped to the next verse. "_And when the night is cloudy, there is still a **light** that shines on me_," I cried loudly, actually starting to play.

Those lyrics had always resonated in me more than most of the others. I was about to continue when Chaz stopped me. I felt a bit put off as I had just been getting into the song, but I obliged him and stopped. I was kinda surprised and kinda freaked out when he gently reached over and pulled my chain out of my shirt. Invasion of personal space much? Chaz' eyes widened at the sight of the necklace. It wasn't like it was a diamond or anything, so I didn't get what was up with all the gaping. I mean, I guess the chain was pretty long, but that's about the only thing that's abnormal about it. "Chaz, it's a St. Jude's medal, not the symbol of the Antichrist. I really don't get why it's so fascinating," I muttered somewhat irritably. Chaz just gave me a look, like he knew something I didn't. I hate that look.

My parents didn't just name me Jude because of the song. Just like they didn't just name Sadie after the song. Sadie was their firstborn, their "Princess". Hence the name. My name apparently means "One whom is praised", which I find ironic, considering my childhood. They obviously didn't go for the literal meaning on that one. Anyways, Mom and Dad started trying to have a kid almost immediately after Sadie was born. They tried for a year, but to no avail, so they went to the doctor. The doctor said that because Mom had Sadie by C-section, she wouldn't be able to have another child. In fact, my mother's eggs apparently had difficulties that made Sadie's birth a miracle in and of its' own. This didn't stop my parents, though. They kept on trying for about another six months... They went all out too, utilizing every techinique available at the time (even fertility drugs), but nothing worked. So they finally just gave up. And what do you know... Three months after my parents birthday, almost five months after they'd given up, Mom found out that she was pregnant with me. Happy late anniversary. I was born about three months after that, dreadfully premature.

They also named me after Saint Jude, you see. In case you didn't know, he's the patron saint of lost causes and hopeless cases (both of which I am). Apparently Dad (who was not the religious one in the family) had faithfully prayed to St. Jude every day to have another child. So I can't say that my parents didn't want me. They wanted me a lot. Another reason they named me after St. Jude was the fact that being born three months premature, most of my first months of life were rocky and instable. I was very low-weight, and a lot of the times they thought I wasn't going to make it through the night. So, once again, my nonreligious parents prayed. They prayed, and I got better. Maybe it's just a coincidence that my heartbeat got stronger whenever anyone sang "Hey Jude", Dad's favorite song (especially the single version). So, basically, here I am... Hey Jude!

With the story I just told you, you'd think that this really long chain I'm wearing was given me by my parents or some other distant family members. However, that story couldn't be any further from the truth. What is the truth, you ask? Why, how astute of you to inquire! I guess I have to tell you the truth then...

"That's _Tommy's_ old medal!" Chaz exclaimed, holding up the medal so that it caught the light. Yes, as a matter of fact, it is Tommy's old medal. He gave it to me right after Mom had kicked Dad out of the house. He'd found out about the whole affair thing, and I still hadn't forgiven him. I wasn't really in the best place then, so when Tommy first gave me the piece of jewelry, I remember that I violently threw it back... in his face. Ouch. I also said I hated him. I felt so insulted and resentful. I just saw it as another way he was being an ass. He assumed that I was a "lost cause".

I think I can remember exactly what he said, if I think about it a bit. "I don't think you're a lost cause of any sort, Jude," Tommy had assured me. It didn't exactly work, but I should've known he was being sincere from that look in his eyes. It was a sad, earnest sort of look. "I know you've been going through a lot lately, and I'm sorry for that. I went through a lot of hard times in my life too, and I know how it feels to be at the end of your rope... But I always turned to this medal when I felt all was lost. And it helped me," Tommy said empathetically, placing his hand on my shoulder, however he was still afraid to look me in the eye. I snorted at this remark, though whether it was over him turning to God in times of trouble (more like liquor, cigarettes, sex, and drugs... and music. Always music) or his actually being helped, I didn't really know. Tommy pressed the coiled-up necklace into my palm. I didn't believe a word that came out of his mouth. He was just another liar to me then. And I hated liars. "I was cleaning out my closet, and I found it. I thought of you right away. I knew I didn't need it anymore, so I thought maybe I could pass it on to you. It's just been so _hard_ for you, and I wanted to know if I could help alleviate it even a little... So if there's any chance it could ever possibly help you in the future, then take it... If _not_... If you don't ever want anything to do with me again, than I understand... I'll leave it alone. I sincerely promise I'll respect whatever decision you make." Tommy swore vehemently. He wanted to help so badly that it broke my heart a little.

So I took the necklace from him, of course. I actually didn't wear it for weeks, though. Not until I had forgiven Tommy, and he had all but forgotten about its existence. I thought that it was safer that way. I almost always wore the necklace under my clothes, but few people ever noticed... not even Tommy. I suppose that was a good thing. I think I've almost rubbed the face smooth by now, holding it. It makes me feel pathetic to admit it, but I've prayed er... with it, to it, holding it? I don't know the proper terminology, and it's not like I'm doing anything really fancy. I used to pray a lot more in the beginning. I remember it started off with me begging God to be over him. I pray for that at least once a day now. And then, in my more hopeful periods, I remember just thinking _Tommy_. That was all I thought. A silent prayer for him to come around. Dozens a day when I'm really desperate or if I think I have a chance... Knowing my luck, neither one has ever really worked for me. So now I just pray one of each, figuring that eventually one of them has to come true... right? Limbo is a Hell I can't bear anymore. I've never told anyone about it, though, so I was wondering how Chaz knew. I probably voiced that worry a second later, but I don't remember.

I just remember Chaz answering. He picked the medal up and turned it on its side, revealing an engraving that ran down its edge. _Thomas_. Oh. That seems pretty obvious. I can't believe I never noticed that. God, how stupid am I? I've had it for literally months, and I miss _that_? Chaz continued holding it, however, and the look in his eyes signified that he was about to give me a lesson in Tommy's History once again. I always liked Chaz' History lessons anyways. "Believe it or not, when Tommy was little, he used to be the most religious boy you ever saw. He was certainly no priest, but he was about as tormented as a stigmatic. I think it has to do with Tory, because she's got to be the most manipulative bitch on the face of the planet... But anyways, she's a very strict Roman Catholic due to her French-Canadian heritage. She bought that for Tommy as his confirmation present. His confirmation name happens to be Jude," Chaz began to explain, shooting me a pointed look. I wanted to point out that Chaz was no one to be calling anyone manipulative after the stunt he pulled at Music Helps (he's still the booker for that, by the way... He has a lot of connections). I mean, Tommy had a major complex about the guy and for good reason. Chaz was voted Number One on an MTV 2 special of the Most Manipulative Men in the Music Business. Darius was Number Two. Lemme tell you, there were stories about the both of them that would make your hair curl.

Tommy's confirmation name... It didn't have to do with me at all. I knew this for the simple reason that Tommy hadn't even met me then. As Chaz explained sometime later, some of this was from what he'd seen growing up with Tommy. Then Tommy had filled in the holes later when Chaz asked him about it. "Tory was pretty literal with names. For instance, Thomas means twin. Tom was named that because he looked so much like his older brother. But Thomas the Apostle was notorious for his doubt, and Tory had a lot of doubts at the time Tommy was born... about her marriage and Tommy... but especially Tommy. So Tommy grew up with a lot of negative connotations attached to his first name, and his mother didn't exactly help. He said she always pronounced his name with the accent on the second syllable... Thom_as_. I remember that she always seemed to be annoyed by him... Tommy loved her so much, but she never even really gave him the time of day. The boy idolized her. So one of the main reasons he chose Jude as his name was probably because Victoria suggested it," Chaz continued with a sad, almost stricken sort of look in his eyes. I felt my own eyes welling up a little. It sounded so heartbreaking... That Tommy had loved his mother with all his heart, but she'd basically rejected him his whole life. That's just horrible. Neglectful and forgetful as my parents may have been at times, I _always_ knew they loved me. My dad especially. I felt suddenly appreciative of my parents.

Chaz shook his head, apparently at himself, and carried on. I guess he must've decided to touch on a different topic because he didn't start it with Tommy's mom. Then again, maybe he just didn't want to think of her bitchiness unless he needed it. "He chose the name Jude for many reasons, though. According to Tommy, for instance, the Saints Jude and Thomas have been confused for centuries. He'll claim that he picked the name for the simple fact that Jude was actually a part of the original St. Thomas' name, but that's most likely a lie. You see, Tom didn't really have a good childhood. Sure, his family was wealthy, and he had plenty of friends and family... but his younger brother and his older brother got all the attention. Plus he had the dark cloud of _Victoria_ hanging over his childhood. Actually, I'm lying... Tommy was _absolutely_ **miserable**. He was subjected to all sorts of verbal abuse... Victoria called him so many terrible, cruel things. I mean, these were terrible things to say to an insecure preteen... She said he was a disappointment, that he was worthless... an accident... a mistake. I believe one time she even told him that "_you're_ what happens when the condom breaks." When he got in trouble, which was always, she would go around lamenting about how none of this would've happened if she "hadn't forgotten to take the Pill that one day". She loved to say that she should've gotten an abortion instead, because then she "wouldn't have brought the Antichrist into the world"... A little kid shouldn't have to hear things like that!" Chaz exclaimed in a raspy voice, eyes blazing in fury. He was so mad about all the terrible things Tommy's mother had said to his best friend. And I was too.

No wonder Tommy was so... frozen... so cold. Even his mother hadn't loved him. No wonder he can't express his feelings properly. No wonder he can't love anyone properly. I felt a sudden pang of sympathy for him. If his mother didn't love him, how can I expect him to love me? He probably doesn't even know what it feels like... Or maybe I just need to show him how much I care. I wanted to run up to Tommy, give him the biggest hug of my life, and tell him how much I loved him... How I loved him so much that he wouldn't ever need anyone else ever again because... because I wouldn't ever stop or fall out of love with him. Of course, though, I couldn't do that. Chaz swallowed hard and forced himself to continue. "But her favorite insult of all was calling him a lost cause... a hopeless case. So when he was looking for a confirmation name, she made a flip remark about how he might as well run to St. Jude... although no amount of prayers would ever save him. Tom didn't really like himself when he was little. It all started when his brother was born, and by the time he was 13-14, just joining the band... It felt unbearable. The band was an escape for Tom. A place where he wouldn't have to be compared to his brothers. He was confirmed just after his brother had dropped out of the band, and Tommy felt terrible for staying with us over his own flesh and blood. But we, the band, us and Darius's family... We were more of a family than the Quincy Clan ever was to him. Tommy was wracked by guilt. He said he felt like a traitor... Like he'd sold out and abandoned his family and stabbed them all in the back. So I don't really think he chose the name entirely because of his mother. I think his main reason for choosing the name was because he felt he was a lost cause... He felt like Judas Iscariot," Chaz finished in a low whisper. I saw that his eyes were wet. So were mine. Poor Tommy.

I could only gape at the atrocities perpetuated by his mother. It's a wonder Tom even talks to her at all. Honestly, it couldn't be worse if she'd raped him. I mean, that would be terrible, but he could get past that. He can't get past this, though, being told his whole childhood that he was a mistake... Useless... a hopeless case... past redemption. He would always have those statements stuck in the back of his mind. He always has to think about the fact that his mother doesn't care. Hearing that, it's a wonder he didn't give up on himself. That's probably why he distances himself from people... I don't know if I could be as strong as he is.

I sure couldn't be that cold. I gently pulled my necklace out of Chaz' hands, feeling suddenly protective of it. Without a word... I suppose they weren't really needed... I returned to the piano, not even hesitating to play the notes. I launched right back into the verse, even more impassioned. "_Shine on 'til **tomorrow**... let it be. I wake up to the sound of **music**..._" Here Chaz jumped back in, gently playing the same tune. "_Mother Mary comes to me... Speaking words of wisdom, let it be_," We sang together as Chaz flashed me a smile.

Way to lighten the mood, I guess. "_Let it **be**... Let it be. **Oh**, let it be... Yeah, let it **be**..._" I continued brightly, feeling Chaz' eyes on me. It felt somewhat uncomfortable. Finally, the next line, when I felt more sure about my limited piano skills, I glanced over at Chaz and blatantly caught him staring. I cleared my throat and my eyes immediately darted back to the eyes embarrassedly. "_Whisper words of wisdom..._" I murmured, shooting glances at Chaz and then looking away. I kept hoping I'd look over and not see him staring at me.

I was about to sing the rest of the line when Chaz' fingers descended over mine. Our fingers slammed down hard on the keys. The song ended with a sudden crash of notes that echoed in the air. He leaned in and his nose brushed against my cheek as he whispered in a sing-song tone, "_Let it be_." He had effectively finished it, all right. I might've shivered, but only slightly. He drew his head back a little, and I looked into his eyes. The keys we were still pressing down echoed softly. Had his eyes always been such a warm shade of brown? Funny, I never noticed that... Not that I'm particularly known for my powers of perception. If I was, I'd have noticed Chaz slowly leaning in to... well, you know. Not that he did or anything. Tommy walked in the room about a few seconds before whatever could've happened did. Hm, I had a moment with Chaz. How strange. I think Chaz apologized, but I don't really remember. I could've sworn I heard him mention his ex-fiancée's name, but maybe I imagined that. I was very confused.

And very nervous. So I tried to force that... moment... whatever it was... out of my mind. I noticed Tommy's scowl, but I forced myself to ignore it as we were herded into the makeshift theater like cattle. The seats were labeled, so there was no confusion. Chaz and I walked past Tommy, who looked a bit perplexed at the snub. I didn't care, though. I merely sat down and waited for everyone to file in. It took some time, but eventually everyone was in the room. There was a brief explanation by Darius and an even shorter countdown before the lights dimmed. I heard the opening chords of my song and the video flashed immediately on the screen. Here goes nothing. Nothing except everything I've worked so hard to maintain.

The video opened, as usual, with me in the recording booth. I was wearing a sort of skimpy, girlyish outfit. Funny, I don't remember wearing anything that revealing. "_I confuse you, I bombard your mind... With strange sensations and things you've never felt before_," The onscreen-me sang, staring directly out at the audience. My eyes were so dark and oddly intense, like I was trying to seduce someone. The lighting dimmed a little, though the tint of the footage changed. The camera cut to Tommy, who was, quite predictably, in the booth. He was sitting in his usual chair, but this time Kwest wasn't there. "Never felt before," He muttered under his breath, still staring at me almost rapturously.

I looked frustrated, and I was practically tugging my hair half out of my head. I kept my eyes closed. "_When did these feelings suddenly become so clear?_" I questioned irritably, messing up my hair a little. I slowly opened my eyes and looked up quickly, startling Tommy. "_So obvious, so obvious..._" He grunted, shaking his head as if he didn't even believe himself. Tommy sighed, staring vacantly at me in the booth.

You know, watching this is about as much fun as filming it. I remember being particularly bored during these scenes. The room got darker onscreen as the camera focused on what Tommy was probably seeing of me through the glass, but that just provided a brilliant contrast against my creamy skin and scarlet hair. The contrast was very artsy. It made me look a hell of a lot prettier than I really was. Was that how Tommy saw me? Somehow, I highly doubted that. My eyes were closed, hands clutching my headphones with white knuckles. It looked like I was battling some internal demons of my own. I was really just preparing for the big string of notes I was about to sing, but, hey, to-may-to, to-mah-to... "_Did it happen **overnight**, or is this some oversight?_" I questioned piercingly, opening my eyes mid-verse. They'd obviously been editing the footage a lot because my eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. That's actually sort of creepy, come to think of it. Then again, at least we're not making out. Yet.

Tommy's eyes widened a little, almost with realization. Then again, I'd be freaked out too if someone with glowing blue eyes was staring at me. He frowned and returned to fiddling with some random knobs. He almost whispered the line to himself, sounding confused, "_Were these feelings always here?_" It was a pretty cheesy song, come to think of it. But hey, even I don't like this song. That's why I know it's going to be a smash hit. I hate it, so it will become a smash hit. Tommy's having sex in the music video. It can't fail.

I smirked onscreen, and I could swear I saw the room noticeably brighten. Freaky. I was giving Tommy a sort of challenging look. Man, I am really asking for it, aren't I? Yeesh. It's like "...Baby, One More Time". Except worse. This video's blatantly sexual... not just suggestive. "_You tell yourself to **wait** it out, but soon you start to doubt_," I taunted, biting back a snicker. I drew out wait like waaaaiit. There was a brief flash of Tommy on the other side of the glass. He looked angry. Then the camera went through the glass to Tommy's side. He screwed his eyes shut, clutching the arms of his chair. "_I keep telling myself to wait it out, but I'm having so many doubts_," He mumbled, sounding absolutely tormented. He's really a very good actor.

I was bobbing to the beat a little, feeling a bit playful. This, in actuality, has nothing to do with my song. I happen to have a mental radio that I like to call Jude's Head 97.5. Okay, so I couldn't think of a better station name. Anyways, it just so happened that one of my favorite songs came on the Interna-radio, Toronto's "Your Daddy Don't Know". So I was kinda jamming to that instead, swaying my hips to the beat. "_That you even can get through another **day** without me_," I teased, glancing mischievously over at Tommy.

Tommy groaned, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. It was supposed to be like, well, you know... That he was going crazy. In the original recording, that groan was a result of what happened when I accidentally grabbed Tommy, erm, in a... rather personal place. I dropped something on the ground, you see. So since Tommy was about five centimeters away from me, and I didn't want to get off the stool, I wound up putting my hand on his leg. Anyways, so I lean down to reach it, and I guess my hand sort of slipped up his thigh. I pushed myself back up, and I sort of lost my balance a little. My hand wound up slipping a little more, and you can sort of guess where my fingers landed. Tommy yelped, and lost his balance on the stool, so we both fell over into a heap on the floor. Kwest was laughing hysterically. So we eventually got back up, and Kwest told me to make Tommy groan. I think Tommy glared at Kwest, but then I sat down in his lap, so he was thinking of other things. Maybe he did that just to torture Tommy. Who knows? The Tommy on-screen bit his lip, looking pensive. "_Can I get through the day without **you** with me?_"

For the next part, our voices mingled. "_Our self-control totally imploding and eroding..._" Tommy slammed down both hands on the soundboard (something he'd never do. Tommy is very careful around his soundboard). I tossed my headphones off violently. There was a brief flash of fireworks. "_Inhibitions **wane**, becoming lowered and weakened..._" For a moment, we stood on opposing sides of the glass door, just staring. The tempo sped up a bit, rising just like the lyrics. "_This makes certain animalistic impulses **rise**..._" There was another bright flash of fireworks, and suddenly, the door was open. Only a few seconds later, Tommy had me pinned against the wall. My back still hurt from that, only slightly. "_Strong emotion makes voices deepened..._" Tommy swallowed hard, leaning in a little bit. We weren't exactly kissing, but we were pretty close to it. Trust me, kiddies... It only gets worse from here. "_Despite that I know that these actions surely are not wise..._" That was when Tommy kissed me. I heard a few people gasp.

This time, it was me who groaned. And now it all really starts. Was I hallucinating that or did I just see Sadie slap Tommy? The screen morphed into me walking backstage. You could tell it was backstage because there were these huge curtains everywhere. I was wearing the gray skirt Kat had made for me. It went above my bellybutton, and I couldn't remember for the life of me the last time I'd worn something that covered my bellybutton. It also happened to be so tight that I was amazed I could even walk in it. To compensate for how high it started, the skirt ended a little above the middle of my thigh. It was so clingy... The thing also had the annoying habit of riding up. I was also wearing a black short-sleeved button-up that was knotted a little below where my skirt started with matching black high heels. The collar was turned up and the first three buttons were also unbuttoned, revealing occasional flashes of the lacy bra I was wearing. "_It's all behind the scenes, how I leave you **wanting** me..._" I sang darkly, letting out a harsh laugh, turning around mid-verse. I shot Tommy, who was presumably behind me, a "come hither" look, motioning for him to do as the look requested with the simple jerk of a finger. There was a shot of Tommy staring after me almost rapturously, fisting his hands. "_I want you, want you so **bad**_," He nearly growled.

A chill ran up my spine at the sound of his voice. I believed him... a little too well. I gulped and my eyes shot briefly over to where Tommy was sitting. He wasn't looking at me. Well, of course not. I guess he doesn't need another reason for Sades to kill him. I looked at Tommy with hooded, mysterious eyes. They must've put a lot of make-up on me. "_I'm asking **you** to help me satisfy my raging hormones_," I delivered with the perfect pout. I pointed directly at Tommy before running off and sneaking behind a curtain. Tommy raced after me, bursting through the curtain while proclaiming, "_I'll be the best you've ever had!_" God, whoever wrote those male vocals should be shot. Then again, it was probably Travis. Come to think of it, that explains a lot. No wonder he'd want to make the both of us (Tommy and me) look pathetic.

I could've sworn that Tommy cringed at that last line. Not that I can blame him. I think Chaz just snickered. I elbowed him in the side for revenge. "Oh, please, Chaz. He's right, too. I think you just resent the fact that Tommy got more tail than you back in your boybander days," I muttered irritably. Chaz scowled back, eyes narrowing, but I knew he was just being a doofus again. I gestured in between the two of us, shaking my head. "_Because **this** won't last long, and there's no turning back_," I stated sassily, hands on my hips. I raised an eyebrow at him as if he had a choice. Ha. I already knew what decision he was going to make. "_**Can't** turn back_," Tom choked out as almost an afterthought. Did I actually have an affair in mind when I wrote that song? I mean... jeez.

I shrugged onscreen. "_Oh, well... I don't have long and neither do you_," I murmured, walking towards Tommy with an almost hungry look in my eyes. Sexpot much, Jude? I'm more of a Lolita figure than Fiona Apple! Well, at least I'm clothed or covered for the majority of my video... erm, I think. "_I can't **take** this tension anymore!_" Tommy snapped, grabbing me by the upper arms. I grinned back cunningly, trailing my hands up his arms. "_So let's use up this time like we both know we should_," I murmured, leaning in towards Tommy a little more.

Tommy nodded briefly, locking eyes with me. "_We should, uh huh, yeah_," He agreed, somewhat dazed. I smiled thinly at Tommy, dragging my nails back down his arms. His breath hitched, and his eyes fluttered closed. "_By helping make each other feel so damn good_," I groaned, only millimeters away from his lips, trailing my hands down his chest. I sighed, remembering just how good that had felt. I mean, people actually telling me to kiss Tommy? Of course I'm gonna be all over it. "_So damn good_," He grunted, slamming his lips against mine. Yeah, Tommy... you're right about that.

Here was the funny thing about the next part of the video. I knew exactly what footage it was, which was strange enough. It was in the same room. They'd obviously edited the footage because the colors were so much... richer. My hair was a rich merlot, the velvet curtains were a deep violet, and my skirt seemed almost black. Now we get to the funny part. Not really funny ha-ha, but funny ironic. "_Our self-control totally imploding and eroding... Inhibitions wane, becoming lowered and weakened... This makes certain rudimentary impulses **rise**... Strong emotion makes voices deepened... Even though you know these actions surely are not wise._" It was made to look like Tommy grabbed me by the hips, hands slowly creeping up the back of my shirt... spinning me around in the air, pressing me into that curtain. All that while not breaking the lip-lock. Wow. What a man! It was made to look like I grabbed his hair, and that he was tugging at my clothes. He didn't even touch me. Tommy's hands hovered over my hips, but he never actually put his hands on me. He slipped his fingers up my shirt, but he never made contact with my skin. I turned myself around, on my tiptoes to give it that illusion. I backed myself into the curtain suddenly. My fingers barely skimmed his hair, on accident. And we were never really kissing at all. It's a trick of the camera angles. That was when we had the first director. You know, the one who directed the alley make-out scene?

He quit after that. I don't know why, but I guess Darius didn't think it was "hot" enough. See, the thing is that that scene is supposed to look like a sort of dream. You know... perception. And then, right at the end of the chorus, you see it from the real camera angle... It's in stark black and white... and we're not touching at all. Both of us have these confused looks on our faces too. Picture perfect, don't you think? It sure looks it. If this was a porno, it'd be incredibly well-done. Then again, if this was a porno, we'd be doing it right now. I think I'm glad it's not a porno.

I spoke too soon. Ha, silly me, thinking that there wasn't any footage of Wednesday's little tryst in here. That's what this video does. It tricks you and sucks you in. See, just look how riveted everyone in the theater is. I recognized the scene. It was me, in all their lush coloring glory, tumbling backwards unto the bed with a soft groan. There was a close-up on my face. My eyes were closed in rapture, swollen lips slightly parted. "_All I know is that my lips are parted wide **open** for yours, my friend_," I sang in a throaty voice, opening my heavily-lidded eyes. The camera cut quick to Tommy, who looked dark and forbidden. He looked frustrated, like he was trying not to give in to me. "_Again and again and again_," He whispered thoughtfully with a steady staccato beat. So he's thinking about it. Obviously.

I writhed impatiently on the bed, clearly waiting for him to make a move. I propped myself up on my elbows, hands bunching up the sheets. Then I sighed heavily and let out a moan. "_And you've got me **stranded**, waiting for this affair to end_," I whimpered, bottom lip trembling. I was begging him to come to me. Yeesh. This video makes me look like a dirty nympho. Great for my image. I'm gonna become a pin-up girl. The camera panned over to Tommy, who happened to be smirking victoriously. "_I've got you **right** where I want you_," He teased as the smirk fell slowly from his lips. He practically launched himself at me, his lips completely covering mine. I smiled, remembering how it felt. Tommy can plunder the depths of my mouth anyday. "_In this sedated state of **agony**!_" I screamed frustratedly, digging my nails into his back, pulling him on top of me with a renewed force. "_...And wonderful, rapturous **ecstasy**_," I let out in a breathy moan as my eyes snapped shut. I winced in advance at what were arguably the most corny lines in the video. Damn you, Travis. "_Agony, ecstasy, agony, **ecstasy**!_" Tommy mumbled while planting a whirlwind of kisses on my neck, collarbone, and shoulders. Why didn't I remember this happening exactly like it did in the video? Duh, Jude, 'cause they edited it! Man, you are stupid! Ah, and there's a shot of my fingers creeping down to unzip Tommy's jeans. Now, _that_, I remember! And there's his surprised grunt. "_If we wait a minute longer, it could be the death of **me**_," I hissed sharply, getting cut off by a moan. "_I'm losing control!_" Tommy yelled, pulling at my clothes.

Predictably, the clothes practically flew in the air after that, falling to the ground as we tore them off. I buried my face in Chaz' shirt. I knew my parents... and Sadie... were freaking out. They were probably looking for me too. Or they were watching the video. I don't care what anyone says. It's strange seeing yourself making out with someone on-screen. Seeing your memories play out through someone else's eyes. Creepy, even. To be honest, I didn't need to see the next footage. I just knew it was the bit that had immediately proceeded the, um, exploring... I didn't even really like the song other than that killer guitar riff. Sure, it had a great hook. It wasn't as catchy as "Too Sexy Sadie", but I guess it had its own appeal. Despite the provocative-ness of the video, it had me and Tommy in it, scantily clad. So, naturally, it would be played a lot. "_Our self-control totally imploding and eroding... Inhibitions wane, becoming lowered and weakened. This makes certain basic impulses rise... Strong emotion makes hoarse voices deepened. Yet, we both know these actions surely are not wise._" That meant that I had convinced Tommy to, well, go at it. Great.

Well, I might as well watch the rest of this. You know, I ought to know what I'm gonna be going up against for days. I'm going to get a lot of crap about this, after all. "_Your rapturous, praising lips are **full** in exaltation_," I gasped out as Tommy literally kissed down my chest... from my throat, down my neck, over my bra, down my stomach... Really? I don't remember that. I mean, I was still wearing my bra then. Ooh, that reminds me... Not good. Hm, that looked so nice, though. "_I worship you, it's **true**!_" Tommy exclaimed passionately. Yeah, Tom, I _really_ believe that. Video Jude kissed him suddenly, violently rolling him over. She rose up so that she was straddling him, then placed her hands on her hips. I threw back my head and laughed. Unbelievably, it didn't look stupid when Video Jude did it. But I now recognized that Actual Jude and Video Jude were two separate entities. "_From **honestly** singing all of my praises_," I sang, still staring down at him for a minute. My hands slipped off my hips and unto his chest as I leaned forward. Was I drunk or did they just edit these funny? 'Cause I swear, I don't remember doing half of this. Tommy slid his fingers over mine, pulling me back down on top of him. "_You do enough singing for the both of us_," He joked with a laugh. Again, I blame Travis for the corniness.

I dragged my nails down Tommy's back, leaving scratch marks in my wake. "_Your thin, nimble fingertips raking my taut, **tight** back_," I moaned. Tommy had such lovely fingers... long and slender, perfect for playing the piano... or... "_Up and down_," Tommy grunted breathlessly. Bossy even in the sack. It was so surreal to watch this. The camera panned down, showing where the sheets covered the both of us. "_Your smooth, quivering hips **trembling**..._" I called in a lilting voice, ending the line with a breathy moan. There was only minimal shaking as Tommy thrust his hips against mine with force. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I almost swore I felt him doing it again. I forgot how rough Tommy was about it. "_In and out, in and out_," Tommy chanted hypnotically. I also forgot how many moans and screams and other sound affects we overdubbed into the background. "_With rising anticipation against **mine** ..._" I screamed, my own voice crescendoing. Tommy's covered hips thrust against mine harder and faster in succession. The camera slowly panned back out, up to our faces, lingering just for a second on his arms around my sides... It still didn't cover up all the cleavage. "_Higher, higher, higher, **now**!_" Tommy sighed raggedly, completely breathless. It was a thinly veiled climax, as you could plainly tell by the look on our faces and the particularly loud cries after his "now".

Then time reset itself, because the video didn't make quite enough sense as it was. It was a simple shot from above of me lying on the bed, with Tommy kissing my neck fervently. "_I'm here, waiting for a mind-boggling ravishing_," I seemed to beg. "_**Ravish** you away!_" Tom hissed, throwing his arms around me suddenly, pulling me closer. It all sounded like a corny romance novel. One with a swashbuckling pirate, a sassy wench, and the salty sea breeze... Not to mention the numerous sexual innuendos, such as... You can shiver me timbers any day... Feel free to take my booty... Let's rock the boat... The classic: Plunder my depths... And the lame: Why don't you steer your ship my way sometime? Of course, in reality, Tommy would need enough rum to kill two pirates to willingly do what we'd done in the video. But the people didn't need to know that. They probably thought that it was a real story like the Romance on the High Seas collection. Tommy was a worldly, decadent boybander and I was a simple girl-next-door type... turned wild, seductive vixen. I mean, I guess the studio would be okay for romantic trysts... They probably think Tommy's the type to sound other things out on the soundboard. All those buttons to play with... There aren't as many musical innuendos, but I suppose they think we regularly make beautiful music together and that I let him play my body like a guitar regularly. It's so easy to romance something when you don't know what it's really like. For instance, the fact that studios regularly smell and contain see-through (although soundproof) glass. Not to mention that the soundboard is really fragile... even the slightest fluid or violent movement could completely wreck it. That's why we have chairs... and why Tommy has an office with a nice, big desk. I wonder how many girls he's...

"_That might just completely blow my mind_," I breathed on-screen. I refused to look this time. God, please, I don't want to see any more! Well, _that's_ a hopeless cause if I ever heard one... I glanced up at the sound of Tommy's voice. "_There's not a thought in my mind; I'm **high** off you_," Tommy murmured feverishly, biting and sucking at my neck. I shivered and remembered that I still had the mark from that. Well, of course I still had it! Dumb me. We only filmed it two days ago. It's not like this footage is prehistoric or anything! Gah. I just... I don't want to see another bit of the chorus playing out. I don't even want to be here! I want to be at home... in my bed... asleep. I wish I'd never written this song. I wish... I wish I'd never even met Travis. I wish he hadn't written these stupid male vocals. I wish I hadn't made a music video.

I am never writing another dirty song again. Because I think God's probably punishing me. "_Our self-control totally imploding and eroding... Inhibitions wane, becoming lowered and weakened... This makes certain basic impulses rise. Strong emotion makes husky voices deepened... Everybody still knows these actions surely are not wise._" The words barely even registered in my head. I was staring at the screen but not really seeing a thing. Instead, I was subconsciously playing with the necklace Tommy had given me so many months ago, wondering about the fallout of this video. "Slut" in red spraypaint on my locker and red A's flooded my mind. This was not going to end well... mark my words.

I love Tommy, but... I think it's better for everyone if I just stay away from him. For good. Not just for Sadie, who loves him very much and doesn't deserve to have a sister as rotten as me scamming on her man. Not just for my parents, who are probably embarrassed and ashamed that they have such a terrible skank of a daughter. And not just for Tommy... God, think of the havok this must be wreaking on his reputation! People must think that he's some sort of pedophile! But... for me. This isn't healthy, and it's only hurting me! My reputation's in the gutter, and the whole world must think I'm a slut, which I **am**, of course, for... For all the kissing and groping and lustful thinking I've done over the past two weeks. And here's the sad thing... I could care less about any of that if Tommy loved me. If he was in love with me, I could do anything! But Tommy's not in love with me. He cares about me, and he likes me... He might even be remotely attracted to me... But he's **not** in love with me.

And I can't blame him. I am a horrible person. I _am_ all of those things they say I am. I am a hypocrite. So maybe it's just better for me to forget him. Maybe my love for him is something better left lost. I'm sure I'll be happier that way... I'll be less desperate. I'll finally be free of the foolish affection that's hopelessly inflicted me! See... I even get poetic thinking about it. So I'm going to do what I should've done a long time ago. And this time, I'm actually sticking to my guns. I'm going to get over Tommy. There is no try. I will get over Tommy simply because it is what I have to do to survive.

I know it won't be easy... Heavens yes, I know that. But I have to try. I can't give up so easily this time. It's a matter of life or death. And it's not like I'm killing my soul by giving up... I'm _saving_ my **life**. Tommy is my drug. He might keep you up at night better than meth. He might make you see the world in a different light better than acid. He might make you hungrier than marijuana. He might take away the pain better than morphine... He might make you feel better than cocaine... and he might be more addicting than nicotine. But he's poison... as toxic to your system as arsenic. And in one fell swoop, you could OD on him faster than heroin. And it is for that very reason that I'm gonna give him up. I have to to keep my sanity intact. I'm not going to be an addict anymore.

You see, what they never tell you is that he'll break your heart. And even if you take a thousand of them, there are no pills to fix that. I swear to you, the filming of that scene is the LAST time I am ever kissing Tommy. I'm finally off him. For good this time.

And then, for some reason, I noticed, really noticed, the video again. I remembered this part. I remembered that haunting look in his eyes. I don't know if he knew it, but with that look in his eyes... he could get me to do anything he wanted. "_Your eyes **dark** with an electric lust_," I warbled hauntingly. The tone was fitting... His eyes were haunting in that light. The way they glowed in the moonlight... The way his frosty stare burned into me. His stare was focused, but clouded with a passion too complex for either of us to comprehend. There it was... The look that basically stated, "I want you, and I'm going to jump you... now." _You're mine._ Concentrated... No one could say no to that lusty stare. The air crackled with tension... tiny flashes lighting it up for brief moments. "_Like static electricity in the air_," Tom explained briefly. He was right about the analogy, too. Latent energy was all around... just like passion. You just had to know where to look.

There was a close-up sort of on our faces, eyes opening and closing. My eyes fluttered open slightly as Tom attacked my neck. His eyelashes wavered a bit as he deepened a kiss. We both looked like we were drenched in sweat... simply spent. "_Fluttering open and **shut** like a flickering candle_," I drawled in a husky tone, as if I was deliberately playing this vixen. My eyes opened slowly, covered in brilliant, glimmering pink eyeshadow. "_Fire, inflamed desire_," Tom groaned, once more pressing his lips against my throat... chastely this time. Wow. Tommy and chaste should not be in the same sentence. Ever. It's like... an oxymoron.

"_And I'm feeling almost ready to **combust**_," I enunciated. I thought I'd felt bad then. Then it was just this annoying itching underneath my skin. I could scratch and scratch at it, but I would never reach it. That much was true anyways. Now I wanted to combust out of frustration. Some days I just felt like screaming so loud I lost my voice. Of course, I couldn't do that, now could I? "_Spontaneous human combustion_," Tom said or, at least, almost sang. Damn sucky male vocals and their sucky male writers... "_As it's me your calloused fingers **handle**_," I continued as Tommy pretty much felt me up on camera. I felt sickened at the personal display gone public. Unlike my co-star, I was not an exhibitionist. "_As I **play** you like my guitar_," Tommy finished for me cornily. As if on cue, that was the scene in which you get to see my bra go flying through the air. I wasn't imagining those gasps, not this time. "_Emotions deep, trapped within your **royal** veins_," I chanted as the light shone on Tommy's arms. This was referencing the fact that his veins were, like all veins, very blue. "_I've finally **cracked**_," Tom shouted crazily. Yeah, you and me both. I was about to lose it.

My eyes were unfocused, my thoughts misty. "_Hazy thoughts **lost**, mired by your dazed mind..._" My voice. I wasn't looking at the screen. I had to get my bearings. "_I must be dreaming..._" I'd recognized that dazed and amazed voice anywhere. I wish, Tommy, I wish. Actually, this would be a **nightmare**. Actually, this is making my nightmares look good. Oh, no... Wait. The one I had earlier today... where I slept with Travis. Bad. Very bad. "_Muscles firm and **taut**, but wracked with pains_," I crooned. There was a rather nice shot of Tommy's body just then, so for a moment, I smiled contentedly. In case you're wondering... The vocal that originally came next was the infamous "I'm getting old." Tommy couldn't take that stab at his pride, though. "_I'm not going to hold back!_" I heard Tommy say. He was right on top of me. I guess, he was poised to... to, well, you know. Sadie was definitely not going to be happy about this. Especially since Tommy just sort of thrust against me like he was deflowering me. Which my parents probably think he did. Then it was afterwards and we were both sweaty. Tommy was half on top of me, feigning sleep. I, however, was awake. I grabbed his hand, holding his wrist up to the light, scars flashing, and pressed my lips against it. "_Of those emotional **scars** that haven't yet healed_," I cried, curling up around him. "_I'm bleeding, **bleeding** inside!_"

"_Our self-control's now totally imploding and eroding..._" I looked up and... There, up on the big screen, was me kissing Tommy like a technicolor dream come to life. Reminding me exactly of what I was missing. And suddenly, I just couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't even breathe. So I apologized to Mason in advance before I scrambled over his lap, scurrying down the row and out of the makeshift theater as if my feet had wings. I was pleasantly surprised to find the lobby almost deserted. There was only the receptionist, who appeared to be very bored. She was also, luckily enough for me, listening to some music. I was able to dash past her and scale the narrow staircase all the way to the roof. Maybe it was just the pent-up energy I had, but I flew up those stairs in what seemed like seconds. _The success of this affair is solely dependent on your lies..._ That line rang through my head. It's not like I was really missing much. Just a sort of souped up chorus. I just needed to... to clear my head.

Yes, that's it. I was wearing my nice jeans (a.k.a. the only pair I own without holes), the same sort of blackish blazer I wore to the Spring Fling Blingity-Bling, my favorite Clash t-shirt, and my trusty turquoise Converse. Imagine my surprise when I walked over to the edge of the roof and happened to see a man standing there, smoking. Suddenly, I had a desire to smoke... maybe it would calm my nerves? Hey, it's one cigarette, and Tommy does it all the time... What's it gonna hurt?

I bit my lip. Come on, girl, you're a rockstar now. Just ask the nice man for a cig and a light. It's not rocket science. "Hey, could I trouble you for a cigarette?" I asked in a low raspy voice, sounding like a pro. The guy smiled a little, I think, and turned to hand me a cigarette, holding a lighter in his other hand. He passed me the cigarette and then we turned to look at each other as he offered me a light. I gasped. "_Tommy_?" Crap.

This time Tommy gasped and jerked the flame away from me. Damn. Looks like I'm not going to get my smoke in. "_Jude?_" He questioned confusedly, staring at me with wide eyes. Then he got over his shock, he frowned at me. Great. Now I'm gonna get a lecture about the evils of smoking. "Since when have you smoked?" He asked, staring at me pensively. You know, that's actually a good question.

I shrugged, staring instead out at the Toronto skyline. I felt his eyes on me, but I didn't turn around to face him. "Since now," I muttered, sighing raggedly, turning the cigarette over in my hands. I forced myself to take deep breaths, but it wasn't helping to calm me down. My heart was all aflutter, making it hard to breathe. And I didn't know why. I heard Tommy sigh... He sounded frustrated.

A minute later, he laced his fingers in mine. I was forced to turn and stare at him in surprise. Naturally, Tommy didn't look at me. He just stared out at the city, smoking his cigarette. I bit my lip, remembering something. "Hey, Tommy, can you give me a light?" I asked, holding out the cigarette and shooting him a pout so he'd be more inclined to agree. Tommy didn't do anything, so I decided to do it the old-fashioned way. I moved in a little closer to him, cigarette in hand.

I guess Tommy glanced over at me, saw me approaching, and freaked out just a little. He immediately backed away, ripping his hand out of mine. "**Relax**, Tommy. I'm not going to kiss you," I stated somewhat irritably. I waved the cigarette in the air, placing my hands on my hips. "Now, come _on_... Light me up!" I prodded. Tommy's eyes widened, and I winced. How did I not realize how dirty that sounded? But luckily for me, Tommy complied. He brought the hand that held the cigarette up to his mouth, placing my cigarette against the one that was on his lips. It lit up within seconds. Tommy slowly brought my hand away from his mouth.

Okay, so that was more than a little strange. I exhaled nervously before bringing the cigarette to my mouth. I tried to suck the acrid smoke into my lungs, but I wound up coughing. I swear to you, Tommy laughed at me. He placed a warm hand on my shoulder. "No, girl, you're doing it all wrong," Tommy said, demonstrating how to properly breathe, "Do it like _this_." Of course, he was a seasoned smoker, so it wasn't like he had any trouble with it. But I exhaled and breathed in the smoke exactly like Tommy had and... I was surprised that it actually worked out fine. No coughs. The smoke burned my lungs, but it was a good sort of burn, I think. It made me feel... alive!

Even though cigarettes kill. I find that a little ironic. For a while, Tommy and I just stood there, staring out at the city below us, watching the smoke float up into the air. Then a sudden thought occurred to me... one that wouldn't leave me alone. So I turned to Tommy. I had to ask him. I took a heavy drag on my cigarette for courage. I cleared my throat, which burned a little, and Tommy looked over at me expectantly. "Tommy... Why did you smoke back..." I began hesitantly. Come on, Jude, you can do this. Tommy's brow furrowed. "Back... back before anything ha-happened... with us?" I stuttered raspily. I was surprised at how hoarse I sounded... so hesitant. So... not me.

At first Tommy frowned, thinking it over moodily. I was afraid of what he was thinking. His thoughts looked so... dark. Then a moment later, a slow smile crossed his face, and it was like a star had exploded. He was slow to answer me. "I used to smoke... every time I thought about kissing you," Tommy replied easily, the hints of a smile on his lips. Tom grinned at me, chuckling lightly, and playing with the cigarette in his fingers. I was breathless with shock. How could he say something like that so casually? Didn't he know that saying things like that only made me want to kiss him all the more?

But then again, maybe that was exactly what Tom Quincy wanted. I felt my lip tremble and dropped the cigarette on purpose, crushing it under my heel, grinding it into the ground. I had to be strong. I had to resist. I had to forget this little addiction of mine. "And, when you did, Tom... What _then_? You couldn't stop yourself anymore!" I snapped viciously. Tommy's eyes glinted angrily, but he has no right... He had that remark coming, and he knew it. For someone who's dating my sister, he's surprisingly not resistant when I kiss him. Not that I'll be doing that any more. Tommy should be glad.

Tommy didn't say anything at all. I was beginning to think that this was a pointless effort, so I turned to leave. I don't exactly know what went through Tommy's mind when he saw me turn to go, but something inside of him must've snapped. He didn't _just_ stop me. Of course not because he's Tom Quincy, and he never does things half-assed. He has to go **all** out. Tommy grabbed me by an arm and capitalizing on my momentum, pulled me around so that he was grabbing me, hands wrapped around my arms. He didn't look like he'd be letting me go any time soon.

Which is weird for me, you know, because usually Tommy's trying to find a way to weasel out of my arms. He likes to weasel out of situations that are unpleasant for him. Not that I think I'm unpleasant or anything... I think he'd like to weasel into my situations most of the time. But it's that jail time keeps flashing in his mind. And he doesn't want Sades to kill him. Hence the weaseling. But there was something different about it this time. There was a dark, forbidding look in his eyes. Now, I've seen a lot of looks on Tommy's pretty face, a lot of them more or less lusty, but this one... I've never seen a look like that. Ever. It had this way of rooting you to the spot and making sure you couldn't move... Not that you'd want to.

"Aren't you going to do anything about what I just told you?" Tommy asked with those cloudy eyes. I was too busy staring to even say anything at first. But then I remembered the promise I'd made to myself. Who was Tommy to be asking me something like that? What... did he actually want me to do something about it? Did he think I was going to do something stupid about it? Did he just take my actions for granted like that?

I glowered at Tommy, struggling to get free from his grip. Seriously, what was I thinking? I'd left the premiere to get out of trouble and wound up here with double. I was mad, mad that he thought I was pathetic like that. "What do you _want_ me to do, Tom?" I sniped back, not realizing how dirty someone like Tom could take that. True to form, Tommy gave me a lecherous look. I felt disgusted.

I can tell you his answer to my question. Me. Meaning him, of course. "Depends on what you'd agree to..." Tommy muttered, blatantly looking me over. "Something, at least..." I felt so... so pissed off. Why can't the boy just decide what he wants to do with me? He's with my sister! I know he's a playboy, but he shouldn't be doing that! I mean now he's coming on to me... Is he drunk again? I mean, he doesn't smell like alcohol...

I hit him hard enough in the chest for him to get the message. He backed away a little, and I managed to wrangle out of his arms. "Make up your mind, Tom! One minute you want me, the next you don't! I can't keep up with it! So just tell me _right_ now what it is you really want..." I demanded, frustrated. Why does he always have to play these games with me? I'm tired of being heartbroken when he decides to run away.

Tommy sighed, brow furrowing. He wasn't thinking it over. "I don't know," Tom said wearily. Finally, an honest answer. And, of course, it wasn't the one I wanted to hear. Tom never tells me what I want to hear. I should be used to it by now. Oh... _Tell me you love me like a star... Tell me you want me wherever you are... Tell me you'll breathe me 'til your last breath... Liar, Liar._ I think I just found a chorus to a new song.

I shook my head at Tom, disbelieving. I knew Tom would say that or something like it. It's just another way for him to wuss out. I placed my hands on my hips. "Is it **me**, Tommy? Am _I_ what you want?" I asked plaintively, feeling the tears spring to my eyes. That felt an awful lot like an ultimatim... But I couldn't dwell on that very long or all Hell would break loose. Tommy just looked down and said nothing. Fine. Of course. Why would he answer? You know, maybe Tommy's the coward... I took a ragged breath and paused deliberately. "Or is it my sister?" I shouted furiously. I hit Tommy in the chest again, this time out of frustration. Tommy didn't even flinch. He took it because he knew he deserved it. He looked conflicted and worried. And even when he finally answered my question... He didn't really answer it at all.

I guess in the end I knew that he would never pick me anyways. He just... couldn't. And I hated him for that. "You can't ask me that, Jude," Tommy begged, massaging his temples. I get it. He's stressed. And I get that he doesn't want to face this... whatever we are. I get that he can't, really, because it's illegal and he's got more hang-ups than a bad telemarketer. But like I said at my release party... I'm asking. And I've put enough time into this to deserve an answer.

I knew why Tom didn't want me to ask him that, but there was nothing about why I couldn't ask him. It wasn't illegal or anything. Other things about our relationship were certainly illegal, but not me asking. I can ask. It's my right as the wronged girl in this situation. "Why not, Tommy? 'Cause you're **scared** of what the answer _really_ is! Is that it?" I questioned viciously. Whoa, did I just insinuate that he has feelings for me? That'd he'd choose me if he could? Wow. I think I did... Oh, I must be losing it! I just wanna make him uncomfortable. That's it. Give him what he deserves.

Unbelieveably, I felt my resolve wavering only moments later. "Jude..." Tommy breathed, delicately taking my wrists in his hands. He said my name in such a way... like I was something special. Like I was important to him. Tommy smiled at me radiantly. My heart shot up to my throat. I was powerless to resist the intensity of his stare. Tommy leaned in, gently pushing my hands down so he could get closer to me. I felt his breath on my face... saw all the shades of blue in his eyes... It suddenly occurred to me that Tommy was going to kiss me. And I didn't care, but I knew I was supposed to for some reason. Only I couldn't remember.

Tommy's lips weren't very far from mine when I remembered my promise. "I'm sorry, Tommy, but this time... I _can't_," I stated as firmly as I could, pushing him away. Tommy looked stricken, but then I really thought about it... How many times has Tommy said those very words to me, knowing how much it would hurt? Too many. And it felt good to say them back, to turn the tables on him.

This time I meant it. I was going to leave before I gave in and did something stupid. Remove yourself from the temptation, remove yourself from making the mistake. "Jude, _please_..." Tommy pleaded so convincingly that I was forced to turn around to look at him. He sounded sort of... broken-up about it. I knew he wasn't really... but I had to check. "_Jude_..." Tommy muttered needily, drawing me nearer with the smoky look in his eyes. He lightly placed his hands on me, leaving them for a second. Foolishly, I didn't reject his touch. The thought of saying no... of rejecting him... didn't even enter my mind. Seconds later, Tommy's lips were brushing mine. I'd forgotten just how good that felt, even if it was a brief touch. It was like... coming home after being on tour for three months. Heavenly.

But then I remembered that my lips were not supposed to be anywhere near Tom's. And it didn't matter if we weren't making out or if his lips had barely even skimmed mine. A kiss is a kiss is a kiss. I couldn't believe I'd been so stupid to do something like that. Then again, as I'm sure Tommy would like to point out... all addicts relapse sometimes. Only for some reason I don't think addicts relapse so soon after they really swear they're gonna quit... and mean it. But I do mean it. I am giving up. "**Damnit**, Tom! Why can't you take no for an answer? I promised myself I wasn't going to kiss you _ever_ again. It hasn't even been a hour, and already I've gone back on that promise!" I yelled, throwing my hands in the air, furious with myself.

I had to maintain a proper distance. And, honestly, sometimes it just feels better to put a few feet between you and something you don't want to face. Tom frowned slightly, but there was that annoying smug look on his face. Bastard. I don't think he wants me to keep that promise. Selfish lousy good-for-nothing excuse of a... "Technically, Jude... _I_ kissed **you**. And I would hardly even call that a proper kiss, Jude. Your lips _barely_ brushed mine... for maybe two seconds. In my book, that simply doesn't count," Tom replied, grinning... like it was all some big joke to him. It didn't matter to him. Fine. Two can play that game.

This time I wasn't afraid to come close. I think Tom thought I was trying to kiss him again. He sure looked pleased as punch when I was walking over to him. Only I didn't kiss him. You're crazy if you honestly think that I'll be that weak again. Instead, I slapped Tommy hard across the face. And you know what? He deserved it. "You _never_ get it, Tom! It counted to **me**! It mattered to **me**!" I screamed, feeling tears form in my eyes. I blinked them back. Be strong, Jude. Don't cry over this loser. For about the millionth time in your life. I tried to take a deep breath, but it got caught up in my throat. Damn cigarette. "But I... I think... I think that I care about you _too_ much, Tommy. It isn't healthy. And... sometimes it's just so **hard** to care about you... that I wonder... I wonder if it's even worth it," I stuttered in a whisper, hearing my voice break.

I couldn't fight the tears anymore, so I just wiped them away as fast as they came out. I bit back the sobs bubbling in my throat. This means nothing to him, so it should mean nothing to him. You don't love him, Jude. Except I do. And he can't make up his mind. "Of _course_ it is, Jude!" Tommy argued too loudly.

He seemed so sure. And I... I wasn't. The more time that went by, the less I thought it was a worthy cause. All the broken hearts I've had. I know he'll break my heart again too. Sometime, but probably soon. He always manages to pick the worst time possible. "But Tommy, is it _really_? Is it really worth the constant stream of broken hearts I've suffered? What happens when **you** finally mess me up so bad that the pieces can't be put back together again? What _then_, Tom?" I growled angrily, trying not to collapse into a crying mess. Come on, you knew it was going to happen. He does too. I have to go now... before he does something stupid like try and kiss me again.

"Jude, _wait_... Don't just walk away." Well, I'm sorry, Tom. That's just too damn bad. I need to go. Tom grabbed my wrist (the tattooed one, of course) and made me stay. The skin still hurt from the needle. God, first Travis, now Tom? He probably wasn't even grabbing it hard, but it hurt enough that I let out a cry. At least Tom let go. I wanted to walk away, I really did, but... There was this dopey, sort of pathetic look on his face. And I had the irrational urge to tell him off. I mean, I thought he wanted this. So why doesn't he get it?

The words came out surprisingly calmer than I expected. I sighed, just finding myself tired. Tired like Joan had been when Travis cornered her. I was tired of playing these games. No more. I was coming to accept it. "Tom, can't you see that this is what's best for **everyone**? I thought you _wanted_ me to do this. You _begged_ me to do this. To finally give up so you don't have to worry about me anymore. And now... You're arguing for... for what? You're just making it hurt more. I _need_ to do this, Tommy. I need to give you up. And you, Tommy... You _need_ to let me," I murmured softly. I had started out talking so angrily, but now I was finally getting it. I was at peace. Tommy's eyes softened, and he even looked a little sad.

I felt a tear creep down my cheek and hastily wiped it away before Tommy saw. Does Tommy just want me now because he can't have me? Probably. I waited for Tommy to say something, but he seemed to be finally accepting what I said. That was good. Makes it easier. If both of us push away, then nothing will ever happen. There was only silence now. I sighed and turned away, heading towards the door. I was almost there when Tommy spoke. "What if I can't, Jude?" Tommy asked hesitantly. I paused mid-step. He barely raised his voice loud enough for me to hear. So I told myself that I was probably hearing things... that I was hearing what I wanted to hear. That made sense. Tommy objecting, well... it didn't.

I didn't turn back to look at him. I knew if I did that I wouldn't want to leave. I said something anyways. It wasn't very loud. I didn't really think he would hear it, so it was pretty much me talking to myself. "Then you've got to learn to," I said in a low, throaty voice. I headed back towards the door. My fingers were literally poised on the doorknob. It seems Tommy heard me. I should've known, too. He's a producer. He gets paid to listen to things. Of course he has freakishly good hearing.

This time Tommy raised his voice, hoping to stop me dead in my tracks. So I couldn't blame it on an auditory hallucination. And, damn him, it worked. "Girl, I can't get you out of my head." Now... What on Earth am I supposed to say to something like that? He used the nickname... Aside from the fact that that is seriously a line from one of Boyz Attack!'s greatest hits. I'm choosing to overlook that. Boyz Attack!... That reminds me... What about Sadie, huh? I know she loves him. She really does. And he's reciting his own lyrics at me.

His own stupid _romantical_ lyrics. To me. "More to You (Than That Guy)", in fact, which is about wanting to commit.It's oddly surreal. If you'd told me even last year that Little Tommy Q. would be reciting Boyz Attack! lyrics to me in person, I would've laughed my ass off and probably told you that I'd never even **speak** to such a sellout. I'd probably have told you that the chances of me even meeting Little Tommy were about as likely as me rockin' out to "Pick Up the Pieces". It's funny how life turns out, isn't it? It doesn't seem right. I don't even like that song. Sadie's why it sounds so wrong. He's with her. Not me. "My _sister_, Tommy. You remember _her_, right? You know, your **girlfriend**?" I yelled wrathfully, turning around in spite of myself, back up against the door. How could he _ever_ forget?

Then he said it. I mean, Tom really said it. Just when I think he can't shock me any more than he's already shocked me... He takes it up a notch. Of all the stupid, idiotic, dumb, bone-headed things to do... "Sadie and I aren't doing too well," Tom said, just out of the blue like that. Statement of fact. He just had to say that. And why say it to me? He knows that I never wanted him to be with Sadie. He should know better!

To say that I was enraged was an understatement. I was about as pissed as a rampaging rhino. Okay, no more watching Animal Planet for me. I just couldn't believe he'd tell me his and Sadie's business like that. What makes him think that I would want to think about him and my sister? And I hate that he's giving me hope that maybe something could happen... "God, Tom, what is your _problem_! You're not supposed to tell me things like that! To give me false hope like that!" I shrieked, throwing my hands in the air.

A dark, dormant emotion flickered in his eyes, probably rage. I don't quite get why he was furious. I mean, what had I done? I just called him out on the fact that he has a girlfriend. That is something he should already remember. I mean, he obviously left her in there so he could come get a smoke. I guess it's out of sight, out of mind with him. "Well, Jude, what am I _supposed_ to tell you?" Tommy snapped, frustrated.

Anything but that! Actually, he shouldn't even mention Sadie. He shouldn't mention their relationship because it hurts to hear about it. And it's really gross to think about. I stalked towards him, stopping a relatively safe distance away from him. I crossed my arms over my chest, shifting my weight from foot to foot. I felt awkward and at first didn't know quite what to say. But then I thought about how Sadie must feel. She's so insecure about their relationship and... I can't blame her. She loved him. Not in the same way I did, but she loved him. She didn't deserve this. Tommy airing their personal business to me, of all people.

"You're supposed to tell me that you and Sadie are doing _great_. You're supposed to tell me that you're **happy**. You're supposed to tell me that you're in love with her. You're supposed to tell me that she's the love of your _life_! You're supposed to tell me that you want to marry her!" I shouted, poking him in the chest, and making grandiose gestures. A dark look crossed Tommy's face.

Guess he balked at me mentioning love and marriage. Because Tommy's never been in love with anyone and... Well, everybody knows how bad his foray into matrimony turned out. "So I'm supposed to **lie** to you!" Tommy snarled, glaring at me. My jaw dropped at what he'd just said. So that means that... He and Sadie aren't doing great... Well, duh, of course they aren't. He just said so. And... Tommy isn't happy? Why isn't he happy? If he isn't happy with my sister, then who would he be happy with? I mean, my sister is any guy's dream girl. She's curvaceous, blonde, pretty, smart... Everything a guy should want. Right?

Well, she's not a slut or a freak. I think... I know she's not a freak, but I'm not sure that she's not a little easy. Patsy's a nympho. Hm, she could be doing Travis now, come to think of it... Ha! That's a good one. And he (Tommy) wasn't in love with her... but I knew that. I think. The rest of the stuff is a bit crazy to think about, considering how much of a bachelor Tommy is... But why does he keep saying things like that? "Tommy... _don't_," I ordered breathlessly.

Tommy's mouth had been open as if he was going to say something. It closed immediately. I thought I was safe from Tom spouting random romantic sayings. But that's Tommy for you. It's like he gets off on toying with people, misleading them, deceiving them. So of course Tommy continued with his little diatribe. "You think this is _easy_ for me, Jude? I keep thinking about you, and I don't know what that means," Tommy half-shouted. He sounded so frustrated... Maybe he'd actually had a taste of what I've been going through. Easy for him? Of course it was. Leading girls on is like a sport for Tom. He's been thinking about me? I swear, he is such a font of information today. Usually I can't get anything out of him and now he's just blabbing it all to me. Tommy licked his lips hesitantly. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to lean out and kiss him. "I keep... wondering what it would be like if..." Tommy began, pausing to properly articulate himself.

I couldn't let him finish that sentence. I had a sneaking suspicion it was another romantic comment in the making. I felt the vague irritation that had been plaguing me all day creeping up again. "Tom, don't. Just shut up and let me leave," I interrupting, quite probably ruining what would've been a beautiful comment. I'd had enough with those cruel, beautiful words lately. They lie and sneak up on you from behind... and then they stab you in the back. Traitorous words. Travis is a wordsmith, you know...

I decided to really up and leave this time around. The door wasn't that far away, and Tommy wasn't holding on to me. Therefore, I was free. Free to flee if I wanted to. And trust me, I did. So I did it. I marched over to that door and... Well, you can guess what happened next, can't you? Tommy, cheating bastard that he is, pulled an ace out of his sleeve. I think it was the Ace of Hearts. This time I'd even taken the step of opening the door. Tom spoke, and one foot remained stuck in the doorway, while the other was back on the roof. What he said couldn't have surprised me much more. I would've fainted... if I was the fainting type, that is. He said it slowly, decisively, as if he'd carefully weighed his words and came up with... that. "I want _you_, Jude," Tommy finally verbalized.

Oh great. Now I had to turn and look at him. It was like, required. I want you, Jude. You could've knocked me over with a feather. If Tommy hadn't spoken it so loudly, I would've assumed it to be a hallucination. But I'd heard him, so I clearly couldn't claim that. Why now! Why must he bring these things up now when I'm trying to get over him? Can he not pick a better time? Why couldn't he have done this any other time? Like in my dressing room that one time... Or in the alley? Or any time I've thrown myself at his mercy, wanting desperately for him to love me? Why, of all times, does he pick **now**! I made up my mind, knowing exactly what I was going to do. I trudged over to Tommy and grabbed him by the wrist almost violently. "You're delusional, Tom. Now come **on**, we have to get back," I said dismissively, pulling him over to the door with me.

Wait, _why_ do I want to go back to that horrendous premiere again? Oh... well... Never mind that. It doesn't matter. I think I've had enough air for several years out here, so it's time to go back. I pushed Tommy through the doorway and over the threshold, throwing the power of my full body weight against him. It was a slow going, but at least he was going this time.

However, what Tommy had said to me only seconds ago had left a deep imprint upon my heart. He wants me... Jude. But I had my doubts... too many of them sometimes, I think. Did he really even mean it? I didn't know. I'll probably never know. But it'd be so nice to believe he did. Which is exactly why I can't let myself have that girlish luxury.

Now, I need to be productive here. I have all these flights of stairs to figure out how I am going to answer their questions and what I'm going to do for damage control. Lemme tell you, it better be something good or I'm toast. And I need to find out a way to get it off the airwaves or something... Write another song or two. Maybe finding a boyfriend would help... That way I wouldn't be free to run off with... whoever.

But never mind all that. It's only stressing me out more, all this worrying. I nearly fell down the stairs because of it. Yet, see, here's the thing... I find that the more time you spend trying to avoid thinking of something, the more you actually think about the thing upon which you were not supposed to think. Isn't it funny how that works? I only say that because of Tommy, as once again my thoughts strayed back to him.

This time, however, it wasn't really about _him_. It was about something he'd just said to me. For you see, something had just occurred to me.

Tommy had actually answered all of my questions. What do you want, I had asked. Tommy'd told me that. Me. Am I what you want, I had questioned furiously. I want you, Jude. Well, if that isn't an answer... And he'd answered my question about Sadie so well that it was clear he didn't really want her... even if he was lying about wanting me. I want you, Jude. No so sure that I believe it... But I never said that, did I? I never specified that he had to tell me the truth. Maybe he's lying.

Either way, Tommy had finally told me some version of what he really wanted.

I had gotten what I wanted from him in that respect... I thought it would bring clarity. Ha. The only clear thing it brought me was the knowledge that... I was more confused than ever.

He wanted something all right, and real bad too.

But was it really me?

Loren ;

* * *

Here's the last verse to "Minor Liaison": 

Please, just for today, baby, you might, look the other way (I'll look the other way)

And let our little minor liaison continue on, let it continue

(I can't, I can't... agree... at least, not legally)

This one time affair's long past its end, it has become a minor liaison (dangerous liaisons)

A minor liaison becomes a major tryst, yeah, minor, minor, minor (minor tryst, liaison)

Yeah, 'cause I'm a little minor, minor, minor... Let's be brief (brief, you little minor, you)

A minor liaison, minor liaison, keep it all to yourself, minor liaison (our little secret, isn't it?)

Randomness... So I was looking at the Canadian Idol site, and one of the judges is like... The Darius to Wes "Maestro". Which is sorta funny. And there's another guy who's a producer/manager. And then there's the other guy who's a performer/manager/producer/lawyer/executive... Busy career. And the host is the son of one of Canada's former Prime Ministers. That'd be like Chelsea Clinton hosting American Idol after becoming a reporter... Ooh, and one of their judges is bilingual and apparently very famous. Yet I've never heard of her. Sass is a really cool name, though. She's pretty good, actually... Think Janis meets Sheryl Crow with a side of Joan Jett and Lita Ford with maybe a pinch of Alanis. See, one album sounded sort of blues/country-ish, but then this other one sounds punk-rock/metalish. A bunch of suggestive song titles though... Honey, Slave, Head, Windin' Me Up, Desire... Oh, and she could've been the lead singer of Van Halen, but she talked Eddie out of it. Lol.

Random note: I think I finally figured out what music was playing in Lose This Skin when Jamie was running in-between the mall and the school. I think it was "Life of the Party" by The Planet Smashers. Then again, most ska sounds alike, so it's sort of hard to tell, but The Planet Smashers was my first thought. I oughtta watch that episode again... Oh, and if you know the tune to "Sexy Sadie", substitute the word "maharishi" for Sexy Sadie and change all the feminine stuff to masucline stuff... It actually works in the song.

Okay, so Jude said that she and Beethoven have the same birthday. However, Beethoven was baptized on December 17, and his birthday was celebrated on the 16th. So is her birthday December 16 or December 17?

Fics to check out: "A Bittersweet Homecoming" by shakabuku. Check it out on the ctv site. Just type in www. instantstar. com, and it'll take you there. Minus the spaces of course. It's great and so totally in character that it will blow your mind. Plus there's all these great little jokey moments and then you get to watch Jude and Tommy dance around each other. I love it to death, though unfortunately the poor thing hasn't been updated in a while. So go on and show it some love. Oh, and might I add, in case you don't want to go to all that trouble, she's got a fic up here... "Slut vs. Virgin". It's amazing. It's in Tommy's POV and it's absolutely hysterical. It will make you bust a gut laughing, blush as red as a tomato, and frustrate you almost as much as Tommy all at the same time. Really, I guarantee you, there aren't really any IS fics out there like it. So it's one of a kind.

"Unexpected" by CJMJM. Lol, 'cause it lives up to the title. Lol. That alone is why you should check it out. I don't really know how to describe it. Lol, all I know is it moves me to the point of wanting to slap Jude. And it's all about intense emotional reactions. They're a huge sign that you're doing something right. Plus there's a bitchy character named after me... And Tommy just cheated on his wife with Jude. Now you know you wanna read it. She ought to be posting sometime after I post this, so maybe you'll be lucky enough to catch a fresh update.

"Natural Disaster" by Sixt3en Candl3s. It's got everything a great story needs... A killer plot, an aura of mystery, a tangled lovelife, hot boys, a unique style, and some smoldering tension to add to the fire. To clarify myself, it's AU and Jude didn't win IS, but Tommy's in the picture. And let's just say age isn't one of the many things standing in their way. It's wonderful... Really well written. Oh, and then there's her mah-velous other story, "Wilted". Which I just love because it's deliciously twisted... so I suppose it'd be an acquired taste if you're not messed up like me. But again, very well written. And short, too! Her writing always leaves you wanting more, really, it does.

"Tit for Tat" and "Bang Theory" by GiliWasCool. They're brilliant (on a side note, so is anything she writes). They really are. I have to say, they're one of the most hysterical things I have ever read in SO many ways... I can't even describe it. It's written in Jude POV too and riddled with the most wonderful pop references ever. I just love it to pieces. I really look forward to reading each chapter, and trust me, you will too.

And finally,"Song to Say Goodbye" by iamthatplace. It's rated M, kiddies, but it's not perverted or crude. It's beautiful... it really is. Beautiful isn't even describing it properly. It's haunting, and deep and vivid and amazingly well written... It's got this way of making you feel everything on that same level the way Jude does. Pure genius. It makes me get all eloquent, you see. Now seeing me stumble for words, that's truly an achievement.

Reviews are highly appreciated, but it's cool if you don't want to. Thanks for all the lovely LONG reviews (you guys are really so good about that! Ruby holds the record of longest review, so I gotta give her her props), especially to all the anonymous reviewers who I don't actually get a chance to reply to properly. You guys really encourage me to write more. And now I'm gonna shut up before I get even more sappy and sentimental. But I just want you all to know that I really appreciate that you find my story worthy of even taking the time to review at all. That means a lot to me.


	31. Push Me, Pull You

Okay, so first of all, I'm gonna apologize if this update is a bit late. I would just like to point out that something screwed up happened with my OpenOffice, and I should've pressed yes instead of no... Then maybe the damn document that I have the whole fic in would open for me. I know I had at least 12 pages, but definitely more... Probably fifteen. Or maybe seventeen. Who knows? So let it be known that I had the entire part up to about where Jude asks Tommy a question about his nickname (which originally came much earlier in the fic, mind you) written up before. And so unless an act of divine providence occurs that allows me the blessing of opening the document, that means I've had to start over completely from scratch. If so, forgive me for being less than completely willing to immediately start rewriting it. Oy. If so, that would make this the second chapter that I've had to rewrite part of. Why is it always the ones with notes in them? Why? And I also would like you all to know that I have been looking forward to writing this chapter for a very, very, very long time. ;)

Okay, so I started out hating the version when I began rewriting it. I hated it because I had to rewrite the damn thing when I had so much done of the other one... And I sorta do still. This one lacks the grace of the first one. Jude was sort of... (definitely) more awake and more polite. And the first version also had a lot more of Jude's little cousin, Josie, in it. And Tommy was more polite, too, I guess. He was sorta helping Jude with Josie, which was sorta cute. In this version, it's Fiona who comes out first... And yeah. But I like this version a bit better now because it has much better Jude/Tommy moments. They're sort of less hostile, I guess. Or maybe more. I don't know. I get my Jude/Tommy cuteness, so I don't care. Lol. Come to think of it, maybe I like this version better. I dunno. This version's a lot more revealing towards Tommy's character. To Tommy in general, really. And I like it being revealing. So I guess I like it after all, though I do miss the grace and the flow of the first one.

And again, I apologize for the lateness, but I started school, and starting school leaves you absolutely NO time to write when you're swamped with homework and your parents are breathing down your neck. I felt so burned out. Especially when you're a Junior. Seriously, don't ever be a Junior. It sucks. Big time. It's like they're trying to kill you with the work and the stress and the pressure... I should become a diamond. Lol. There aren't enough hours in a day sometimes, I feel. Oh well. Who needs sleep anyways? ;) But yeah, no joke. My homework for Labor Day Weekend: Write an essay, write an essay outline, annotate an essay, do word vocab packet, finish Spanish questions, do a few French worksheets, do Bio packet, do math problems... They're not all do on the day back, mind you, but that's still a lot. Not to mention I still have to bookmark Grapes of Wrath. To which I have to say that I would like to unleash my own wrath upon it and tramp out my own vintage. Ahem. Rant over.

Seriously, when I got out of U.S., I was like... I get to write during daylight hours! Lol.

Okay, news... RUBY's back. Lol. Sorry, just felt the need for a big, dramatic proclamation. But yeah, the thing with Ruby was completely different in the first version. It pretty much didn't even happen in that one. Tommy was stressing about her being back in town and it was sort of cute. But this chapter kinda delves into his dark side a little more, I guess. He's a very bad man. Lol.

Okay, yeah... So I lied. Completely. This chapter is so gonna be the longest chapter in the fic. It just wound up that way. And I sorta expected it. Oh well. It was a nice dry run. But let's say that this'll be the longest chapter for a while, shall we? Let me tell ya, this chapter is a reh-cord break-ah. ;)

Oh, and next chapter's the chapter that, lol, Petra especially has been looking forward to. I'm hoping it'll be kinda funny. I mean, picture Patsy, Jude, Joan, and Travis all sort of hanging out at a club... Lol. And after that I changed my mind and decided to have a Tuesday chapter, 'cause I got the best idea where to insert this idea I had. Let's just say a risque outfit + a private detention with Travis + charges of sexual harassment + blackmail + Jude + Joan equals... well... I'll let you figure that out. ;)

Another random note: I think I've figured out why "Pick Up the Pieces" is the only Boyz Attack! Song you ever hear. Number One: 'Cause they don't want to be bothered to have to write and record another one. Although, that brings up the point... if I can do it (much less write like 3-4), then they should logically be able to do the same. Number Two: It's their signature song. I mean, if you think about it, every artist/band has one. "Pick Up the Pieces" is to Boyz Attack! like "Oops...I Did It Again" is to Britney.

Sorry if the bit about Graphology is slightly off. The article I was reading on it wasn't very detailed, and I'm afraid I don't remember much from that handwriting analysis test I did a while ago. But most of it should be correct. By the way, you can completely skip the part where she goes on about his handwriting. It's sort of dry and more... uh... deep? So I don't blame you. But yeah, that came from studying that stupid signature for ages, lemme tell ya.

Let's see... Notes and songs are in italics. Remember, folks, I do not own Instant Star. Or much of anything else, for that matter. The only characters I do own are... Paulina, Tory, Travis, Kate, Tim (kinda), Joan, Josie, Sandra, Fiona, Ruby, and Taylor. Two of which aren't even mentioned in the chapter.

I was going to save this until after the chapter, but I figure it might as well go now so ya'll don't get confused. I was going to do that so it'd be a surprise, but I figure that very few people read my author's notes anyways, so I'll just put it in here. Watch, I bet I'll be explaining the time period in PMs. Not that most people respond to them anyways. shrug Ahem. Now, most of this is explained in the fic, but eh... So, about the flashback... It takes place when Jude is 12, Sadie is 14, and Tommy is 18. It's late-August, early-September of... I wanna say 2001, but it could be anywhere from 1999-2001. Though it probably should be 2001, which would make me older than Jude. Erm, whenever it was that Kwest said that Tommy did "Frozen". Tommy is on the tail end of Boyz Attack!'s World Tour... and not in a very good place. Darius has locked "Frozen" away, seemingly forever. Tommy is married, quite unhappily, to Portia (and cheating on her every day). They've been married somewhere around three weeks to a little over a month. Tommy had the falling out with his brother a little bit before he got married, and his parents are in the process of getting divorced. Also, the band is breaking up, and all the guys pretty much hate Tommy's guts. So, like I said, the guy's in a pretty rough spot. It's a dark time in his life, and Tommy is _not_ that great of a guy. He's actually a complete jackass, come to think of it. Jude is in a somewhat similar bind. She just got her heart broken by a guy who wants to date someone older like, oh, say... Sadie! Her parents mostly ignore her... again, Sadie.

So... there we are. Now you know all you need to know. Kudos to those who actually read it. You get spoilers, lol. Go ahead, see if I'm serious! ;) Oh, and before I forget, it was somebody's anniversary! And somebody's birthday! The story's! I've officially been writing this lovely story for over a year since the 17th! Coincidentally, that's also the day I went back to school this year... Anyways, yay! Help me celebrate my late anniversary. I mean, come on, guys, it's like the only one I'll probably ever get. ;)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So you know how I said that I was, um, you know... Going to get over Tommy? Well, it's not working out too great. It's not that I don't want to get over him because I do. I really, really, really do. And it's not from lack of trying or anything. It's just... it's hard to get over a man when you spend every waking minute with him. I've been having nightmares too. Over and over again last night, always the same one. Tommy asks me out, and then not only is he twenty minutes late... but he gives me this crap excuse and then says that he has to go. He's not sure when he'll be back. Bye. So I flip out big time and go running after him. Really, I make quite a spectacle of myself, banging on his car and screaming his name... but it's like he doesn't hear. He just speeds off, and I'm left there on the street, sobbing.

Now, as tragic and traumatic as that all was... It gets worse. Tommy left me to go to Montana! Montana, of all places! Everyone knows there's nothing in Montana except cowboys and... more cowboys. Oh, and the pretty place where they make Gibsons. Oh, and "Date with the Night" by The Yeah Yeah Yeahs was playing in the background. I love that song... It's rather appropriate, don'tcha think? _Leaving brides at the altar_... And I know it's utterly ridiculous, too, because nothing like that would ever happen in real life. Tommy wouldn't just leave like that. He wouldn't ask me out ether, but... well, maybe I'm wrong about that. He sure has been acting awfully funny lately. It's almost like he knows I'm trying to move on, only he doesn't want me to... all very strange. I'm tired of playing his games. And I really try to avoid him and stuff, but it's just impossible. He's my producer, my best friend, and my sister's boyfriend... so I'm kinda screwed. It's sort of creeping me out a bit, how he keeps showing up wherever I go like some sort of stalker.

I know I sound crazy... I mean, I'm the idiot girl who is complaining that Tommy Q, one of the sexiest men on the planet, who also just happens to be the love of my life... is stalking me. He's probably not stalking me either. We're so alike we probably just go to the same places out of habit... at least, that's what I try to tell myself. I'm not kidding about Tommy being one of the sexiest men on the planet either. He was on the cover of People for it '99 and '00. Sexiest Man of the Millennium. He also was voted Sexiest Jailbait for several years running. Oh, the irony.

Things around my house have been more than a little crazy lately... what with my cousins crashing here, Dad still living in his apartment, Sadie at college, and Mom making out with the divorce lawyer to give Dad "a taste of his own medicine". However, I think what she's doing is actually worse. Mom knew _after_ the affair was already over... Dad has to see them making out on a daily basis. Now, I'm all for good old fashioned revenge, but does she have to scar me for life by letting me walk in on her and Don on the Get-Some Couch? I like to call it that since it seems that everyone I know gets some on that couch. Everyone except me. How unfortunate. I honestly don't get why I walk in on everyone on that couch... Mom and Don, Mom and Dad, Dad and Yvette, Sadie and Tommy, Sadie and... random guys... It's so gross. I mean, think of all the juices that must be on it... It has to be like one giant disease by now.

In case you're wondering if I got in trouble for the video, no... I didn't. Sounds like a miracle, doesn't it? I know you're wondering how the hell that's possible. I'll tell you. It's really quite easy. Firstly, there was the avoiding of Sadie... and I try and avoid Tommy, but you know how well that goes. Maybe I'm hallucinating, but it's like I see him everywhere! As to how I got out of punishment, I just didn't come home last night. I didn't exactly want to face the 'rents, understandably. My mom never even noticed I was gone. I stayed the night at Chaz' townhouse... He really needs to get another bed. I mean, he has a guest room... It was actually pretty weird, you know, after he sort of almost kissed me yesterday. I had to share the bed with him too, which made matters worse. He also needs to get a bigger bed. Really, I don't get how Ruby could stand sharing a bed with him.

Chaz is a cover hog, for one thing. He also snores loud enough to wake the dead. And, as if that wasn't enough, he kicks you in his sleep and tends to get a bit grabby. His bed is also waaaay too small for two people. I only got about ten seconds of sleep, and then I woke up on top of him. Not so fun, especially since I really do look like Ruby. I saw a picture, and seriously... It's uncanny. He opened his eyes and planted a big wet one on me and got all... gropey on me. Not fun. I'll tell you what was fun... waking up in Tommy's arms. Even if I was horrendously hungover, that was still the best sleep of my life.

Anyways, as I was saying, Chaz drove me home at like 5:00 this morning. You know, he didn't apologize to me. I wonder what that means. I snuck in through my window and got maybe an hour of solid sleep before my mother woke me up and told me I was babysitting my cousins. Her and Aunt Sandra went on this spa vacation... For the whole weekend. My mother should know how stupid that is. I have only babysat about twice in my life... both times it was Josie and for an hour or two. Josie was asleep both times. Sadie was a babysitting goddess, and she has no classes on Saturday, but does she get ripped out of her bed? No, of course not, because Mom has always liked Sadie better. But you see, Mom's been a bit nutty ever since she found out Dad cheated on her. So in her mind, leaving her sixteen-year-old daughter all alone at the house to watch her two cousins for two days and two nights seems perfectly logical. They'll be back bright and early on Monday morning.

She literally had to drag me out of bed this morning. I was hugging the mattress. She practically threw me into a cold shower, and so I changed into some skimpy house clothes (because my mother also informed me that our AC is broken). I figured I wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

So here it is, not even seven o'clock on a Saturday morning, and I'm already up. I'm so tired I want to pass out, but every time I try and close my eyes, I hear some annoying noise. Like right now, for instance... There's some yahoo knocking at the door. Great, just great. I figured it was probably Dad or Sadie... for some unknown reason. Maybe it was Jamie's Nana to borrow a cup of sugar. So I grumbled, leaving the blanket on the couch longingly, and walked over to the door.

And I opened the door... in my underwear.

What? It was too damn hot to put on any more clothes. I had to choose between clothes and a blanket, and I'm proud to say I chose the blanket. Besides, it's more lightweight.

And just guess who was at the door? Come on, guess!

Yep, that's right... Little Tommy Q. A very, very shocked little Tommy Q. I mean, honestly, you think he would look less surprised since this guy's seen me naked and topless and everything. But, no, he's just staring at me like a slack-jawed yokel, and I really don't appreciate it. I also don't like the way he's looking at me with those hungry eyes, flexing his fingers like he wants to caress my bottom or something. He just swallowed really hard after seeing me. See, there was a time when I would've given anything for Tommy to be so obviously wanting me and all, but now I'm just tired.

Needless to say, I was not amused. "Little Tommy Q, go away!" I commanded irritably, slamming the door in his face. I walked back over to the couch, stifling a giggle. I thought myself quite witty... I was in desperate need of sleep. I can't blame Tommy for freaking out. I was looking pretty hot. I was still sort of damp from the shower (my hair especially), and I was only wearing a red push-up bra and matching underwear. I know I looked good. However, I forgot several things. One being how much Tommy hates that nickname. Another being how high his sex drive is. And finally, the all-important fact that I hadn't locked the door.

I plopped back on the couch, pulling the blanket over me, shivering suddenly. I think I faintly heard the door open, but I was too tired to really notice or, for that matter, care. Next thing I know Tommy's standing over me. Well, gee, go ahead... invite yourself in! Such impolite guests we have nowadays! "Go away, Tommy. Fall in a hole and die. I don't wanna talk to you. It's a weekend... and before seven o'clock in the morning. I have not had my coffee. My sister is not here, and we do not have any work to do. Therefore, I do _not_ understand why I have to see you at **all**. Be gone!" I screeched bitchily, waving him off and burying my head in the blankets. In my defense, it was before seven, the AC was broken, and I was running off of an hour of sleep and no coffee.

He did not respect my wishes. Asshole that Tommy is, he ripped the blanket off my head. "You just wanna get me naked so you can take advantage of me in my sleep-deprived state! Well, Mister, it's not gonna work! I am too **tired** to have sex with you, thank you very much!" I proclaimed, hitting Tommy on the arm much lighter than I intended to. Tommy's eyes probably widened, and I tugged the blanket back triumphantly, lying back down again. Just before closing my eyes, I caught a flash of a decidedly naughty grin on Tommy's lips.

But I was tired, so I just ignored it. That is, until I felt his lips on my neck. I moaned. That was just cruel, him trying to give me another hickey. Besides, I was babysitting my cousins... what if they see him and get the wrong idea? Well, actually, he's Tommy Q, so it'd be the right idea. But I'd be such a bad role model then. Tommy's fingers toyed with the waistband of my underwear, and that was when I knew I had to do something. I grinned as I thought up the perfect idea, pressing my lips against his lightly and forcing my eyes open... What can I say? It seemed like a good idea at the time! The kissing him part. And it felt so niiice...

That wasn't my real plan, though. That was just a nifty little perk. I trailed kisses down his jaw line. "_Hey_... Tommy?" I panted in between sloppy kisses. Tommy mumbled some indiscernible question, and I grinned evilly and muttered those words that would get him off me in the blink of an eye. "I love you." Now, see, had I really meant that, I might've been disappointed at his reaction. I wound up just wishing I had a camera. He totally vaulted away from me, staring at me with wide eyes and once again, an open mouth. I rolled my eyes at him lazily. "Nothing can turn a man off faster than a confession of love," I remarked breezily, smiling at Tommy. Tommy just looked down and said nothing, closing his mouth. I laughed, then, realizing something. Tommy actually thought I was serious. Ha.

Don't get me wrong, I **do** love the guy. To death. To pieces. I've got madly, insanely, crazy love for the guy. But he's crazy if he thinks that I'll actually tell him that on my couch. The couch is no place for true declarations of love. The couch is a place for getting some action (especially in my family. I think Sadie was conceived on that couch. Ew). Or in my case, sleep. "You actually thought I meant it? Tom, I'd say _anything_ if I could get some shut-eye. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do just that," I giggled, loopy. I cocked my head, pointing a finger at Tommy. "Now, I'm leaving you in charge of my cousins, and they're underage, so don't go pull a Chaz on them," I said authoritatively, sinking my head back into the pillow and sighing sleepily.

I knew Tommy leaving me alone was too good to be true. I felt him pushing me towards the back of the couch. "Move over, girl," He muttered, his hand against my back. I grunted petulantly, lightly swatting at the air. I did not want to move, but Tommy climbed on the couch nonetheless. I groaned, but he sort of pulled me and the blanket on top of him. It was like a flashback of last night/this morning.

"And I thought Chaz was grabby!" I hissed, hitting him in the chest. I could've sworn Tommy flinched, but I was too tired to care. Sleep, yes. That was what I wanted. I had forgotten how good of a pillow Tommy was. I sighed blissfully and snuggled into his chest. I felt so cold, and he was so... warm. I was just about to completely drift off to sleep when I heard a noise. "Mmph... Tommy, what's that?" I asked lightly, idly running a hand down his chest.

I felt Tommy stiffen and sit up a bit. I immediately knew that something was wrong. Damn. Whoever made me open my eyes was really gonna get it. No one crosses Jude Harrison before her morning coffee. I opened my eyes heavily, blinking a bit before my vision cleared. There, standing only a few feet away from us, was my cousin, Fiona. Of course it would be one of my cousins... but if I could choose, I'd pick little Josie to walk in on me.

To understand why it'd be more logical to see Josie at this time of the morning, you need to understand a few things about my cousins. Since Josie is younger, she has this annoying habit of waking up at the crack of dawn. The most important thing you can know about Fiona is that we are a lot alike. Fiona's only a year younger than I am, and I do mean a full year... We have the same birthday and everything. Since Fiona's from the side of the family where I get my wonderful red hair, we even look a lot alike. In fact, the only differences between us in appearance are that Fiona's a bit skinnier and more willowy than I am, and that I have some centimeters on her. Oh, and my hair is a bit longer and more... shall we say, intense... than hers.

We write songs together... She plays the guitar too. And we used to share a mutual hatred of Little Tommy Q. too. She really hates Tommy. I mean she loathes him, despises him... basically wishes he would drop off the face of the planet. I think it might have to do with the fact that Aunt Sandra was a total Boyz Attack!er herself, but maybe he was just that big of an annoyance. Aunt Sandra, in fact, took Sadie to dozens of their concerts. Kinda pathetic if you think about it. So, given Fiona's hatred of all things Boyz Attack, I could understand her radiating fury rays at Tommy. "Jude, **please** tell me I'm hallucinating, and you're not _really_ sitting on top of Little Tommy Q," Fiona demanded of me, a pleading look in her eyes.

And Tommy thinks my temper's bad... Well, he doesn't know Fiona. Tommy winced at the second mention of his old nickname. Two mentions before eight. Ouch. My head hurt. Alas, I wish I could tell her that she was hallucinating... 'cause I wasn't really crazy about the idea of him being here either. Then again, I was still sort of lying on top of him, so I was very aware that he was physically there. I spared a glance at Tommy, who was practicing that pouty look he's perfected over the years. The one that makes me want to kiss the living daylights out of him. Yeah. That one. I wrenched my eyes away from his pretty features, forcing myself to snap back into reality. "As much as I would like to tell you that, I'm afraid I can't. Tommy is very much here physically. I know because I can feel him," I replied stupidly, accidentally setting my hand down on a rather intimate place (the inside of his thigh).

I have serious problems when it comes to accidentally invading Tommy's space. So I said that comment and then, well, Fi assumed that I meant something different than what I actually meant. When I say that, I mean she assumed that I could _feel_ Tommy, if you catch my drift... And the fact that I was scantily clad, on top of him, and had just placed my hand on a very personal area of his body didn't help at all. Fiona raised an eyebrow at me and looked completely scandalized.

That confused me just a bit. After all, Tommy and I had been all over the news lately. My video hasn't exactly premiered for the public, but there's already a buzz about it... I have the nastiest feeling that they're going to ban it from MTV 2. I mean, it's sort of an R-rated music video, if you really think about it. Not the lyrics... the simulated and realistic sex scene. I realize Moosejaw or wherever they live is a bit out there, but c'mon! Doesn't everyone know we're close, personal friends... They should at least know that he's my producer. His name is plastered all over my CD. It's pretty apparent.

And yet... "Jude, what the **hell** is Little Tommy Q. doing here?" Fiona growled, glaring at Tommy like she wanted to rip him apart. I felt the chill in the room. Tommy was glaring right back at Fiona. I knew about the force of that frostbite-blue stare better than anyone. I wrapped the blanket around myself a bit tighter, thinking about Fiona's angry question. What was Tommy doing here anyways? I shrugged, trying to think of an appropriate response.

"I don't know," I said instead. So much for smart. I pursed my lips and turned to Tommy. "Tommy, what _are_ you doing here?" I questioned with a frown. He'd better have a good reason. Tommy looked like a deer caught in the headlights for about a minute or two. Of course, he's had so much experience keeping his composure in front of people, so the emotionless mask was back up in about two seconds. In some ways, Tommy's so predictable. In others... not so much.

Tommy shrugged, leaning coolly against the arm of the couch, resting his own arm on the back of it. His gaze flicked briefly over to my cousin, then he resumed staring at me. It made me feel uncomfortable. "I thought we needed to talk about... some things," Tommy replied mysteriously, giving me a knowing look. My stomach churned, and I felt even more ill at ease. I thought back briefly to last night, when Chaz and I had gotten stinking drunk playing that drinking game. He'd slurred Boyz Attack! stories, and I told him recent Tommy stories. Chaz had asked for my sister's number too... And I think I gave it to him. Crap, I think I told him that Tommy and Sadie probably weren't going to be together much longer and gave him the go-ahead to go after her. Yikes. Well, um... that ought to be, uh, interesting.

I rocketed away from Tommy, wrapping the blanket around me as if it were a towel. I was furious. We had clearly straightened this out last night. "No, Tom, we **don't**! You can't always have what you want!" I snapped viciously, throwing a hand in the air, feeling the rage build up inside of me. Tommy rolled his eyes at me and got up from the couch. I clutched the blanket tighter around me, feeling the fibers strain. The fabric clung to my skin, almost cutting off my circulation.

Tommy's eyes blazed as he charged towards me. I stepped back, startled and almost afraid of him. "Oh, don't you quote The Rolling Stones on _me_!" Tommy retorted, eyes glittering with fury. This is such a strange conversation. He stuck out a finger accusingly, eyes narrowing. "I _answered_ your damn question, Jude. Like _you_ wanted me to, remember? You should've _never_ asked me that unless you were prepared for an answer," Tommy said sternly. A moment later, however, his expression softened. He gently put a hand on my shoulder, rubbing his thumb over my bra strap without even noticing. At least, he didn't seem to, but I did. I broke out in goosebumps, and I'm sure if Tommy saw that, it would've earned me a rakish smile. "And, come _on_, Jude, admit it..." Tommy said teasingly as the side of his mouth turned up in a grin. He came closer and leaned in a little, moving his head down, closer to my face. I didn't stop him. His proximity still had the same effect on me. "You got the answer you really wanted," Tommy remarked knowingly.

As usual, his cockiness was the equivalent of having a bucket of water dumped over my head. It immediately quashed all my thoughts of him as a decent guy. My eyes narrowed, and I stepped away from him, pushing his hand off of me before he did something stupid like try to kiss me. I turned away from him, not even wanting to look at him. "But, Tom, that wasn't what I **needed** to hear!" I growled, clenching my fists, wrapping my arms around myself. I sighed and gave in a little bit, whirling back around to look at him. "It wasn't... it wasn't what I _expected_ to hear," I mumbled softly, glancing down. Honestly, I hadn't expected him to even answer at all. Just like he hadn't the last time I'd asked him that question.

A patient, penitent look appeared on Tommy's face. "Life doesn't work that way, Jude," He explained with a faint smile, staring into space. He sighed almost wistfully. "If it did... I would be in Montreal right now," He admitted, glancing down at the ground. He would, too. If he'd produced Eden, there's no way he would've stayed on for a second album. Or if I hadn't given him "Frozen"... Who knows? At the very least, he looked glad to not be in Montreal. Tommy cleared his throat. "But sometimes something happens that you don't expect..." He continued, not taking his eyes off of me, "You meet _someone_ that you completely didn't expect." He smiled at me affectionately. It was a fairly safe guess that he was referring to me. I don't want to sound cocky or anything, but he was staring at me and had just made a direct reference to me.

He sounded so happy, for some reason. That thought made me happy. Tommy's smile widened, and he took a few steps towards me while talking. He grabbed one of my frozen hands, while I held unto the blanket for dear life with the other. I almost swooned at the warmth he brought my cold skin with a mere touch. His voice was soft, and his eyes were kind. "Someone who's so _perfect_ that..." He paused, swallowing, and trying to properly articulate himself. I waited with bated breath, biting my lip nervously, too hard. "They mess up your plans... with just a few words... or maybe a song," Tommy murmured with a determined look in his eyes. He shot me a look and took a few more steps closer to me. A song... He was definitely talking about me, then. Which one, I wondered... "It Could Be You", "That Girl", "Frozen"?

Tommy leaned down, pressing his lips lightly against my forehead. I closed my eyes, reassured by the tingling feeling on my brow. He pulled back a bit, staring down at me, looking on me with such care that I couldn't believe it. He leaned in again to rest his forehead against mine like I'd done so long ago when he was doing the final mixes for "That Girl", smiling wryly. "They change your mind, make you wanna stay," He whispered, bending down to press a kiss against my temple. The randomness and tenderness of the gesture surprised me. His voice was getting softer, quieter, as the conversation went on. It was clear that these words were meant for my ears only. Tommy pulled back, pursing his lips and staring beyond me for a moment or two.

My heart was in my throat. "And it makes you think..." Tommy began, taking the last step forward. He slipped his free hand around my waist, letting it rest on the small of my back. He looked me straight in the eyes, and an emotion I'd seldom seen on his face sparkled in his eyes. I suddenly found it hard to breathe. Tommy was so close. And he was looking at me like _that_ and smiling at me like _that_. I didn't know quite what to make of it. Tommy exhaled softly, and he was so close that I felt his breath on my face. "If this person has the power to make me stay by just _asking_, what else could they make me do?" Tommy asked in a soft voice. He raised his eyebrows almost as if he expected me to answer his question. I couldn't, though. I couldn't even speak, but I doubted I would've had an answer either way. I couldn't even think soundly.

Tommy licked his lips deliberately slowly, knowing that I was watching. He leaned in a bit more, surely close enough to kiss me. Only he didn't at all. It's a pity too, because I was too caught under his spell to protest. I would've let him, and I would've enjoyed it. At the last possible second, when my eyes were fluttering closed, he turned his head. His lips grazed my cheek, and my eyes flew open at the brief sensation. Tommy's lips hovered mere millimeters away from my ear. "Could she make me fall in love with her that easily too?" He whispered huskily, breath lightly brushing against my ear. Just what was he saying, exactly?

My eyes widened at that exact moment as his words sent a thrill down my spine. Fall in love? He thinks about that sort of thing? It was incomprehensible to me to think that... Wow. He made me speechless again. His lips accidentally touched my ear, but only barely. Similarly, his tongue accidentally skimmed my earlobe as he moved his head away from my ear. I honestly couldn't breathe. I was ensnared in that bewitching stare of his... completely at his mercy, just the way he wanted it. His lips gently burned across my cheek, and they had reached the corner of my mouth before I knew what was happening.

Full of realization, I jerked my head away only seconds before he would've kissed me. I pushed his face away from mine lightly, pressing two fingers against his lips. I shook my head stubbornly, glad I'd regained my senses just in time. Honestly, the things that man could do to a woman with a simple touch. I only knew half of what he could do. The other things I blush to think about at night. "No, Tom... We _can't_. Not here," I hissed somewhat hoarsely, suddenly seeking out my cousin with my eyes. Anything to get them off Tommy. Dangerous things happen when I look at him.

I didn't want her to get the wrong idea. However, it may be too late for that. A moment later, I winced, realizing that I'd given him an opening. Not here, then where? Silly me. Tommy groaned audibly, sounding incredibly frustrated. I had to stick to my guns. I just had to. But did I have to tell my sister about her boyfriend's sudden willingness to attempt to cheat on her? Maybe some things are better left alone. Tommy and Sadie are none of my business, after all.

"Then _where_? Wherever it is, I'll go there!" Tommy vowed passionately, looking at me with clouded eyes. He paused briefly, letting his tongue sweep across his lips wantonly. His eyes were dark with lust, and his fingers were itching to reach out and touch. "If only I could..." He murmured desperately, in such a low voice. Tommy looked at my lips almost ravenously. I swallowed hard, backing away from him. I couldn't talk to him when he had that dangerous, crazy look in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes at him. It was the only way I could properly resist him. "Unless you've got a time machine in your pants, I don't see that happening anytime soon," I muttered sarcastically. Tommy grinned crookedly, raising an eyebrow at me. He stuck his fingers through his belt loops, once again advancing on me. I rolled my eyes again, sure that he was going to make some dirty remark about it. Not that I'm one to talk. We've already determined that my mind's been in the gutter for a long, long time by this point.

Tommy grinned lasciviously, leaning in conspiratorially. For a moment, I wondered just how all of this must look to my cousin. Very strange, I decided. It sure felt strange to me. As much as I'm used to bantering with Tommy, I'm not used to all this sexual innuendo on his end. I mean, I knew he had a dirty mind and everything, but sheesh... I thought he was only this bad in Boyz Attack!. Usually it's the other way around with me saying stuff to freak Tommy out. So this forwardness is a bit of a new concept to me. "Is that your way of saying that _you_ want to get in my pants, Harrison?" Tommy asked flirtatiously, in a low, throaty voice.

I knew something like that was coming and still... I totally wasn't ready for it. I flushed and turned away from Tommy. Since I could make no proper reply to that comment, I was forced to change the subject. Quite obviously, might I add. "You act like that was the first time I've ever asked you that. You _should've_ just kept your mouth shut like you did before. It is what you're best at, after all," I growled almost violently, pivoting to face him. Tommy gave me an outraged look. He had a point. I would've been mad at him if he hadn't said anything. So I guess he was damned either way. Well, I would've welcomed the admission if I hadn't decided that I was going to get over him minutes before. I charged right up to Tom and got up in his face. "Keep saying things like that, Tom, and you'll wind up in _jail_," I snarled, smiling viciously. I knew that would get to him.

The thing is... Tommy had this oddly pensive look on his face. It got very surreal for a moment. Then Tommy smiled thinly. "Really, stop trying so hard to dissuade me, or you'll convince that it _would_ be worth it," He remarked idly, raising an eyebrow. My jaw dropped, disbelieving. Seriously, he did not just say that. He knew that that would unnerve me. Especially since we both knew that it wasn't. I didn't want Tommy to wind up in jail anymore than he wanted to go there. But I think this is all different for Tommy. He thinks he's already slept with me, and that it can't get any worse than that... so he's pretty much nailed anyways and might as well enjoy it. He figures he's good until my parents find out.

They might be able to press charges from watching that video, but shh... don't want them knowing the law and everything. Uh oh. Don... He could tell Mom or something. Tommy's eyes glittered mischievously. I backed up, not trusting that look of his. "We both know it isn't worth your freedom," I snapped crossly, clutching my head. Damn, I get the feeling I've heard that somewhere before... but I can't place it. Damn it. Damn Tommy. Why do I have to love him so much? I sighed, rubbing my temples, trying to calm down. It wasn't exactly working. "Now stop messing with my head. I've been honest with you. I don't want the same things you do anymore," I said with a twinge of irritation in my voice. Why does it sound like I'm breaking up with him? I was getting a headache. Either that or the painkillers were wearing off and my hangover was catching up to me.

I sighed, removing my hand from my head. Okay, come on, girl, you can do this! Girl! Has Tommy infiltrated your mind that completely? Yes. Yes, he has. Why do I keep letting him call me that? I told him specifically not to call me that, and yet... Admit it, Jude... It's because you like the term of endearment. After all, it is a term of endearment. And, _girl_, you know you are very near and dear to that boy's heart...

Well, would you listen to that? There's that annoying voice in my head back for another round. Grreat. Just what I need... internal conflict to match the external conflict. That is a problem. I guess I'll just have to shut her up. Hearing voices isn't good in any dimension. It either means you're schizophrenic or, well... You wind up like Joan of Arc, um, or that chick in Stigmata. Ouch. The priest was hot, though. And I really don't like the way she said I was near and dear to Tommy's heart. For one thing, 'cause it's not true in the way she meant it. For another... it just sounded creepy. Okay, enough eternal debate for one day.

I returned to stare deeply in Tommy's eyes... but not deeply enough to get lost in them. I have to be firm. Make him get this. I exhaled deeply, feeling my pulse race. I leaned in, closer to his face. I wasn't going to kiss him. I just wanted Tommy and only Tommy to hear what I had to say. That was it. "Maybe I don't want _you_, Tom," I whispered so low that Tommy had to lean in to hear me. I was surprised that my voice sounded so hoarse and utterly weary. Through heavy-lidded eyes, I took in the livid, determined, frustrated look on his face.

Tommy grabbed me roughly by the arms, and my eyes opened all the way, surprised. He was suddenly all up in my face. "Maybe _I _don't believe you," He hissed, exhaling sharply through his nose almost like a charging bull. I could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. His lips were, once again, only a few millimeters away from mine. I honestly don't know if I was telling Tom the truth or not. I don't know what I want. What I want is usually bad for me. Case in point: the man in front of me. A moment later, Tommy shook his head, succumbing to defeat, and backed away from me. His death-grip on my arms slackened, and he soon took his hands off of me entirely. He didn't even look at me.

Tommy just turned around and pursed his lips. "Yeah, yeah... I know," He muttered irritably, half under his breath. He spun around to face me with a bitter, mocking grin on his lips. "_You've gone your way. You've made it clear._ But that doesn't explain _why do I feel y-_" Tommy mimicked in a sing-song voice. "24 Hours". The song I changed because he didn't like it. Even though I rewrote the lyrics after the whole Jamie fight, I'd be kidding myself if I said the whole damn song was about Jamie. Remember, I rewrote it after Tommy and I stared into each others' eyes for hours at the pier. The person that thinks that I feel _Jamie_ everywhere is seriously on drugs. No, **Tommy**. Definitely Tommy. The words took on a different meaning when I was singing them that very first time at the Vinyl Palace.

A meaning that will forever be entwined with Tommy Quincy, I'm afraid. That whole thing was clouded by his rejection of me. But, hey, I've always been an impulsive girl, so you can't really blame me. I blame Kat. She convinced me to go for it. And I blame Tommy. For leading me on like the ass he is. I really thought we had something. And Jamie, too, just for good measure. If he'd been backstage, it might've been him instead. Oh, and Georgia for assigning Tommy as my producer and then stupidly leaving me alone with him. I mean, did Tommy think I was used to people complimenting me like that (except Jamie, but I've known him forever, and he's my best friend)? It sure as hell made him sound like he was enamored with me! Yeesh, Tommy was fawning over me like I was the best thing since sliced bread! What was I supposed to do? I thought we had a connection, and we do, and I'm pretty sure he knew it too. And, you know what, he was sorta starting to kiss back, just barely at the end. I should've tried a bit harder, instead of pulling back like an idiot when I didn't get an immediate response. Then I could've had a lovely make-out session.

Yeah, probably one that would've never happened. Actually, no, that'd be rather hard to erase in my mind. But that kiss that night was almost worse than the one that never happened. I think we actually mention it less. Awkward City, lemme tell ya. It was like, BAM, rejection... And then E.J. or whoever yelled for me. So I kinda went from tears to performing like a pro. It was pretty sweet. I had the time of my life up there. And then there was stupid Tommy to greet me and ruin it. And I quit, only he didn't accept that. I should've, too. Only I had already signed the contract by then, so I had to anyways. I gave him my guitar, too! How stupid was that? I love my Telly! Ahem. Right. I'm foiling Tommy's quoting of my favorite song I've ever written. Funtastic. "No. **No**! You don't get to just _stand_ there and recite my own song lyrics back at me like you _know_ me! I'm sick of your games, Quincy!" I snarled venomously, shoving Tommy hard in the chest. I was going to probably hit him again, eyes blazing, but Fiona grabbed me and pulled me into the kitchen.

She might've thrown me against the counter. Strong girl, that one. I frowned at her, rubbing my wrists. Fiona's eyes stabbed into me accusingly. "Did you have sex with him!" Fiona questioned boldly. My jaw just about dropped to the floor. I blinked, unable to believe my innocent cousin had just asked that. I mean, okay, I realize that I'm in my underwear, but Tommy was fully dressed. How could she think that? Well... actually, I can't blame her for thinking that. Especially considering that I've got Tommy thinking I've had sex with him too. Well, what was I supposed to say to that, huh? No, but he thinks we did 'cause I kinda lied to him since I was mad about him going out with my sister, so could you please keep that little fact silent! Yeah, **so** not going to work. I scowled darkly at my cousin.

"_No_," I said irritably, crossing my hands over my chest. I was pouting like a petulant child... or like Tommy at a photoshoot. I sighed showily. "I was trying to get some sleep since his stupid **boybander** buddy kept me up _all_ night!" I shouted the last part, making sure that Tommy could hear. It was definitely going to piss him off. I hope it's not enough for him to punch Chaz again. He really is a nice guy. A bit, um, misguided, but a nice guy. Fiona raised her eyebrows, looking at me as if she didn't know who I was anymore.

Aw, damn. Now I'm going to have to explain. "Which one? Chaz, Bruno, J.P., or that other guy? Or is he from another boyband?" Fiona asked, fixing me with a look. Yeesh, maybe she _had_ read the tabloids. They were saying that I'd screwed the whole band. I rolled my eyes at Fiona, feeling vexed. Why is it that no one can remember the other guy's name? I think he's the blonde one... but I'm not one hundred percent. I should be, too, since I sang with them and everything.

I forced a smirk. "As attractive as Bruno is... No. And J.P. has kids. And, seriously, do you think some guy I don't even know is gonna keep me up all night? If you must know... It was Chaz," I said finally. Bruno is attractive, too. He is one fine man, let me tell you. Way cuter than Shay. And Bruno has pretty eyes and absolutely no scruples. He was always my favorite Boyz Attack!er. And Chaz was the best singer... Hm, and Tommy was the most interesting one. Obviously. I mean, having sex tapes made of you before you're even eighteen? Scandalous! Though Tommy's sort of the kinky sex addict type (hey, bet he'd take Patsy up on her offer... at least ), so that doesn't surprise me.

Now, of course, my opinion's changed to one that views Tommy in a much, much, much more favorable light, but still. Fi was giving me this sort of disgusted look. "I know Chaz isn't the cute one, but I _love_ him!" I proclaimed dramatically. The horrified look on Fiona's face was so worth it. Tommy actually poked his head in the door. I could've sworn I saw him clenching the doorway with white knuckles. He looked all jealous and hot. Why is he even jealous of Chaz? He's so insecure when it comes to him. I smirked and succumbed to hysterical laughter. "No, really... He's a nice guy. He let me crash at his place. Though I really think he should look into a guest bedroom," I explained, degenerating into muttering under my breath.

Fiona raised an eyebrow at me. "If he has no guest bedroom, then where did you sleep?" She inquired curiously, or rather... suspiciously. I was dreading that question. I might as well answer, though. It's nothing to be ashamed of, I suppose. Well, it is in Fi's book, but I've resolved my issues with Boyz Attack!. She can too. Really, most of them are nice guys. That is, if you overlook the fact that Chaz should be in jail right now for having sex with a minor (not that Tommy's much better in that aspect)... or that he's a recovering drug addict. And Bruno's, um, well... He likes nice things. Let's go with that. He likes to live the high life, and he's lacking in scruples, like I said. And there's J.P. and his various children. Um, and Tommy... if you completely overlook the fact that he's a manwhore and cocky as hell. Oh, and his tendency to abuse liquor and violence.

I shrugged, trying to seem casual. "In his bed. It's not like Tommy hasn't done it," I remarked casually. Fiona started laughing, and I joined in. Ah, nothing like bonding over Little Tommy Queer jokes. Fiona loves them. They're her favorite. I used to make so many jokes about him being gay. At least one a day. See, I find it a great way to bring down an extremely cocky man. That's why I use some of 'em on Quinn too. But yes, back to how I made jokes about Tommy liking men. I used to make one every day Sadie made some insipid Boyz Attack! comment, which just happened to be every day. Eight Days a Week, I tell you. Every mention of Little Tommy Q merited a homosexuality joke. Not against the gays, but against the boybanders. I mean, come on... five guys sharing a tour bus? How could something _not_ happen? Everyone has moments of weakness. Like when I kissed Wally when we were leaving Toronto. I was so sad and all falling to pieces, missing Tommy like crazy. That was the same night I wrote "White Lines", a song that Tommy must never, ever, under any circumstance, ever see, much less hear. It was basically me pining for Tommy and angsting over him being with my sister in song form.

Ugh, reminds me of the boat cruise thingie Shay and I took when we were in Paris. We went under this bridge, and the tour person said that it was a bridge of love or something. No, I remember... It was the bridge to kiss someone under. I don't remember which one. Paris has a crapload of bridges. So Shay just leans over and kinda side-swiped me with a kiss while I was busy wishing that Tommy would fall in love with me. You're also supposed to close your eyes and make a wish while you go under. Fiona pursed her lips. "Speaking of the Devil, what was that all about back there? You almost kissed him _five_ times!" Fiona growled, glaring at me.

Five times, seriously? Yikes. Resist temptation, Jude. Yeah, that's right. You'd _better_ pray to St. Jude 'cause you getting over Tommy is a completely hopeless cause. Shut up, stupid defeatist voices in my head! I **will** get over him, damnit! I really wish I could answer her question. Alas, I cannot. It is not that simple. You see, in order for me to answer her question, I'd actually have to figure out an answer. And we've already established that I clearly can't do that. I just shrugged because there really wasn't much else I could do. What was I supposed to say? Oops, I did it again! Ugh, okay, bad Tommy's ex moment there. I frowned, trying to think. Not that it was working especially well. "Oh... Just me and Tommy arguing again. Typical stuff," I said, trying to make it much more casual than it really was.

Fiona knows me, so she knows when I'm lying. She saw straight through me. Fi rolled her eyes at me. Okay, so it wasn't exactly the best lie, but it wasn't much of a lie, really. "Uh huh," She said, completely not convinced. Then she gave me a look. "Now, why don't you _really_ tell me what the argument was about. You two tend to whisper a lot..." She countered a moment later, arms crossed over her chest. I felt vaguely offended that she had been eavesdropping, but I brought it on myself by having that conversation with him while she was in the room. I glared at her.

She's going to make me tell her. I just know it. Oh well. Might as well get into some version of the truth, eh? Okay. Here goes my version of the truth. "We... we exchanged some words yesterday. He said some things I didn't want to hear, and... yeah. He wants something I don't. And then he had to go tell me that he and Sadie are having problems, so I've got that on my back," I sighed frustratedly, sinking into one of the stools at the counter, resting my head on the cool surface. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fi frown. Oh, right. She doesn't know about "Trojan" Tom Quincy and Sexy Sadie Harrison being an item. Man, she really ought to pick up a magazine once in a while. I'm sure I've said that about a million times. Mentioned that Tommy's screwing Sadie and all.

"Sadie? What does he have to do with that Boyz Attack! Lover?" A very confused Fiona asked. Now, see... Boyz Attack! Lover. That's the operative phrase in that sentence. I would think it'd be obvious. I gave Fiona a look, but she didn't seem to get it. Oh, fine. I'm gonna have to say it. Ugh. I don't want to... The whole affair leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Well, you could say that she's more of a Tommy Lover. Only I don't think the feelings are quite mutual, so he's pretty much leading her on," I remarked softly, feeling rather bad for Sadie. Fiona raised her eyebrows and then frowned, obviously still not getting it. Oh, right. I didn't really explain, did I? "They're dating." Fiona nodded, finally understanding it. Probably not the appeal, but hey... Less of Tommy to go around, you know?

But I saw the way Fiona was looking at me. She was staring at me with a somewhat incredulous look on her face. Sadie dating her teen dream idol wasn't that strange, was it? I mean, their egos are so big it almost makes sense... I frowned at the thought, but my cousin continued staring at me strangely. Sometimes I forget how well she knows me... even though we don't see each other that much, I've known her practically my whole life. "He wants _you_. That's it, isn't it?" Fiona commented suddenly, tilting her head and staring me down. She was waiting for an answer, but I couldn't say anything. Either way, it was true.

I looked down and didn't answer. I glanced up briefly and caught my cousin smirking. That's awful strange. She hates Tommy with every fiber of her being. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to say something. "And you _like_ him. You like him a lot. So why aren't you going after it?" Fiona pointed out, somewhat puzzled by my repulsion. You know, I often wonder that very same thing. But Trainwreck Tommy doesn't get to crash into me anymore. Or remind me of creepy Dave Matthews songs. Ew. Fiona leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "Besides... I hear he's easy."

That was enough to make me burst into peals of laughter. Too true, Fi. Too true. She whispered that as if I already didn't know. I was just... surprised, I guess. Surprised that she was oddly supportive of me. I sighed, forcing a smile, and playing with a lock of my hair. "I don't **just** _like_ him, Fiona," I found myself saying frustratedly, twirling my hair and feeling like I was back in seventh grade all over again. She just... didn't get it. Fiona looked curiously at me. And before I knew what I was doing, I found myself telling her the raw and gritty truth. "I'm in _love_ with him, actually. Have been for about a year," I admitted casually. It wasn't at all a casual thing to say, but that's how I said it. Like it was no big deal.

Fiona's eyes widened, and she peered out the door, presumably at Tommy. She shut the door quickly and turned to me. "I'm afraid that I don't see the appeal," She muttered, a smile playing on her lips. We both heard laughter ringing out from the other room. It was obviously Josie's laughter. Fiona made a face, grabbing me by the arm. "We'd better get out there before Little Tommy Q. corrupts my little sister," Fi mumbled, tugging me towards the door. She sounded oddly like Sadie there. I whined. I want me some Poptarts! However, Fiona did not heed my whines and thus... pulled me back into the living room. I was just lucky I'd secured my blanket.

Tommy looked up at me, and I swear that he willed my blanket to come undone. It started to, but I grabbed it before it could come all the way undone. My little cousin was sitting innocently in Tommy's lap, while he was sitting on the couch. They sure looked awfully comfortable together. In fact, if you squinted and looked at them for very long, they almost looked like brother and sister... or daughter and father. Tommy was old enough, after all, to be her dad. Technically. I forced a smile, but I still couldn't look at Tommy. "So, Jose, do you want something for breakfast?" I willed myself to ask, swallowing hard.

I saw Josie nod brightly, and smiled anyways. I waited patiently for her to tell me what she wanted. "Peanut butter and jelly, Judy!" She chirped excitedly. I saw Tommy smirk at her little nickname for me, and I wanted to slug him. But I just plastered a smile on my face instead and walked back to the kitchen. I knew it was dangerous to leave Fiona and Tommy in the same room, but I figured I could chance it. They wouldn't commit acts of violence with a kid in the room, right? I mindlessly pulled out the food and began to make her the sandwich while putting some Poptarts in the toaster... Hot Fudge Sundae (I think that's what it's called) for me, and Raspberry for Tommy. I swear, Tommy and his love of red fruit... I will never understand it.

Somehow, when all of it was done, I was magically able to carry the three plates out. I smiled, handing Josie her sandwich, and Tommy his Poptarts (his whole face lit up at it). Then I sat down on a chair to eat my own Poptarts, feeling oddly domestic. Fi snatched a Poptart off of my plate, and I swatted at her hand, shooting her a death glare. I scowled, but ate my Poptart anyways. Or, at least, I was... until Josie made a noise. She started crying and wriggling in Tommy's lap. Tommy looked none-too amused, and wrapped an arm around her waist in an attempt to hold her down. I frowned, squinting and noticing that she'd spilled some very purple grape jelly all over her shirt. Oh, great. I am so not prepared for this. They should keep me a hundred feet away from all children. I'm awful with them.

I offered to go up and grab her another shirt, but she said her mom had left with the suitcases still in their car. Great, just great. I frowned, trying to think of where we would have a child's clothing. I mean, I could always buy something, but I didn't feel like going to the store so freaking early in the morning. Ah! Then it hit me... In the attic. Mom had boxed up a lot of our clothing up there. I smiled widely. Tommy was trying to calm Josie down by running a hand through her hair and shushing her. It was so... cute. And oddly paternal from a guy who definitely doesn't want to be a dad anytime soon. I think. I figured I ought to intervene. "Josie, honey, we have some clothes upstairs in the attic. How 'bout you come with me, and we pick out a new shirt together? We can put your old one in the wash. Then we can do whatever you want to do, okay?" I suggested calmly, trying to smile reassuringly. I failed miserably. She just started crying harder. I told you, I'm no good with kids.

Tommy smoothed her hair and pulled her closer to him. He leaned in to whisper to her. "_Shh_... Josie, did you hear your cousin, Jude? She can get you a new shirt to wear. And then she'll take you to do _anything_ you want. You could play Barbies, draw pictures, go to the park, get an ice cream cone... anything you want," Tommy murmured soothingly, planting a kiss on her forehead. He'd done the same to me only some minutes earlier. Josie looked up at him and took a momentary pause in her wailing. Tommy smiled at her, and she smiled back shyly. Oh, yes... I knew that smile and the effect it could have on a girl very well. Tommy wiped the tears from her face gently. "But first, girl, you gotta stop crying," He said soothingly, looking her straight in the eye.

Josie smiled again and really stopped crying this time. I almost cried in relief myself. Tommy sort of pushed her towards me, but she clung to him, shooting me a puppy-dog look. "Only if Cousin Tommy comes with us," Josie pleaded, pouting at me. I had to smile. Tommy must've taught her that. Cousin Tommy? Huh? He's not her cousin! I shot Tommy a quizzical look, but he just shrugged. I sighed, offering Josie my hand, but she refused to let go of Tommy. Tommy just shrugged, and I began to feel very put off by the whole ordeal. I decided to go anyways. Who says Tommy can't follow me? I began to ascend the staircase to the attic, which pretty much went that I walked up to the second floor and then opened the door at the end of the hallway and walked up this rickety-ass staircase up there that I'm not quite sure is really wholly safe. I don't usually go to the attic 'cause I'm afraid the banister would break, and I'd wind up falling through the ceiling of somebody's room. Not a pretty picture, especially if it was Sadie's.

Plus, it's pretty creepy up here. It's got this whole haunted vibe going. I heard the stairs creak ominously behind me. Maybe it'd be better if Tommy wasn't following me after all. I swallowed, but was finally off the stairs. I immediately began looking at the labels on boxes. Who knew we had so much crap? Okay, let's see... Hooker clothes, books, box of photo albums, second box of photo albums, third box of photo albums... Damn, Sadie and I were the ugliest kids ever! Let me see... memorabilia, Dad's old band posters and junk, The Beatles: Box 1, The Beatles: Box 2, The Beatles: Box 3... Okay, I'm getting nowhere. We have at least six of those boxes! Okay, okay... Here it is, all the way at the back of the attic. Ugh, but we have about ten boxes of this... How am I supposed to know what's what?

Oh well. Might as well dive in. I started by opening the first box I found. It was, unsurprisingly, full of Sadie's clothes. Sadie's Pepto-Bismol pink clothes. Not that I'm going to knock Pepto-Bismol. Not that I would do that. Pepto-Bismol completely saved my life that time I was in Mexico City on the Shay Tour. Now that I think about it, it completely surprises me that I spent a whole summer with him and didn't kill him. Let me tell you, if you're sick, Shay is the worst company ever. He only makes you feel even more sick. You know, I think it's completely unfair that I, a Canadian, got Montezuma's Revenge. After all, my people aren't even from Spain! The Harrison's are a sort of British-Irish clan. My mother's side is especially Irish, considering the red hair.

Ugh. Okay, trampy... Streetwalker ensemble. Yeesh. Josie shouldn't even see any of this stuff. And look at Tommy, who's got a lacy shirt dangling from his index finger. Doesn't _he_ look as pleased as punch. He's got that stupid smug smirk on his face again. The one that I just want to punch off of his face about half the time. I grimaced, rifling through the clothes. Maybe there'll be something not trampy at the bottom. I feel the need to explain why most of this stuff is Sadie's. For one, when I was little, I wasn't too crazy about clothes or shopping. In short, my mom had to practically drag me to the mall with a leash, like I was a dog. It was awful, inhumane treatment that has probably scarred me for life. Aside from that, Sadie's always been a Material Girl close to Madonna's own heart. She's all caught up in appearance, and she just loved to look cute. So Perfect Little Sadie got her perfect little reward: shopping to her heart's desire.

I also have the tendency to damage clothes like you wouldn't believe. I blame Vince Spiederman. He can ruin a girl's clothes better than a night of drinking and debauchery. Minus all the fun. Aha! I finally found one of my few remaining old shirts at the bottom. I glanced at it, noticing two bits of paper on top of it. I thought this box was just clothes... Hmm. I picked up the first piece of paper. Wow. The first lyrics I ever wrote to "24 Hours". Back when it had a different name and stuff. Wow, there's even chord progressions. This must've been after I first wrote it, period. Before I knew the melody by heart. Damn, that must've been when I was like... twelve.

Twelve was not a fun age in my life, just so you know. Sadie was Queen of Everything and I was just... second-best. If that. I wondered vaguely if a shirt from when I was twelve wouldn't be too big for Josie. Maybe. Maybe not! I found a black tank-top that I recalled being especially fond of at the very bottom of the bag. I remembered its tragic demise well. It shrunk in the wash. And right now, it looked about small enough for Josie to wear. I grinned. This just might work. I showed Josie the shirt, and she smiled and nodded. "Can you find your way downstairs and change into the shirt? All by yourself?" I asked cautiously. Josie nodded, and I handed her the shirt. She almost flew down the stairs. That made me laugh.

Then I glanced down at the other note, picking it up off the shirt. What was this doing in here? I frowned, pulling the shirt out of the box too. I started to pace, reading the letter. As my eyes scanned the I had to pause to suck in a breathe, disbelieving. Someone had written this to me at twelve? I couldn't believe it. It went as follows:

_Dear Jude,_

_I had a great time hanging out with you today. If I'm really being honest here, it was the most fun I've had in... I can't even remember when. This life's definitely not all it's cracked up to be. It's a pretty lonely existence, if you want to know the truth. It makes you really appreciate the normal things in life. Like the fact that you're one of the few girls I've ever met who wasn't completely fawning over me... I think you get that I'm **really** not used to that._

_Meeting you today completely shook up my world, and I needed that wake-up call. You messed up my plans with only a song, completely out of the blue. I wasn't expecting anything like that to happen. And you know what? I'm glad that it did... that you did. If you hadn't, I probably would've played that damn song that I'll never get a chance to sing in public until midnight, and then I would've gone out and gotten wasted. And that would've been fine, but I would've been kidding myself. I can't **live** like this anymore, and you made me see that. You made face the truth, see who I really am again... It's been so long that I forgot who I was before... Every mistake I've made has become so **abundantly** clear, and I know what I have to do now. I have to fix it, and after talking to you, I know how to do that._

_I'm actually happy I met you. You're the **coolest** chick I know, and one of the best musicians I've had the pleasure of meeting in a while. And I think... I think you might be the girl who gets me the most. And people don't get me, period. I don't want to sound like I'm coming on to you or anything... I know you don't want that from me... but I'd really like to see you again. When I'm with you, I actually feel normal, and I can't help but want to hold on to that feeling for as long as I can. If you don't want to see me again, then... **Thanks**. I owe you so much more than you will **ever** know. So, if you think you could handle ever seeing me again... You've got my number._

_Sincerely,_

_You Know Who_

Unfortunately, the cutesy signature did not help one bit. How was I supposed to know who "You Know Who" was? It had been so long ago, for starters. I wasn't dating anyone then... well, except Wally, but this isn't from him. Wally's actually left-handed. I know he looks right-handed onstage, but he's really not. That's why Wally plays the bass. In case you didn't know, the bass is sort of an easy instrument to play. See, if you can play the bass guitar, one would assume you can play a regular guitar, but that is actually not the case. However, if you can play a regular guitar, you can most definitely play a bass guitar. Left-handed guitars are more expensive and much harder to find. Anyways, back to what all of this has to do with Wally. While Wally can definitely play the guitar, he's no good at playing a right-handed guitar.

Speed, who is like some kind of guitar god in his own right (the legend goes that he crawled out of his crib when he was a day old and started playing his dad's guitar), taught Wally how to play right-handed. The legend is definitely unbelievable, but Speed's been playing the guitar for as long as anyone can remember... so it could be true for all anyone knows. Even Speed doesn't remember his first lesson. He's some sort of guitar prodigy. I always envied that about him. He could play so much better than I could. Unfortunately, that also contributed to Speed being this overconfident asshole. He was so cocky. He thought he was like, the next Clapton or George Harrison. Especially George Harrison. He loved to make cracks about that, seeing as I'm the one with the name. Actually, come to think of it, we might be distant cousins of him. Hm.

Speed, of course, is ambidextrous, and can play just as well with either hand. Wally, however, is not that fortunate. While he can play with his right hand, it's not that good. I'm not even sure if it's decent enough to make him a rhythm guitarist, but he is a really good bass player. With either hand. Not that the bass guitar requires the most skill to play (case in point, Sid Vicious!), but Wally's great.

Whoever wrote that note was clearly right-handed and much older than twelve. That was sure. That person was obviously a man, and I do mean man... Not boy. He was obviously attractive, having girls hang on him all the time. And I didn't want him whatsoever. He seemed to know that. But if this guy is so hot... A. Why do I know him at the fresh age of twelve, B. Why would he even joke about a relationship with me, being at the age of twelve, and C. Why didn't I want anything to do with him?

There was an envelope with the letter. There was nothing on it to distinguish it from a normal envelope, just my name printed in the same messy black cursive as the so-called signature. The letter was printed in messy, tiny black letters. Some of what had been said in the letter seemed so familiar, like I'd heard bits and pieces of it before. I obviously had in the past. Maybe Jamie wrote it. But no, that wasn't true at all. It was too informal and too impersonal and way too casual and too simply worded for Jamie. Jamie likes to toss big words in notes and conversation. He wouldn't have ever written a note to me when he could've just talked to me via the tin-can phone between our windows. Hmm. I think I still have it in my room. Maybe I could talk to Jamie...

This guy had problems, obviously. And somehow, I'd helped him fix them. His life clearly wasn't normal. He was obviously a musician of some sort, and we'd met through me interrupting him with a song? Sounds like me, doesn't it? Whoever this guy was, he sure seemed grateful. And I had his number lying around somewhere... In my vortex of a room, you might never find it. Something about the letter nagged at me, but I couldn't place it. I noticed Tommy glancing over my shoulder curiously. He glanced at me, taking his eyes off the letter for a second, raising his eyebrows at me. "Somebody's whipped. Who exactly is this guy?" He questioned, prying. I didn't appreciate his strangely timed concern. As usual, when someone else is interested... Tommy pulls the concerned big brother route. Please, if he was my brother, they'd have locked him up in jail for the way he's been looking at me and making out with me. Dad would rather send me to a convent, I'm sure. Not that I'd fit in in a convent or anything.

I just shrugged. "The hell if I know!" I remarked a bit too sharply. I stared at the letter. It looked almost untouched, as if I'd opened the envelope and then read it once and... that was it. It was folded in thirds, obviously to make it fit in the envelope better. I frowned, glancing briefly over at Tommy. He was brooding again, which made me feel guilty for snapping at him in the first place. When Tommy broods, he gets this far-off look in his eyes as he stares into space, and he sort of purses his lips as if in deep contemplation. It's really a beautiful expression. Think something like Rodin's The Thinker and Michaelangelo's David mixed together. Only about a thousand times better. Mm, that is be an interesting expression. In case you haven't figured it out yet, I love each and every one of Tommy's various facial expressions.

I sighed, folding up the letter. I can ponder this mystery other days. Now, about this blue shirt... I don't remember ever seeing it before. I unfolded it from the back and dropped the shirt in surprise when yet another note fell out. This note was different than the last one. In fact, it wasn't even really a note at all. It was actually a card. A nice, white, pristine card, the type that's usually slipped in with a bouquet of flowers. It fell on the back, so I didn't get to see what was on the front. I was too afraid of what I might find to bend down and pick it up. I stared at Tommy with my mouth slightly open, completely incredulous. Tommy just shrugged, picking up the card and beginning to read it aloud. As if he knew that I wanted to see the front, he showed me. There was a rectangle sort of pressed into the paper, the kind they have on fancy wedding announcements. In the exact middle of rectangle was a similarly pressed star, and to its right, my name was embossed in silver slanted calligraphy. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble for me.

Tommy's eyes flicked briefly to mine before he looked away a moment later. "_A star for a star..._" Tommy murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. Tommy's eyes twinkled as a strange, perplexed look crossed his face. A star for a star? What does that... I suddenly glanced down at my star ring, remembering how I couldn't quite recall where it came from. Well, I guess I have my answer. This stranger mailed it to me with this note. I'm going to have to thank him in person someday. Assuming I get my hands on him, of course. Tommy grinned, but still looked somewhat uneasy reading the card, or rather... letter, given the length. "_Don't say it's not true. I know a thing or two about music... and you've got what it takes, girl. You're going to be **famous** one day soon, and I'll be able to look back and say I knew you before,_" Tommy mused, getting more discomfited as the note went on.

I was beginning to feel the same way as Tommy. Something about this whole situation was freaking me out. "_Fame is... It can be everything you've dreamed of... or it can be your worst nightmare. There's a very **dark** side to it. A side that you won't see until it's too late. Be wary of that_," Tommy said, sounding foreboding. I felt a chill run down my side at that. I should've read this card before I ever entered Instant Star. Why do I never listen to the warnings people give me? Maybe... Things would be different. I'd be happy... but at what cost? A dark, haunted look appeared in Tommy's eyes. He almost looked scared, caught up in a flurry of bad memories. "_The fame, it gets to your head, makes you **full** of yourself..._" I shot Tommy a look at that, but he didn't even notice. He just swallowed and continued reading, a sick, guilty sort of look on his face. But he didn't own up to being cocky, of course. "_You start doing things you swore you'd never do, acting in ways you would've never dreamed of... You treat other people like **dirt**, like they're beneath you._" This time I was the one who looked down, but I could tell that Tommy felt guilty too. I hadn't treated people that horribly, had I? I was sure Tommy had, judging by the way he looked positively green at that. But I did do things I swore I'd never do. And I had acted different. We both swallowed solemnly, and Tom almost forced himself to go on.

"_It's a horrible way to live, and once you get accustomed to it, it's **so** hard to change your ways_," Tommy mumbled painfully, as if each word hurt to say. I placed my hand on my shoulder, knowing exactly what he was worried about. He was afraid he hadn't quite changed his ways. He hadn't, but Tommy had made great strides since his boyband days. That was for sure. Tommy smiled weakly at me, but his eyes betrayed him. His eyes were filled with such sadness. I just wanted to take all of his hurt and guilt away. It's odd. I never knew Tommy was this tormented about his past. He seems so unconcerned with his actions nowadays. The guilt must've haunted him for years. I didn't remove my hand, but Tommy forced himself to go on. "_The fame **changes** you; it always does, and you don't see it until it's too late to do anything about it. It won't make you happy... I learned that the hard way_," He whispered finally, looking a bit like he'd seen a ghost. Later, I understood that was because at a time, that was exactly what he was feeling. Our eyes met, and Tommy tried to communicate a message to me... but I guess some things are lost in translation.

It was true, all of it. The person was obviously a full-time musician. And not just a regular one, probably a relatively famous one. Someone who'd compromised everything and given themselves up for fame. My eyes widened in realization as I peered at Tommy out of the corner of my eye... Logically, it makes sense. Theoretically, except... No. I can't believe it. That's impossible. "_The industry changes you to fit their mold. They try to take the you out of you, to make you something that you don't wanna be. They change your hair, your clothes, your personality, your reputation, the way you look, the way you talk, even the way you act..._" Tommy read softly, holding the card with delicate fingers. His eyes darkened in anger, probably from the memory of how he'd been exploited by Darius. He glanced up at me, a watchful look in his eyes. He wanted to save me from people like that. I stared right back, wondering if he realized how that one phrase had echoed "Me Out of Me". And some of the subjects mentioned were referenced more thoroughly in the same song. I knew I couldn't have gotten the inspiration from this note. I wrote the song last year. Maybe the words had just stuck in my head and implanted themselves there as a sort of song idea. Tommy coughed and looked down somewhat embarrassedly.

He began speaking suddenly. "_You forget **everything** you ever liked about yourself, and you sink into the lethal trap of self-loathing_," Tommy snarled, spitting out the words like a bitter acid. There was an even darker look on his face now. He was serious. His face was twisted in a foul grimace, and his eyes burned with an unrivaled intensity. It suddenly occurred to me that there was a lot I didn't know about Tommy's dark past. I peered at him curiously, cautiously, making sure that he didn't notice. I didn't want to enrage him, after all. "_So... Don't change for **anyone**, Jude_," Tommy said, easily saying the words that would normally be so difficult for him to say. There was something so personal about him telling me that.

Tommy didn't take his eyes off mine until he reached the next paragraph. "_Never forget who you are_," He enunciated, gazing right in my eyes. Tommy wanted to drive his point home. "_Just **be** yourself_," He replied, doling out his typically true advice. Easier said than done, Tom. After all, even he changed and forgot who he was during Boyz Attack!. Tommy's stare drew me in like a moth to the flame. He completely had my eye-contact for his next sentence. He'd completely tricked me into a trance like a professional snake charmer... or a confidence man. He had my full attention. Then again, Tommy always has my full attention, doesn't he? "_**Gaining** fame isn't worth **losing** yourself_," He stated sincerely, and the look in his eyes told me he really meant it and was afraid that would happen to me. I felt flattered. That's one of the best pieces of advice Tommy's ever given me, and being a fledgling rockstar, he's given me a lot. He was so right, too. He has rare moments like that... where... Tommy knows best.

The grim look immediately fell off Tommy's face, and a lighthearted smile appeared, unbidden. "_I bet you didn't think I'd remember, but I did. I just had to thank you for all you've done for me. I wanted to get you something a little something special for the day you finally blossom into an adolescent,_" Tommy proclaimed grandiosely, going a bit over the top, as was his style. I felt a little bad that I was giggling at Tommy making fun of a suitor of mine who'd been so kind as to buy me my star ring... quite possibly my favorite piece of jewelry ever.Tommy's lips twitched upwards. "_The gift personally seems a bit cheap to me. You really deserve more than this ring and those roses. However, a silver ring raises a lot less questions than a diamond the size of your palm_," Tommy muttered jokingly. I snickered. A diamond the size of my palm? Just who was this guy, exactly? Was he involved in anything illegal? My star ring caught the light, and Tommy's eyes darted down to focus on it. I wriggled my fingers playfully. He got momentarily distracted for a minute or two, then resumed reading the letter. "_So I figured I'd err on the side of caution, which I'm sure you know is a rarity for me. As I've said before, I am **completely** in your debt. So if you **ever** need anything... anything at all... You know who to call,_" Tommy replied brightly, grinning widely. Probably at the little jokes in there or maybe at the corniness of it all. I couldn't help but grin back.

It sure was nice to have men in my debt. Especially ones so willing to help me at _any_ time. So I had roses too, eh? I bet there were about thirteen. Tommy fixed me with a shrewd look, as if he was trying to ascertain some little fact about me. "Do you have a sugar daddy I don't know about?" Tommy asked perfectly seriously, sounding completely sober. I almost believed him for a second there, but he let out a snort and then... I burst into a hysterical fit of laughter. He joined me a second later. Ha. Me having a sugar daddy at thirteen? What would I pay them with? Illegal currency... i.e. my underage goods? _Yeah_, right. Eventually, our laughter dissolved into chortles and chuckles, then into silence. Tommy took a few deep breaths and continued reading the last lines of the letter.

"_Keep on keepin' on, girl. Happy birthday, Jude. Have fun- but not too much fun._" Tommy finished, sighing with relief. I think he just vowed to never read a letter aloud again. That was the postscript. No signing whatsoever this time. Whoever the man was, he obviously assumed I still remembered him. I must've met the guy remotely close to my birthday. But what is remotely close, anyways? The words, however, reminded me of something. I had definitely read those words before in a letter. A postcard from Tommy, in fact. This time I felt a chill run down my whole body. When Tommy glanced at me, his face was ashen. Maybe... It must've been a coincidence, right? I'm sure it's possible... It has to be.

It's funny how out of it I must've been to not notice both Tommy and me sitting down here on the window. It wasn't quite a window seat... It was more of a wide window with a bit of a ledge that happened to be long enough to sit on comfortably. Tommy's shoulder brushed against mine and that made me smile to myself. Tommy looked at the card, sighed softly, and closed it back up. He handed me the card, which joined the letter and envelope in my hands. For a moment we both just sat there, staring at the creaky, warped wooden floorboards. How had no one fallen through that floor in all the time we'd been up here? I sighed, blowing so that my bangs flew up around my face.

Tommy bumped into me purposefully this time. My bangs fell flat against my forehead, and I turned to face Tommy, leaning against his shoulder tiredly. I still wanted that nap. Not that I'd be getting any of that with Josie around. I'll be too busy playing babysitter for any of that nonsense. It suddenly occurred to me that I had a date with Tim tomorrow. How would I sneak out for that one? I obviously couldn't get drunk since I was the responsible adult and all. And I definitely couldn't not come home or stay out late. Not that I know what Tim has planned or anything. Maybe I could reschedule...

I suddenly realized that Tommy had asked me a question, so I snapped out of my reverie. Ah, Tim. Hmm, Tommy asked me a peculiar question, out of all the ones he could have possibly asked. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the notes. "What do you think of Travis?" Tommy mused quietly, a darkly curious look in his eyes. My eyes widened in surprise as I realized what he had asked. Were we talking about the same Travis here? Why does Tommy want to talk about him? If he's the guy... Augh, I'm confusing myself! I gave Tommy a blank look, and he took the hint. "Ahem, your, uh, music teacher?" Tommy coughed while something dangerous flashed on his face.

I swallowed, not quite knowing what to say. "That's a loaded question," I said crassly. Oops. Not what I meant to say at all. Tommy and Travis might hate each other, but there was something more there... Respect, at least on Tommy's end. Tommy knew what Travis was saying about me. He saw Travis touching me... And he obviously trusted Travis enough in a room alone with me. Now, he really has no reason to do any of these things. If it was any other guy, Tommy would've socked him in a heartbeat. However, for some reason... with Travis, Tommy held back. Why was this? I had only one conclusion. For some bizarre reason, Tommy respected Travis and saw him as his moral superior. He hated him, but he admired him. Strange dynamic, that. Tommy snorted at my remark while I pondered how to best continue it.

"I really dunno, Tommy. What _can_ I think of him? I think that he's a _despicable_ **bastard**. And a dirty, _perverted_ sicko. He's also the most _cocky_, annoying, and generally **conceited** man I have _ever_ met, including **you**! And..." I began hesitantly, voice rising as I tallied up every one of his sins. It suddenly occurred to me that I was perhaps divulging a bit too much. I cleared my throat pathetically and tried to think of some positive things to say. I'm sure you can find some, my lovely.

Great, now I'm talking to myself again. You hear that?

Damn him!

Wait, which one?

"And he can't **teach** to save his _life_! Oh, yes, and he **screams** too much when he sings! And he's _cruel_ and _vindictive_ and _malicious_ and _rotten_ and _horrible_ and _lousy_ and miserable and **stupid** and an **asshole** and a complete _jackass_... with a peculiar fascination with getting **revenge**. He keeps grudges like there's no tomorrow and favors **some** people more than others. And he _likes_ to drive **me** up the WALL!" I screeched virulently. I thought I was thinking positive things. I completely didn't mean to say that at all! It just... came out. Against my will. I need to say something positive. There are positives. It did feel good to get that out of my system, though.

If I'm any more obvious, Tommy will completely see through my oh-so clever lies. "He's a **player** and a _user_! Who, might I add, _refuses_ to take **no** for an answer!" I shouted dramatically, feeling my face flush. I did _not_ just say that. I can practically see Tommy's mind jumping to conclusions before my eyes. I mean, damn it, do I have Tourette's or something! Tom's eyes widened and then narrowed in fury. At least Tom doesn't know where Travis lives, right? I sighed. Okay, something positive better come out now. My cheeks turned bright crimson at the thought of him. Oh, he made me so mad! I hope Patsy leaves welts on his back and bruises on his ass! I hope she pulls out every dirty trick in the book! I hope she makes it so he can't even walk straight anymore. I hope she strips him of every ounce of his precious dignity. I hope he contracts an STD and dies! I hope... I hope it hurts. I hope that I get him **FIRED**, for **good**! I'm not feeling _any_ more guilt about reporting him! Damn it, it was the **right** thing to do.

"And he _always_ has to be **right** about everything, which is bad already because he's whip-smart... so he _is_ and you know it, and that just makes it _worse_, of **course**, and so he _lords_ it over you like you wouldn't **believe**! He makes me feel so _inferior_! And he twists my words 'round and 'round like a **freaking** _daisy_ chain, completely changing the confounded connotations of _everything_ I say! And of course he has to be all _sharp_ and _witty_ and clever-like all the time! He _always_ has a remark for **everything** under the sun, and a particular GIFT with words! Plus he _always_ has to get in the **last** word in an argument! ARRGH! And he has absolutely **no** _decency_ or _morals_ and even **fewer** _scruples_! And I _hate_ how he **hates** you for some _stupid_, nonsensical reason! Then he has to look _just_ like **you** and sit there and _taunt_ me every day... Not to mention that he flirts with _everyone_ like some **depraved** and _freakish_ imitation of you in your "Walking _S.T.D._" days! I also _loathe_ him for being so damn _attractive_ **all** the time! I **despise** him for toying with people's emotions the way he _always_ does! I **hate** how he always has to be so _sneaky_ and up to something and downright _discriminating_ against me! And why's he have to **always** know the _right_ thing to say, acting all **flipping** _charming_, and know all the **right** ways to _touch_ a _girl_... And be so _damn_ experienced, even though he really **isn't**. I _hate_ that he has girls _falling_ all **over** him! I _hate_ the fact that he can **lie** his way out of _any_ situation! But the thing that I **hate** _most_ of all is that I _thoroughly_ **cannot** figure HIM out!" I snapped venomously, rambling and flying up from the ledge to pace furiously. I panted, having gotten most of that out in one breath. "But mostly... I just hate... _him_," I panted tiredly, flopping back down on the ledge in exhaustion.

I felt Tommy's eyes on me, but I just stared down at my feet. God, it was _hot_ up here. Or maybe I was just too sweaty. There was an awkward silence between us. We're musicians... always tapping or singing or listening to something. And with the two of us being Tommy and me... we have even fewer silent moments. Given the mercurial personalities and all. We tend to yell more, so I can literally count the number of awkward silences we've had on one hand. They're never usually that long, as Tommy and I are not silent people. Let's see... one was after he kissed me on my birthday, but before he made me deny it. And another was when he said goodbye to me before my tour. I'd remember the others, but I, well... can't. I'm too tired.

I sighed, remembering that the blue shirt was still on the floor. I got up to get it, wiping the dust off my butt. I picked it up, feeling somewhat victorious, and walked over to Tommy. I sat back down, putting the shirt in my lap, resigning myself to the silence. Tommy suddenly chuckled, and that sort of broke the ice. "Oh, yep... He's a first-rate villain, right up there with Gilles de Rais and the Marquis de Sade," Tommy remarked with a grin.

Now, because I just know you're gonna ask me, I'll tell you already. If you think Gilles de Rais and the Marquis de Sade are people you should know about... well, I can't tell you if you're right enough. But I'll tell you that even I didn't know about them at first. What can I say? French aristocrats aren't my specialty. I had to ask Tommy. In case you're wondering why Tommy knows this, aside from the fact that he's probably descended from a long line of French aristocrats himself... It's because Tommy lived in France for a few years as a kid, and grew up in Montreal for the rest of it. His mother is very proud of her French-Canadian heritage, so he grew up being very immersed in that. French in the home and all that. Aside from that, however, Tommy's a French citizen.

Technically it's because he was naturalized, but you have to know a lot about a country and its culture to pass that test. And his Acadian ancestors lived there anyways, so he deserves it. Tommy lived there for a while after Boyz Attack!. I hear they have a really relaxed attitude towards celebrities there. I mean, Johnny Depp does live there after all. That's reason enough to live there. Beautiful country, though. I mean, sure, Shay kissed me under that one bridge, but I think I can forgive Paris for that. It's not the city's fault that Shay is an asshole. Besides, he kissed me more in Toronto anyways than I care to count.

Tommy's a citizen in a bunch of countries. The U.S. because he was born there in New York, I think. His dad worked there for a while. Canada, obviously, since both of his parents are Canadian. And being Canadian, he, like all other Canadian citizens, gets certain rights in Britain since it's part of the Commonwealth... and we're part of the Commonwealth. I think we get to like, live there or something? And finally... France. Oh, right. I was talking about evil Frenchmen before I got on this Tommy rant.

Not that Tommy's not an evil Frenchman himself. 'Cause he is. The evilest one... Nah, wait. I think these two guys beat him. Anyhow, the Marquis de Sade was a very perverted, cruel man. The word "sadism" comes from his name. His motto was: "Sex without pain is like food without taste." Sounds like a man Patsy would admire. He believed in a hedonistic lifestyle, and crushing everyone in your way. Kinda like Tommy that way. Now, Gilles de Rais, he was truly evil. The Marquis de Sade was just sort of a violent perverted asshole who liked it kinky. Gilles de Rais sexually assaulted, tortured, and murdered tons of small children (especially boys)... as sacrifices to the devil. He was basically the first serial killer. It's even worse because this happened in medieval times. You can't even print half of what he did.

So Tommy's comparison might just be a bit strong, but he is right about two things... The sexual perversion and obsession with young victims... as well as his attitude towards careless pain. After all, how many times has Travis yanked me by the wrist or slammed me up against the wall or... ground into me... or done something similar? After all, Kate sleeping with the best man did change him for the worst. He's not all repressed now. He puts up a thin facade, but goes after what he wants with the subtlety of an elephant tramping though the savanna. I bet he likes it liberated and kinky. I don't see why I didn't think Patsy was his type. She ought to whip him into shape for sure, though... if she hadn't already. I smirked just thinking of it. "Like a regular Jack the Ripper," I muttered, calming some. Tommy smirked, and I managed to laugh.

I nodded dumbly and unfolded the shirt in my lap. My jaw dropped, and my eyes scanned the words. After I'd finished reading it, I smacked Tommy on the arm. I grabbed him by the chin and made him look at what the shirt said. For a while, Tommy read it, and then eventually, his eyes met mine in abject horror. He swallowed hard, looking horrified. "_I_ wrote those notes," He replied suddenly, eyes widening. I could only nod.

It had to be true, judging by the t-shirt on my lap. It was a Boyz Attack! World Tour t-shirt... signed by Tommy, complete with a personal message. But I'll get into that later. The facts were as follows: Tommy and I had met when I was twelve. But how? I hated Boyz Attack!. I never went to a single one of their concerts... and, trust me, I'd remember. And, if we really met, why don't either of us remember it? What made us lose touch? I had Tommy's number, and it's written right there on this shirt. Same as his current cell number.

It made sense, too. All of it. The way Tommy paled when he read the letter. Those were his words, not just his feelings! His choice in words... Words that resembled a song I wrote four years later... Words that were the exact same as the ones he'd scribbled on a postcard while I was on tour. Even the way some of the words in that first note echoed the speech he'd given me only moments earlier in the living room. That untidy scrawl of his... How hadn't I recognized it?

There was his signature on the shirt. The only difference between the signature I remembered and the one on the t-shirt was the thickness. As always, his signature was scrawled on the shirt in that messy, graceful half-cursive, half-printed way of writing he had. It was always scribbled in a matter of seconds with Tommy's typical flair and a flourish. It always looked intentional and cool... effortless, like everything Tommy ever did. He made life look so much more beautiful.

I placed my fingers on his name (his first one, mind you) on the t-shirt. There was the capital T with the stick-straight stem that wasn't quite connected to the top line. Careless. The bar that topped off the T was a jagged diagonal line. Imperfect. It flattened out a bit at the very apex, while at the bottom, the line bent and curved under itself at a slight tilt. Refreshing. I trailed my finger down the skinny staff, running it across the top beam.

Then there was the gap between the T and the next letter, the widest space in his whole name. Distant. I skipped over it, and my finger landed on the lowercase O. It was roughly hewn and almost a sort of diamond-shape. Edgy. It didn't line up with the bottom of the T, hovering instead a few inches over where the invisible baseline had been drawn. Instable. Like the letter before it, the O wasn't quite closed. Daring. Sure, it came close and appeared closed... but it wasn't. Illusionary. A bit stuck out at the top because the letter curved inward and missed the end of the line a bit. Rough.

I swirled my finger around the thin line, jumping over the slightly less wide gap to the next letter. This M you could actually make out. Habitually, his M's tended to have short, cramped arches that blurred into something almost indistinguishable. Imperceivable. This one had tiny but still visible arches. Clear. Normally you had to squint to make them out. Subtle. The first was taller and wider than the second. Incomparable. It arched up and over unevenly, descending into a sharp drop. Dangerous. After that, the flowing line curved up into a pointed mound, slowly falling and then curving back upwards, giving the letter a little tail. Playful.

My finger followed the letter's path, hopping over the pinprick of space between it and its twin. It was fitting, given the meaning of Tommy's name. And there it was, the second M. This one was jagged and sharp, jotted down like a series of spikes. Pain-inducing. It looked like three separate strokes stuck together, beginning with an abrupt, tall first line. Complex. That tall line climbed and bled into the second spike, which was a little smaller. Strong. The second gently curved into the third, making up the minuscule point that finally established the letter as an M. Smooth. As it was such a small letter, my fingers had barely brushed it before the momentum carried them to the final letter.

In a way, as if to make up for its short stature, the letter didn't end. Eternal. The M just blended into its neighbor, although this was probably due more to Tommy being in a hurry than anything else. Impulsive. A thin line led up to his Y from the other letter almost like a gossamer spiderweb. Attached. The letter began like a cursive lowercase R before abruptly sloping into a higher point. Deceitful. From that precipice, it dropped down, at first slightly curving outwards. Unpredictable. Then it swung back out the other way, arcing downwards and then looping back up and almost connecting to itself again. Insatiable. T-o-m-m-y.

You see... it's all in the handwriting, isn't it? You can tell a lot from the way a person writes. The way he underlines specific words, for instance, shows that he's meticulous, detail-oriented, and tends to be a perfectionist. The way he keeps his margins shows that he is a neat person. His rhythm and expressiveness show that he's a creative person... as well as mildly intelligent. The way he emphasizes and dramatizes his I's shows that he's a little... completely arrogant, shall we say? It also says that he's very controlled, but he has few inhibitions... His speed, connectedness, and right slant show that he's word-directed. Tommy's narrow, angular letters show that he is holding a lot of himself back and is very repressive... even his handwriting during Boyz Attack! shows that. He feels the need to hold back... so he can keep himself together? Like he's afraid the dam's going to burst or something (which his fluctuating baseline also reinforces, that emotional tension he can't release). The wide spacing between lines also indicates a distance and aloofness.

Since he's writing to me, his writing's heavy detailing in the upper zone indicates that he's being controlled by his conscience... which he obviously needs to keep him in check. The strong way he crosses his T's shows that he's stubborn. And, most interesting, the way he elaborates his Y's and letters that go below the line with details, such as that fishtail back... they show that he has a very, very active libido. Especially the Y in his signature, as it's almost a full loop, which indicate a strong sex drive which I'm sure keeps him very frustrated.

Some scientists just write graphology off (no pun intended), but look at how well it just worked for Tommy. I went to a graphology workshop one day. I had atrocious handwriting up until I was like... eleven or something, so Mom signed me up for a graphology class... mistakenly thinking it was calligraphy. Needless to say, my penmanship did improve... my mom was none the wiser. Like I said... the stuff works. You've got Tommy there in a nutshell.

Back to Tommy and not his handwriting. I glanced over and suddenly noticed that he had his head in his hands. He looked somewhat distressed, so I put a hand on his shoulder for comfort (might I add, against my better judgment). Tommy pulled his face back out of his hands and turned to look at me. I was completely unprepared for the look on his face. The last time Tommy looked so regretful was... hmm, a tie between when he broke my heart last week and when he made me deny The-Kiss-That-Never-Happened. To tell you the truth, he looked completely miserable. His whole face had fallen. I didn't get why. I surely hadn't done anything.

Which led me to a more logical conclusion... Tommy, although he knew I'd be all alone here, did not, in fact, come here to try and get with me. So Tommy had done something, and for whatever reason, he needed to confide in me. I immediately started worrying, running through a list of horrible things he hasn't done yet (to my knowledge) that would merit this sudden, strange intrusion. Sodomy... definitely no. Rape... no. Tommy gets consent like traffic tickets. Repeatedly. Hm. Then a cold panic ran over me. Was Tommy a murderer? Had he finally snapped and... killed someone? Travis. He asked about Travis. Oh my God! Tommy killed Travis! For all the times I wished for that very thing to happen... I feel bad. And Tommy's going to jail and... Oh, Lord, I think I'm hyperventilating. Wow. Tommy killed Travis.

On second thought, mayhaps I'm jumping to conclusions.

I tend to do that, you know.

Tommy sighed wearily, rubbing his hands on his legs. He looked jittery, and I suddenly noticed that he looked a bit tired. I gulped, waiting for him to tell me whatever was bothering him. Tommy let out a breath in a long hiss, then a determined look appeared in his eyes. That's when I knew he was going to tell me. And whatever it was, I wasn't going to like it. Tommy's face was sickly pale, and he had a look I've rarely ever seen written all over it... Tommy was nervous. And Tommy was never nervous. In fact, he's the most confident guy I know... to the point of it being a flaw. So, I immediately became similarly worried, and I was right to do so.

At first Tommy couldn't even look me in the eyes, but he took a deep breath and screwed up his face. He popped his knuckles, looking antsy. It was seriously getting bad, too. I was about ready to shake it out of him when... he decided to say something. Tommy's flighty eyes darted to mine, and the words just tumbled out of him. "I didn't just come here to talk about... _us_," He muttered, glancing down quickly and letting out another moody sigh. He swallowed hard, looking like a chastised schoolboy, and forced himself to meet my stare. "I did a very **bad** thing," Tommy murmured, closing his eyes and tilting his head upwards, as if he was pleading with God for forgiveness. _Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..._

He sounded almost childlike when he said that, and he fidgeted accordingly. I bit my lip in worry, trailing my hand down his arm to grab his hand. Tommy's head immediately came down, and his eyes flew open to look at me with that haunting stare. I felt a shiver go down my spine, honestly feeling creeped out. I wanted to make him confess, but I knew I had to be patient... wait for him to tell me. He shuddered suddenly, letting out another infernal sigh. His fingers twitched, and I could plainly see that he was itching for a cigarette. Bad, indeed, Thomas... Bad, indeed.

Tommy's jaw tightened, and his eyes went steely. "I cheated on Sadie," He burst out in one breath. I stared at him in incredulity for a minute, sure that he'd really said something else, but Tommy repeated it. "I cheated on Sadie," He said with a bit more finality, slower this time. He breathed then, looking a bit more relieved, but there was still that caged, flighty look in his eyes... the one that said he'd run at any minute. I knew Tommy to not be faithful, and well... I wasn't as surprised as I wished I was. Sadie was all a man could want. How could he cheat on her? And more importantly, how could I not tell her? She's my sister, but... Tommy's my friend. And he's cheated on her with me, so that's not exactly helping the problem any.

Though, come to think of it... Why was I even surprised at all? Of course he'd cheated on Sadie. The guy makes out with me every chance he can get! That's not news to me! And, as this registered in my mind, I laughed. I had the gall to laugh and then make a stupid comment. "Wow, Tom. Considering I participated in the cheating, you'd think I'd remember that," I retorted sarcastically. I thought Tommy would laugh or something. Making cracks about me and Tommy... that was hard for me. But I was moving on.

Tommy just looked down, face slightly flushed. Then he shook his head a couple moments later. "No, Jude... That's not... I've been cheating on Sadie for a while now. With random girls, girls I don't even know. I'm just... I'm not _happy_ with Sadie. I _thought_ she was what I wanted, but... I was wrong. What I want, she... she could **never** give me. I haven't been happy for a while. I was unhappy before I met her, and I knew that. It was silly of me to think she could make things any better. She only made it worse. I _never_ should've... And the random girls can't give me what I want either. I'm just... I'm so **stupid**. I'm almost twenty-three. I _should_ be able to control myself by now," Tommy rambled, looking as miserable as he felt, and not making much sense.

He sighed again, raggedly this time. He was speaking in jumbled fragments, and none of it made any sense to me! Tommy wasn't happy at all, but he was the best liar. I weakened somewhat, my desire to make him happy slowly bubbling to the surface. I should've just kept my mouth shut. It wasn't my place to ask him anything. I wasn't even sure he should be confiding in me. But I was curious. I just... I wanted to know why it was that he was so unhappy. Tommy had shame written all over his face, and he looked completely repentant. I felt so bad for him and wished I could do something to help. "Why don't you just go after what you want?" I asked obliviously, frowning and wanting to comfort him better.

Tommy then turned his head, staring at me with heavy-lidded eyes, and giving me this... look. This look that seemed to ask how dumb was I to not know. And I suppose it was stupid, I guess, but I didn't believe him last night, so what was I supposed to think? Me. Ha! He sounded so sincere, but... nah. This time, Tommy didn't answer the question. Maybe it's better that he didn't. "Because I _can't_," He mumbled longingly, shooting me a meaningful look that I completely disregarded. I can't. Why do those words continually pop up? I can't is not a good excuse, people! Even if you're Tommy. Be creative and be specific!

After Tom said that, I don't know... Maybe I was more frustrated by that answer. Or maybe I was pissed that he'd changed his mind yet again. I don't know, but whatever it was, I felt the anger for Sadie. Tommy had just admitted to cheating on her, after all... with random girls... who weren't me. And that definitely meant he'd slept with them. Was that why he cheated on Sadie? For sex, something she wasn't giving? I slapped Tommy right across the face so hard his head half spun around like Linda Blair's in The Exorcist. "You _better_ be using protection! Because, so help me, _God_... Trojan, if my sister _catches_ something from you... I'll make it so you physically **can't** cheat on her anymore. Now, you _asshole_, she loves you! She **loves** you, and if you don't love her in the same way, you should just break it off with her... rather than going around behind her _back_ and having sex with every **slut** in Toronto!" I snarled threateningly, seeing red.

Tommy's first reaction was to flinch at my usage of his Boyz Attack! nickname. I found it fitting, though. Tommy stared at me in absolute surprise for a minute, in awe at my protective attitude towards my sister. I was surprised at myself too, but I didn't let that show. I meant it. I meant it, and that scared me. God, what was Sadie thinking? She deserves _way_ better! But Tommy knew he deserved every word, so he looked down guiltily. I wanted to say more, but I couldn't make the words come out. I could've sworn that Tommy muttered something under his breath about how if she caught an STD it wouldn't be his fault... And I almost smacked him across the face again. I would've, too, if he hadn't grabbed my arm. He looked up at me, and I suddenly knew that wasn't the worst part of the story.

I let my hand fall down half-heartedly, focusing my eyes on Tommy feverishly. My eyes stabbed into him until he finally decided that this tense silence we had going on wasn't worth it. He took a shallow breath and glanced up. His eyes met my flaming glare boldly and without flinching. His eyes turned frosty, and he pulled a bunch of condoms out of his pocket, tossing them into my lap. Wow. That was... um... a lot of condoms to keep in one's pocket. Jeez, how often a day does he cheat on Sadie, anyways? I raised an eyebrow at him, peering disgustedly at my lap. I didn't even want to touch them, afraid I'd catch a disease that way. After all, who knows where Tom's hands... and other parts, have been. Well, actually, I could tell you where the other part's been, but that'd be a bit graphic.

I felt sick to my stomach, disgusted at who this person I thought I knew was turning out to be. A flithy, dirty, cheating, liar! And I hate cheats and liars so. Tom smirked sort of bitterly at the grossed out look on my face, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "Always be prepared," He grunted darkly, without all the chipperness of a Boy Scout. I grimaced at the condoms in my lap, wrapped up all nice and tight like Christmas presents- and just as colorful. Anyone who has sex this much, I thought, should be castrated. I made a face, pushing the condoms off my lap with one hard shove.

Then I got an evil idea. I don't know what was going on in my head then, really... I don't. I just know that it was messed up, and I was so, so, so angry. I was livid and sleep-deprived and hot. My blood was boiling in my veins, and I wanted to do something drastic. So I did. I did something drastic and just a bit sadistic, but I wanted to make Tommy suffer. Badly. I rose quickly to my feet, picking up one of the condoms off the floor subtly. Although Tommy was watching me like a hawk, he didn't notice. Then, in one fell swoop, I cast off the blanket, and then I'd flown at him, straddling his lap in a fluid motion. My legs were on either side of his, and I had bent down as low as I could, so that we were touching just about everywhere. I wasn't thinking about anything at the time except messing with his head... as hard as that is to believe. I was too pissed to think about much else other than getting under his skin. I shoved Tommy back up against the window, writhing against him in all the wrong ways.

I had him exactly where I wanted him... wanting me. In short, he was in a very uncomfortable position, both for his neck and his back. His head and upper back were against the window itself, while his lower back and butt were on the ledge. I was on top of him, scantily clad and a little sweaty with my head brushing the ceiling. It was safe to say the discomfort was mutual. I stopped moving and grabbed him hard by the front of his jeans (trust me, you know what I mean), leaning in so close to his face that he could feel my breath on his face. He was literally in the palm of my hand now. I breathed hard, right in his face for affect, and leaned in a couple more millimeters so that my lips were almost brushing against his. I raised my eyebrows suggestively, showing him the condom in my hand. I practically shoved it in his face. Tommy's eyes went wide. I smirked viciously and flashed him a challenging look. "Prepared for _this_, Quincy?" I hissed huskily, grasping him tighter, painfully.

Tommy's eyes snapped shut and he moaned. Oh, he moaned like I have never heard him moan before. It was this raw, loud, completely primal, needy sound. As much as that sound completely drove me crazy and made me practically forget my name, I was utterly single-minded in my task. I still don't get how I refrained from doing something absurdly stupid then, given the way that moan still affected me and made my eyes half roll back in my head, but... I'm glad I did. Or else I could've nailed him right then and there. Of all the moments to have freakish self-control. I made out like I was going to kiss him, and just barely brushed my lips against his for the absolute briefest of moments. Then, just as fast as I had pounced on him, I hurtled away from him before he could deepen the brief kiss into some bruising, horribly passionate affair, releasing him from my clutches so suddenly he never saw it coming.

I smirked, tossing the condom at his forehead, and picking the blanket up off the floor. I chuckled, fixing the blanket and picking up the letters and shirt, which had fallen off my lap when I leapt up. I grinned sadistically at Tommy, running my nails down his cheek slightly painfully. "**Prepare** to make the Walk of Shame to the bathroom, Tommy, dear. You _really_ could **use** a cold shower," I remarked wickedly, beginning to laugh evilly. I began to walk down the stairs, holding my things delicately... so unlike how I'd been gripping Tommy only milliseconds before. But then I turned around, peering at the surroundings and finding myself unsatisfied. Much like Tommy, I suppose. I frowned disapprovingly, gesturing around the attic. "Oh, by the way... Clean up the mess you've made, you _dirty_ boy," I remarked bossily, sending him a mischievous look. I was being deliberately naughty, teasing him like this and all, but he **so** had it coming.

With that, I spun on my heel and sashayed victoriously down the stairs and out of the attic, leaving Tommy hot, bothered, embarrassed beyond belief, incredibly frustrated, and _terribly_ unfulfilled in my wake.

Poor Little Tommy Q. Oh, _what_ **will** he do? Boo hoo.

I smirked again and walked in my room, whistling that song I'd written over a week ago about him being a walking STD. It was about to go through some serious revisions. When I was done with it, I'd have scored myself another hit single. Hmm, I think this one has edgy alternative rock hit written all over it. Besides, I had to get dressed anyways, right? Don't know what Tommy'll do once he comes down, now do I?

I know what he wants to do... me, obviously... but he's an unpredictable guy. And, oh well, I guess he never got around to telling me what he did. Too bad, really, too bad. Literally, it probably was too bad for my virgin ears to hear. You know... It's fun, playing with Tommy. Seeing how _he_ likes it every once in a while. I mean, I did make him _moan_, after all. That's sure worth something. It's priceless, actually.

Guess I _do_ have an affect on him after all, eh?

I'd slipped off the blanket and was sort of lying there on my bed in my underwear, guitar in my lap. You know me... tempting fate at every turn. I meant to get dressed, really, I did. But I was feeling tired and lazy, so I was just sitting there, absentmindedly strumming. Tommy, of course, barged in the room, less than five minutes later. He was dripping wet and only wearing a towel. Guess he listened to my advice and took a cooold shower after all. Did I mention that he was _only_ wearing a towel? My throat immediately went dry when he entered the room. Tommy looked pissed... Actually, that's an understatement. I could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

I was still playing, but I was a bit caught up in my staring, so I was stunned when he charged up to me. He ripped the guitar out of my hands undelicately, sending it clattering to the floor. I was a bit worried about the safety of my guitar, but Tommy got real close, real fast. He pushed me back flat against the bed, sliding over me. He placed his hands on my hips, leaning forward. His eyes bored into mine, and I turned my head and shied away. I tried to push Tommy off, but he was a lot bigger and stronger than me. Tommy chuckled when I tried to push him away as if my resistance was just a joke. He buried his nose in the crook of my neck, and I felt the vibrations of his laughter against my throat. As comfy and cozy as this position was, I was still squirming. "Don't start things you're not prepared to finish," Tommy growled hungrily, eyes darting down to stare at my lips.

I gulped, and Tommy grinned wolfishly, leaning in to presumably try and kiss me. I put my hands against his chest, pushing him away. But Tommy didn't move away. He just held on to me tighter, pressing his lips against my throat. "Oh, come on, Jude... It's not like we haven't done this before. Wouldn't it be nice to do this when we're both completely sober?" Tommy muttered encouragingly, looking at me with a clouded look in his eyes. He knew I wouldn't say no to that look in his eyes. Of course, I had to. The whole thing sort of boggled my mind. I mean, Tommy propositioning me? What universe had I woken up in? "You and me... now that's something I'd like to remember," He murmured in a low, seductive tone. When he said that, _he_ was the only thing in the world I wanted to do right at that moment.

How could I say no to that? I mean, really! I have such crappy self-control, and Tommy knows that. It's not like his self-control's been much better lately. But, somehow, using up all the strength and willpower in my body, I pushed against Tommy. "Trojan, haven't you done _this_ before with every girl in the city?" I quipped irritably, finally shoving him off of me. Tommy's towel almost fell down. Key word being almost. It didn't. I was rather irked it didn't. I mean, Tommy's seen me naked. The jerk walked in on me showering... probably on purpose! Now, really, how is that fair? Tommy sat next to me on the edge of my bed. His still wet shoulder brushed against mine, and I almost lost it. I rocketed up from my seat, racking my brain to try and remember where I put that stash of Jamie's extra clothes.

What? He used to stay over here a lot when Nana had her Bingo Championships. And I slept over at his house a lot too, so I'd borrow some of his clothes and, yeah... I'm forgetful, so I never returned them. Plus they have that nice Jamie smell. All clean-cut and detergent-y. Now, I know there's something inherently wrong about giving Tommy Jamie's clothes to wear, but... If I don't get Tommy into some clothes right now, I think I'm going to lose it and screw his brains out. Which would not be good for anyone, despite how phenomenal it would feel at the time and... yeah. Better quit while I'm ahead.

As I hunted for Jamie's old clothes, I began to ponder where Tommy's clothes were. I didn't dare ask, mainly because I was afraid of the answer I'd get. But then I found the pair of Jamie's jeans and that old Sonic Youth t-shirt of his. Yeah, me and Jamers are mildly obsessed with punk rock. Didn't he make a Sonic Youth reference a while back? To Tommy, too? Oh, yeah... It was when they got all snippy over "24 Hours", wasn't it? Somebody told me about that. Don't remember who. Anyways, Tommy somehow managed to read my mind and answer the question I'd been thinking. "I came running down the stairs to find you and your _cousin_-" He began to explain, saying the word "cousin" with extreme disdain. He coughed politely. "Fiona threw me into the shower... clothes and all." His lip curled in hatred at the thought of my Tommy-hating cousin. I raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to believe him or not.

Might as well go with it. I just shrugged instead, throwing Tommy the clothes. "Well, then, Big Boy, get dressed!" I chirped, chucking the clothes at them. Smack! They hit him square in the face. Ah, those years playing baseball with Jamie did pay off. Seriously, I was on the boy's team. With Speed and Kyle and Wally and Jamie. Speed didn't even think I was a girl. I was _that_ much of a tomboy back then (though I did have long hair). Oh, and here's the best part: I could so kick all their asses. Especially Jamie's. But after the locker room incident, my parents, my teammates, and the coach didn't see fit to let me play with them anymore. They were just jealous that I had better aim. Psh.

Tommy grumbled about me treating him like he was twelve (second time I'd called him Boy that morning). But, hey, I get the whole "girl" thing every five minutes, so he should watch what he says. Tommy's eyes narrowed as he clutched the clothes. So far, he hadn't even looked at them. So I picked up a nifty pair of Jamie's Converse that I nicked a while ago and threw them at his face. Tommy managed to catch both of them. Damn. And his towel's still on. Damn. He gestured to me frustratedly. "Take your own advice. Seeing you walk around in your underwear is not helping my sanity!" He retorted angrily, eyes trailing up my form to prove his point. Just like Tommy being only a strip of fabric away from being completely naked drives me insane. Half of me wants to rip the damn thing off, throw him down on the floor, and have my way with him right then and there. The other half of me wants him to put on some more clothes and leave before we both do something we'll regret. I almost hit him, but then I decided it wasn't worth it. So I just sighed instead and turned back to my closet, wondering what the hell to wear.

I think I heard Tommy getting dressed behind me, but I just purposefully ignored it. I was looking for something cool, yet hot... Something nice. I wanted to wear something black, maybe. However, instead, I just put on the first clothes I could find, which happened to be a battered and frayed industrial-looking gray jean miniskirt I'd had for ages, as well as one of my favorite t-shirts. I was happy to find it, seeing as it had been lost for almost a year. It was the one I wore to that club Shay was performing at. You know, when I had to apologize and he singled me out. It's a black tanktop with with bright pink lettering at the top and this hot pink planet right in the middle of it. The word "Stardust" is written underneath it in shiny capital letters, and then there's little stars branching off of it everywhere. Bad Shay memories aside, I am really fond of this shirt.

Anyways, so Tommy suddenly decided to lay it on me what horrible thing he'd done. I was just standing there, putting in a pair of earrings, and he spoke. "Jude... I... I cheated on Sadie last night, but... that's not the worst part," Tommy began hesitantly. I removed the earring in frustration, whirling around to find him fully dressed and sitting on my bed. Jamie's clothes were a little long and almost skin-tight on Tommy. I felt a smile curling on my lips in spite of myself. Remind me to thank Jamers later. I wanted to scream at him about what he could've done that made it even worse than it already was, but I was coming up with nothing.

I motioned annoyedly for Tommy to go on, trying to put in my earring properly. Tommy glanced down, nervously running a hand through his wet hair. I rolled my eyes at him, concentrating on getting the blasted earring in the hole. It wasn't rocket science. Tommy bit his lip, a frown forming on his face. Lines of worry were deepening in his forehead. He sighed very, very slowly and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Feeling foolish, Tommy shut his mouth a few minutes later, biting down so hard on his bottom lip that he drew blood. "I had sex with Ruby," He said in one breath. The words came out as a low, fast, blurred whisper.

At first, I thought I heard him wrong and decided to write it off. Then I decided that I might as well ask. Could he be talking about Chaz' Ruby? If so, then... why? How? And, most importantly, why tell me! I gaped at him slightly incredulously. "Excuse me, did you just say that you had **sex** with _Ruby_! As in Ruby, the love of Chaz' **life**, _Ruby_!" I inquired desperately, looking in the murky depths of Tommy's eyes. I was still trying to put in the earring, so it came to me as no surprise when I stabbed myself in the ear after he nodded, unable to look at me. I screamed in pain and ripped the earring out, haphazardly chucking it behind me and advancing upon poor Tommy. "I **cannot** believe you! How could you **do** that to Chaz? He's your best friend, practically a brother to you! And... _this_ is how you repay him? By **screwing** the love of his _freaking_ life! He's _still_ in love with her! And Tommy, a love like that only comes around _once_ in a lifetime! How could you ruin it for him like that? That is messed up!" I shouted, throwing my hands in the air and feeling violent.

Tommy winced but didn't say anything. I guess it was safer that way. My language was a little more rife with curses and words that you can't print, but that's basically what I said. Tommy looked down miserably, but he said nothing more about it. That frustrated me. He could admit to having done it, but he was making no efforts to explain or try and fix it. He looked completely wretched and guilt-ridden, but he deserved it. "She was the mother of his _child_, Tommy! You don't _mess_ with that! God! How... How could you **ever** explain this? How could you possibly make such a **colossal** _mistake_?" I shrieked in a high-pitched voice. I didn't care, though. Tommy deserved it, every word. However, when I mentioned Ruby being the mother of Chaz' child, Tommy looked stricken. He was acting like he completely didn't know. Yeah, right.

I rolled my eyes at him, awaiting an explanation. I think I deserved at least that. Chaz too. Aw, man. They're going to get in a fight and kill people. Namely themselves. And what if Tommy doesn't tell Chaz? He's my friend too, so... who am I obligated to? Tommy sighed and still didn't look at me, but eventually, he began to speak. Tommy sighed heavily, rising from my bed, placing his hands fully in his pockets. His fingers twitched, yearning for a cigarette. He forced himself to exhale again, as if he was making up for his missing smokes. "I was the only one Chaz ever told about Ruby. I knew all about them. Not from the beginning, but Chaz confided in me about her. I wound up being the guy that helped them plan dates and get her parents out of the way. I covered for Chaz and made up excuses. It was going great, actually, for a while... The little system that we had. But that all changed on Chaz' 18th birthday. I was supposed to be covering his ass that night, and ensuring that her parents were occupied... but I just slacked the watch that one night. I thought, oh, what could it hurt? And **that** was the night they got caught. So it's _my_ fault that they got torn apart and that Chaz almost wound up in jail. And that's something I've had to live with for over five years," Tommy began, looking terribly guilty.

Okay, that I could understand. All of it. But not how that has anything to do with him having sex with her! It's not his fault Chaz got caught. It's Chaz' fault for not being able to wait a couple years until she was 14. It's Chaz's fault for not being able to keep it in his pants. It's her parents' fault for not watching her close enough and coming home early. And, finally, it's Ruby's own fault for nailing the guy in her own home. But it is _not_ Tommy's fault. Tommy massaged his temples, snapping his eyes shut. He bowed his head and slowly opened his eyes. His eyes were a soft, remorseful blue. I wanted to forgive him, really I did... but I couldn't. Not yet. "After he got out of the lawsuit, we started fighting... and eventually the band broke up. We hated each other, so we didn't talk, period. That is, until he OD'd. I owed Chaz my life, and I got the chance to repay the favor. Chaz called me, me of all people, and I saved his life. I knew Ruby had dumped him, but I also knew that he was still in love with her. Chaz wasn't doing well. He was in a coma, and they weren't sure if he'd make it. I knew Ruby would want to be there with him, so she could at least say goodbye... just in case he died. So I called her up. We'd kept in touch over the years every now and then. I would give her Chaz information and help her out a little. I felt like I owed her. And when I told her about him being in the hospital, she was there in less than 24 hours. She stayed with him all night... not sleeping and not eating. Just praying and holding his hand," Tommy explained, a sad, soft look appearing in his eyes.

He looked like he almost knew what heartbreak felt like. I didn't know Chaz was in a coma. Wow. He's lucky to be alive. You know, sometimes I think Tom sells himself short. If it weren't for him, Chaz would definitely be dead right now. A deeply troubled, guilty look passed across Tommy's face and stayed there. "I cursed her out, told her he'd be better off without her. I said that Chaz was moving on with his life and that she'd ruin that for him. I made her go away and promise to never see him again, but before she left she made me _promise_ to tell him she loved him. Chaz woke up a few hours after she left, too. And I... I didn't even tell him she'd stopped by. Her name was the first thing he said... and I didn't say anything," Tommy mumbled shamefully, glancing down.

I lashed out at him immediately. I shouldn't have. I understand being protective of your friends. But there Tommy was, breaking promises to girls again. And I was maybe a teensy bit pissed with him. I'm always vaguely mad at Tommy. That's why he has to flirt with me so much. I can't be mad at him if I'm swooning. But, you know, I so got the best revenge on him upstairs. That was so worth it. I completely had him going. "How do you justify _that_, Tom? You probably crushed the poor girl by telling her that... and it wasn't even the **truth**!" I shouted back, suddenly wondering why I was picking a fight with Tommy.

Oh, yeah!

He did the deed with Ruby!

Tommy's eyes blazed determinately, and he clenched his fists tightly. His face was flushed, his posture defiant. He wanted me to back down and probably calm down... but I stood my ground. "I _had_ to protect my friend. I couldn't let him go down that road and get hurt again. Chaz needed to get his own life together and forget about her. I knew Chaz wasn't what was best for her either... a girl like that who had her **whole** life in front of her. She needed to love a guy her _own_ age and be a teenager for once. Chaz and I had both been forced to grow up so fast, and that was the whole problem. It was what was best for everyone," Tommy swore vehemently, firmly. I understood his reasoning. I even thought his looking out for Chaz was sweet. But Ruby was good for Chaz, to say the least. And if they loved each other... Love can overcome all obstacles.

One little problem, though. While that does justify breaking them up, it doesn't justify nailing her. Really, I'd like to see him justify that! I was seething, images of Tommy and the Ruby I'd seen in the picture last night flashing in my head. She was so much younger in the picture, too. It was nauseating, just getting those pictures stuck in my mind. Sure, I knew Ruby didn't look like that anymore. She was a year older than me, though. Just one year and a few months. He's such a hypocrite! "She's seven_teen_, Tommy! What were you _thinking_! That's only a year older than **me**!" I screamed, throwing my hands in the air and making some sort of gesture. I said the number exactly as Tommy would, stressing the last syllable. I wanted to hurt him, to slap him around a little... but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

But I think more was said in my silence than what I actually said.

The words I really wanted to say remained unspoken. I didn't dare to even mumble them. They were too true, too raw, too painful to utter. Too pathetic. Why her, Tommy? Why her and not me? Why her? What does Ruby have that I don't? Why not me?

I got up in Tom's face about it. "_She's_ not illegal!" Tom shouted back suddenly. That one hurt. I recoiled, feeling the sting. He's right. She isn't... and I am. It's not even an age thing, either. It's the fact that Tommy's my producer. That, right there, is the problem. If he wasn't my producer...

But then again, if he wasn't my producer, we'd probably never have met in the first place.

And, as much as this situation sucks... I don't think I could handle never meeting Tommy.

Things would be so different. My music would probably sound completely different... not as good. I most certainly wouldn't have written about half of my album. And I'd be different, too. I'd be less confident. I really don't think I could've made it through everything without Tommy there to give me advice and reassure me. I know I would've never done that concert at my school, for instance.

And not just my career. If Tommy hadn't been producing me, I'd have never met Shay. If Tommy wasn't my producer... I would've never fallen in love with him. And I would've never known what this intensity of feeling is like to experience. How crazy it is, being in love!

So, as much as I curse ever meeting him, and wish that he wasn't my producer... so that none of this would've happened to me...

The truth is...

It was worth it. Every painful, frustrating second of it... was completely worth it.

I assure you I'll deny that in about two seconds, but deep down, I'll always know that it's true.

I forced myself to not show the pain. Stay on the offensive. I glowered at him, fighting the urge bubbling up in me to punch him. I clenched my fists, letting myself get carried away in the rage. I don't think I quite knew what was going on, to tell the truth. I was so furious I wasn't seeing straight. "That doesn't make it any less **wrong** than it is, Tommy! Now, I want to hear _why_ you did it. How did it all happen, Tom? C'mon, tell me! I can handle the truth!" I shouted back, determined to find out exactly what he was hiding. There had to be a reason for all this. There had to be a good reason he slept with Ruby. There just... there had to be. Wait... why did I want to know? I get the feeling I'm just setting myself up here for some serious hurting time.

Tommy sighed frustratedly, dragging his hand down his face. He groaned irritably and sat down on my bed. He leaned forward a bit and glanced up at me. I placed my hands on my hips, giving him an impatient look, not taking my eyes off of him. Tommy looked away quickly, and I noticed his eyes darting all around the room. Was he going to lie to me? Or was he just so ashamed of himself that he didn't want to tell me? He finally forced himself to look back up at me, eyes filled with bitterness. He clearly did not want to tell me, but he was going to do it anyways because it was what _I_ wanted. Wow. _That_ has to be a first. "Fine," He spat bitingly. His eyes were dark and stormy, irritation pervading their depths. "After what happened last night..." He began, shooting me a meaningful look. So it was about me. "I was feeling a little frustrated. So I went out and got _completely_ wasted," Tommy confessed darkly. I was the cause of Tommy's frustration. How juvenile to blame it on me.

Ah, that explains the attitude. Tommy's hungover. I rolled my eyes and nodded for him to continue on. "And so I get home and Ruby's there, in the lobby, waiting for me. Her and Chaz used to use my house as a little lovenest, so she knew where the spare key was," Tommy explained shortly, pausing as if trying to remember exactly how it had happened. Hey, wait... That means Ruby's back in town. Uh oh. Tommy bit his lip, letting out a soft breath. "And she wanted Chaz. She said she'd gone over to his place. Saw him with another girl. He doesn't want me anymore, she says to me. She starts crying. I'm damaged goods, she says. No one wants me," He said distantly, mimicking Ruby's heartbroken tone.

I glared daggers at Tommy. "_You_ sure did," I snarled venemously, pointing at him accusingly. This wasn't just a betrayal to Chaz and Sadie. This was a betrayal to _me_. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe I was the girl she'd seen going over to Chaz' place. No... There's no maybe about it. She had to have seen me. Only I wasn't even really touching Chaz, let alone making out with him. Conclusion-jumping much? Tommy swallowed hard and looked down guiltily. Good. Nice to see that he feels it.

He let out another tense breath and forced himself to meet my glance. I was impressed at his determination. Tommy obviously thought I at least deserved the truth. "Like I said, I was wasted. She was crying and... I didn't know what to do," He conceded wearily. Of course he's tired. They were probably going at it all night. After all, he was wasted, right? I felt a sudden surge of envy and forced myself to quash it.

"So you did what you _do_ best," I sneered, disgusted with him. Tommy's eyes darkened, and an offended, pissed-off look crossed his face. But he didn't say one damn word. He couldn't. After all, I was right. He couldn't deny that. He could, however elaborate. Not that I wanted him to.

He was firm and unyielding in his reply. "So I kissed her... because she was a _wreck_, and I didn't know what the hell to do about it. And she kissed me back and then..." Tommy continued, trying to emphasize how messed up the both of them were. That wasn't going to work on me. Excuses, excuses. I didn't want to have it all unfolding like a picture in my head... Tommy screwing Little Ruby. The thought disturbed me.

I chose wisely to interrupt yet again, feeling sickened. "Spare me the details, Quincy," I spat viciously. Sometimes, being blunt is good. Like now, when I didn't want to hear about Tommy's sex life. It came out unusually harsh, and, well, that was perfect. Just as I intended. I paused, wrapping my arms around my middle. "So, was she good?" I asked coldly, looking Tommy straight in the eye. He gave me a blank look, like he didn't know what I was talking about. He did, of course. He was just trying to be cagey and not give me an answer. So I asked again. "Was Little Ruby McCartney _good_ in bed, Tommy? Did you **enjoy** having sex with her?" I said clearly, taking care to enunciate any word. Why was I asking him this? Was I some sort of sick masochist who liked inflicting pain on her psyche? I stared at Tommy, a dead look in my eyes. "Did she give you an orgasm?" I taunted hollowly, a sick smile spreading across my face at the look on his.

Tommy looked shocked I'd even asked him such a question. He's really got to stop thinking I'm so virginal. Or he'll be sorely disappointed. I realized how conflicting I'd just been there. I told him I didn't want details, then pressed him for the most intimate ones. At first, he appeared to be at a loss and unable to answer. Typical Tommy. But then his searching eyes came back up to greet mine. I saw an emotion I couldn't decipher there in those cerulean depths. I said nothing. There was nothing left for me to say. I'd asked him a question, and it was time to see if he was actually going to answer me.

Tommy's brow was furrowed up with worry or some emotion, I guess. His lips were pursed and almost white, pinched into a thin, tight line. He looked oddly serious and... old. And then his eyes were wide and tempestuous. He seethed, color rising to his face. I was afraid. "You have no right to ask me that," He began tersely, eyes narrowing in anger. Too bad, Quince. 'Cause I'm asking. I fixed him with a look. Pansy. Then Tommy licked his lips and came in a little closer to me. "To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't exactly thinking about that. It wasn't like that with me and Ruby. We both wanted someone else. Someone else who was, at that moment, for all intents and purposes... completely unattainable. I wasn't thinking of Ruby for more than two seconds. She wanted Chaz and I... wanted something I couldn't have. And she was as close as I could come to getting it. So I took advantage of the opportunity and screwed my eyes shut. I closed my eyes and pretended... that she was someone else. And that was exactly what she was doing. All I knew was that I was frustrated beyond belief and craving something I couldn't... no, _shouldn't_... have. It was easier that way. So I wouldn't really know about **Ruby** being good in bed or **Ruby** giving me an orgasm... if you really wanna know, ask Chaz or find out on your own... because in my mind, she wasn't _really_ Ruby at all. She was just a means to an end. A way of getting some version, however twisted and perverted, of what I really wanted. But sometimes you have to take the next best thing... the cheap imitation... because the real thing would kill you. And the girl I was thinking of... Ruby wouldn't even compare," Tommy stated honestly.

I felt almost offended for Ruby... but she had done the same thing. She'd just pretended he was Chaz. Not that Tommy could ever, ever be mistaken for Chaz. But Tommy and Ruby... that was just twisted. I mean, I know they swapped girls back when boybands ruled the earth, but come on... You just _don't_ do that with the love of your best friend's life. At least in polite company. Then again, I suppose Tommy isn't quite polite company. He does tend towards the amoral.

But still, as apalled and furious and outraged as it was... I was still curious. And I wondered... if Tommy wasn't thinking of Ruby when they... then who was he thinking of?

I couldn't say much of anything after that. I couldn't really think. My mind was still dwelling on what Tommy said. Who was that girl? It couldn't be Sadie. Or Ruby. And I'm going to go with a hunch and say it's not E.J., Georgia, or Portia. Which leaves about no one that I actually know. Still pondering this over, I made Tommy leave my room. I didn't even want to look at him. He was so dirty. I sat back down on my bed for a few moments, trying to clear my mind so I could properly look after my cousins.

And that's when the memory flew at me. Well, that's not right at all. It more like... smacked me in the face. I suddenly remembered meeting Tommy. Ah, let's see... Sadie won this Boyz Attack! Trivia contest, so she won two tickets and backstage passes to the very last concert on the infamous World Tour. She'd been originally planning to go with a friend... I mean, it was all Sadie had talked about for weeks! However, at the very last moment, Mom and Dad dropped the bomb on her that she'd have to watch me since they were going out on a date. Naturally, Sadie was pissed. She whined and moped about it.

And then it seemed like Sadie had accepted it. However, this was just a clever ruse on Sadie's part, for you see... Sadie had a plan. Sadie always has a plan, I tell you. She's about as devious as Chaz was back during the Boyz Attack!ing. Then again, if I was conducting an illegal affair and trying to deal with Tommy at the height of his ego-tripping, obnoxiously arrogant, manwhore, boy-drama days... I'd probably adapt to employ some sneaky techniques of my own. Well, actually... Considering that Tommy's on the verge of his own solo career... And conducting a relationship... even the bizarre one we currently have... is rather... illegal. So I guess I'm not really that far off. Anyhow, so Sadie called up her friend and cancelled.

I was listening to their conversation, and damn, was that chick a bitch. She called me so many names. Seriously. Bitch. That's why she and Sadie are friends, you know. Sadie then proceeded to hang up on her mid-conversation, and ran upstairs to get ready. After all... she only had six hours. Mind you, she was only fourteen then. Actually, she was fourteen and a half. Considering it was actually somewhere around this time four years ago, I myself was pretty close to thirteen. But anyways, back to the story.

Now, Sadie's big plan was to take me with her. Watch me and watch the once-in-a-lifetime concert. Best of both worlds. Of course, she didn't bank on me not wanting to go. I not only not wanted to go, but I detested the mere idea of doing so. I'd just had my heart broken about a week previous, so I wasn't feeling in the mood to go out anywhere... least of all a cheesy boyband concert. They'd be singing sappy love songs and reminding me of what I was missing. All these years, and it still hurts to think of it.

He was in Sadie's grade, and before you think that's completely out of my reach... I actually wasn't too bad looking. But I'll get into that later. I can't even think his name. It hurts too much. He and Sadie were friends, so he hung out at the house. We actually did talk a lot. This was before I was exactly a real courageous girl. I'd liked him for ages, but one day, I decided to actually do something about it. I cornered him, and we had a brief conversation. I think I might've tried to kiss him, but he... He didn't let me.

I remember exactly what he said to me. How could I ever forget? I could tell he was trying to be nice about it, too. That's what really killed me. I knew he was trying. And I knew that it wasn't that he wasn't interested. I'd seen the way he looked at me sometimes.

_It's not that I'm not interested, really. If you were a few years older, things would be different. But you're not older, and that's the problem. You're way too young for me, Jude. I need to date someone my own age. And you shouldn't be dating anyone... not yet. You're still too young for any of that. **Look** at you, you're still a tomboy! I need a girl. A **real** one._

I felt like somebody had punched me in the stomach when he said that. _We're just too different. I want different things than you do. You don't want a guy like me, trust me._ I hate it when people try and tell me what I want. After all, who knows what I want better than me? _You're not experienced enough for me. And I **don't** want to be the one to do that for you. I'm not **that** kind of guy. Face it, Jude. You're just too young. I need a **woman**, Jude, and **you're** just a girl._

_It's just a crush. You'll get over it. Time heals all wounds._

My ass. What the hell did he know? Damn, he was such a jerk. He said more, I'm sure, but his words kept echoing and rebounding in my head. It was even interfering with my sleep. Sadie came down about two hours before the concert, all dolled up and dressed to the nines. She looked fabulous. And, true to Harrison family tradition, she looked a lot older than she really was. Sadie was stick-thin back then, so her chest was completely out-of-proportion to the rest of her. Seriously. She had men all over her like flies on honey.

I was all mopey and wearing black clothes (had been for a week solid), and so Sadie decided that I wasn't befitting of going to a concert dressed like that. Especially if she had to spend it with me. That was back in the days where she claimed I was her second-cousin. She took it upon herself to make me over. I was feeling horrible, so I didn't protest. Sadie put about twelve pounds of make-up on me, and I definitely looked a lot older. She also had me in a red bustier-style top, a _short_, black leather miniskirt, and just about the tallest red stilleto heels I'd ever seen in my life. Where Sadie got such promiscuous clothing is really beyond me. I don't get how Dad allowed it. Bet it was the good grades.

Sadie obviously couldn't drive, so she paid for a taxi. With Mom and Dad's money. That made me smile, even though she was dragging me to a Boyz Attack! concert. Since she was taking me to a Boyz Attack! concert, I needed all the smiles I could get. I never would've enjoyed it anyways. I remember standing there, gazing vacantly up at the stage. I was so bored. I barely listened to the words at all. I hated their songs. So I barely noticed when the concert ended, that is... until Sadie dragged me backstage with her. I then found myself concentrating on standing up and walking with everything in me. These nice security guards led us back to where the band was after we flashed our passes.

I was trailing Sadie rather slowly, so I saw her go in the room. I peered through the open doorway, glancing at the band. J.P. was sitting in a chair, and had one girl on each leg. He was grinning like an idiot, and one of the girls was moaning as his hand slowly disappeared up her skirt. Bruno was doing something decidedly illegal, which is kinda funny, since he's not the one who's actually from the ghetto. I'm not quite sure, but he had a beer and a cigarette in one hand, and he popped a few pills that looked like ecstasy. That disheartened me a little, but it was to be expected. Most musicians do drugs at some point, after all.

The one guy who's name I can never remember... you know, the blond one? I just call him Jojo, for lack of a better name. He wasn't wearing a shirt, actually. He was just sort of sitting on a couch and reading a book. I think he was one of the better, more religious guys. Or something. I dunno. Maybe he's gay. Tommy wasn't there. Chaz was keyed up and pacing the room, probably because of Tommy being there. I think he was already high. The man stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Sadie, let me tell you. That's when I decided that I probably wasn't fit to see what was going on in that room, so I turned around and decided to find a guitar. I bet they'd have the really expensive equipment here.

I wound up wandering into this sort of equipment room. And there it was, that beautiful guitar. A gorgeous gold Gibson Les Paul Custom. I was practically salivating at the sight of it. Gibsons are expensive, lemme tell you. A Gibson SG, for instance, runs at least $1200. So this was pretty much the only time I was going to get to see a Gibson, let alone play one. I walked up to it with an almost godlike reverence, picking it up and adjusting the strap over my shoulder. I plugged it into an amp and started to play. "_I don't want a **lecture**! I've had **enough**..._" I began powerfully.

I nodded my head to the beat, spinning around in a circle. I felt exhilarated... like a real rockstar! "What the _hell_ do you mean my guitar is gone! Guitars don't just **get** up and walk away! So either _you_ slacked on watching it or it was stolen and you failed to report it to me. Either way, if I don't get that guitar back by the end of this night... You're **fired**!" I heard a man shout angrily. He sounded so cocky and condescending. Where does he get off judging that poor guy. It vaguely occurred to me that I was maybe playing the guitar in question, but I ignored it. I was playing it now, and that was all that mattered.

That jerk can get over himself. "**Jeez**, man... _cool_ it! You can use your red Fender. It's not like you haven't used it before. And, c'mon, man, you know it sounds better with the Strat anyways," His friend remarked, trying to pacify his big-egoed buddy. His friend sort of grunted irritably but found the guitar and hooked it up anyways. He didn't sound happy, but... Some people just need to suck it up and realize that you can't always get what you want. Like I told Tommy earlier.

I'd pretty much stopped playing, and I was just sort of doing a low strum on the guitar. Gibsons are waay better than Fenders. Hand-made and not bolted and semi-hollow... I could go on for a while. But Fenders are cheaper. I could go on and on, but we're not talking about me. We're talking about when I met Tommy. Admittedly, I was listening in to their argument. What can I say? Prima donnas arguing was always fun. "Look, I know you're an engineer, but don't talk about sound like you know it until you've actually _produced_ something. Now just shut up and play the drums like you're supposed to," His irascible comrade growled.

Yikes. I felt a surge of pity for the guy, having the feeling that this argument could get ugly fast. So this guy's a producer with a superiority complex. Got it. Hmm, wait... a producer. Meeting the right producer can really jumpstart a career in the music business... "_You think you're so **tiiight**!_" I sang loudly, playing the same chords. I couldn't help but smile. It sounded heavenly.

Unfortunately for me, the two supposed gentlemen started to argue, once again in front of (and possibly... over) me. If it was really about the guitar I was holding in my hands like I thought it was. "Wow, you're **so** much more experienced than me," His friend sniped, obviously fed up with his buddy's egotistical attitude. "Darius let you produce **one** song, and you think you're all that. Well, you're _not_, man. All those hours I spent in the studio at your beck and call were so not worth it."

Ouch. Someone just got burned. I should've known then who it was. Darius... everyone knew he managed them. That should've been a dead-on sign. But I was twelve and stupid, so I didn't. "You'd think you'd at least be _decent_ after spending so long in the studio... but I guess not," The prima donna retorted coolly. So he said he was a bad engineer, then. Yikes. This was getting vicious fast.

Well, whatever. I won't worry about their little problems. "Ahem. _You think you're so **tough**!_" I sang brightly, shaking my head at the irony. There was a territorial pissing contest going on in the room next to me. Or something like that, anyways. That's the name of a Nirvana song, you know... I could feel the anger rising in the next room. I was still so amazed that I was there... playing my song... on a Gibson! I was ecstatic.

And even those arguing losers in the next room couldn't ruin it for me. In case you haven't already figured it out... The other guys in the room with Tommy Dearest were Kwest and Boyz Attack!'s road manager, Jean. Just thought I'd explain that. "You know, man, I used to think Chaz was wrong about you. I used to think that he was just jealous... but now I get why he hates you. You're a prima donna, and I'm the one who was too dumb to believe him," Kwest growled. He sounded like he was about to punch Tom.

Of course, Tom would've kicked his ass. Kwest knew that, so he didn't provoke him. So he settled for calling Tommy a prima donna. One of many things Tommy hates being called. I mean, I saw Chaz call him that back at the telethon, remember? It wasn't pretty. That's the thing about Tommy... He doesn't usually start fights, but if you give him the opportunity... He'll pounce on it. "Oh, yeah. Chaz is a _real_ moral compass... what, with the screwing underage girls and everything," He snorted disdainfully. I could tell by his tone that he was rolling his eyes. At Chaz. Not that Tommy's really much better himself. I mean, he did twice the screwing as Chaz did... Mmkay, like four times... infinity... googleplex. I think I snickered at that comment. Then Tom just got conceited about it. "He _is_ jealous of me. Jealous of me for being a better dancer, better singer, and better looking... not to mention better in the sack," He declared boldly, self-righteously.

Yes, Tom, but Chaz is also about ten times less likely to get an S.T.D. and die than you are. And, come on, is it really worth it? Back then, though... phew. Tommy was having girls everyday, anytime, anywhere and everywhere. "Girls, Girls, Girls" was practically his theme song back then. They play that a lot in strip clubs, too. Tom practically lived in strip clubs. I mean, where else to go when you're missing home like crazy and looking for a little comfort? "**Augh**! Can't they shut up already! _You wanna change my **world**, say that you know better!_" I sang slightly distractedly. Without even noticing it, I'd nearly doubled my volume. Oops.

All artists have their own pre-show preparation methods. I, for instance, throw up when I'm really nervous. Tommy and the Boyz were no exception to this. Take Chaz, for example. He had this one picture of Ruby that he'd stare at for a long while before the show. After he was finished staring like a stalker, he would do a pinch or two of coke. And then he was on the top of the world and completely ready to do a show. Bruno had to steal something, even something small, pre-show. It gave him the best adrenaline rush. The blondie had to go vomit (he was anorexic/bulimic), and J.P. had to pop a few energy pills. Tommy, on the other hand, performed remarkably sober. Except for towards the end of the tour, when he had to get a buzz to force himself to do the performances at all. But that's not really his way of preparing for a new show. Tommy's way of preparing was by nailing as many girls as he possibly could as fast as he possibly could.

He actually saw a lot of action. I mean, crazy amounts! There was a girl before breakfast, then one for the shower, then one for breakfast, then a brunch girl, then there was his lunch order, which was followed up by his after-school snack, then there was the girl who he had tea with (although I should really say that the girl had _T_, now shouldn't I?), then there was his appetizer, then the entree for dinner, and finally, dessert. You would really think he'd stop there, wouldn't you? I mean, it was insane, really... One had to wonder how he wasn't sore! That was followed up with a dozen post-concert hook-ups, one for the couch, one for the road, another for the hot tub, a pack of them at the club, a carefully selected nightcap (gives a whole new meaning to cocktail, now doesn't it?), a midnight snack and... finally... one to take to bed. What a busy, busy guy he was then. I mean, of course, that was the way Tommy wanted it and would have it on an ideal day. Key word being ideal. People like the Boyz, Portia, and, especially, Darius thwarted his plans. Darius really knows how to ruin your chances for getting laid.

While I was playing, my comrade in the other room had stopped... obviously because he'd heard a noise... a.k.a. me... and gets a bit distracted. I'm not sure which one stopped, Tom or Kwest, but one did for sure. Tommy, however, must've disregarded it because he started up again. What can I say? Tommy moves fast. "Save it! Now, come on... One, two, three! _'Cause I'm **frooozen**..._" He began.

If you think about it, "Frozen" is such a self-absorbed song. With that thought in mind, me thinking about the stranger's gigantic ego, I shook my head, boosting the volume. The song sounded so much better electric. "_Better look in the mirror, take **another** guess!_" I screeched passionately, smiling to myself.

He obviously heard me because he started over. Again. This time, there was a slight tinge of frustration in his voice. It'd be impossible to say that the frustration was directed at me. Tommy was a pretty pissed off guy back in the day. I think he married Portia just to spite Darius. Poor Portia. He was actually married to her at this date, sadly enough. I don't think she was touring with them, or else Tom would've really been unsatisfied. "Okay. One, two, three! _'Cause I'm frozen, under a mountain of ice..._" He started once again.

I rolled my eyes. The song was sort of catchy, though, damn it. I like Tommy's version better than my own. It's all punchy and angry. It's a wonderful song, despite what Darius said. Darius is an idiot. Hence the making out with the similarly-minded Paulina. My version's slow and acoustic and... kinda depressing. It's funny, really. Both of our versions are about Tommy. And both of them are right, too. "_Your nuclear reaction..._" I called out, once again boosting the volume a notch.

Tommy went on wailing like he didn't hear me, but there was a strain in his voice. Not a strain from effort, more of an irate, tired one. He could probably hear me, but was forcing himself to ignore it. But he still heard it and it completely rubbed him the wrong way. "_I am a **straanger** to my own life! But I am **frozen**..._" He bellowed, forcing himself to concentrate. Some of us have to work a little harder.

Being ignored pissed me off. I wanted them to hear me. I wanted to see how loud I could go. So, a defiant grin forming on my face, I pushed the amp right up against the wall facing the room. Like I did with Shay. Then I turned it up. "_A minor **distraction**!" _I screamed boldly, hitting an impressive range of notes.

Tommy's response was quick, and even more irritated. I'd just barely finished singing when his words cut in. His anger was growing, and I wondered how long it would take for him to explode. I bet he won't even make it through the chorus. "_I turn away from the **sun**!_" He sang louder, lips flat against the microphone. It really was a discordant sort of sound, but I liked it all the more, no matter how strange, gritty, and unpleasant it was. I nodded in admiration.

I liked the song, yeah... But that didn't mean I was backing down. I grinned evilly._"Your positive is **negative**... There's no **attraction**!_" I hissed, a vicious smile lighting up my face. I was completely in my element there. And I was absolutely loving it.

The music stopped on his side for a minute, and I blasted a riff in victory. At least, what I thought was victory. Tom seemed weakened, unwilling to start up again. So he stopped and had an argument that I could not really hear over the hum of my guitar. But he eventually stepped back towards the mike, conceding to his friend. "Yeah, you're right... Okay... One, two, three, four! _I have my **reasons**, but I just need **one**!_" He growled energetically, starting up so fast I could barely comprehend it.

Okay, he wants a challenge, I'll give him one. I boosted the volume a final time. "_**Push** me, **pull** you! Oh, I can see right through you!_" I screamed at the top of my lungs. Bring it on. I was ready to face the music.

To his credit, he didn't back down any. In fact, it seemed as if he'd boosted his own volume and sped up his tempo. "_The Ice Age is melting away!_" He howled, throwing all of himself into it. He backed away from the mike then, spent and panting. I think that's the first time he's ever been like that when he isn't having sex. Kudos, Tom. The song was actually the sort of song that had a tempo that emphasized his point. It was a fiery, action-inspiring song. Like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song. What, you didn't watch that when you were little? And not the crappy new one. The good old one. Da-da-da-da... Turtle POWER!

I played a lot of arcade games in my youth. Anyways, despite the amazing performance and everything (he was still strumming, only quietly this time)... I was determined. I'm gonna make him break. "_Get over there, boy! Mover, shaker..._" I taunted back mockingly with an extra relish or two.

Tom just up and stopped playing right then and there. He couldn't take it anymore. I think it was that indirect order in the last line. There was a clatter as he set the guitar up in a stand indelicately. He was too irked to bother with precision. "Okay, that's **it**! This is just an insult! Not only is my practice being interrupted, but they're using my _own_ guitar! Now, excuse me, I have to go kick some guitar-stealing ass!" Tom exclaimed angrily, racing towards the door.

I was quick because I knew he was just about to burst in on me and shatter my little illusion of being a real rockstar. Comes from years of living with Sadie and her bitching at me to "turn down that crap" or "stop playing that racket, I can't concentrate!". Such a buzzkill, that one. I mean, is it my fault that she hates Nirvana and Green Day and Rancid? No, I didn't think so. I mean, jeez, it's not my fault that she has no musical taste whatsoever. "_Learn to be a **giver**, not a **taker**!_" I finished, jumping in the air, doing a bit of a spin, then jumping up again. It was really a beautiful work of choreography.

My hair was flaring around me like a shiny banner, blown in every direction. I landed on my feet, well, my tiptoes actually. I was then pitched forward on my feet and wound up landing on my knees, sliding somewhat forward on them. And then I stabilized myself and played that final chord... and He walked in. The room immediately got frosty. Despite the fact that the guy before me was literally one of the numerous life-sized pictures on my sister's bedroom wall, I didn't recognize him whatsoever. He was pretty pissed when he came in there. "What the **hell** do you think you're doi-" He screeched irritably. Then he got a good look at me and changed tone. "Oh... Why, _hello_ there," He replied flirtatiously.

Another thing you need to understand about me... Like Sadie, I also looked pretty old for my age. I looked at least 14, maybe 15. The only difference was that I was a bit skinnier back then. That and the fact that Sadie's chest was always a lot bigger than mine. Not that I was flatchested. I just wasn't Sadie. Plus then there's the fact that she'd loaded me up with more make-up than a ten-dollar whore. Not to mention my skintight, risque clothes that exposed a lot more skin than I was comfortable with. Lucky for her that I happen to be blessed with a great pair of legs. I looked quite old indeed.

I swear to you, the man batted his eyelashes at me. I just blinked, realizing the weakness of my position, and attempted to get to my feet. Surprisingly enough, Tommy grabbed me by the hands and helped me to my feet. To tell the truth, I probably would've floundered around for about an hour if he hadn't helped me. Unlike my sister, I was not accustomed to spike heels. His hands were calloused like mine, yet softer than I thought they'd be. I immediately jerked my hands away from his. My mama told me never to talk to strangers, after all. "_Who_ are you?" I sniped condescendingly. I figured I might as well give him a taste of his own medicine.

He grinned at me like he thought that was some incredibly witty comment. You have to give Tommy points for being cordial. I wasn't even attempting to be polite about it. Then again, I think he saw me and well, his mind went straight to the gutter. Dirty rotten criminal. I was way under the consent age. He wasn't much better than Chaz for perving on me like that. So basically Tommy wanted me and... I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. "I'd like to ask you the same question. I make it my prerogative to know all the pretty girls in town," Tommy murmured charmingly, quickly snatching up my hand and kissing it gently. His eyes were on mine the entire time. That look sent shivers up my spine, but I assumed they were of revulsion.

I glanced around, once again pulling my hand out of his grip. When he wasn't looking, I shuddered and wiped it off on my skirt. Ew, gross. I have manslobber on my hand. I frowned, seeing no other girls in sight. Obviously he couldn't be talking to me, calling me pretty. That would be ridiculous. "Are you talking to me?" I asked bluntly, clearly surprised.

Tom rolled his eyes at me. "No, I'm talking to the _other_ girl who stole my favorite guitar and interrupted my practice," He retorted sarcastically. Well, fine then. You don't have to be nasty about it. Is he trying to guilt me into doing something? As if I care that I "stole" his guitar. Besides, it was out in the open, free for anyone to take.

I placed my hands on my hips, standing my ground (albeit shakily, as my feet were wobbling in my heels) as best I could. The guitar was still strapped around my middle. Tommy definitely noticed. He was eyeing it. Or, at least I think he was eyeing it. He could've been checking me out. "What makes you think _I_ stole it, much less that it's your guitar?" I replied cleverly. I placed a possessive hand on the neck of the guitar.

Tommy just looked annoyed then. He gave me an exasperated look. Being a musician myself, I knew it was his guitar. But I wasn't going to give this cocky know-it-all the satisfaction of knowing that. He grabbed the guitar from me, carefully sliding the strap around my shoulders and over my head. His hand grazed my side, lingering on the side of my breast. I was disgusted and about to smack him, but he moved his hand before I could. I vowed to make up for that later. No one cops a feel on me and gets away with it! He showed me the guitar, pointing to a small spot on the underside of the headstock. Oh crap. There was an engraving. Or I guess it was really a monogram, since it was a set of initials in quotations. L. T. Q. "Look at the initials. LTQ. What does that stand for? And, remember, girl, we're at a Boyz Attack! Concert," Tom pointed out cockily. He was so obnoxious.

I rolled my eyes, feeling the irritation I'd felt previous to my stint as Guitar Hero rising up in me again. Ugh. Boyz Attack!. Ugh. Sadie. Of course he ruins it all by going and saying a fool thing like that. So I said, per usual, the first thing that came to mind. "God, how could I forget? LTQ. That's easy. Lettuce and tomato quarterpounder. What else you got?" I said in spitfire succession, leaning forward a little.

Tommy scowled and gaped at me, clearly surprised. Maybe it was that I seemed to have no concept of who he was, or that I missed the blantant hints he dropped. It was probably that I wasn't falling all over him. I mean, yeah... so he looked really good. Big deal. Even Jamie looks hot sometimes. And no, not just when it's 40 degrees outside. Tommy was wearing a white long-sleeved t-shirt with a red collar and red sleeves paired with a pair of too-tight jeans and an excess of hairgel. "You really don't know who I am, do you?" He asked incredulously.

I tilted my head, placing a finger on my lips, and pretending to think it over for like... a second. I shook my head brazenly and snorted. "Should I?" I exclaimed rudely.

If it was possible, he looked even more disbelieving here. Surprisingly, he didn't seem to be too angry about it, but I think that may have something to do with the fact that he could practically see my shirt. If indeed you could call it a shirt. It was really more of a push-up bra with more fabric, then, you see. He gave me this look that was all well, how stupid are you? looking. His eyes were wide and very blue. "You're **seriously** telling me you're at a Boyz Attack! concert, and you don't know who I am?" Tommy questioned, his voice getting progressively louder by the minute.

I crossed my arms over my chest, which didn't help anything at all, but it made me feel warmer. I rolled my eyes at him as if he was the stupid one. "I was dragged here against my will," I deadpanned with a smirk. It was true, too. I was. Damn that Sadie. Then suddenly it hit me, a flash of recognization. "Oh... _wait_... I recognize you now. My sister has a full-size poster of you on her wall," I remarked slowly, jerking a finger at him and not so subtly looking him over. It was very easy to take advantage of his vanity by walking around in a circle as if carefully checking out every inch of his oh so perfect body. As I came back around to face Tommy again, I smiled a predatory sort of smile. I'd just gotten a very evil idea, you see. And as I have said before, Tommy's appetite was the stuff of legends. I was sure he wouldn't mind if I used him just a little. "Well... I'll be _damned_," I murmured, sounding shocked, leaning in too close to him and running a hand down the plane of his chest. My hand landed on the guitar's neck once again. "**Little** Tommy Q plays the guitar." As I said this, I pulled the guitar out of his grip.

He didn't even notice."**Don't** call me that," He snapped venemously. I filed this information away for future usage. Little Tommy Q wants to shed the innocent little boy image and grow up... into a man. It's a damn shame, too. 'Cause they'll call Tommy that until the day he dies. Touchy, touchy.

I merely shrugged, turning the guitar over in my hands, pointing to the monogram on the back. "Why not? You seem to like the name so much that you had it engraved into your guitar," I snarked back teasingly.

Tommy scowled at me and jerked the guitar out of my hands. I hate being weak. Physically, I mean. Tommy worked out like every day back then. Darius had them on these whack diets so they could fit into their little white suits. Well, actually, not the white suits. The white suits were pretty baggy in comparison to some of the skintight costumes they were wearing. He set the guitar down on a nearby bench. Careless, careless... That's how the guitar got "stolen" in the first place, Tom. You leaving it somewhere. Tsk, tsk. I'm ashamed. "It was a gift from the guys," Tom said defensively.

I was surprised at that. It was well-known that Tom and the guys had been fighting more as of late. As a matter of fact, it was apparent to _me_ that the band was going to break up. Sadie denied it, of course, but Tommy had clearly been primed for a solo career. "Really? I thought they **hated** you," I asked, sounding more shocked than I really was. I paused deliberately, smiling evilly as a good idea came to mind. "Unless the rumors about what _really_ happens on the tour bus at night are true. Then I'm sure they're _quite_ fond of you," I remarked smugly, raising my eyebrows at him.

Tom's eyes narrowed at the insinuation, but he was surprisingly mysterious about it. Comes from growing up dealing with the press. He had an agent before he was of consent age and a publicist before he could drive. I mean had in both senses of the word, too. "Depends which rumors you're talking about," He replied cagily.

I grinned. So he really wants to go there. Fine then. I shrugged casually. "I always thought boybands were the breeding grounds for homosexuality," I muttered quietly, biting my lip to force back the laughter that was threatening to bubble out. It didn't work because a few snickers made it past my lips against my will. Oh well. Tommy looked irascible. He turned the full force of his ocean blue glare on me. His eyes narrowed further and just like that, the ocean froze from the coolness there reflected. I knew I shouldn't push him. Tales of Tom Quincy's temper were legendary. Like the night he'd met up with Nsync at a venue. They were actually foolish enough to heckle the Boyz. Tommy got so pissed that he... well... Let's just say that it wasn't pretty, and the band's voices were noticeably higher after that encounter. They were never quite as in-sync with each other afterwards.

I knew about all of that, and yet... I poked the bear, and I got him even angrier. I just couldn't resist. What can I say? I have shoddy impulse control... just like Thomas over there. I tried to fight the smirk that threatened to overcome my face, but... That didn't work either. I couldn't help it. I was curious. I leaned in a little towards Tom, so that I wound up kind of up in his face. "By the way, what _really_ goes down on the tour bus after hours? You on your knees, perhaps?" I remarked cheekily, grinning widely.

I hadn't realized how close my face was to his lips until I saw Tommy's lip curl in disgust. If it was possible, he looked even more pissed than before. It sounded like he was trying hard to hold it in because he thought he had a chance with me. "Do I **look** like Lance Bass to you?" He growled tersely, moving a bit closer to me. I felt uncomfortable. He reminded me vaguely of a dog with rabies. I was afraid he was about to start foaming at the mouth, so I backed away. Come to think of it, it's pretty ironic that he said that, but I guess he has a built in gay-dar after having sex with so many people. Girls, I mean.

By the way, I'm completely sure that he went down on his knees on the tour bus. Now whether it was for a girl or a guy has to be left up to the imagination, but I'm sure about the girls. There probably were like a hundred of them. Many girls would be proud to boast about bringing an idol to his knees. "Oh, so it was the _other_ way around... You were standing up, and he was... Ah, but how'd you get him on the bus, what with Nsync and Boyz Attack! being sworn enemies and all?" I continued brightly, wondering how far Tommy would let me go with this. I knew the insinations bothered him, especially since he has to be about _the_ most heterosexual guy on the face of the planet.

Tommy rolled his eyes, although steaming on the inside, and somehow completely managed to write it off. Hedonist as he was back then, he still has some amazing self-control. I think he got that from Tory. Tom's always very put together on the outside... to a fault. "Oh, please. I go for models," He scoffed.

Well, duh. Everyone knew that. Willa Ford and Tyra Banks... Elle, Kate Moss... Tommy's dated a lot of them. You know, Portia herself was a model. I nodded as if considering his point. "Yeah, you're right. Lance is a bit pudgy," I agreed amusedly. I then paused deliberately, smirking once again, wondering if the rumors were indeed true about the days when Darius was cheap and they had to share beds. "But you know... What about you and Chaz? You two were always **so** close. I always pictured you two together. I mean, I know he likes little girls, but he looks like the type to like little boys too. You ever kissed him?" I chirped curiously.

Tommy scowled. And the brooding boybander look returns. "I don't appreciate you insinuating that I prefer men when it's _clearly_ not true. I can personally list a girl in every city I've been to who can claim the contrary... not to mention my wife," Tommy replied frostily. More than one girl in every city, I'm sure.

The mere thought disgusted me. I frowned petulantly. "You know, my friends and I have a pool about how long that marriage is going to last. I have to give you credit... I only had you down for a week. Considering you've probably cheated on her every _day_ of your marriage, I consider it quite the feat that you've managed to get her to stay with you. She must **really** be in love with you. Give her my condolences, will you?" I remarked in a harder, more bitter tone than I'd meant to. The newlyweds had only been married for... three and one half weeks. In Tommy time, that's a lifetime. Portia must've known some grr-reat tricks to satisfy him for that long.

Or maybe Tommy was just scared. Too scared to do the right thing, admit he'd made a mistake, and get an annullment or a divorce... and effectively break her heart into a million little pieces. Then again, maybe he didn't want to do that either. Maybe he cared about her more than that. Then again, if he really cared, he'd actually attempt to be faithful. It had to have hurt Portia worse to have him... and yet, not really have him. I can only imagine how much it must've killed her inside, every painstaking day of their brief marriage, knowing that Tommy was cheating on her, having sex with other women. How it must've broken her heart to know... deep down inside, but so deep that she had to deny it or she couldn't go on living... that Tommy didn't really want her at all. "You have _no_ right to talk about my wife like that," Tom snarled, eyes glinting in fury. Yeah, so... I'd crossed a line. It's nothing he's not familiar with, after all, now is it?

Just like Tommy had no right to say that. She wasn't much of a wife to him anyways, was she? Not enough so that he could attempt monogamy. Not even enough so that he stayed faithful for one day. "Stop acting like you're actually a _decent_ husband!" I bit back, feeling bad for the poor, foolish woman who was stuck with him. 'Til death do they part. Tommy couldn't die, though. His heart was already dead. Dead to feeling love for anyone... even himself. He could've never loved her, never. Not in the way she wanted to be... The way every living, breathing woman wanted to be. The way she deserved to be. He married her. He could've at least had the common decency to pretend to actually give a damn for a second! Couldn't he? He owed her that much. He never even gave her a chance. He took her for granted and treated her like garbage because he was too wrapped up in his own petty self-loathing to care about anyone for even a second.

And she let him. Poor girl, I thought, pitying her. She was, after all, stuck with Tommy for eternity or, well... until he had the quickie divorce papers drawn up. Or an annulment. Although legally of age to be married, both of them were far too young to really deal with it. And I'm fairly certain Tom was more than a little drunk when he agreed to be tied down to one woman for the rest of his life... for better or for worse. The Catholic Church would've most definitely allowed them one for several reasons. For one, there was no priest there, plus Tommy lied to Portia, not to mention the all-important fact that he clearly had no intentions of forsaking all others. "I am! I love her!" Tommy exclaimed frustratedly. I didn't believe him for a second, so I wondered how she could. His wife, who surely knew Tommy a lot better than most women must. I mean in an emotional sense. I'm sure most of Canada knows him in a physical, intimate sense.

They wound up getting divorced, though. Most people who get divorced file after they've been separated for a year, but it wasn't so with Tommy. He actually filed. Shocking, isn't it? The reason most people file after a year is that, well, adultery and cruelty cost a lot of money to prove. Tom has a lot of money. Plus, come on, he's Tommy Quincy. Do you really need proof that he cheated on her the whole duration of their marriage? It should be like, common sense. They got married in Vegas, actually, after the Boyz did a show there. It was Portia's birthday, and Tom dedicated a very special song to her. Then they went out, got drunk, went to the club (you can bet that they partied like it was her birthday, sipping bacardis like it was her birthday... and it was her birthday, so I suppose all of that's very fitting and... ugh. See, this is what Tommy does to me. He makes me quote stupid rap songs. I blame Shay. That's his favorite song, don'tcha know? Curtis "50, _yes_, it's pronounced **Fiddy**, Cent" Jackson is his gangsta idol. Shay has mad love for the guy. It's his fondest desire to be shot nine times and survive. Please. Shay grew up in the lap of luxury, a.k.a. Darius' Mansion, about as far from the real ghetto as you can get. But I could so arrange the nine shots thing. Now, he might not survive, but really... who would miss him? Darius? He'd miss his cash cow more than his nephew. Kind of offending, if you think about it, the fact that he liked 50's song better than mine, considering I sorta-kinda-_maybe_ wrote two songs about him. Then again, maybe he saw through me and knew they were about Tommy instead. I so despise being transparent. Wearing your heart on your sleeve is not as fun as Letters to Cleo makes it sound in the Clueless theme song, lemme tell ya)... and well... he woke up married. Unfortunately for him, what happens in Vegas does not always stay in Vegas. Portia, however, did (she was making costumes for show girls).

I rolled my eyes at him. He's obviously delusional. I mean, it's even more pathetic when you're lying to yourself. Like I'm buying that crap. I'm not stupid like his bride. I'm not gonna fall for that act of his like her. "See, I might actually believe that if it wasn't clear that you think with your dick instead of your brain. Wait, I'm giving you too much credit here by assuming you actually _have_ a brain, let alone a functioning one. Not to mention by actually saying that you think at all," I hissed back, crossing my arms over my chest.

Tommy's face twisted up into a grimace. He was glaring daggers at me... oh, if looks could kill! "You know, if you were a guy, I would have slugged you by now. I'd have you on the floor in five seconds," Tom grunted threateningly, pulling his hand back into a fist. However, I wasn't afraid of him. I knew he wasn't going to hit me, much less touch me... right? It's the touching I'm not sure about. His reputation precedes him, let's just say that, shall we?

Instead, I did the safe thing and switched back into the insults I was so familiar and so much more comfortable with. This whole situation was strange enough as it was... After all, I was having a crazily civil, queerly candid, and uncomfortably cozy conversation with Little Tommy Q. It was unbelievable. "I _bet_ you would. **Especially** if I was a man. After all, everyone knows why you screw around so much... It's so hard for you to hide your latent homosexuality that you have to overcompensate by doing _everything_ in a skirt. And, since you don't _really_ want the girls, you can never commit to one," I sneered venemously, staring at him through narrowed, focused eyes.

He leaned in closer to me suddenly. I found myself awash in the overbearing odor of his odious aroma. His cologne was too strong, too heavy. He smelled like that pungent cologne mixed with a hint of sweat, a fierce whiff of cigarettes- so that explained the hoarseness then, that I'd heard earlier in his voice... the faint, yet lingering scent of Italian leather, and finally, the cloyingly sweet smell of some sort of spirit. Not vodka, I guessed, and not whisky. Or beer. Maybe brandy or sherry or rum or wine or champagne? There were some other smells I couldn't identify, but I let it go. Maybe I just imagined the fragrance of roses. I found myself getting too caught up in him and forced myself to snap to attention and remember my mission. No getting distracted by something as frivolous as the way he smells. Tom clenched his fists at his sides, pursing his lips, color rising fast to his cheeks. My mistake. Testosterone was clearly in the air tonight. "That's **not** what I meant. I meant that I'd be kicking your ass... _if_ you were a guy. But you're **not** a guy, so I'd rather be kissing it instead," Tommy began at first angrily, but then he surprised me by grabbing my hand and kissing it wetly with a loud smacking sound in demonstration... to my sheer and utter frustration, of course.

Frustration and fascination. The action had an eerie sort of appeal to it. It made me feel out of my element. But it was first and foremost a wrong sort of appeal, and it would be likewise wrong to pursue it... right? Yes! Now start acting sensible, girl, I criticized myself internally. I made a face at him then, feeling more disgusted that anything else. Once again, I wiped my hand off on my skirt. Ew. Boy germs. "I'm not really into that sort of thing. Sorry," I said automatically, unafraid to turn him down. But then I frowned. It was a lie, after all. So I sought out to correct it. I leaned forward a bit more for emphasis, once again getting too close to my quarry. "Well, actually, I'm _not_ sorry. Your lips are probably diseased anyways," I declared boldly, shooting him an icily disdainful glance that could shame even the conscience-lacking.

As predicted, Tommy was unaffected by my death glare. He smiled at me rakishly with an oddly predatory gleam in his eyes. He shrugged casually, leaning in a little closer to me. "I haven't gotten any complaints yet. And, I assure you, my lips are not diseased," Tommy replied confidently. That's probably true, but still... think about how many viruses are transferred by mouth. Tommy winked at me cockily. "But, girl, feel free to investigate. I _know_ you want to," Tommy offered seductively. I suddenly realized that he was well within kissing distance. As if Tommy had also realized this (of course, he'd probably realized this much earlier), he ran his finger across the length of my bottom lip. He smiled widely at me, and I tried not to be too affected.

There was beginning to be a mood, and I had to ruin it. I had an evil plan. I placed my hand on Tommy's arm, to, you know, make him think I liked him. I smiled at him stupidly, making him think I was just a dumb fangirl. It's so easy to take advantage of Tommy's ego. Then I let out a little laugh as if he'd said something funny, and I leaned in dangerously nearer to him. I was purposefully only millimeters away from him... not that I was enjoying it or anything. It was just necessary is all. "So, Tommy, tell me, are you really _little_?" I asked curiously, a vicious smile on my lips.

Tommy's face fell, of course. I immediately removed my hand and attempted to remove myself from his prescence as well... but Tommy had other plans. I guess he really wanted to prove it to me that he wasn't really little after all. Let's just say I didn't need him to prove that to me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer. Tommy leaned in, so close that I could smell his breath, and raised an eyebrow. "Well, there's only one way to find out for sure. Do you think you can handle it?" He whispered suggestively in my ear.

I then remembered my point for the entire reason I was still talking to Tommy. _You're not experienced enough for me._ Well, there I was, all dressed up and all alone in a room with Tommy Quincy, who had to be just about the most experienced man on the planet. I was utterly single-minded and stupid enough to think if I did this... whatever this was... with Tommy, that... That maybe the guy I like-like-loved would want me. I know now that he probably wouldn't. He wouldn't touch me. He'd think I was damaged goods or something because another guy had been there first. That sounds like a paradox, and it should. Because it is, and a lousy one at that. You're not experienced enough for me. Those words rang and repeated themselves in my head, echoing and bouncing off my brain. Oh, I'd show him. He wants experience, then I'll get experience from the _best_. "Try me," I drawled challengingly, placing a finger under Tommy's chin.

I was seriously contemplating doing something I could never take back with the guy and then he had to go and ruin it. Tommy smirked knowingly, and the obnoxious arrogance of the gesture pissed me off. "Nice to hear you've finally changed your tune," He remarked smugly, leaning in to kiss me.

I removed my finger from his chin, placing it on my lips instead. Ha! Don't get lippy with me, Mister. I pushed him back, scowling at him. I shook my head instead. "Now, see... The moment I start to think you're attractive, and I just _might_ want to do something with you... You go on and say something like that," I pointed out, feeling vaguely irked by the whole thing.

Tommy put on a lovely contrite face that I immediately saw right through. "I apologize," He said, pouting and feigning compunction. I knew better (than to believe him, for sure), but I said nothing about it. I wanted something from him, after all... Something that meant a lot to me. I didn't want anything to jeopardize my chances of getting it.

So I merely shrugged. This could be fun, after all. I mean, he's Tom Quincy. You think he's not gonna show me a good time? "It's all right. C'mon, Tommy... _show_ me what you've got," I replied with an amused grin. I slipped my fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and tugged. With the surprised look still on his face, he crashed into me. Hard.

I leaned in to kiss him this time, figuring I might as well start things off. This time, however, Tommy backed away from me. He looked at me intently as if trying to memorize every freckle. He seemed to come to some conclusion from this extreme form of observation. "You haven't done this before, have you? You're practically shaking... Not to mention the blush," Tommy mused, peering at me curiously.

My cheeks heated up when he said I was blushing... further proving his point. Was I really shaking, though? I glanced down at my hands and noticed my pinkie shaking slightly. I immediately put the hand behind my back, slowly closing my eyes and trying to calm down. I was trying to write this all off. "I... I'm not blushing. Or shaking. Why would you think that I'm nervous? That's... ridiculous, that's what that is!" I rambled oddly, only proving to sound even more nervous than I would've thought I sounded.

Tommy chuckled lightly and grabbed my slightly sweaty hand, lacing his fingers with mine. He smiled at me dreamily, and, had I liked Tommy at the time, I would've swooned. Okay, so maybe I swooned a little. But just a little. Not like I do nowadays at all. He slowly dragged his thumb softly across my knuckles, smiling at me reassuringly. I never thought Tommy could be... nice. I thought he was an asshole, and he is, of course... But... I don't know. I guess he has his finer moments. "Relax, girl... You act like you're the first girl who's ever acted like this around me. Trust me, there have been girls worse than you before... and there will be girls worse than you afterwards. Besides, you already have an advantage over those girls. I can honestly say that not only are you the first girl who's insulted me in a while, but you also held your own in a conversation with me. That doesn't happen much anymore. Besides, I think the blushing's cute," Tommy said honestly, a rare, true smile on his lips. I think he likes me.

I blushed again, this time what I'm sure was a brilliant red... but at least he liked it, right? I glanced down embarrassedly. My shoes were suddenly absolutely fascinating. I didn't quite know what to say. No one had ever really complimented me like that, much less someone so attractive. This suddenly felt as surreal as it really was. "Thanks... I guess," I murmured helplessly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear self-consciously. Then I remembered myself and forced myself to raise my eyes to meet his gaze. "Just kiss me already," I said in a low, raspy tone.

Tommy looked briefly confused at my sudden turnaround. Come on, man, it was headed in that direction anyways! Then a thoughtful, curious look crossed his face. "So I was right. This is your first time... doing something like this... isn't it?" He asked softly, stroking the back of my hand surprisingly gently. He then rubbed his cheek against my hand. It was softer than I thought it'd be.

Tommy made a quiet, contented noise, resting his cheek on my hand for a brief moment. He whispered something afterwards, maybe about how soft my skin was. I jerked my hand away from his head almost violently, becoming frustrated with him. Does he want me or not! It's a simple question, not rocket science! "Do you **want** to kiss me or not!" I snapped irascibly. My now-choleric blue eyes flashed. "Are you really all talk and no action, Quincy?" I questioned restrainingly, trying to hold back my rage. "'Cause if you are, I'm gonna be _awful_ disappointed," I pouted seductively, tongue darting out to lick my lips languidly. Upper first, then bottom.

Tommy frowned, glancing at me almost warily. What? Did I do something wrong? "You're sure not very experienced at this," He mumbled almost to himself. What did he mean by that? I had no idea.

So, naturally, I jumped to conclusions as is my way. I automatically thought him to be expressing the same sentiment in a similarly insulting way as the boy who'd gotten me in this mess of hitting on Tommy in the first place. "_Why_ are you telling me that? I know that already! I know that, and I **don't** want to hear it from you! **You**, of all people! I don't want to hear _that_, **period**! You see... _That's_ the problem, and here I am, taking steps to fix that... to **get** myself some experience... And you just rub it in my face!" I exploded, saying each word faster and faster until they all blurred in my head. I was so furious with him, and for what? For _nothing_, that's what.

Tommy sighed and shook his head, reaching out for me. I moved out of his grip so fast you'd think I had great reflexes. He shook his head again, as if... I didn't understand or something. He frowned, trying to think of a way to explain. Tommy's not as good with words as Travis is, you know. It took him a long while to come up with the appropriate answer. I didn't want to listen, but Tommy has a way of completely fascinating you and drawing you in. He's like a black hole that way. "I wasn't rubbing it in your face. I was pointing out that... if you don't want to do anything with me... you don't have to. If you're not ready... Look, you just... you shouldn't do something like this for the wrong reasons. Because... if you're not really ready... or you don't really want it... It's... it's not something you can undo," Tommy stammered, still not properly elucidating himself. I guess that was really the best he could hope for. It was a bit of an awkward conversation to have.

I snorted, disbelieving that Tommy had just pulled the virgin card on me. I never thought he'd be... Such a pansy about it. Well, that's what I thought at the time. I thought that maybe his reputation was highly exaggerated, and that maybe the rumors about him and the boys were indeed true, despite what he swore. After all, Rock Hudson was gay, so I figured that maybe Tommy was too. "Funny. I never thought _you'd_ be the sort of guy to be hesitant. And it's not like _you're_ one to talk. After all, haven't you nailed about half of Canada already?" I scoffed, shooting him a look.

Tommy glanced down briefly, as if ashamed. Only he wasn't really, so he looked back up again. He told me the truth. Few adults I've ever met have done that. He didn't censor me from things, but he was only eighteen, right? Almost nineteen in a couple months. He was no adult figure then, I suppose. "Three-quarters, actually..." He corrected, barrelling through with his response, "I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. I don't want you to look back and think I took advantage of you. I don't want you to think of this as a stupid mistake." Tommy took a deep breath, glancing at me with slightly wide eyes, as if it had been one huge, great effort to say that.

And considering just who Tommy is and what exactly it is he's famous for (I'll give you a hint: it's not the singing... or the producing), it really is quite the accomplishment. I was honestly rather surprised. He's making it really sound like he doesn't want to sleep with me. Maybe... Maybe he's lying. Maybe he's just like that guy. Maybe he thinks I need more experience and... Maybe he doesn't really want me after all. Maybe something's terribly, horribly, utterly wrong with me. "Wow, I'm impressed at your restraint. Maybe you want to be **faithful** to your wife after all," I snarled sarcastically, rolling my eyes at him.

Who does he think he's fooling? I know all about him. I know the worst. This time Tommy genuinely looked guilty. He had done wrong by Portia, and he knew it. And yet he obviously didn't feel bad enough about it to stop cheating on her. "That's the kind of thing I mean. I married her for all the wrong reasons, and now I regret it. I wasn't really ready to settle down or get married. And I'm _definitely_ not decent husband material. We're both too young for this to really work out. Half of the reason I got married in the first place was to piss off my manager. I just rushed into it... and it's not fair to either of us," He sighed, sounding weary. And he was, too... Tired of living like that.

Tommy admitted that to me, a perfect stranger, yet he'd done nothing about it. "Especially her, since she thinks you actually **love** her! And especially _her_ because you're **cheating** on her!" I shrieked, smacking him hard in the chest. I had to make him get it. Maybe it's different up in Tommyland... but no one deserves to be treated like that. Least of all a woman in love. Kinda like Sadie, isn't it? It's really amazing how history repeats itself.

Tommy sighed again, apparently annoyed with my yelling at him. Whatever. He does deserve it, after all. He's cheating on her. He doesn't want to be with her. I think he deserves to be yelled at. "Look, I never said what I was doing to her is right. It's _not_, and I know that. I know that, and I can't stop," Tommy confessed, looking a bit forlorn. He's just a coward. That's what he is. He can't stop. F.Y.I., Tom, that's a lame excuse.

Just about as bad as the dog ate my homework. I exhaled irritably, blowing on my bangs so they stayed in the air for as long as I could keep breathing like that. I inhaled desperately a moment later, fatally locking eyes with my would-be lover. "Let's just get it over with, then," I mumbled, moving in towards him quickly. I wanted to move in for the kill and kiss the living daylights out of him, but he placed his hand over my mouth.

I couldn't even talk, much less pucker up. So I was stuck listening to what he had to say. He shook his head, a dark, confused look in his eyes. I guess he didn't think of it as something one should just get over. For all i know, maybe the guy savors every minute like a fine wine. "I don't know why you want this, especially since you seem to dislike me immensely, but you're doing it for the wrong reason," Tommy said firmly, a cross look on his face. What, was I wasting his time?

Or maybe, just maybe, he was wasting mine. "Okay, Tommy, tell me what the _right_ reason is. You have casual sex with so many women that you ought to be able to think of a good excuse for it now," I taunted, holding my hands out in a typical fashion. I was telling him to bring it on. That I could handle it. I wasn't a little girl anymore. "Surely it can't be because you're in love with them. That's a little farfetched for even the groupies to believe," I said almost incredulously. No one could be that dumb, right? I frowned for an infinitesimal second, thinking of a possible reason for Tom's actions. "Let me guess... It's nothing _personal_. You just want to gratify **your** needs... and since you want to have your **own** needs fulfilled, you might as well _satisfy_ someone else's," I posed coldly, shooting him a frosty glance. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for an answer.

Yeah, I realize how odd it is to hear stuff like that coming from a twelve-year-old, but it's amazing how bitter you become when your mother ignores you in favor of your oldest sibling for like, your whole life. Tommy knows that better than anyone, right? Tommy shook his head. I _clearly_ had misunderstood him again. Clearly. "This _isn't_ about me," Tommy denied, shaking his head again and trying oh-so hard to make me understand. After all, since he wasn't going to screw me after all... He needed to make me understand. Right? Oh, please. Everything in Tommy's life is about him! Still... it's not like he denied what I said. So maybe it is true after all.

But I wanted to get laid. Only not really. Remember, experience was my goal, my quest... My Holy Grail, right at that very precise moment. And I would do almost anything to get it. Wow, how very Tommy-like of me, chasing tail so ruthlessly, not taking no for an answer. Or maybe it was Travis-like of me, then. Hmm. Si I bowed my head a little and assented. "You're right," I agreed calmly, nodding briefly before continuing, "That's why I'm here." I paused deliberately, stretching my regal neck. I had to look extremely poised and savvy. I eyed Tommy, my prey, with a smolderingly intense, hypnotic look. I leaned in imperceptibly closer, inching towards him second by second until I was close enough to touch him again. Really touch him, I mean. And touch him I did, as I placed my hands on his chest, slowly trailing them down his abs and locking my arms around the back of his waist.

He didn't even look surprised, just dazed with this weird clouded look in his eyes. I inhaled his smell none-too-subtly, as, after all, I intended to seduce. My nose brushed his chin and I felt Tommy stiffen a little. I couldn't fight the self-satisfied smirk off my face, so I let it stay there. I leaned in further, closer to his lips, batting my long, mascara-laden lashes at him slowly. Once, twice... third time's the charm, right? I stood up a little straighter, throwing an arm around his neck instead, throwing the full force of my weight against him. I tilted the side of my head so that I was now close enough to whisper into his ear. "So, come on..." I whispered pleadingly, breath brushing against his ear, making him shiver. Remembering something Sadie'd mentioned in conversation once upon a time, I angled my head down a little and pressed a lingering kiss to the area right below his ear where his jaw began. I guess Sadie's gossip was true after all, considering Tommy moaned loudly. I pulled away and smiled, moving my head back up towards his ear. "If I'm so inexperienced... Tommy... then **teach** me," I hissed huskily, in an ingenious unreplicable voice that was half-murmur and half-moan.

Tommy groaned at the sound of my voice, and I could tell that he was done holding back. My grin widened. "Who am I to refuse an offer like that?" Tommy muttered hoarsely, grabbing my upper arms and turning his head in a rough motion to kiss the living daylights out of me. And I remember what Tommy said about real kisses... how you have to mean them in your heart and everything. And while I was completely angling for something wrong for all the wrong reasons and using Tommy... _That_, right there, was my first **real** kiss. And I'd completely forgotten all about it. What a pity. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before, and indeed, I hadn't. This was no boy playing house. This was a real man who really, really, really wanted whatever it was he decided I had to offer. He meant that kiss all right. And so I found myself meaning the kiss right back. And before I knew it, his tongue was in my mouth and oh... all of my common sense had completely flown out the window.

This included several important facts... One being that I never had told him my name or that we'd never been properly introduced. Another very important one being the fact that I loathed boybands, Boyz Attack! in particular, and I loathed their members, Tommy in particular. Or that I hated corporate sell-outs like him. Or people who were arrogant like him. I'd even forgotten the all important fact that I was "in love" with someone else. I'd forgotten the guy's name, which was for the better, I guess. Hell, I was even on the verge of forgetting my own. Tommy broke the kiss, desperately craving oxygen. "Wait... What's your name?" He managed to gasp out, staring at me with lust-clouded eyes as if seeing me for the first time.

I was so starstruck that at first, I almost didn't even remember. I suddenly understood _exactly_ why Tommy was famous. And I, like so many other girls, liked it. A lot. A lot a lot. I had to think for several minutes before my mind cleared up enough for me to answer. It was full of silly thoughts like... Wow. And... if he kisses this good, just imagine how he must be in... Oh, I can't wait to... I want him so bad... And... how can I control myself for long enough? Especially when I... want to jump him already. Right here. Right now... Now! Even when I did, I stuttered. "J... Jude, Jude Harrison," I mumbled hurriedly, already grabbing him by the collar and ready for round two. "Mm, kiss me again." I pleaded breathlessly, looking at him through half-lidded deliriously happy eyes.

Tommy grinned and was only too happy to comply. He complied **so** much. My lips were numb with sensation, bruising under his touch. It was gentle, yet rough. Firm, yet yielding. I don't care to bother with more adjectives right now. Just... It's one of the best memories I have, and I can't believe I ever repressed it. Because he wanted to breathe, Tommy trailed wet kisses down my neck. I sighed contentedly, leaning into his embrace. "And just so I know... How old are you?" He panted against my skin, eyes closed in bliss.

My brain was mush from, forgive the corniness... his lovin'. Oh, jeez. I can't believe I just said that. Maybe I need some more. Then I'll stop saying stupid things like that. And I'll just act stupid. Since I won't be able to think and all when I'm around him. Even more moronically, I didn't even think to lie."Twelve... almost thirteen," I said quietly, getting caught up in the moment. I was caught up in the feeling of Tommy's hands on my skin. One on my face, the other sliding up my skirt and beginning to untie my top. He didn't get very far, however, before he realized what I'd really said.

He almost vaulted off of me then. My eyes were still closed then, and I stumbled and fell backwards without his support, landing flat on my ass. Per usual. Ouch. So I can only assume the look on his face when he found out was the same one he had when I opened my eyes. His eyes were bulging, wide and alert like a squirrel's. He was slack-jawed, mouth open wide enough to let a bird in. His eyebrows were practically up in the air. "What! You're jailbait!" He exclaimed in a rasp, looking completely horrified and absolutely petrified.

Well, duh, Tom. I sighed, exhaling slowly and trying to catch my breath so I could properly collect my thoughts. Tom was so distracted that he didn't even offer to be a gentleman and help me up. Not that I stood for a bit. "So? Didn't stop your friend, now did it? And it's not like he got _convicted_ anyways," I retorted, dusting myself off, directly referencing Chaz. I got up slowly, all the while staring at a still-frightened Tommy. "Look, Tom, **that** was an affair... _This_... This will just be a one-time thing," I said bluntly. A one-night stand. That's all I want. Pretty fair, if you ask me. All I really wanted was for him to teach me a few tricks and have me enjoy myself. "And I won't tell anyone. I won't try and threaten you with this. I swear. No one will even know we ever met. My sister won't tell Mom and Dad that she went to the concert in the first place, much less that I ran off when she was supposed to be watching me but was really making out with a boybander. And I won't tell her where I went either because I can blackmail her. No one will ever find out. It's really all no big deal," I promised, desperately trying to reassure him.

But Tom would not be reassured, I assure you. "Yes, it is! You want me to sleep with you, risking my freedom... You want me to..." Tommy rambled, running his hands through his hair nervously. He started to pace. Admittedly, it did sound a little unrealistic and more than a bit insane to expect that from him. But the Tommy I was used to hearing about and making fun of had absolutely no scruples, no morals. No nothing. Well, it turns out Tom has a lot. Because of Chaz and... his dad. I guess. His dad's a good guy, really. It's just. Well, his dad's like almost fifteen years older than Tommy's stepmom. They've got a bit of a Celine-Rene thing going on. She took voice lessons from his dad from the age of six... on. And here it is, twenty-four years later, and they're married. Creepy much?

I rolled my eyes at him. Can't even finish the end of a sentence? Well, how would he finish it. He has no euphemisms to use for the expression, now does he? I decided to help him out a little. Hey, he sure could use it. "Deflower me? Pop my cherry? Take my virginity? Go where no man has ever gone before?" I replied helpfully, faking a smile. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Oh, come on, Tommy, I'm not the first girl you've done this to, and I won't be the last! And it's not like you didn't lose yours when you were my age anyways! Stop being hypocritical and get on with it!" I growled frustratedly. I wanted to do this. Why doesn't he get it?

Tommy had to go be all philosophical about it and ruin a good thing. Yeah, I might've regretted it. Sure. Especially if I caught something. But now... Now I wouldn't at all. I'd probably want to do it again. And again. And again. He sure seemed determined. "I want to know _why_ you're doing this. Why do you want me to do this?" Tommy inquired, looking at me straight in the eyes as if that would help him figure it out.

I sure wasn't going to be cooperative about it as it became more and more apparent by the second that I was not going to get laid. All I want is one simple thing, and he won't even give me that! Now how am I supposed to get him to want me. Not Tommy. Him. The guy I really wanted back then when I was stupid and too clueless to know better. "Oh, come on! I can't think of a guy who's more experienced at doing _this_ than you are!" I screeched exasperatedly, flinging my hands in the air helplessly.

Tommy nodded as if suddenly understanding, and a cool, almost cruel look crossed his face. He seemed angry. Never one to disappoint or misread, Tommy was, of course. Tommy's always a little annoyed, after all. "Oh. _I_ get it. You want experience and... you see me as a means of an end," He stated plainly. I winced at his words. He made it sound so... so dreadful. Like what we'd really just done had meant absolutely nothing to me. Like there was no emotion involved. Well, there was! Tommy's eyes narrowed, and he finally stopped pacing. That was good, seeing as he had been making me dizzy. "Well, if I wasn't such a whore, I'd be more offended. You're lucky I happen to be the biggest slut in the country," Tommy remarked in a tone that was either bluntly honest or sarcastic. I couldn't really tell with him, especially being in the unpleasant mood he was in. "So, given my position of experience, I'm going to let you in on a little secret about men," He continued, wisely staring off into space seemingly intelligently and pursing his lips a bit. How zen-itive.

Tommy shook his head, frowning at me. I listened intently. Who better to get advice from than a guy, right? "Guys don't care how much experience a girl has. In fact, we usually prefer that the girl has none whatsoever," Tommy began in a long, rambling voice. Yeah, I don't buy that. R. Kelly, for instance, will bear me out on that one. "Guys don't like to sleep with whores," Tommy continued sagely. Okay... I'll bite. True. They don't like to sleep with whores, yet they expect that we women do. 'Cause all men are, fundamentally (at least most of them)... whores. Tommy especially so, as he just admitted. And he did say whore. Not player/playa or anything stupid like that. At my somewhat disbelieving look, Tommy's brow crinkled and he tried to backpedal a bit. "I mean, don't get me wrong... guys like girls who know special tricks in the sack," He admitted, making a few random hand gestures. He paused deliberately and began again a moment later. "But those are the kind of girls that wind up as **just** booty-calls. Not the ones they fall in love with or wind up taking home," Tommy stated authoritatively, which was right, I guess. After all, he knew about that sort of thing better than most anyone, right? He forgot the usually, though... in front of just.

"If a guy really **cares** about a girl, he'll _want_ to teach her these things," Tommy swore, looking at me like he really meant that. I felt my heartrate speed up involuntarily. Did that me that... _he_ wanted to **teach** _me_ **those** things? Tommy smiled for only a moment before continuing seriously. "It might sound corny, but it's true... You don't have to have sex with a guy for him to fall in love with you," Tommy said positively, sounding exactly like an after-school special. I proceeded to tell him that, and he got confused. Guess that's what happens when you don't go to school at all.

"What do ya know about love?" I grunted later, unintentionally quoting Lita Ford. It's funny too, because that song sounds like it was written exactly about Tommy. But that reflection is best saved for another day. I mean, really? What does he know about love? I knew more about love than he did! Even his mother couldn't love him! Guess that says a lot about Tom, doesn't it? To tell you the truth, Tommy's next comment honestly surprised me. I would've thought he'd lie, but he was as frank as anyone not already named Frank could be. I was impressed by his out-of-place honesty.

An empty, hollow mask placed itself over Tommy's face. His features were tinged with Siberian ice. "Nothing. That's what you expected me to say, isn't it?" He snarled bitterly, eyes shining with perhaps... tears? He nodded curtly, lips tightening into a thin white line. "And it's true. I'll give you that," He said almost hollowly, like he was struggling to keep it together. And I guess he was. He sighed, catching his breath for a minute. "But I know guys. And I know that whoever this guy is that made you want... that drove you to do this... He's completely not worth it. He's just a guy who was too chicken to tell you the truth, so he said you're too unexperienced for his taste. He made it _your_ fault, not his. And that makes him an asshole," Tommy declared, sounding exactly like he knew the guy.

And you know what... maybe Tommy was right about him. Maybe the guy even liked me for two seconds. Or maybe he just wanted Sadie from the start and was too much of a wuss to tell me the truth. It wasn't my fault he didn't like me or that he wasn't man enough to tell the truth. It was solely his. And I would've kicked his ass anyways. Still... I have to agree with Tommy. He was, well... completely right. About everything. He does know guys after all. But I didn't think like this at the time. I snapped at him. I was mean, mad, and vicious. "You don't know him at **all**, so stop acting like you do! He's a **nice** guy!" I shrieked defensively, striking out at Tommy, once again hitting him in the chest. Nice guy, my _ass_. Jamie, Chaz, Mason... They are nice guys.

Tommy looked even more enraged now. His face was not only flushed, but bright, flaming, angry, fire-engine red. He had a point to prove, a case to make for himself, all right. "I _know_ him because I **am** him, okay!" He thundered, finally exploding at me. I jumped and almost trembled, feeling very afraid for my life. Tom was a wrathful man. If Tom's like this when he's wrathful, just imagine God... Yeah, it's terrifying and awe-inspiring, isn't it? Tommy shook his head, calming a little bit. He wasn't going to explode like a volcano on me, right? I still wasn't entirely sure. "And he's not a nice guy. He's a backstabbing jerk who you'll find out really wants your sister or your best friend, or something stupid like that. He'll lead you on and let you down. It doesn't matter how much experience you have or... _who_ your teacher is. It'll **never** be enough for him," Tommy spoke bitterly, quelling the rage within himself. I saw right through the sort of analogy. Just as he said, he is that guy... was that guy. And like that guy, he wasn't nice. He was a backstabber, a jerk, a use-'em-and-leave-'em type who led you on and let you down. And, just like he'd alluded earlier... Nothing would ever be enough for Tommy. Nothing will ever satisfy him. Not even me, right? There was always something he wanted that he couldn't have... something just out of reach... something dangerous... something... F-O-R-B-I-D-D-E-N... and his wanting of it was just a D-I-R-T-Y L-I-T-T-L-E S-E-C-R-E-T. _Never enough for... Never enough for... Never enough for... You!_

"Just like this life's not enough for you, right, Tom!" I screamed back, enraged beyond all belief. I hated him pretending like he knew me... like he knew the guy. And maybe I subconsciously hated that he was right. So I delivered quite the little speech. "You hate yourself, don't you?" I asked rhetorically, narrowing my eyes at him. I saw right through the facade that was Tom Quincy. "You hate everything about this..." I proclaimed dramatically, making a sweeping hand gesture. "You hate singing these crap songs, but you hate even more the fact that you wrote those bubblegum songs. You want to be a serious artist, someone with integrity. You hate the costumes, the press appearances, the band, but mostly you hate the fact that other people... your manager especially... control your whole life. Your opportunity for a solo career was carelessly taken away, locked up forever in Darius' vault. And all of your hopes for the future and your possible happiness went with it. You're stuck with this crappy boyband, going nowhere with your life, peddling good looks and lousy love songs, and riding the wave. You're stuck mechanically going through the motions when you're really dead on the inside," I explained with all the airs of a cultured psychologist. A psychiatrist could take years to figure out Tommy's psyche. I don't even want to think how long it'd take a shrink to unravel the mystery wrapped in a riddle, wound up in a enigma, that is Travis Quinn.

I continued on, noticing how Tommy's eyes darkened. He knew I was right, too. Somehow, I was completely right about him. "And so you drink a little **too** much, and you smoke a lot more than you should, and you take a pill or two every now and _then_ that you know you shouldn't, and you have sex a little more than is truly safe..." I replied slowly, going over every point. I fixed him with a decidedly shrewd look, as if I had x-ray vision. "But you do all of that to make yourself feel **alive**, don't you? Because what you have isn't _really_ a life at all. You're just somebody's puppet, wearing a mask, and letting other people pull your strings for you. You don't really even make your own decisions anymore, now do you?" I questioned harshly, most assuredly offending him. I shook my head, snorting. He _was_ somebody's puppet. Darius', in fact. He was a broken marionette, and other people were pulling his strings like Nsync in their infamous music video.

I pointed a finger at him, marking him with the guilt he deserved to feel. He should be ashamed for his appalling treatment of the woman who loves him so dearly. Dearer than I think Tommy deserves sometimes, for all the horrid things he's done to women. "You know you shouldn't have gotten married, and you cheat on your wife constantly... but you're still with her because you don't want to hurt her. And yet you don't understand that it'd be less painful for her to be free than married to someone who can't be faithful. It'd be different if you were discreet about it, but you don't _even_ try to do that either. She _knows_ you're cheating on her, and every day the knowledge of that **kills** her inside. And yet you won't release her from that hell," I elucidated furiously, feeling the hurt for his wife. After all, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and was I ever a woman scorned. I frowned pensively, swaggering towards Tommy too confidently for my heavy, spindly heels. "But most of all, you want to be someone you can be proud of when you look in the mirror," I said wisely, pursing my lips and pausing deliberately a moment or two later. "And, above everything... you want to be free," I finished boldly, crimson lips parting into a sick smile.

I held a hand out for Tommy to shake, deciding to make a pact with the popstar. Let's see what he's really made of. How much nerve does he really have? Since I'm so impulsive... and he's so... not... Why don't we switch and... I don't know, _learn_, from each other. "Well, Tommy, how about _you_ act like **me** for a change? How about you stop _accepting_ your fate and do something about it for once! Stop being afraid! **Live** your life! If you're not going to do that, then you might as well kill yourself," I stated bluntly, crossing my other arm over my chest. I kept my hand out to see if he'd take it. Not because I wanted to, but because I wanted to see how much guts he already had. "If you hate the band and the lifestyle **so** much... then why don't you actually **quit** instead of just _threatening_ to do it? If you're going to _cheat_ on your wife and spend no time with her and **not** love her... then why don't you just _divorce_ her? And if you _really_ want a solo career of your own, figure out a way to get your demo back. And if you **can't** do that, get _over_ it and write **new** songs! And who says your career _has_ to be in the spotlight? You could do behind the scenes stuff and put your talents to work writing and producing! You could make a name for yourself _that_ way, outside of Boyz Attack, without "Pick Up the Pieces" haunting you to your **grave**!" I cried, flinging my hands in the air. I almost slapped him across the face. It is time to wake up, Tom! Wake up and live!

I shook my head almost furiously and barrelled on. I poked him square in the chest, showing him that I meant business. He has a choice to make. "It's time for you to face the music and make a decision, Tommy. Little Tommy Q needs to grow up! You can either keep coasting along through life, not in control and not happy... Or you can live and do what you want," I posed cautiously, gratingly, glancing at him warily. "Live the life you want. Be who you want to be," I continued slowly, enunciating every word almost seductively. Okay. I'll admit it. I wanted him to say yes. He had potential to be something great outside of the crappy, meaningless boyband experience. "The choice is yours," I offered finally, closing my mouth.

At first, Tommy just looked away and didn't say a word. Then he looked up at me and didn't look me in the eye. He shook his head, continuing somewhat embarrassedly. His cheeks were tinged with pink, but I don't think it was from rage. Yet, anyways. Tommy was always unpredictable. "...This guy isn't worth it. You're too good for him. I know you like him, but in _time_ you **will** forget about him. You'll find someone _so_ much **better** who feels the same way about you," Tommy murmured soothingly. His voice washed over me like peace. Then Tommy frowned and sighed, forcing himself to look up at me. His face twisted into this sort of a bitter half-smile. "And you're right. You're _completely_ right about me. You get me completely," He stated, staring at me as if in awe, disbelieving that anyone could understand the complexity that is Tom Quincy.

But somehow I did, just like he understood about me. I merely shrugged ambivalently, unwilling to take any credit for it. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't," I grunted shortly, eyes flicking over him curiously. I was really impatient for an answer. "So, made your decision yet?" I asked bluntly. If I had gum, I'd be popping it.

Tommy looked pensive for a moment. Then he pursed his lips, frowned just a little, and crinkled up his brow a bit. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he exhaled hard and nodded very slowly. "Yeah... I can't keep up like this, or I won't be able to live with myself. I'm going to do something about it, just like you said. I want to live. I want freedom," Tommy admitted, eyes shining. He looked excited, as excited as a young schoolboy. He seemed ecstatic with this new lease on life. "I... don't know what to say. I... Thank you for helping me," Tommy stuttered, as if mere words wouldn't be enough.

I shrugged again, feeling awkward about the comment. I hadn't really done anything important. I hadn't even made the decision for him. I had merely pointed out the obvious. That was all. "I had nothing to do with it, Quincy. It was all you," I replied casually, waving it off and tousling his hair playfully before reaching for his guitar. Tommy made a frustrated face at me and tried frantically to fix his hair while I fought back chuckles. There was a Gibson around, though, and I was going to use it.

Now, I could tell you about how Tommy and I had a long chat after that. I could tell you how we talked about everything under the sun... our lives... but, above all, music, our mutual love. I could tell you how it was this really meaningful, validating experience and how... How I felt so connected to him. How he was so much nicer than I thought. And I could tell you that he was the first person to ever listen, I mean really listen, to me. I could say that I probably subconsciously remembered the whole ordeal, which is why Tommy and I went from being at each other's throats to being best friends in like, a day. I could even tell you that we wound up talking until three in the morning, upon which time Tommy, who was acting the role of a gentleman for perhaps the first time in his life, escorted me to my all too surprised sister, who was frantic. She gushed over him, and I'd warned him, but Tommy had insisted. A brave man, that one.

But you don't need to know all of that. You don't need to know how after I remembered and relived all of this, I went downstairs and found Tommy getting Josie ready to take her to the park. You don't need to know how we went to the park together and got ice cream cones and... acted perfectly normal, for once. And you certainly don't need me to tell you that the next day the tabloids were proclaiming that Tommy and I had a secret lovechild. And while we had met when I was fourteen, I hadn't done anything with him. Not anything that could make me pregnant. Plus, I kinda think my parents, and, oh, say the world and the school and my friends just might've noticed.

I had an impact on Tommy's life, just like he had a impact on mine. And before you think I'm exaggerating the connection... Let me just tell you that I'm not. The day after that accidental meeting... Tommy officially separated from Portia. By the end of the week, he'd filed for divorce papers. The process was speeded up, mostly uncontested, and they were officially divorced by Christmas. Two weeks after our chance meeting, upon writing and starting to record the first song ("I Don't Want to Be Lonely Tonight", for your information) for Boyz Attack!'s next album, he took a break from the band. By the third week, it was for good, and he was quitting. Period. By three and one-half weeks, he had voided his seven-year (which still had about two years left up in it) contract, ripped it up, and made an official statement to the press that the band was Tommy-free and thus... no longer a band at all. It ended rather violently with all the Boyz winding up in one great fistfight. It was all over the news.

By the one-month mark, he and his lawyer were battling it out with Darius and his lawyer over Tommy's contract. Although he was now of legal age, he had only been thirteen when he'd signed the contract with Darius and Solid Records. Tommy wound up winning the case after a long, drawn-out battle that lasted the better part of a year. He also sued Darius, as some provisions in the contract were illegal, violating some of Tom's civil rights, and essentially ripping him off. Once again, he came out looking like a winner, with the money he'd rightfully earned. And by the fifth week, he'd already been hired at a fledgling studio as an assistant producer. He wasn't even nineteen.

It's amazing to think of the influence a stranger can have on your life. How one meeting... however... seemingly insignifigant or pointless or completely random... Can affect you. I caused Tommy take back his life. He divorced his wife, sued Darius, ditched the band, and became a producer all in one fell swoop. And he caused me to forget about... that boy... if only for a second. And you know what? He was right. It took some time... a lot of time... a lot more than I wanted or expected or needed... but I got over That Boy. I got over him and found a boyfriend who liked me and... So that's how I know I'll get over Tommy again.

Even if it takes me a lifetime to do it.

But even more important than that important knowledge... that oh-so important insight into males... Tommy gave me the hope I needed. He encouraged me. _A **star** for a star..._ He gave me my star ring. And it was that ring and that note that made me determine that no one would ever forget my name again. No one would ever forget me again. I wouldn't let them. And I wouldn't let people change me. In the end, I guess I wound up taking my own advice. I want something, and I go after it like a dog after a hunk of bloody meat.

I wanted to be famous. I wanted to make good music.

I wanted to be a rock star of immense proportions.

So two years down the line I wound up entering this whack talent contest...

Never knowing that it would change my life.

In so many ways... Ways I couldn't see. Ways I never would've expected.

Like I said... I never thought I'd actually win. But life has a funny way of turning it around on you. I won.

And...

I got what I wanted, all right.

I became a star...

- Loren ;

Fics to check out (normally I'd go more in-depth, but I'm supposed to shower and I have school tomorrow and an outline or an essay yet to write): "A Bittersweet Homecoming" by shakabuku. Check it out on the ctv site. Just type in www. instantstar. com, and it'll take you there. Minus the spaces of course. And then click on the message board and then look for it. And, on this site... "Slut vs. Virgin". They're both hilarious, and there's enough UST to kill a bird. That probably didn't make sense, but that's the lack of sleep talking.

"Unexpected" by CJMJM. Which she won't be updating for a while, as her grandmother is sick. She wanted me to tell ya'll that. It's crazy, though. Which is great, because it lives up to the title!

"Natural Disaster" by Sixt3en Candl3s. Oh, and then there's her mah-velous other story, "Wilted", one of my personal favorites. She's the best at writing twisted goodness.

"Tit for Tat" and "Bang Theory" by GiliWasCool. Hilarious, brilliant, and peppered with pop-culture-y goodness. Like VH1 with Tommy and Jude.

And finally,"Song to Say Goodbye" by iamthatplace. Absolutely brilliant and moving and efffective and emotional...

Feel free to drop a review. ;) Should be easier than reading the chapter, hehe, my pretties. ;) Just so you know... It's about 42 and ½ pages. Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews! I live for them and they make me happy and... yeah! They're very appreciated.


	32. Rub One Out

Okay, so I must say that I am rather proud and fond of this chapter. However, Tommy is in it precious little, but there's Travis. Not that he makes up for Tommy's absence. But yeah, this chapter is pretty much one big smorgasbord of Travis. So, Travis lovers, eat it up. But I like this chapter. I think it has a little bit of everything. You have Patsy, Joan, a very perverted song, numerous other song references (seriously... This chapter has kind of its own soundtrack goin'), Jude and Travis at each other's throats, steamy romance scenes, ambiguity, flowers, notes, 20 Questions... It's lovely. Really gives you an insight into Travis.

What I Don't Own: Anything remotely having to do with Instant Star. And pretty much every song mentioned/quoted/indirectly alluded to in this chapter. As well as the line from the poem towards the end. That's from Emily Dickinson. Now, let's see... The song Joan sings is "Rub One Out" by Whoa!... I'm trying to think of how to properly explain it. But if you wanna look for it, look under 2ge+her (2gether). But yeah, they were a mock boyband (with a MTV show), so it's an added irony. "Joan of Arc" belongs to Actionslacks, and it's an awesome song. Hm, and I also don't own "Fetish", "Holy Man", "I Touch Myself", "Do You Wanna Touch Me", "Crimson and Clover", "It Ain't Me, Babe", "Bye, Bye, Bye", "Crazy", "I Walk the Line", "Rebel Yell", "Don't You (Forget About Me)", "Kiss Me Deadly", "Dancing with Myself", "Cradle of Love", "Genie in a Bottle", and "Just Like a Woman". And that's about it, I believe.

Song lyrics, notes, and poems are in italics, per usual. Oh, and this chapter is about as long as the last one. Oops. Funny how things work out that way. Oh, and yeah, I realize that Jude is all over the place in this chapter. Especially in the end. But remember she was drunk for most of it. And, uh, well, the end... I don't really know how that happened, but it did. And she got a lot worse as I kept adding to it, trying hopelessly to clarify it. I'd go back and fix it, make her a helluva lot less idealistic, but it sorta sets her up for the next chapter. I wish she wasn't so insane there, but let's just call it a residual hangover or lightheadedness from lack of food, since she hasn't eaten for over 12 hours and threw up what she did eat. Uh huh, yeah.

Okay, now for the thankage... Okay, first of all, I have to say that this chapter goes out to Petra. She's been looking forward to it forever, and I hope she liked the result. Secondly, big thanks go out to Six. ;) For helping me with everything, putting up with my random questions, for letting me rip off "liquid green", and always offering an opinion. And for thinking so highly of me when I don't deserve it. Lol. And for loving Travis, no matter how much of an ass he is. And, trust me, guys... Seriously, he's horrible the chapter after this one. You'll want to castrate him and hang him up to die... Ahem. And, finally, thanks go out to Ruby, the little sister I always wanted. I owe you so much... I mean, do you know how few people I subject to rants on male pregnancy stories and such other things? No one. ;)

And, last of all, thanks to all the people I've probably forgotten in this note, but especially all of you LOVELY reviewers. Couldn't do it without you guys being so encouraging and leaving such wonderful, long reviews. Really, I think you guys spoil me. I don't think any other authors are as lucky as I am. 'Cause they might get more reviews, but one of my reviews is worth like ten of theirs. Thanks for putting up with the long gaps between updates, the inordinately long lengths of the chapters themselves, even bothering to leave a review, and for sticking with me and STILL following the story after over a year. It means so much to me... You honestly have no idea. There aren't any words. So, in conclusion... thanks.

* * *

Life turns out funny sometimes. It enjoys throwing a curveball in your way and messing things up for you. Take today, for instance. It feels like my entire world's been turned upside-down.

Just for the record, I blame Travis. The whole of this is his fault, and really... The whole of it completely revolves around him. I'm sorry to say that, but it's true. You know how I hate admitting that Travis might actually be right about something. Like his own self-absorption, which I feel like I'm validating right now by admitting the fact that right now... This whole day, and the whole reason that my day's going so terrible happens to be entirely because of him. I fully admit to that.

Now, you'd think after the report I filed on... Friday, was it? You'd think that after that, they'd have filed Travis on the spot or suspended him or put him on leave... I dunno, or that they'd at least ask me about it or something. So just imagine my surprise when I show up to school bright and early and the very first thing I see there... And I **do** mean _the_ very first thing... was Travis' smirking face. I might've dropped things and screamed and... had a minor blow-out. And cursing. There was a lot of that. Screaming and cursing and turning bright red in the face. I think the janitors in the basement heard me.

Not only that, but there were even more surprises in for me. For instance, Joan made me go to Music Class again, right? I don't know why she does it. I guess to save my ass, so I don't look even more pathetic by flunking music. And... I can't believe I'm saying this... but Travis was... Insert your gasps here, my lady friends!... Travis was actually teaching. Again. I know. It's a sign of the end times. He did a lesson on acoustic versus electric. He played and sang again for emphasis. But I'll get to that later.

The thing you need to know about that whole ordeal was that he basically sang the whole song _to_ Joan, **for** Joan, and _at_ Joan. And I am not lying, since Joan's name is in the title of that song, and you'd have to be blind not to see the googly-eyes he was shooting her. He couldn't be trying any harder to get her if he was Tommy trying to get me. Oh, wait... That's actually a tough call. Anyways, my point is this... Joan wasn't really having much of it. And somehow Travis wound up wandering over to us (again with that blasted front row!), and he and Joan wound up having a lovely conversation. Well, not really. Joan was trying very skillfully to push him off, and I was trying my best to ignore him completely.

Oddly enough, since he had to know about the charges, Travis did the same. He did not try to garner my attention, and in fact never said even one word to me. He was probably freezing me out, but it's not like I wanted to get in... so I was perfectly fine. Travis was a bit awkward about the whole thing with Joan, and he seemed more than a little flustered. Oh, did he and Kate have a fight? But I digress. I feel that I am getting further and further away from the point as I progress. The point is really basic and simple. Basically... Travis asked Joan to hang out with him. He said she could bring a friend or two... And just guess who wound up being that friend of choice?

Yeah, that's right. Me, Jude Harrison. So I'll be stuck being the third-wheel on a date with Joan and Travis at some club... all by myself for most of the night. Stuck in the presence of a guy I hate just because Joan's scared to be alone with Travis. Not that I can blame Joan. I really sympathize with her. I myself was once afraid to be alone with Travis. He's scary like that. And, yeah... Still a little afraid here. In fact, that's exactly why I don't want to be on the damn date in the first place. But then again... Travis did say that she could bring a friend or _two_... So why shouldn't _I _be able to? After all, don't I need an incentive? A perk? Someone to make this night even remotely entertaining and less uncomfortable for me?

Joan can have friends Travis doesn't know about, can't she? Friends like... Patsy.

Oh, that's another little thing I forgot to mention, didn't I?

Remember that bet Patsy and I had going? The one that I made completely on a whim? You know, the one about whether she could get Travis to... well... you know. Yeah. That one. Well... I lost. I **completely** lost. I lost bad. And I do mean bad. I'm dressing like a dominatrix tomorrow. Patsy even brought me the clothes and gave me fashion advice. I shudder to think of it. But I think I got off remotely easy. If we based the bet on the number of times, let's just say I'd be dressing like a dominatrix for _well_ over a week. I seriously underestimated somebody there, let me tell you. I can't figure out who just yet. Maybe I underestimated Patsy's determination, or maybe I underestimated Travis' moral depravity. So far it's a tie.

Travis was entirely too willing. Ugh. Did I tell you that Patsy abducted me from lunch, dragged me into the broadcast lab, locked the door, and practically tied me down to a chair? We had a little private screening of her video, complete with soundtrack and everything. No joke. She knows how to edit a video and apparently has ProTools. So she's literally singing the background music. Yes, there's background music. Apparently, in her book, grunts are not all the soundtrack you need. Good background music too... It helped distract me from the... groaning. She literally forced me to watch the whole damn thing. Taped my eyes open and everything. I think I shall carry the mental scars around with me for maybe the rest of my life. My skin crawls just thinking of the images I saw on that little screen.

Way much more of Patsy and Travis than I ever wanted to see in my lifetime. Doing such dirty, horrible things. There was food, scratching, handcuffs, black leather, and see-through underwear; even a whip was involved in there somewhere. Yeah, and I'm never going to look at him the same way. Never again. Much less ever touch his desk again. Or his chair. Ew. So gross. Sheesh. I wonder if either of them were track stars at some point because, damn, they had endurance!

So, right. I guess I should start from the beginning. I was minding my business, walking down the hallway towards the cafeteria. I was hungry, and I wanted my lunch. I was also the only person in the hallway. Imagine my surprise when, out of nowhere, someone grabs me and pulls me into a dusty, unused classroom. Seeing that my previous experience with this sort of behavior was when Travis practically forced himself on me in the janitor's closet, you can understand my perturbation. It was thus reasonable for me to automatically assume that my kidnapper was none other than a very tenacious Travis Quinn, who was back for another round. After all, he had to have been mad at me for what I did. As I thought my abductor was Travis, I immediately fought against my captor. "You'll never take me alive, Travis!" I screeched, turning around to wail on... well, the person I presumed to be Travis.

Of course, it was really Patsy. She had an iron grip. My eyes widened immeasurably. Patsy? As if on cue, Patsy grinned evilly. She frowned, looking pensive for a moment, but she did not reliquish her grip on my wrist. Then Patsy's eyes lit up deviously, and the smirk returned. "Man, Travis _really_ is kinky. I knew he liked it rough... but necrophilia?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow. Patsy calling Travis kinky. Wow. I didn't even want to ask how she knew he liked it rough. Patsy licked her lips. "Me likie," She muttered almost to herself before bursting into Wicked Witch-like cackles of hysterical glee. I shuddered at the thought. As much as I admire Patsy... she is a bit of a freak.

I grimaced, shuddering again at the remark. I do not need to hear about my teachers' sex lives... much less participate in them. Patsy grinned at me crazily, and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a videotape emerged. "Sex, lies, and videotape, Baby!" Patsy exclaimed cheerily, brandishing the tape. She waved the tape in the air and then shoved it in a specially positioned big-screen that I'm sure she jacked from somewhere. Patsy beamed, turning the TV on and practically throwing me into a desk. "Sit, sit, Cherry! We've got a film to watch! A private screening... don't you know. Yours are the first eyes to behold it," Patsy continued, sounding like a demented goth housewife.

I looked at her like she had three heads, and it's Patsy... so, hey, anything's possible. I immediately leapt up from my seat and tried to make a break for it. Patsy, however, was like a cheetah. She nearly pounced on me, pushing me back into the seat. Out of nowhere, she ripped out a pair of hand-cuffs and chained me to the desk. Yeesh, now I know how Travis felt! She's an animal, I tell you! Practically a hydrophobic! As if that wasn't enough, she quickly bound me with rope, tying me to the chair with a knot that a Girl Scout could be proud of. As Tommy said, "Always be prepared." Patsy must have adopted that as a personal motto... She had refreshments. Patsy had really out-done herself here.

The refreshments consisted of a large bowl of popcorn, a liter of Coke, and an obscenely-shaped cake. I bet you can guess what it was shaped like, can't you? Knowing Patsy and all... She smiled and pressed play, looking incredibly excited. You know, maybe she was a director, not a singer. The opening lines to the song that had gotten us into the entire mess in the first place began to play, and I could've sworn that it was Patsy singing. The screen flashed black for a second, going through an elaborate opening sequence of Patsy getting ready as her name and various titles flashed across the screen. Finally the screen froze on Patsy smirking and pressing a kiss to the camera. A title appeared on screen: _"Liquid Dreams", a film by Patsy Stuart_. High-tech. I have to say... I was impressed.

By her editing skills at least. That and the fact that Patsy went completely crazy, and when she goes crazy, she goes _all_ out. Patsy's movie started out with her laying flat on Travis' desk, on top of the papers and everything, scantily clad. Patsy was wearing a somewhat demure looking black dress with long-sleeves that went down to her knees. However, if you saw it at the right angle, it became painfully apparent that the dress was completely see-through. The camera panned to the door. And, as if on cue, Travis opened the door and entered the room. Patsy's eyes shot open and she pushed herself up, leaning back on her elbows and crossing her legs.

Travis walked towards his desk and apparently believed he was seeing things for a minute. Then he blinked, and, of course, Patsy was still there, so he frowned at her. "What are you doing on my desk, Stuart?" Travis practically spat, looking rather vexed. You can bet he was not happy to see her, much less on top of his things, after school.

Patsy just smirked, propping herself up on her hands and sliding so that she was sitting on the front of his desk, directly facing Travis. She deliberately uncrossed her legs and peered up at him mysteriously. Then her eyes narrowed, and she gave Travis the old once-over. I suppose I should take the time now to say that Patsy's little coat-ensemble-dress thing had a belt in the middle, and... I guess that was the only thing holding it together. It provided Travis with a very nice view of her legs. And I have to admit it, Patsy has great legs. They're so... skinny. I, however, did not need to see the occasional flashes of her (crotchless) underwear. Ick, ick, ick. Travis, though, seemed more than a little interested than was appropriate (then again, when is Travis ever fully appropriate? Or maybe it is appropriate, considering his nickname is Quinny) in what was beneath Patsy's skirt. "What, Quinny-kins, did you have a fight with the little woman?" Patsy asked, feigning a frown. She knew that'd piss him off, and honestly, I think Patsy wanted it that way. Angry sex is hot, and Travis gets hot when he's angry. Best of both worlds, right? Travis clenched his fists.

He glared at Patsy as if he wanted to fillet her. He motioned for her to get out, but, being Patsy... She didn't go. He thought she was going to leave by just a hand gesture? Puh-lease. The boy flatters himself too much. Patsy pursed her lips, only moments before a predatory smile crossed those same lips. "So there is no little woman, then? Hmm... interesting," Patsy murmured in a low voice, looking at Travis like he was a piece of meat. Patsy leaned forward, licking her lips. Travis looked remarkably unaffected. Not that you could really tell by the way he kept sneaking glances up her dress.

Travis backed away, dusting himself off as if he was afraid something in her proximity was contagious. "What's it to you?" He muttered, shooting her a glare. He looked at Patsy like she was the dirt under his shoes. He ought to get down off his high horse. He's no one to be giving moral lectures. "I'm a teacher. What I do in my _private_ life on my _own_ time is none of your business," Travis replied icily. He glared at her so severely that his eyes swam blue for a minute, and I got confused by it.

Patsy slid off the desk, landing with a thud in her thigh-high boots. Patsy advanced upon him, a challenging gleam in her eyes. She frowned at him, shaking her head. "But that's just it. You didn't keep it private," Patsy stated bluntly. She paused deliberately, and a grin crossed her face a second later. "Way I hear it, you practically paraded her around and nearly had sex with her in class," She said amusedly. Patsy shot him a deliciously dark "come hither" look, staring at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "And... you being my teacher and all... I think _who_ you do in class **is** my business," Patsy remarked flippantly.

She has a point there. Travis really shouldn't be doing _anyone_ in class. I think his sex drive is much too high. It dominates his brain, which really makes him no better than Tommy. I mean... plotting how to best service Joan while still in class, behind his desk... Which Travis was doing today, and it was only like the most obvious thing in the world! I mean, come on, the guy wouldn't come out from behind his desk for THE longest time. Sheesh, he's worse than Tommy, and that's really saying something. It's all terribly unprofessional.

Oddly enough, her hair was down and messy... Patsy must do her research. Aside from the outfit... the dress, at least... and the height of the boots... She sort of looked like Joan a bit. Travis scoffed, obviously irritated just thinking of his ex. He shot Patsy a smug look. "Sounds like you're just jealous," He sneered, trying to reduce her to a petty teenage emotion. Then again, he didn't know what he was getting himself into. Patsy was a loud, proud, consenting adult. Travis's type, don't you know.

Patsy rolled her eyes at him, inspecting her nails. She looked rather bored. "Please. I know your type, and I know exactly what kind of man you _think_ you are," She muttered, looking him straight in the eye. Travis quirked an eyebrow at the comment. I guess even he didn't know what kind of man he is. Sure has me confused. Patsy's eyes narrowed further as she pursed her lips, pointing a finger at him. "I hate people like you," She slurred, squinting menacingly. I glanced over at real-time Patsy, wondering if she'd had some liquid courage before making the bet.

It seemed as if it was going in my favor. Key word being seemed. Travis' eyes flashed. He was getting pretty tired of Patsy pretty fast. And she hadn't even propositioned him yet. "Oh, really! If you really hate people like me so much... Then why are you here right now, feigning a conversation about my romantic life and then insulting me?" Travis hissed, calling Patsy on her crap. Patsy's eyes flickered coolly with respect. She liked straight-shooters. Might hate everything else about Travis, but he's hot and he's pretty blunt. "Do you really want me _that_ bad?" Travis asked cockily, raising an eyebrow.

Though Patsy can be rather full of herself at times, the cockiness was a major turn-off. I think sometimes Travis gets so caught up in his Tommy emulation that he forgets that Tommy actually has the charm to pull off being a little cocky. Plus Tommy's not as obnoxious, whereas Travis has this whole superiority complex and this know-it-all thing going on. Patsy placed her hands roughly on her hips, glaring at Travis. He wholly deserved it. "I hate you because you're a sell-out," Patsy spat venemously. Travis' eyes narrowed. I saw a vein bulging in his neck. How attractive. He was just pissed because she was right. "You want to be a musician, but you couldn't tough it out through the hard times. So I think you're a wuss," Patsy continued bluntly, merrily insulting him. After all, he couldn't punish her for things she said after school, now could he?

Oh, wait... He kind of could. But she was the one with the whip...

Then again, Patsy could so blackmail his ass for this and all the other crap she knows Travis is into. Travis looked down his nose at her, practically reeking of snooty condescension. Her hands slid off her hips, hanging limply at her sides as she continued her diatribe. "And you know what, I don't appreciate you looking at me like that," She snapped, glaring daggers at him. She clenched her fists, seemingly ready to attack him. "I don't _like_ it when people write me off as just another **weirdo** punk _freak_ who knows nothing about nothing, least of all music. I don't like the way you look at me like I'm stupid, like I'm the dirt beneath your shoes," Patsy growled, eyes glinting steelily. She was determined. "Because I'm not. I'm savvy... I know how the world works," Patsy stated plainly, placing her hands on her hips.

If Travis had any doubts over whether she really knew how the world worked, Patsy sure proved herself a few moments later.

A self-satisfied smile crossed her ruby-red lips. She approached Travis slowly, and in a flash, she sidled up to him. Patsy leaned in closer, licking her lips sinuously. Travis stared at her, fixated on the motion. Patsy giggled girlishly, and it sounded out of place coming from her mouth. "I look just like her, don't I, T? Pale skin, dark eyes, red lips... only thing I'm missing is the pink streaks, right?" Patsy taunted, brushing her lips against his ear. Travis stiffened, probably wondering how Patsy knew. To tell you the truth, so did I. It's not like _I_ told her. Patsy grinned viciously and bit down on his earlobe before he could jerk away. Travis shivered, and Patsy removed her lips. She stayed up in his face though. "And I might not be your little _society_ girlfriend who thinks the world of you, or some idealistic kid who's eating out of your hand... But that doesn't mean that I don't affect you," Patsy murmured darkly, pressing herself against him. She fearlessly looked him in the eyes, a slow smirk on her face, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "I can do things to you that your little socialite _princess_ of a girlfriend couldn't even **dream** of," She hissed, biting his neck like a vampire would. Travis shuddered then, not at all like before. His muscles contracted underneath his shirt, stiffening. The shudder ran through his whole body like a silent scream.

Travis took a step backwards, blinking as if to clear his mind. His eyes were clouded and still a little hazy, but it looked like he was trying to regain his cool. Patsy was no longer latched on to his neck, but I saw a hickey covered in red lipstick where she'd bitten him. I knew better though. Travis wanted Patsy. He didn't like her, but you could see it in his eyes. He was trying to play it cool, but he was a little too flustered for it to really work. Maybe he knew this was wrong. That's the funny thing, though. It's completely legal since Patsy is over eighteen. "Pretty blatant about our intentions, aren't we?" Travis muttered, sounding a bit surprised. He licked his lips absentmindedly. "But Patsy, I do so treasure you as a student! You just can't proposition me like that!" He exclaimed sarcastically. I rolled my eyes at that. Teacher, preacher. Then Travis surprisingly did lean in as if to kiss her. I found myself surprised, unable to believe that he really was as desperate as I'd always suspected. But then, of course, he pulled a Travis.

He was such an ass sometimes. Okay, _all_ the time. Travis sneered at her. "Let me put it this way, Stuart... If I wanted to screw a crackwhore and catch AIDS, I'd go down to the street corner and fork over a five," He retorted nastily. That, I have to say, was unbelievably rude. Even for him. Patsy didn't look stricken then, and she didn't look stricken next to me, but I could tell what he'd said had affected her.

Patsy just scowled at him with an unbelievably cruel look glinting in her eyes. She pulled out the big guns next, of course. "You know, Travis, really don't think **you're** the kind of guy to be passing judgments..." Patsy muttered, tsking and shaking her head. _Shame, shame_, proclaimed the hard look in her eyes. She grinned again, a properly evil smile. Patsy's evil smile was scarier than Travis's. "You're even more immoral than I am," She declared righteously, placing a finger on her lip and pausing for an infinitesimal moment before continuing, "I mean, it's not like _I'm_ the predator who actively pursues innocent, impressionable teenage girls." Her eyes reflected coolly in his now sea-green eyes. His eyes looked like a frozen sea, tinged with icy blue frost as they were.

"After all, pedophiles are the worst criminals of them all," Patsy decreed boldly, believing the words everyone knew to be true. Pedophiles, especially the ones who picked on little kids... They had it worst in jail. Even the other prisoners hated them. Travis literally reeled at that one and Patsy perked up a bit, looking incredibly proud of herself. She rolled her eyes as if to call him stupid. "Everybody knows that," She stated in a bored, teasing, "this is so obvious" tone.

As usual, Travis was quick to the defense. He always was when it was a crime he was actually guilty of. His eyes narrowed in rage, shining with a passionate denial. It was almost as if he believed it himself. He, of course, had to know better. Unless he's gotten so good at it that he believes his own lies. Then he has even more problems than I thought. "I'm not a pedophile. They like girls who haven't reached puberty yet. By your own logic, that would make me an ephebophile," Travis corrected, purely for the semantics.

He doesn't like the stigma of being a pedophile. Patsy crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes at him irritably. "Cut the intelligentsia BS, Travis. Call it whatever you want... That won't make it sound any better. That won't make it _okay_," Patsy stated plainly, a bit of an edge creeping into her tone. Travis winced, and it was an ugly thing. Patsy looked up, and her dark eyes met his murky ones. She was absolutely unafraid. "You're a pervert. That's that. Pretty cut and dry," Patsy said bluntly. Travis fidgeted uncomfortably under his stare, opening his mouth to make an angry retort, but Patsy beat him to it. She cut him off with a dismissive hand gesture, eyes flicking coolly over him. "But you know, I'm okay with that," She began suddenly, pausing for a moment to properly articulate herself, "Not that I approve of it, but hey, who doesn't have a crazy fantasy or two, right? And I figure... you haven't nailed anyone yet." She frowned, shrugging at him.

Patsy gave him a curious look then, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes at him. "You've just _molested_ people. That **is** what you call it, right, Travis? When you just feel them up and _kiss_ them and... don't **actually** do the deed with them. Right?" Patsy taunted mercilessly, her words somehow biting. She smiled thinly, holding out her arms in a pacifying gesture. "But... I can deal with that. So go ahead. Get out your repressed aggression," Patsy urged somewhat desperately, giving him a look that left her lust pretty much out in the open. She approached him deliberately slowly, placing a hand on his arm. She trailed her fingers up to his shoulder seemingly absent-mindedly. "It's been a _looong_ day, after all, and your students are just so, **so** ungrateful," Patsy murmured lustily, licking her lips. Patsy leaned in a little, casually unbuttoning the top button of her dress, as if she was just hot. "Ingrates, they are," She muttered dismissively, undoing yet another fastener. Travis looked confused. Silly rabbit.

Patsy took another bold step, closer to him. "Heaven _knows_ I need it just as much as you do," She practically moaned, leaning in so close now that their mouths were almost touching. Her eyes darkened with desire. "Now come on, stop playing coy..." Patsy ordered impatiently, fixing him with a cross look. She deliberately unbuttoned another button. "You know you want to."

It was a statement of fact to Patsy. But Travis just didn't get it. He seemed to be confused by the whole thing. I just about smacked myself in the head there. Seriously, how dumb could one man be? Wasn't it obvious? "Want to do what?" He asked cluelessly. Patsy looked gobsmacked and shot him a frustrated look.

She crossed her arms over her chest irritably, staring him down with intensity. "Me, stupid," She barked.

Travis' jaw dropped, and he looked even more confused. Idiot. "Uh, excuse me, did you just miss that whole speech about how I'm a pervert? The one **you** just gave?" He asked, as if she was the stupid one here. To which I must say that he had to be clueless to not pick up those insinuations in her speech. Honestly, she was unbuttoning her outfit and anything. How could a guy as horny as him miss that? I swear, the guy has a perpetual hard-on. He must be feeling real reluctant about this not to immediately act on it.

No one's that stupid, after all... Not even Travis.

Patsy moved a bit closer, boldly meeting his eyes. An inviting smile crossed her lips. "Did I mention I'm eighteen, ready, _willing_, and able?" She asked seductively, playing with the collar of his shirt. She frowned thoughtfully, leaning against him. She trailed her hand down his chest. "Now, do you like it rough?" She asked bluntly, not even waiting for an answer. "Because I do. And if you don't, we'll just have to work that out," Patsy chattered plainly, grinning absolutely insanely. Travis gave her a wary look, and Patsy's eyes lit up with memory. "Oh... And just so you don't feel obligated or anything... I'm really not into the whole cuddling thing, so we can just skip that," Patsy explained coolly.

She'd just said the magic words, of course. Guys hate cuddling. I personally don't mind it... well, as long as Tommy's the one I wake up with. That's been happening an awful lot lately. He's been oddly physically affectionate as of late. Not that I mind. I mean, yeah, I'm supposed to and all... but when has that ever stopped me before from wanting the Forbidden Fruit?

Never, just as I said. Travis perked up a bit and was now eying Patsy with thinly veiled interest. Travis took a step back, feeling somewhat awkward at their closeness. He peered at her appraisingly, taking a good, long look at her. Patsy smirked at him knowingly. "Just sex, then?" Travis asked apprehensively, glancing at her with distrustful eyes.

Patsy rolled her eyes. Considering she was only doing him to win a bet, there was almost no risk of her reading into it. Patsy wasn't the type to read into things anyways. Travis is, in fact, that very sort of man. But he just takes it where he can get it. She shot him a skeptical, disbelieving look, as if it was impossible that Travis could be so cocky. "Do I look like I'm going to get attached?" She scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "I hate you and everything you stand for. You feel the same," Patsy stated boredly. She looked him over openly, and a hint of a flush spread across Travis' cheeks. "We both need to get laid."

Travis did not argue with her, but he didn't seem into it yet. Patsy leaned in, eyes glittering with malicious frustration. She pressed herself against him, but Travis remained static. "It's not rocket science... If you want to, I'll do anything..." Patsy offered, trying to lure Travis into finally making a move. Travis raised an eyebrow and a contemplative look crossed his face. His eyes, however, were filled with a mixture of hungry lust and all-out disgust. She boldly met his gaze, and chemistry sizzled in the air. Here Patsy's eyes turned hard. "So either get me off or get out," Patsy snapped, pointing towards the door.

First I would like to point out the senselessness of that gesture. It was, after all, his classroom, not hers. Secondly, I was a bit taken aback. But the ultimatum, as usual, worked in Patsy's favor (and as all things involving Travis do, against me). Travis grabbed Patsy, practically threw her on his desk, climbed on top of her, and then practically mauled her. Patsy seemed to be enjoying every minute of it.

Things got a bit more graphic and I tried to avert my eyes as best as I could. Patsy, on the other hand, was cheering loudly and inquisitively peering at the many camera angles from all directions. I felt sick to my stomach. Here it was. Proof that Travis was exactly as horrible as I'd always suspected. Well, and proof that both he and Patsy were sort of slutty. Joan must never see this, I vowed silently... it'll break her heart. Hell, on that note,_ I_ must never see this again on account of it making me physically ill. I don't even wanna see it now! And as much as I hated it, it was like I was picturing myself there with Travis.

And, under different circumstances, that easily could've been me writhing underneath him. Though in my case it would probably be me fighting back. And as much as it sucked, all those memories kept flooding back. And... for the first time since it had happened, I found myself remembering that night in the club in great detail. I wasn't as innocent as I thought I was. I felt ashamed. I wasn't really drunk at all and I'd let him get that far with me. I was sober, damn it! Sober!

I forced myself to think of other things almost immediately and was suddenly reminded of the weekend just then, and I'm glad I was because it made me miss out on the Tratsy action. You see, I spent the whole day of Saturday with Tommy. And my cousins, both of whom I love to death, but they don't matter. You see, I don't know how it happened, but I think someone (coughprobablyFionacough) made a flip comment about how we were all alone and unsupervised for the weekend. Dumb move number one. I mean, she should've known that Tommy-who-wants-to-jump-me would JUMP at the chance to actually... jump me. Which he could do at night... when I was alone... My cousins were asleep upstairs... and we were on the couch... I was alone and defenseless. Vulnerable.

Naturally, Tommy, being the gentleman and oh-so mature adult/authority figure in my life, volunteered to stay with us for the weekend. The whole weekend. Until just before Mom got home. Then he'd shimmy out the window like old Chaz did. Hm. That reminds me. I never said what I actually said to Mom and Dad that got Chaz off the hook. And Tommy in hot water, but... They haven't done anything, Mom and Dad, based on what I said (pretty incriminating too)... so maybe he's off the hook too. Or maybe they knew I was lying. Er. Let's hope.

All I know is that had Mom found Tommy, she might've killed him. I don't know. I mean, Fiona would swear left and right, up and down, that Tommy and I had never slept together. She'd say that even if we had. Gotta love loyalty. But she's a sharp one, though. I don't think I would've been able to hide it from her. I can't get anything past that girl. Anyways, as for what I said (what now seems like many moons ago... Damn, that was like, two Fridays ago! Tempus fugit...), well, I'd like to keep that a dirty little secret of my own, except all the important people know, even Tommy. So it doesn't matter.

Tommy's not even worried about it. He just finds it hilarious. Cocky bastard.

Anyways... Phew, this is gonna be hard.

But I have to do it, or I'll never get around to all the crap that went down with Travis. Travis and crap are synonymous, so that's a lot of it. Ahem. Yeah.

Back to what I said. It was exactly as follows (no matter how much, to my abject mortification, I wish it was not): "Could you speed it up? I want to get some beauty sleep in so I look good before I have to give Tommy a blow-job this afternoon."

I wish I was joking, really, I do. Now, as much as I love the guy and all... And I do, too, I love him so much that it hurts. But I don't think I'd ever give him a blow job. For one thing, I don't know where the hell his dick's been (does everywhere count?), and I don't wanna catch a disease. And, for another, the entire process just sounds disgusting and insanitary. Ew. Then again, I think I've mentioned all that before, so maybe that's why Mom and Dad didn't take me real seriously about it.

But yeah, I was talking about Tommy staying the weekend at our house. He was supposed to sleep on the couch or whatever, but Tommy only wound up sleeping on the couch one night (Sunday night, actually), and I was with him! He's an ex-boybander; he's used to talking his way into girls' beds. So, one night, Tommy and I were rooting around in Sades' room for something, and we found that sex tape of his that Sadie bought off the 'net. Tommy immediately recognized it (cementing my idea that he had something to do with its getting out) and insisted that we watch it. I would've rather chugged a whole bottle of Sadie's Poison Pink nail polish than watch it, but Tommy insisted... and, since he was "protecting" me and all... I had to agree. There was really no other choice.

So the only reason I was even able to sit there on the couch alone with him was the prospect of seeing him naked in the movie. It was only fair, after all. Tommy smirked at me, as if he knew what I was thinking. It wouldn't surprise me if he did. It was probably written all over my face. I was a little excited... just to see Tommy in it. I mean, I was watching it with the guy, you know... so that was strange. Tommy made all these little comments during the video. I mean, smug stuff, observations, suggestions... that sort of thing.

Tommy was about... seventeen when he made this one. No, not _even_ seventeen. He was precisely sixteen and a half. So it's basically like seeing Tommy in the fresh bloom of his youth. He's a little younger, and you can tell. He's a little leaner. His hair's a little longer, hangs around his face a bit more. He looks really good in it. _Really_ good. You know, come to think of it, that would make Patsy and Travis' little tape the second porno I've seen in as many days.

So, it suddenly occurred to me (rather inconveniently, to tell the truth) as the Tommy on-screen had just removed his shirt, and the Tommy sitting next to me had just made a crude remark, that I needed some liquor if I was going to get through the whole night with Tommy. I told Tommy I was going to make some popcorn, but I was really running off to get a drink. My parents and Sadie don't think I know where they store the alcohol, but I do. You see, Sadie has a stash of rum left over from this wild party she had back in the day. It was just before I found out that I was going to be on Instant Star, so I was kinda keyed up. Anyways, Mom and Dad were gone for the weekend on this couples' retreat. Sadie wanted an excuse to bare her skin (by dressing up as a mermaid). She wanted an excuse to throw a raging, completely out-of-control party. And... yeah... She wanted someone to shiver her timbers.

Her solution was a proper pirate bash.

Seriously, she bought a friggin' crate of Captain Morgan. I have no idea how she arranged it, but... There was rum, rum everywhere. The party went from Friday afternoon all the way to the wee hours of Sunday morning. I was relegated to staying on the top floor in my room, but I snuck down for a drink or so. And I slipped out so I could crash over at Jamie's. His Nana's half-deaf, and the party was mostly confined to the house, so we were all right. And I don't remember how it happened, but I got pretty drunk and wound up almost kissing Speiderman. Who was dressed like a full-on pirate (mainly because looking like a swashbuckling stallion was the only way a loser like him could get into the party at all). Which isn't surprising, now that I know that the skull and crossbones is SME's thing. They're always wearing a skull and crossbones somewhere on their oufits. Speed especially. He has that one gray shirt with the skull and crossbones on it that he wears all the time.

Anyways, enough about Speed. That reminds me... I was supposed to, I think, go out with him on Sunday. Uh, oops. You think he'll hate me? I didn't go out with Tim later, but I called him this morning. He didn't pick up, but I left a message, apologizing profusely. I claimed that an obligation had come up at the last minute, and I forgot to call. You know, a little family emergency. Which was actually true. The emergency was me left alone with Tommy to babysit my two younger cousins. Who will probably never be the same again. Tommy and I are not good role models.

But anyways, I wound up getting pretty wasted. Not as wasted as I have been at the club that one night I shudder to think of, nor some of the other times I've been drunk. I wasn't really wasted, though, since I can remember most of what happened. I was... tipsy. Yes, that's the word. Tipsy. More than a little bit inebriated, really. I was only a little more drunk than I usually was around Tim, in whose company I usually almost certainly had some form of buzz (whether chemical, emotional, or alcoholic). But I was still lucid enough to remember everything with relative clarity. My decisions... not so clear.

Now, I don't precisely remember everything that happened. I remember watching quite a bit of the video with Tommy and regularly glancing over at him... checking him out... okay, so I was staring at him a lot of the time. What's your point? You act like that's strange. I'm not a stalker, I tell you, damnit!

Hmm, and I remember feeling very turned on by the whole thing. That stupid girl in the movie (who Tommy divulged was Justin Timberlake's girlfriend, though he could not, for the life of him, remember her name) kept moaning about every five seconds, and it was driving me crazy. Not always in a good way either. Tommy also told me that the girl on the screen really wasn't very good at all, that he was just playing it up for the cameras, and he'd done all the work... Literally, he said it was like work. I believe that Tommy made this video just to stick it to Justin, which really wouldn't surprise me at all. Guess he wasn't so sexy back then, now was he? Justin, that is. Not Tommy. Tommy would be sexy at any time. Even as a caveman.

Mind you, Tommy was telling me all of these revealing sexual details without the aid of alcohol. So you can only imagine what he was like when he filched my rum. We both wound up slightly wasted and half out of our minds, acting like complete idiots in our drunken stupors. Somewhere in the midst of all of this... I don't quite remember when, but I think it was when Tommy had just actually started having sex with the girl (it's a very, very, very long video...). I don't exactly remember how it all started or unfolded, but I think I... I think I remember just randomly pouncing on Tommy and kissing the living daylights out of him because I just couldn't TAKE it anymore.

And, really, who can blame me? After watching him go at it with another girl on-screen looking about as good to me as drugs to rockstars (or, if you will, sluts to Tommy)... and then having him sitting right next to me, smelling so good and so... Tommy-like... with his warm, strong arm thrown casually around my shoulder... my thin frame leaning lightly against his sturdier, chiseled one... his hip brushing hotly against mine through the fabric from time to time... the searing accidental contact of bare skin against bare skin... the guitar-calloused, friendly fingers enlaced with mine. He was sitting there, making flirtatious comments and sexual innuendos and dirty insinuations and double entendres left and right, just begging for it. And those laschivious looks he kept a-sending my way... or the way he kept languidly licking his dangerously seductive lips... I couldn't resist.

I'm a hormonal mess.

Just like that I went from thinking about all of this, and just _thinking_ about doing it... to well, just... doing it. Next thing I knew, I'd literally thrown myself at Tommy, flinging my arms around his neck, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. My momentum carried him down, and then I was on top of him. Then I was straddling him, pushing him flat on his back against the couch. My hands were tangled hopelessly in his soft hair, and his hands were... One was protectively up the back of my shirt, at least a little above the small of my back, keeping me down. The other was wrapped around my waist so as to keep me as near to him as was physically possible. Admittedly, that was very, very nice. And then I took off his shirt, and that was even better. I kinda don't remember much about what happened after all that... except, for of course, enjoying myself immensely. But that was a given.

I did, however, wake up on top of a shirtless Tommy, who had me by an iron grip around my waist, with a mindbending headache and a head of messy hair. I wasn't wearing a bra, but I was still wearing my t-shirt, though it had been pulled up a lot. It was all wrinkly, too... from sleep. My sweatpants were also a little lower than I remembered them being, and Tommy's other hand rested firmly on my ass. Tommy's zipper was undone. All in all, the scene left me rather confused as to what had actually transpired. Especially since I remembered nothing in between taking off his shirt and waking up on top of him. Ah, nothing like wondering what debauchery you committed the night before the morning after, eh?

I'm pretty sure I didn't sleep with him... Well, okay, so I did. But not like... you know... Not like him and Justin's ex. Then again, Tommy regularly hooked up with the girlfriends of other boybanders, just to piss them off and prove he could have any girl he wanted. There's some speculation, for instance, that he was the guy Britney supposedly cheated on Justin with. I don't really think she cheated because she's a girl and wouldn't even admit to having had sex with Justin until he said they had like only a true asshole would. Then again, if I had sex with Justin Timberlake, I don't think I'd admit it either. Probably because Tommy would go postal and there would be boybander blood everywhere. Plus I asked Tommy about the whole "Cry Me a River" thing, and he swore he didn't do anything because, although he hated Justin... He respected Britney's wishes. That was... hm. That was when he was being decent.

At least... I think I didn't. It's weird to think that that's how I woke up this morning. Tommy's hair was all messy from sleep, and he looked so adorable. I hissed at him to get up because, well, I couldn't move. Tommy woke up sluggishly and did a double-take when he saw me about two inches away from his face. He stared up at me with bleary, tired eyes, and his grip tightened involuntarily. I was slightly breathless. This is all, of course, understandable. It was, after all, four in the morning. Luckily Mom and Aunt Sandra weren't home to see it, so I kind of just... pulled down my shirt a bit embarrassedly (let's just say it was pushed up a bit higher than I previously said... almost around my neck), crossing my arms over my chest. I picked up the bra on the floor and, blushing, threw Tommy his shirt. I refastened the bra shamefully, unable to even look at Tommy. After doing that, I picked up the rum bottle that had gotten us in this mess in the first place and discreetly threw it away.

Tommy thoughtfully made us both Poptarts after straightening up a bit. By the time I was back, they'd already popped up from the toaster and had cooled a bit. Tommy ate his fast, but I kind of ate each bite listlessly. I couldn't get the sugary-sweet taste (of rum) out of my mouth. Eventually, I just gave up and set the Poptart down, picking up Tommy's jacket (he'd already put on his shoes) and handing it to him. Tommy shrugged it on, and we walked to the door together. I opened the door, and Tom stepped out.

It should been just as simple as that, but it wasn't. Of course it wasn't. It was Tommy and me, after all.

Tommy lingered there in the doorway, hand lightly pressed against the door, which was still ajar. He was looking at me thoughtfully, openly. I was just staring at him in bewilderment, wondering what he wanted from me this time. Now it's clear to me that he was trying to remember what we did. Not that I myself would know, remember. He looked sort of uncomfortable for a second or two there, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Tom bit his lip and then just asked me what we'd done. I told him I didn't remember, and why the hell would I, anyways? I was the drunker one in the situation! He said he remembered fooling around with me... and then he trailed off expectantly. I swear to you, his face turned _pink_.

Normally that would be funny, and of course it was. It was downright hilarious. Only here Tommy was, confirming that we'd gone further than I thought so... I just-I didn't know. Probably not, though. That's what I said. It didn't really reassure either of us. Tommy even looked a little green at the prospect. He offered to keep in touch and then turned to leave. What, no goodbye? I merely shrugged and turned back around myself.

Tom surprised me by walking briskly back in the house, grabbing me by the arms, and pulling me into a passionate embrace right there in the middle of the living room. I know I shouldn't have kissed him back and all but... I couldn't help it! Tommy broke the kiss breathlessly, staring at me with bright eyes. His hands stayed wrapped around my forearms even though he should've let me go. I had no idea what on Earth there was to say to that. Other than responding in kind, and, well... I just couldn't do that. So I waited. "I forgot to say goodbye," Tommy explained, as if that was really a valid excuse. We both knew he was lying.

It's weird. I don't know exactly what I did with Tommy... and I woke up with him just this morning... but... I miss him already. I'm horrible at resisting him. We're like magnets. I'm South, and he's my North. Opposites attract.

But back to the video, as lovely as these thoughts of Tommy are... I glanced back at the screen just in time to see a particularly graphic image on screen. I grimaced, and Patsy noticed, grinning wildly. It was unnatural for anyone to smile like that, much less Patsy. "He's big, isn't he?" She remarked with wide, proud eyes. Ew. Ew. Ew. I swear, I almost puked there for a second. Ew.

I will never be able to look at Travis again. Especially now that I know what he looks like all... not wearing clothes. I shuddered, scowling at him. I rolled my eyes in mild irritation. "Oh yes. His endowment rivals Harvard's," I muttered sarcastically. Patsy beamed, and I shook my head in frustration. Well, at least I could be proud of that comment, I suppose. Joan would get it. Then again, Joan would not have even touched Travis, let alone made a sex tape with him, just because we had a bet. Nor would Joan have made me watch it. That reminds me. Joan must never see this video.

Anyways, the video ran a lot longer than I thought. It was really hours and hours of footage (I know because Patsy made me watch the entire thing later), but Patsy cut it off after like... 45 minutes. That was when they'd finished their first round. So I wound up missing lunch and impressed at the acrobatics. I was also a noticeable fifteen minutes late to his class. I'm sure Travis noticed, but he didn't say a thing about it. He just muttered a sarcastic "glad you could join us" and went back to writing some stuff on the board about guitars that I already knew. Joan was sitting in the front row... and there was a conveniently empty seat next to her. Now, I don't really know why the seat next to her was empty, especially since that seat provides a lovely front row view of Travis' desk... but it was. I guess they were just intimidated.

I, of course, sat down next to her, shuddering when I glanced at Travis' desk. Visions of him and Patsy engaged in the action I'd seen on the desk flashed in my head, and I flinched. I could barely even look at him. It was ironic, too, because he was wearing a pure white button-up and light-colored khakis. The irony being that there is nothing remotely light and pure about Travis. Green was, for all intents and purposes, his color... a vengeful, jealous, sickly color. In short, Travis looked completely wholesome. Why, the man even parted his hair right down the middle. For a first, there's not even any gel in it.

I smell a rat in vestal livery. Someone's trying a little too hard here. Travis has never been innocent. He's trying to lie low because they still suspect him. They have to, don't they? A few minutes later, Travis grabbed an electric, attached it to the amp, and sat down on a stool at the front of the class. I was suddenly reminded of when I sang "Pick Up the Pieces" with Boyz Attack!. The whole stools thing, I guess. Travis said something before he began to play. I don't remember what it was, but it was all sort of a blur. I completely wasn't paying attention, but I did notice that he was looking at Joan most of the time.

Now, what most people don't understand is that one of the good things about electric versus acoustic is that it's harder to hear missed notes on an electric. With an acoustic, you have no backing, and thus, you can't blame it on anything. So Travis looked similiarly complacent while playing it. I liked the tune, but I forced myself to turn it out... after all, it was Travis. A few moments later, he said a few more words and then unplugged the electric, grabbing an acoustic. He didn't plug it into the amp.

Travis just sat back down on the stool and started to strum softly, focusing intently on his playing. "_Hey, I know..._" He began quietly, glancing up briefly at Joan. He allowed a small smile to cross those slightly red, fuller lips. "_That there's something inside... and you're afraid to let it show_," Travis murmured intensely, shooting Joan a deliberate look. Joan looked away purposefully, and a defeated Travis turned his gaze back to the guitar. He shook his head almost bittersweetly, mumbling, "_It's o-**kay**..._" He sighed, pausing to draw out the last syllable of the word.

Joan, however, shook her head, eyes almost glistening. It clearly was _not_ okay. Joan glanced at him fleetingly, and at that precise moment, Travis happened to catch her eye. Joan flushed a bit, which naturally made Travis smirk. He nodded his head along to the beat, speeding up his tempo a bit. "'_Cause I think you know- I **know** you know... the things you wanna say_," He crooned knowingly, actually winking at Joan. Joan immediately looked away, disgust written all over her features. She shook her head, burying her head in her hands hopelessly, muttering quietly under her breath.

A crafty look appeared in Travis' eyes, and it seemed as if his confidence was now bolstered a little. Confident as ever, that one. "_I think I know what you seek..._" Travis posed cautiously, a careful smile on his lips. He shook his head, grinning. "_You don't **need** words to speak_," He whispered, unable to wipe the grand, silly, stupid smile off his face. He was unbelieveably cocky, and now... Now his eyes didn't stray from Joan at all. His smugness carried into his stupid optimistic singing. "_It's the way you look at me that says..._" He drawled, flashing those pearly whites and looking unbelievably attractive for a long minute. Half of the class swooned. Joan and I were not among their number, for obvious reasons.

Though I did notice a small smile lingering on Joan's lips that she tried to hide by looking down and biting her lip. There was still something utterly schoolgirlish about her, which was fitting in comparison to Travis' similar attitude... acting like a pathetic lovesick teenager. Then Travis smiled almost a sort of nostalgic smirk just then. "_That you could **be** my Joan of Arc_," Travis almost pleaded, sounding suddenly earnest and staring directly at Joan without embarrassment. Well, gee, if that wasn't painfully obvious. It had to be an act, though. You could be my Joan of Arc... Joan's eyes widened, and she suddenly straightened in her seat, realizing what Travis had meant. They locked eyes for a long moment while Travis was in the middle of a pause. He paused before carrying on in a rambling voice, "_And I could be your Bonaparte... and everything could be oh-so swell..._"

Joan frowned at this, presumably because Napoleon was sort of an asshole. Who regularly cheated on his wife. And probably because, aside from being French military heroes, the two of them (Joan of Arc and Napoleon) have next to nothing in common. Travis continued singing honestly, making an almost desperate appeal to Joan's emotions. Joan listened to all of it with an impressive composure. She didn't look at Travis once more during the duration of his performance. Joan was stubbornly determined not to give in... to resist at all costs. And I envied her for it. I only wish I could be like her... Especially with this whole Tommy thing. I'd like to stop thinking about him for five seconds... to be strong enough to resist him again.

But I'm not. And that's just it.

After the song ,Travis gave everyone freewriting period or something... You know, basically, go off and write a song. Apparently we're "getting our asses in the studio and making professional-quality demos". The studio that, might I add, I paid for. Seriously, it's named after me and everything! Anyways, so I'm itching to maybe record a bootleg and kinda jonesing to get my hands on some equipment so I can maybe produce something! Just to, you know, see if I can do it. It'd be really cool to produce my own demo. Just to show Tommy that I could.

I personally think that Travis just did it so he could talk to Joan. Which he did, by the way. It was the first thing he did. He just walked up to Joan... actually, he swaggered. Thought he was some pretty hot stuff. Which of course he was, but you've gotta be smoking crack if you think I'm telling him that. Besides, he definitely didn't look that great all done up like an altar boy. Made him look like a total eunuch.

Which, of course, he isn't. Unfortunately. Then I'd have fewer problems with him. That'd be funny, come to think of it. But yeah, he's too sexually active. I'd seen first hand with my eyes that he was... yeah.

So, like I said, Travvy-boy walked up to Joanie-Pony. That just makes them sound ridiculous. But Travis came up to her, lookin' kinda nervous and all. His hands were in his pocket, and he was biting his lip, and that stupid floppy-hair was a-hanging in his face, making him look like some kind of whiny-ass emo kid. In short, he looked mega pathetic. Joan just gave him this hard, frosty look. Travis, of course, tried speaking next. As if that'd actually work. "Hey, Joan, I was wondering about something..." Travis began awkwardly.

The look Joan gave him silenced him completely. I grinned widely, feeling a surge of pride. Travis tried again, but I cut him off this time, feeling particularly malicious. Okay, so I kicked him when he was down. So what? He deserved it. After all, he's like a punch in the stomach. "Joan's not your **Patsy**, Travis," I hissed, making sure he got the implication of my statement. Travis paled slightly, but only slightly. I grinned cruelly, feeling quite pleased with myself. "She knows better than to _sleep_ with the enemy," I continued casually, enjoying watching him squirm. It's really a marvelous thing to wield that kind of power over someone. "She won't play with you, much less play _balls_," I growled, leaning in closer so only Travis could hear.

He had the grace to flush... as well he should. Travis knew that I had him by the nuts. He really did. He was pretty screwed with what I had on him. I mean, if I told Jude, she'd believe me, and Patsy would corroborate my story. But Travis just ignored me, trying to chance it. So, he asked... "Look, Joan... I think you've really got something... special," He started rather optimistically. Gag me now. I mean, seriously. I was about to comment, but Travis seemed to almost sense my comment and so he pushed onward. "And I could really see you in this business... making it big," Travis said enthusiastically. He was really passionate about the subject. Just like he is about Joan. What a coincidence.

Travis licked his lips in a completely unholy, deliberately _seductive_ way. It should be illegal for him to look at her like that... like he wants to just ravage her there on the spot. He shouldn't even be here right now on account of that illegality. But he is, and I can't stop that right now... But I can. And I will. So help me, God, he will be a teacher no longer. If it kills me. I'm not letting him have all the power here. I don't know how he got out of it, but he's just deluding himself if he thinks it's gonna last. Then he pursed his lips, staring at her with a dark, intent look in his eyes. "And if you want it badly enough... I could _make_ that happen for you," Travis offered persuasively, a hint of innuendo in his voice.

Joan's eyes widened enormously, and she looked affronted at the mere suggestion. Her jaw almost dropped, but then she swallowed hard. Her dark eyes narrowed viciously, glaring back at him forcibly. "And _that's_ what I'm afraid of," Joan spat almost mockingly. She certainly had no illusions regarding him anymore, let me tell you. She clenched her fists on the table. "If I want this... and who even says I do, by the way... If I want it, I want to be able to say that I earned it by _myself_," Joan snapped passionately. Her voice took on an increasingly cynical, bitter tone. "Not that this **guy**, who happened to be my music teacher, by the way... not that some _guy_ helped me," Joan muttered, eyes fixated down, a quiet intensity pulsing through her veins. She was visibly incensed, but hiding it well so as to not arouse suspicion.

Though I'm pretty sure her rage, even bottled up as it was, was arousing someone else. Namely Travis, who, if you recall correctly, as I so unfortunately do, that he likes it raw, rough, hard, and angry. Joan's eyes glinted like blue diamonds (only they weren't blue), full of an icy, red-hot burning rage. She practically saw red. "I don't want to say that I got where I am by selling my **_soul_** to a man like a cheap whore," Joan snarled furiously, in a low, husky tone. Travis visibly flinched at her choice of words, and Joan (and I) took a sick sort of satisfaction in the gesture. Victory.

It was clear that Joan really didn't mean selling her soul. She meant her body, just countering what Travis had said in his oblique proprosition. Hm... so Joan might not even want to be in Music? Well, that's a first. Somewhere deep down, I think we all want to be a rockstar. Travis shook his head and tried again. "That's... that's _not_ what I mean, Joan..." Travis said pathetically, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. Well, my childish brain retorted, he did, after all, deserve it, now didn't he? "It's not that at all, Joan," Travis almost begged, wanting her to back down a little.

Travis took in a deep breath and sighed heavily. He looked at Joan, an almost pleading sort of look in his eyes. "Look, I'm not trying to... to pull anything with you. I'm just..." Travis apologized weakly, practically flailing out there. He exhaled shortly, trying to figure out how to best articulate himself. "I have some connections in the business, okay? And I'd like to introduce you to some people I know. They could help you..." Travis explained carefully, leaving her the option of whether to accept his offer or not. He bit his lip and exhaled almost wearily. "... If you want it. If you're passionate about it," He replied, leaning forward, and almost goading her into it. He placed his hand lightly on her shoulder, rubbing her bare shoulder gently with his thumb. So gently and so lightly, like a feather, really... in fact, that she didn't even notice. "And I _know_ you are, Joan," Travis murmured reassuringly, locking eyes with her. "I know you are."

Joan warmed up to him considerably without even realizing it. I felt like I was going to get sick. She actually bought that tired old song-and-dance? I mean, damn, the guy was cornier than Boyz Attack! at the height of their scrubbed-down testosterone days when Darius was unsuccessfully trying to be Lou Perlman. But the Boyz weren't Backstreet or Nsync, for that matter. Tommy kinda threw a wrench in all of those plans. While he was not actually the leader of the band... Okay, I'm lying. Tommy was always the spokesman who ensured that they wrote all their own songs and which songs got on the album and, well, that they got as much control over their lives as was possible. Not that much was possible, mind you, but it was a good try.

I rolled my eyes at their silly mooning over each other. Get over yourselves. Jeez. Travis leaned in and whispered something in Joan's ear. She sort of looked surprised and glanced at me with a bit of a helpless look on her face. She kept looking at me, and I felt confused, then finally she nodded and told Travis, and I quote, "Okay. I'll do it... as long as Jude's coming with me." Travis looked mildly cross, and he glowered at me for a second... Mind you, I still had no reason why he was doing this, only that he was. Joan informed me a few moments later that we were going to a club with the freak. I backed out at first, but somehow Joan managed to talk me into it, citing the time she'd hung out with Chaz and me, saying that it was just like that.

WRONG! I trust Chaz, sex offender or not. Travis... eh... not so much. Chaz is nice, predictable even. Travis... well... he ain't. So, pissed at Joan for inviting me to a club against my will, pissed at Travis for bending to Joan's every will, and even more pissed at myself for agreeing, I decided it was time he got a little slice of humble pie. I wanted to make him squirm again, so sue me! "So, I heard you had a disciplinary problem the other day, Travis... How did that go?" I remarked loudly across the classroom. "Did you resolve it _good_, all nice-like?" I taunted mockingly, shooting Travis a look.

Predictably, my not-so Prince Charming (despite his appearance) paled at the mere insinuation. "Or did she give you a fight?" I quipped, crossing my arms over my chest. "Was someone disciplined good? Did you really _show_ her?" I continued, leaning in insiduously. The implications were clear in my voice and pretty loud. "Or did _you_ get schooled?" I asked wryly, glancing him over for any defects. After all, Patsy had sure had her way with him. Travis glowered at me, his jaw tightening in rage. "Did you enjoy disciplining her?" I questioned with wide, faux-innocent eyes. Travis eyes narrowed and turned a deeper, more foreboding shade of green. I swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the negative memories associated with a look very much like that one. I had to do this. I couldn't back down now. Not when I had the upper hand for once! I grinned evilly, feeling superior. "Do you think she'll do it again, or has she given up because the punishment was worse than she thought?" I inquired curiously, letting the insult wash over him.

That comment apparently proved to be too much for Travis. It just figures, I suppose. Call him gay, and he doesn't get mad at all. Call him Tommy, a pedophile, or insult his sexual performance... and he's ready to kill. Strange man. Travis looked like he wanted to swipe me across the face. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up- and not in a good way. Pursing his lips tightly, Travis leaned in, hissing harshly against my ear. "Look, I don't know how you found out about Patsy, but that's none of your business. She's a consenting adult. So you'd better keep your little mouth shut about it," He growled furiously.

I shot him an angry look of my own. He can't threaten me to keep me silent. It didn't work before and it won't work now. I scowled right back at him, grabbing him roughly by the collar before he could leave. It was actually pretty forcible and obvious (seeing as it was in the middle of class). "Damnit, it is my business! It _is_ my business if you, my **teacher**, have a perverted fetish for teenage girls! Just because she's 18 doesn't mean that she's not still a fricking teenager!" I snarled in a steady hiss, hand curling into a fist. I wanted to punch him so bad I could taste it. I rolled my eyes at him disgustedly, waving it off, pretending that it was just sooo casual a thing. "But I know **all** about that... I just didn't know you were that horny. Patsy slept with you as a _bet_. Just to see if she _could_. And she did it... she didn't even have to break you. And I lost the bet. _I_ didn't think you'd actually stoop to screwing someone you hate... like Tommy, whom you think of as a common whore, would!" I spat venemously in a heated whisper.

I shook my head, slowly relaxing my grip on his shirt until I let go. Travis was in shock, so he didn't move. Just like I wanted him to. Good puppy. I swallowed, feeling physically ill. "But _that's_ okay... After all, **both** of you got your needs satisfied and had your share of _fun_," I insinuated dirtily in a louder, more audible voice. I shrugged coolly. "Guess you **do** like it rough after all, huh, Travis? Gee, I never would've guessed that from the way you throw me around!" I mumbled slightly, insuring that my words were only intelligible to him when I wanted them to be. The frown was firmly set into my face by then. I patted him on his greasy, moussed head, a bitter smile etched unto my lips. "And... don't worry your pretty little head... I won't tell your _precious_ Joan," I murmured in a saccharine voice. I shrugged again, helplessly batting my eyelashes. "It's not **my** place, after all. But, just for the record, in my book, if a decent guy _really_ cares about a girl like I think you do for Joan... Unless that guy's Tommy, he doesn't go around screwing other girls or hitting on her **friend**!" I finished heavily in a sarcasm-laden tone.

Okay, so sue me. I was a little bitter. But that was to be expected, after all, wasn't it? So what if I'm jaded? My heart's been broken a few too many times to make me normal again. I blame Tommy. And there's the bitterness talking again. See, vicious cycle, innit?

Travis glared at me and turned away abruptly, which suited my purposes. Joan looked at me curiously and asked me what the deal was, but I didn't answer. In truth, I hadn't realized how abnormal my actions must seem... strangely out of place in a classroom environment. I couldn't tell Joan. After all, I'd just told Travis that it wasn't my place. So I stewed for the rest of the class, staring moodily into space and writing a few morbidly depressing, angry songs. I didn't really want to talk to Joan, but she handed me the address Travis had given her for our little "date" that night. Being a connoisseur of all clubs in the area (having gotten drunk at half of them and having performed or partied at the other half), I should've known where and what it was.

Of all the clubs in Toronto, I should have the address to that one memorized. But I was too preoccupied to notice. I composed the melody to a song in Music Theory... Pretty good, if I do say so myself. Maybe I could be my own producer after all. I mean, when Tommy and I start fighting again, and he starts slacking off again... It could come in handy. You never know.

Patsy ambushed me after school and, after pickpocketing my keys, commandered my car. She had a stolen credit card... or something. I didn't really get the details of that. She either had a sugar daddy or a rich daddy or a generous lover. Something like that. It just involved a man and some dubious means of procuring the money, probably involving a sexual act of some sort. Not that Patsy was a prostitute. She just knew how to pick 'em. Patsy sort of scams people for money a little too. Thief. She was itching to spend the cash, so she demanded that we stop at this store and buy some bangin' club ensembles (after I informed her of the invitation, of course). She just grinned at me widely, all too eager to do it.

I gave Patsy the address... She said she had some things to do, but that'd she'd meet me there, being fashionably late, of course. What better way to throw Travis off the scent, after all? She did, however, promise that she wouldn't leave me alone with the two stiffs for very long. She'd be around to kick things up a notch soon enough. I grabbed a bite to eat, did my homework in the car (hey, it was Math... I would probably fail it anyways), and basically parked down by the docks and just hung out there for a while, strumming my guitar aimlessly and thinking of Tommy.

I realized by then that it was about... seven-thirty, which meant that I was late for this nasty little date thing. Despite Patsy buying me copious amounts of clubbing clothes (a lot of which resembled things that a hooker might wear... well, if all assembled together), I went into a gas station and changed into some pretty normal clothes. A bit flashier than usual, but normal enough for me. I was wearing a bright, almost neon pink (magenta, really) shirt that was made of a rubbery sort of fabric like PVC. It was so shiny I could almost see my face in it. So I wore that, a torn jean miniskirt, and a pair of flashy fringed black stilletos. I smeared on some lip gloss, swept my hair up in a messy sort of up-do, put in a pair of dangly earrings and was about done. Then I smiled, washed my hands, and drove to the address that had been given to me.

It was The Vinyl Palace.

Like I said, I should've known better. My jaw dropped in surprise, but I was somehow able to park and get out of the car. I walked inside, feeling wary, and looked around for someone, anyone I knew. Apparently Travis, Joan, and I thought alike (now there's a scary thought!), since none of us had arrived at the prescribed time. I thought of ordering a drink, but, as I was to be facing Travis, I thought it more prudent to face him while sober. No matter how much I needed a stiff drink. I strutted around the club as confidently as I could, waving to people who somehow recognized me. The smile on my face felt stiff.

Ugh, I felt like some creepy sort of prowler with the way I was running around. Then, suddenly, I stopped. No way. That couldn't be Tommy, right? I frowned, pursing my lips and walking up to him. He was clad in the usual attire... Hair gelled up to the max, trademark leather jacket, jeans, and tinted sunglasses. And... boots. Boots? Boots and black jeans... Hmm... Well, that was a new one. I sized him up, and he suddenly glanced at me. That oh-so familiar smirk once again crossed his lips. I felt suddenly nervous... like there were butterflies in my stomach. I bit my lip, swallowing hard. Um, okay. "So... about this morning. What exactly was that?" I questioned anxiously.

Tommy smiled. "I figured you'd ask me sooner or later," He murmured nonchalantly. I faked a smile, but that didn't really help. I felt my heartbeat flutter. However, Tommy offered no more answers than that. Or, at least, that's what I thought. Suddenly, out of the blue, he spoke, grinning widely. "I'm not sorry," He proclaimed proudly, unapologetically. I felt myself grinning like an idiot, and Tommy smiled back, looking a bit confused.

"Good," I muttered half under my breath, "because I liked it." Tommy smirked like the cocky bastard he is. I immediately regretted saying that, but I figured it couldn't hurt anything, right. He licked his lips slowly, sweeping his tongue across his lips seductively. I was sort of riveted by the simple action. Tommy surprised me, though. I mean, I know he does that a lot, but he... he really surprised me. Out of nowhere he just... grabbed me roughly by the arms and planted his lips on mine. I responded almost immediately by throwing my arms passionately around his neck, parting my lips to better accommodate him. Mm. He tasted so good. I moaned into his mouth. "Tommy," I groaned, digging my nails into his back.

He grinned against my lips, pulling back suddenly. I found myself vaguely confused and leaned back into him, trying to kiss him. Embarrassingly enough, I wound up kissing air. A smug look crossed his features. He put his hands in his pockets and puffed out his chest a bit. He smiled at me wryly. "Guess again, Harrison," He taunted, letting out a small chuckle before pulling his glasses off. Green eyes instead of blue. My jaw dropped, and I gaped at Travis. Yes, that's right. Travis. I should've known. Damnit. Travis. Travis put the shades in his pocket casually, placing his finger on my lips. He rubbed the corner of my lip. "Your lipstick's smeared, Harrison. Wouldn't want anybody to get the _right_ idea, now would we?" He muttered sarcastically.

Ugh. I made a face and ripped his fingers off my lips, looking him over. "Who do you think you are, Johnny Cash?" I retorted irritably, feeling very sorry I'd assumed he was Tommy. It was a very cruel trick he'd just played on me. After all, Travis was wearing all black, after all. He was just missing a cowboy hat. And the boots weren't cowboy boots. Travis scowled back at me, further illustrating my point. I rolled my eyes at him, gesturing once again to his attire. "Seriously, who died?" I exclaimed crudely.

He snorted, peering at me like I was something he'd seen under a microscope. "Yeah, and who are you, Cheyenne Kimball?" He growled rudely. I gaped at him. Oh no, he didn't! He just compared me to her! I can sing her ass off! Plus, I've been playing the guitar longer. And I'm not blonde. Ew. Plus, they never made a reality show about me. I mean, sure, you could. And it'd be one hell of a show. My life's like that. I live on the edge. But I'd never do that, because I think it sucks. Although the documentation would be nice, I think. I glowered at him and was about ready to launch myself at him and kill him, but I didn't. I didn't because just then Joan sidled over to us.

She looked pretty, too. Her hair was up and sort of straight. She was wearing a sparkly red shirt, a black miniskirt, and a pair of black leather boots. Bright red lipstick, darkly outlined eyes. Basically her typical make-up. She looked slightly nervous at having interrupted us, not that I blame her. Travis and I were always biting each others' heads off, after all. Man, it must _really_ be hell to try and mediate all of our arguments. Oh well. Can't think about that too much. I mumbled a hi and then practically flew over to the bar, feeling the sudden urge to get myself good and drunk. Travis followed, dark shadow that he is, just to insure that I didn't get to drink.

I wanted to smack him. But I didn't because Joan was there. And Joan liked him. I begged the bartender for a rum and coke, but alas, no dice. I scowled moodily into my (just) coke, listening to Travis and Joan's stilted conversation and interjecting an occasional bitter, insulting remark. Wasn't he supposed to introduce her to more industry people? 'Cause, despite the fact that I got my start here, I didn't see any industry folks lined up. I stared moodily at the dance floor. That was the exact spot where I got off stage, shoved my guitar in Tommy's arms, and told him I quit. A wry, amused smile lit up my lips after that. Tommy. Always a good subject. Of course, all the color drained out of my face when I remembered kissing Travis. I threw back the rest of my (just) coke in a flash.

While the stimulant was nice, I really wanted some liquor so I could just relax and unwind a little... forget I ever kissed Travis thinking he was Tommy. Gah. I hated that he had something on me! Especially that he'd taken advantage of my feelings for Tommy like that. I pleaded for Patsy to show up and fast. I willed it, and... Patsy came in a burst of glory. She waltzed into the club in a black vinyl bra with a tight red satin micro-mini and thigh-high black spike-heeled boots, all sorts of charms and things tied and braided into her hair. Bright blue and gold eyeshadow over both lids and beyond, ruby-red shiny lipgloss, bright pink blush... She was a spectacle, that was for sure.

Patsy already seemed drunk, so she swaggered over to us. Her swagger was like... like the way a male rockstar like, um, Mick Jagger! She walked basically like Mick Jagger or some equally self-besotted musician would. It's sort of a strut with bold, wide, big steps, sort of low on the hips with a sort of swinging motion. Drunken and messy and stumbling and all confidence. She also rather resembled a drag queen, but I don't think Patsy gave a damn. She didn't care about much. Patsy was a tough girl.

Patsy grinned merrily and promptly ordered a Sex on the Beach and a Cosmopolitan. Then she frowned, turning suddenly thoughtful, and ordered a Rum and Coke for me. Patsy handed over the credit card and downed her two drinks in less than five seconds. She got free refills all night, and she drank like a fish. As for me, I just nursed my drink. Patsy plopped down next to me and grinned cheekily at Travis, giggling and wiggling her fingers at him in a silly sort of way. "Hellooo, Travis... Nice to see you again, Lover," Patsy purred in a deep voice, giving him dark, bewitching eyes.

This moment was, of course, ruined by her hiccupping. But Patsy was pretty good at camouflaging her drunkenness. She had a pretty high tolerance, after all. Joan shot Travis a quizzical look, but he was too busy glaring at Patsy to say anything. Patsy peered at Joan, smiling bemusedly. "So, Joanie-Pony, can I get you anything to drink? It looks like you need to loosen up a little," Patsy offered generously, pulling out a platinum card, playing with it in the light. Her unfocused eyes seemed fascinated by the light that reflected off of it. So easily distracted.

A mild look of distaste crossed Joan's face, and she shook her head "no" politely. "No, thank you," She replied with strained civility. She was tense, though. Ultra-tense with Travis and me and Patsy here. She frowned and sipped her Coke somewhat desperately. Patsy just shrugged casually, leaning her shoulder against mine heavily. She laughed a bit.

She peered at Joan a bit longer, and the older girl's look seemed to cut right through her. Joan looked somewhat awkward, not knowing what to do. Not that I blame her, of course. Then Patsy pursed her lips, smiling softly to herself and tossing back a long sip of her drink. Her eyes stopped dead on Travis, who looked frozen with the fear of what she'd inadvertently divulge. Patsy's eyes quickly moved back to focus on Joan. "I loosened Travis up too... Helped him relieve some of that **tension**. Don't you think _he's_ more relaxxxed?" Patsy proclaimed serenely, slurring her words just a bit, fixing Joan with a slightly searching look. She was clearly expecting an answer.

Joan just glanced worriedly at Travis, utterly perplexed by this whole development. It suddenly occurred to me that my two friends hadn't been introduced, so I took measures to tell Joan, who looked mildly alarmed, who Patsy was. To be honest, I think Joan looked more nervous after I told her than before. Patsy beamed somewhat drunkenly and leaned across me to touch Travis' cheek. She smiled and moaned loudly in pleasure, caressing his face. Travis looked rather uncomfortable (probably turned on), and he attempted to shy away from her. Patsy's not the kind of girl you can stay away from, though. She makes all the decisions.

"See, Traaav-_viss_, I told you that the bondage would loosen you up. Express your kinky side, don't repress it!" Patsy chirped brightly, knowingly, as she let go of his smooth cheek. She pointed and winked at him, taking a large sip of her second Long Island Iced Tea. Patsy promptly frowned and almost spat it out. "**Blegh**. I forgot... I hate tea," She muttered to herself somewhat irritably. Joan just gaped openly at Patsy, no matter how rude it was to stare. Not that I blame her. Patsy's a pretty strange character, but an awesome friend to have. She's fearless.

Travis' face was more than a little bit white, as it should be. Joan looked a bit confused, but I suspected that she had it mostly figured out. She just needed the final piece to tie it all together. Which she would get soon enough. Especially as the drunken Patsy was still sober enough for another supposedly alcohol-induced comment. She smiled cheekily at Joan, which unnerved the poor girl quite a bit, making sure that all of her pointy, vampiric teeth were visible in that shark-smile of hers. With that blood red lipstick, it looked like Patsy was about ready to devour some fresh meat.

Oops, sorry... She did that on Friday with Travis, now didn't she? As if Patsy had read my mind, she grinned at me, a mysteriously mischievous look in her eyes. "Mm, Travis, are the welts healing?" Patsy asked shrewdly, injecting just the right amount of concern into her voice. She frowned, pursing her lips in thought. "I seem to recall you had that one particularly nasty one on your lower back, right above your ass..." She recalled, pausing as if she didn't trust the memory. Her eyes lit up suddenly. "Wait, or am I thinking of the bite marks around your neck? You've practically a collar of them," She observed casually, pondering where the hurt had been. Then a decisively laschivious look crossed Patsy's face, and she licked her bruised lips deliberately. Patsy let out a little moan and shuddered only slightly, trailing her hands down her body so Travis was bound to notice. She wanted a reaction.

Travis stiffened, features tightening (which meant that he was probably into it). His jaw was hard and unflinching. Patsy opened her half-lidded eyes and met his stare with full force. Her eyes turned their gaze down to his lips. "Mmm... I just remembered how _good_ you taste," She mumbled in a hoarse half-moan, wetting her lips and attempting to get closer to Travis. She touched his face blindly with her hand, too drunk to even focus on that. Patsy smiled lazily and removed her hand, which she discreetly ended up placing on his upper thigh. Let's just say the pieces connected in Joan's brain.

But, to add insult to injury, Patsy continued on... probably for her own amusement. Nonchalantly swilling the martini with ease, there was a glazed, daydreamy look in her eyes as she thought. "Like sun-kissed raspberries," Patsy declared breathlessly, staring pensively into space. That was the last straw. Travis loves raspberries... and Patsy's right... He always tastes of raspberries. Even that time when he was drunk... still had the vague taste of raspberries. I don't know how that's possible, considering we live in Canada, but maybe he has his own private little greenhouse where he grows raspberries all year long, for all I know... Joan knew how Travis tasted too, obviously, or else her eyes wouldn't be blazing with red-hot fury (probably directed towards Travis, though). It did make one wonder, though. Had she sampled the forbidden fruit... the "raspberries" of the Knowledge of Good and Evil... more than just the two separate occurrances when she and Travis had kissed? I mean, I know what I'd do... if you substitute me for Joan and Tommy for Travis... But yeah, back to the lady of the hour... Joan looked affronted and disgusted, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest.

As if it would break the ice, Travis decreed that in a few moments Joan was going to perform a song with the band (who, oddly enough, just happened to be S.M.E.). Joan glared at him, suddenly leaping off the stool. "As if I'm going to listen to anything you said after you... you... ugh!" Joan screeched, tossing her hands in the air and storming off. Travis flew off of his stool and ran after her. He stopped her by grabbing her by the wrist. Familiar, huh? While a ways away, Travis and Joan were still close enough to see and hear clearly. Joan roughly jerked her wrist out of his grip, glowering at him. "You know, I thought it was a one-time instance with you, but now I see it's not!" She shouted frustratedly, poking him in the chest accusingly.

Joan was pissed. Like they say, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. It makes perfect sense to me. Joan didn't want him, so he thought he was free to screw around as much as he wanted to. Ha. Idiot. He knows nothing. So of course she's mad that he carries up with another girl. I mean, it's not just that it's another girl... It's that he's gone and cheated on his girlfriend, for one thing. And aside from that, Patsy and Joan have the exact same coloring. Not to mention that they're both Travis' students. It's really all very logical, even if Joan isn't that girlfriend or supposedly doesn't want him romantically. She does, of course. It's like "That Girl". Almost exactly, really. It's sort of creepy. And... I hate to quote myself, but... "_You said you didn't want me, but you do._" That says it all.

Joan shook her head at him, staring at him in disbelief. Her hands had clenched tightly into fists. She was so furious that she was actually shaking. "You have problems," Joan spat venemously, continuing on her pissed tirade, "_So_ many problems that no one could fix them, least of all **me**!" Joan scowled at him, looking even more disgusted. "If I even wanted to," She replied nastily, coldly. Her eyes were charged and dark. "And if I _ever_ had any doubts before, they're gone now!" Joan screamed wrathfully, slapping him hard across the face. It made a loud smacking sound, and Joan smiled satisfactorily.

She grinned bitterly, clapping for him. "Congratulations, Travis. Hope you and Patsy had lots of fun. I hope it was worth it," She mumbled stiffly, barely able to look at him from disgust. It was so bad that Joan looked like she was going to be physically ill. She was, of course, far too mad for that. Travis was still reeling from her slap, but he was floundering anyways. Joan turned around to walk back to us, but Travis moved so that he was in her way. If she went one way, he followed. Eventually, he just grabbed her arm and held her there. And he didn't say a word.

He sure looked penitent enough, but I wasn't falling for it. He was only really sorry that Joan figured it out. Travis sighed, leaning in closer to her, resting his forehead against hers. Joan didn't move. She just stood there as still and stiff as a Roman statue, saying nothing. She seemed weary of him. Who wasn't, though? I sure was. His eyes fluttered closed, breath warm against her face, but Joan was like stone. She kept her eyes wide open to see everything as it was. "I'm sorry... Look, Patsy was just a fling. I wanted... I _didn't_ want her. I used Patsy as a means to an end, just like she used me," Travis explained in a breathlessly hoarse whisper. Tommy said that about Ruby too. Only Tommy meant it. Travis just wanted to get off. He sighed, moving still closer to Joan, wrapping his arms around her. "You're different. I mean, I actually... I l-" Travis began, opening his eyes, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips.

Joan interrupted his little declaration by placing a finger on his lips. "Don't say it," She snapped desperately. Travis' smile widened; he was probably thinking that she was going to kiss him or something. Joan, however, had other plans. She placed her hands on her hips, staring him down and looking like an adult. "Look, Travis, if you really felt _that_ way about me, you wouldn't have screwed another girl. Period. And, if you were a _decent_ person, you wouldn't cheat on your girlfriend," Joan stated plainly, not mincing words. Her eyes were dead, void of all sympathy. She shook her head in a disbelieving sort of way. "So don't _say_ that I'm different, okay, Travis... Because I'm not, not really," Joan snapped bluntly. She glared daggers at him. "Maybe _I'm_ just a means to an end for you! Way to make a girl feel **special**, asshole!" She yelled, flinging her hands in the air furiously. She'd lost all trust in him whatsoever. If I did hate him, it'd be sort of sad.

Joan frowned, looking a bit more serious and a little less angry. She sighed tiredly, wrapping her arms around her middle for support. She stared at her feet, as if she was afraid to tell Travis this. "You know, sometimes you can be **so** great!" Joan muttered, somewhat in awe, still looking at her feet. Then she couldn't resist. She had to look up. "So great that I _almost_ reconsider the decision I made..." Joan mumbled, nervously putting her hands in her pockets. Travis' eyes lit up, but Joan shook her head. She sighed heavily and looked down again. "Because it's so _hard_ sometimes," She whispered weakly, glancing back up at him. Like the urge to look at him was unable to be quelled. Maybe Joan just didn't want to. "It's hard to _look_ at you and wonder what could've happened if I made a different decision... If I said something different..." Joan murmured, her voice clearly soaked with longing. Then her eyes narrowed again, as if she'd remembered her sudden fury. "If I lied."

She let the harsh statement hang in the empty air for an endless moment, suspended there precariously. That's all it was, after all, a moment. Joan shook her head, anger surging back into her face, causing a flush on her cheeks. Her eyes blazed with rage. "But then there are those moments where you go and do something so awful, so utterly despicable, so rotten to the core that I remember _why_ I did what I did," Joan swore vehemently. She's right, too. Utterly right. Travis was despicable, I thought, remembering my brief breakdown over him in Tommy's prescence. Saturday, mmm, was a go-ood day. I remembered the lame jokes and serial killer comparisons with the vestiges of a smile on my face. He was rotten, too... Even more so than Sid Vicious' best bud. Joan looked frazzled as she let out a deep breath that sent her bangs skyward before gravity pulled them down. The breath came out in a hiss.

There was something eerily final about Joan as she removed her hands from her pockets. A completely sober look crossed her face almost out of the blue. Her eyes were dark and sad, almost mournful, but determined nonetheless. Joan took a deep breath and pressed on as fearlessly as she could. She looked terrible and terrified. She was shaking, just a little, but... There was that look in her eye, that sincere determination to just go on. "And now... I _finally_ know for sure. I **know** that I made the right choice. I don't have any doubts anymore," Joan stated in a falsely calm tone. You could tell that she was just going to break sooner or later, but she was trying to hide it, to disguise it... to mask the pain. Joan swallowed hard, blinking too much. "This has cemented it for me. I did the right thing. I rejected you for a good reason..." She said slowly, sounding as if she was trying to remind herself of these things so she wouldn't forget. Joan shook her head softly, looking at Travis guiltily, trying to look past the hurt on his face. "But I forgot how good, how completely _justified_ it was sometimes because..." Joan trailed off, looking somewhat lost.

Joan stared off into space, trying deliberately not to look at Travis. "When I was with you, all those things I hate about you just disappeared," Joan murmured, fighting a sniffle. She forced a laugh, shaking her head. "I thought we were _so_ alike," She replied dreamily. A few moments later, the smile fell off her face. "But I was wrong." Joan took a deep, shuddering breath, making herself stare Travis down. This was seriously hard for her. "And just now, I remembered... And I rejected you for a _reason_," She breathed, taking shallow breaths. Her breathing sped up. She fidgeted nervously, playing with her hands awkwardly.

A strained, tight smile stayed frozen on her lips as she tugged on her curls. "Because you're my teacher, and you're **older** than me," Joan rambled in a whirlwind of letters so the whole phrase sounded like one long word. Her dark, flighty eyes darted up from the ground nervously as she began to pace, reaching for her hair. "But, as this clearly proves, older doesn't always mean wiser," Joan muttered bitterly, half to herself. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and stopped pacing. Then she squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as possible and pulled at a fistful of her hair in frustration.

Joan's eyes opened slowly, and when they did, they looked a bit bloodshot but not wet. She shook her head, looking sober and remorseful. Suddenly, she didn't seem so vibrant anymore. Her complexion was pale and drawn, her brow furrowed in worry. The bags underneath her eyes seemed all the more darker, and she seemed wearier, like something in her had just flopped out and drooped. She looked suddenly too thin, too frail, too exhausted to go on, and so... pale. So weary. She looked ill, unwell, sickly. Not right. Her prominent cheekbones seemed too gaunt, too sharp. Her brown hair seemed almost raven in the light, while her lips were like blood. Her skin seemed eerily translucent in the pale, delicate light, frostbite blue veins standing out starkly against her skin. "You're so _immature_, Travis," Joan stated disapprovingly with an icy calm. She drew out the word, lingering on the last syllable. It was oddly ironic, considering Travis was the legal adult.

Her eyes took on a sorrowful, sympathetic sort of look for a brief moment before they blazed like firey rubies. "It's like something's _missing_ in your life," She condemned, eyes seeming to pierce through him. This time, Travis couldn't muster up the courage to look at her. Joan shook her head like there was something she wanted to say only she couldn't think up the words. Her eyes frowned at him like she was trying to figure out what was off-kilter about him, exactly. It was a kind of wrong you couldn't put into words. "Like something's _wrong_ with you," Joan snarled spitefully, eyes gleaming with revolutionary zeal. She held out wrong too, because she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was exactly, but it was there nonetheless.

Then her eyes lit up with realization and she threw her hands in the air, caught up in the excitement of the moment. She'd sort of realized it. "You have no sense of _morals_ or **decency** or scruples!" Joan cried accusingly, taking a brief pause to explain in a calmer tone, "It's like you're some... someone who has no sense of right and **wrong**!" This was true. Travis really didn't. Joan cooled off a little and slowly dropped her hands to her sides, out of their dramatic position in the air. She placed her hands on her hips sassily, shooting him a moody glance. She took a deep breath, exhaling as if taking a drag, while looking Travis over. "You're too _old_ for me, Travis," Joan said plainly, bluntly. So bluntly it seemed to have hurt him. If, indeed, the man had any sort of feelings whatsoever. I'm still not sold on that concept.

Travis looked like she'd slapped him again. Joan's fire once again flickered out, and she stared at the ground with empty, tired eyes. "You're too old, and you'd be taking advantage," She whispered quietly, so Travis barely heard. It was the first time she'd put it all in perspective like that. There was a mysterious, far-off look in her eyes. Maybe she was homesick. I bet things are much less strange where she's from. Although she is an American. But... I don't know. I guess you're bound to get perverted teachers everywhere.

Joan nodded softly, cheeks slightly flushed. She looked slightly younger in the light. Too young, I think Travis realized. Or maybe he didn't. I don't really know. I only know that the look on his face changed to one of regret. And Travis was not the type to have regrets. "I get it now, I really do," A earnest Joan murmured, wiping at the corners of her eyes and managing a small smile. It was unclear to whom she was referring. Either way, it didn't matter much. Joan's decision was final and already made.

She sucked in a breath almost desperately, glancing up at Travis with moist eyes. She wasn't crying... yet. "I don't want to play your kind of games," She slurred softly. The words blended together, but Travis seemed to understand. He looked stricken. Joan was right, though. Travis is a Master of Games. Joan shook her head, blinking furiously to stave off the tears. "I can't do this anymore." She sighed raggedly, trying to find something to lean on. There was, however, nothing, so she swayed on her feet drunkenly, full of emotion. Travis' knees almost buckled with that one. She has him wrapped around her little finger. Joan forced herself to look him in the eyes intently. Her eyes were filled with heavy, sparkling, unshed tears that she stubbornly refused to let fall. She took a deep breath, maintaining his gaze. It was time for the truth. "I don't want to _think_ about you anymore," She croaked, feeling her voice break several times in the middle of a sentence.

Travis got the message, I guess... But Joan... Joan was like stone. She didn't shed a tear or... at least not one I could see. After that Travis stepped back and then sorta walked back up and that was very strange, but they talked. A bit. And...

I don't know how Travis managed to get her to agree with him, but... Next thing I knew, Joan and Travis waded through the crowd together, Travis guiding Joan. That meant that Patsy and I were left alone at the bar. Patsy downed the rest of her drink (a beer), and winked at me. "I'm not drunk at all," Patsy murmured, fighting to keep the snickers from bubbling up in her throat. And she proved it. She walked in a straight line and spoke without slurring. Patsy was sober... just a very, very, very good actress (and liar).

A few moments later we watched Joan walk onstage. She looked sort of luminous up there. Travis apparently appreciated his backstage view and felt the same sentiments. Joan squinted, unaccustomed to the bright lights. I remember. I was too. Well, actually, I wasn't 'cause I'd already been on Instant Star for weeks by then and... damn, they use up about 20 of the world's electricity on those things. Joan smiled once at the crowd before turning back to S.M.E., pulling out an iPod and holding it out to them, presumably to play a song. She whispered something to them that probably asking if they could do it.

Speed frowned and shook his head, acting as leader of the group. Joan looked vaguely cross, threw a hand in the air frustratedly and, I think, shouted something at him about making it rock 'n' roll. Or funky or punk or... I don't know. She mumbled some sort of explanation that involved a lot of hand gestures, but it seemed to have worked. Speed grinned widely, glancing to the other guys to see if they were okay with it. Malicious, almost evil looks crossed the faces of the whole band, even Joan's. Together they all nodded and resumed their positions... Speed on Joan's right, Wally on Joan's left, Kyle in the back behind his drum set, and Joan in front of the mike. Joan grinned, smirking exactly like Travis.

She leaned into the microphone so that her lips almost brushed it and didn't bother to introduce herself. I don't exactly know why she chose to do what she did. After all, Joan isn't a remotely impulsive sort of person. But Travis had just dumped this performance on her, leaving her no time to prepare. And I suppose it had been a rather lousy date. Plus she found out that he'd screwed Patsy. "This one goes out to my close, _personal_ friend, Travis," Joan murmured, shooting Travis doe-like eyes and a simpering smile. Travis looked like a lovestruck moron, which, of course, he was. Then Joan tore her gaze away from his magnetic emerald eyes, and that beaming, saccharine smile fell right the hell off her face. Her eyes narrowed and a bitter half-smile appeared on her face. "Dirty little secrets don't stay hidden long," Joan hissed, gritting her teeth.

The look on Travis' face was one of absolute shock. It was priceless. I grinned at Patsy, who looked rather proud of Joan. She puffed out her chest a little, beaming. I have to say, I admire Joan's guts. I don't think I could ever do something like that to... Oh, wait, yes, I could, and I have. I invented the put-someone-on-the-spot-by-singing-a-song-about-them thing. Her eyes narrowed as she huskily murmured the opening lines to the song, eyes focused off to the side, glowering at Travis something fierce. "Girl, when I think about you, I only think of one thing..." She said ironically, looking sickened. "You know what that is," She finished knowingly, looking rather proud of herself when Travis swallowed-and hard. Her eyes took on a calculated look as she whispered into the mike, intending the words for Travis. "Only think of one thing," She chastised, shaking her head, sort of rolling her eyes.

The music started to pick up a bit, and Joan closed her eyes, waiting for her cue. We musicians can always tell. Joan nodded her head to the beat slightly, counting drumbeats in her head before she opened her eyes and started to sing, a wicked smile forming on her lips. "_I lock my door... Get down on the floor... And I rub one out, **Baby**_," Joan warbled, licking her lips purposefully. She grinned over at Speed, who looked beyond amused by the whole thing. Joan leaned back dangerously, taking the microphone with her. "_I sit back in my chair, like I just don't care..._" She sang casually, suddenly throwing herself forward like a kamikaze. She winked at the audience, devilish smile lighting up her face. "_And I rub one **out**, Baby!_" She cried, thrusting her hips forward.

Needless to say, this wasn't a side of Joan that anyone had seen before. Probably not even Joan. She really had all the guys going. Travis was staring at her from backstage with wide, shocked eyes. She ignored the watchful eyes of Big Bro and kept performing, having fun. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back as if in ecstasy, running a hand through her messy hair, effectively tangling it worse, pushing it in front of her face. "_When I'm feeling **lonely**, and I want you to **hold** me..._" A pouting Joan proclaimed somewhat childishly, opening her eyes and wrapping her arms around herself. She nodded, a slow smirk sliding across her face. "_I rub one out, yeah, oh, **oh**!_" She half-shouted, parading over to Speed.

Travis was none too amused. Too bad for him. He must've been the only person who was completely _not_ into it. Joan, on the other hand, was loving it. She grinned, grabbing the top of the mikestand, running her hand down its side. "_Rub one out! **Hey**, don't be shy!_" Joan exclaimed brightly, eyes sparkling. She shook her head and shot the crowd a look. In case you haven't realized by now, the song is very, very crude, which sort of surprised me. I guess I don't know Joan as well as I thought. Speed accompanied her on back-up vocals, as he often did for me. "_You **don't** be shy_," A playful Speed interjected, harmonizing their voices.

Joan gyrated to the music, but not in an obscene way like Patsy. "_Rub one out! Don't ask why..._" She drawled, giving the audience The Eye as she walked over to Wally. Speed looked a bit confused, but he provided the necessary vocal. "_Don't even ask me **why**_," He chorused, hitting some higher notes than I knew he could hit. I found myself vaguely impressed. A wicked grin was firmly in place on Joan's face as she sidled over to Wally, wrapping an arm around his waist. "_Rub one **out**_," She purred, rubbing up against Wally more than she probably should've. On his part, Wally looked visibly surprised and more than a bit confused. He reflexively stiffened almost immediately, probably owing to the facts that Joan's a virtual stranger to him, and he's a teenage boy. Predictably, his fingers slipped on the strings, messing up only slightly, as he's the bassist and thus, the background noise.

From my vantage point, I was able to see Travis quietly seething in the corner. Joan might've noticed this, but she's a nice girl, and I don't think she'd use a guy like Wally to make Travis jealous. Joan smiled softly at Wally. "_I'll grab my **crotch**_," Joan murmured, sliding the hand that was wrapped around his waist down and into his pocket. Wally sucked in a deep breath. I smiled amusedly. Speed shot Kyle a glance, as if completely disbelieving that a girl could hit on Wally... and so blatantly! Speed grinned, though, as he sung the next vocal, "_**Grab** my crotch._" Speed winked convincingly at Wally.

Joan smiled and with some awkwardness, managed to disentangle herself from Wally with minimal difficulty. She beamed at him, waving coyly over her shoulder as she stepped up to the front, shaking her hips. "_Rub one **out**!_" Joan exclaimed, raising an eyebrow and shooting Speed a look. Speed puffed his chest out a little, looking a little full of himself. "_Do you wanna watch?_" She seemingly offered, just as Speed leaned into the mike. He tried to finish her sentence, "_**Me** p..._" I honestly couldn't tell you what he said. It sort of blended into Joan's singing.

This time, Joan walked towards Kyle, batting her eyelashes at him flirtatiously. Don't get me wrong, Joan knew that Kyle had a girlfriend. She was just having a little fun, letting loose. "_When I'm alone_," Joan began, attempting to serenade him. "_Hey!_" Speed shouted enthusiastically. Joan waved at Kyle, sashaying towards him. "_And **you're** on the phone... I rub one out, yeah_," Joan sang elaborately. She nodded her head to the beat. "_I rub one out_," Speed echoed, clearly amused. She grinned at him. Joan sat down on one of Kyle's drums (and he even more surprisingly let her), crossing her legs vampishly. "_When I'm feeling **hot**..._" Joan continued bawdily, letting out a sort of moaning sound. It was as if she didn't care what people thought about her. "Whoo!" Speed exclaimed, fighting back chuckles. As was I. Joan's face turned serious, and uncrossing her legs, she rose to her feet seductively. "_And I'm all in a **knot**... I rub one out_," She drawled.

Joan strode forward on sure legs, sashaying back towards the front, giving Kyle a small wave. In the less than two weeks I'd known her, I had never known that Joan had so much confidence. She smiled widely at the audience. "_So, baby, don't be **shy**... Don't ask why... I rub one **out**, baby, ah, yeah!_" Joan sang loudly, hitting an impressive range of notes. She grinned over at Speed, walking over to him. "_Rub one out_," Joan proclaimed, leaning against Speed slightly. Joan nodded. "_Hey, don't be shy_," She giggled, bumping hips with a grinning Speed. "_Don't be shy_," He crooned, leaning over so that he said it in Joan's mike.

Their eyes met. How romantique. But hey, if it gets Speed off my back... I'm all for it. Though I do think he ought to know that she's hung up on Travis. "_Rub one out_," Joan continued, bobbing her head to the beat and dancing wildly. She placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head at Speed. "_Girl, **don't** ask why_," Joan warbled ironically, pretending to tell him off. She casually walked around behind him, running her fingers down his shoulders. "_Baby, don't think about asking me **why**_," Speed murmured as Joan wrapped her arms around his neck. Joan beamed, rubbing against him, "_Rub one out!_"

"_I'll grab my crotch_," Joan proclaimed, actually grabbing Speed's crotch. I was more than a little surprised... to say the least. "_I'll grab my **crotch**_," Speed echoed enthusiastically, beaming widely. He looked cocky and wildly attractive all of a sudden. Oh, damn. Joan went and gave his ego a little boost. Now I'll have to work that much harder to undo it. But, seriously, you should've seen how freaking pissed Travis was. It was amazing. His face was as red as a ripe tomato and steam was practically coming out of his ears. Seriously, the burly guy next to him had to physically restrain him from going onstage and ripping Speed to pieces. In fact, Travis almost punched the guy restraining him.

Luckily, Joan reliquished her hold on Speed, briefly kissing him on the cheek. Speed grinned like a conquering hero. "_Rub one **out**_," Joan shouted, pumping her hands up in the air, trying to incite the crowd. The crowd clapped along... thunderous applause. You know, bad motives aside... What Travis did actually helped Joan, I think. She has a meeting at G. Major tomorrow with Georgia. And with killer songs and a stage prescence like that... She was more than prepared. "_Do you **wanna** watch?_" Joan finished with a bang. "_Wanna watch_," Speed mumbled quietly. A few moments later, the chords and drums died out. Amidst heavy applause, Joan walked over to Wally and planted one on him. Amazingly, they cheered louder. I wondered if she'd just done it to spite Travis. Then, after a good long embrace, Joan pulled back, smiling at Wally, who, bless his heart, looked pretty damn dazed by the whole ordeal.

Joan waved, blowing a kiss at the ground, as she casually stepped off stage and virtually disappeared. Travis was literally red in the face, though whether that was from anger or embarrassment was hard to say. He was more pissed, though. He wanted to find Joan and... do something. I don't know what, but I didn't want to have anything to do with it. And, since she'd vanished and all, I expected that Joan didn't really either. There would sure be consequences.

It turns out that Joan was really the smart one in the end. I should've followed in her footsteps and hightailed it out of there when I still could. But I didn't, and I wound up paying the price for that action. Sometimes I think I'm just Travis' scapegoat, that he takes out his anger at Tommy and Kate and Joan and the whole damn world on me! The crowd thinned a bit, and so I figured I'd just have one more drink and then go. The world was only slightly out of focus. One drink would make it all warm and fuzzy. However, my drink was empty, and Patsy was gone, so I had to settle for the remnants of her like... twelfth drink, which tasted sort of funny. Anyways, I get up to leave, and next thing I know, Travis is standing right in front of me. His eyes were blazing with a rather unrivaled rage. Mind you, I've seen Travis mad a lot of times, but this was truly something else.

Out of nowhere, the guy grabs me by the wrist (seriously, why does he always do that?)... hard, might I add... And Travis just yanked me around, dragging me after him. I struggled to keep up with him, stumbling in my ridiculously tall high-heels. I was not prepared for this, damnit! I could've sworn that the man jerked me around the whole freakin' club before we reached our destination, which was apparently the men's room. He shoved the door open, and naturally, it swung back around and hit me in the face before I was pulled through the doorway. Ouch.

Travis finally stopped moving, and I skidded to a stop, stumbling over my feet, and crashing down to the floor in a whirlwind mess of ragged fringed denim, torn magenta fabric, spike heels, and hair. OUCH! So, let's review the situation in question... The setting, in fact. Let's see, I was yanked around a club for five minutes, got smacked in the face by a door, and tumbled to the floor. My whole body sort of hurts right now. My wrist is most certainly bruised and feels like it was ripped out of its socket. I think all those muscles that I pulled before just got pulled again, after they'd healed. Half of my body is bruised black and blue, especially my hip and my back. Oh, and there'll probably be a big bump on my forehead by tomorrow. And I don't even have a cool story as to why I got it. Just Travis dragging me around like an abusive boyfriend.

And there I was, half-drunk, laying on the lovely, abso-fricking-lutely disgusting floor of the mens' room, probably bleeding and bruising right there on the floor. Travis and I weren't alone, either. There was a guy using the urinal. Ugh. It's so insanitary in here. Now, Travis, being the asshole that he is, naturally doesn't help me up. In fact, he glowered at the guy and decided to ask him to leave. "Hey, Johnny... Get out. We have a _lady_ in our prescence," Travis hissed, gesturing with his thumb for the guy to leave. His word choice was bitterly ironic. When had Travis ever thought of or treated me as a lady? Never, that's when!

So then the pissing guy turned around, indecently exposing himself to me, and further grossing me out, too, by the way. I mean, ick. Then the bastard has the nerve to leer at me like he's appraising me. He nodded to Travis, still with himself hanging out of his pants, mind you, being all "okay, you can tap that fine ass" about it. I was repulsed and disgusted. Overgrown Frat Boy.

So I properly pushed myself up off the floor, glaring daggers at the both of them, especially as they were hungrily eying the more than ample cleavage my now-torn shirt revealed. I didn't need to glance down to look at the guy, seeing as I'd already gotten more than an eyeful of what he had to offer and found him lacking. I struggled to my feet with as much dignity as I could muster (which wasn't that much, really), especially considering that I'd scraped my knee badly, had a long slash down my other leg, and felt like I'd wrenched both ankles. I was bleeding a little too profusely for my liking and it combined with the alcohol to make me a little lightheaded. But I stood anyways on shaky ankles, placing my hands on my hips defiantly. Let it never be said that I am not tough.

I pointed to the guy who _still_ (I mean, gee, you would think he'd take the hint!) hadn't bothered to fasten his pants. "Okay, look, if you're going to walk around with your pants down, make sure you have something that's worth seeing. And not so _small_," I retorted sharply and dismissively. Okay, so maybe I'm a bit spoiled, what with watching Tommy's sex tape and all, but... The guy, whoo, he looked so offended. He had it coming, of course. Then I turned to Travis, as I'd much rather look at him than the creepy guy who hadn't done up his pants yet. "And, as for you, what the hell is up with your obsession with dragging me into filthy club bathrooms and injuring me? Are you gonna make out with me again, too? 'Cause, if so, I'd like a warning, so I can run in the opposite direction. Now, if you **excuse** me, I'm getting out of here before I catch a disease from either this bathroom or... one of you two perverts," I snapped with all the venom of a viper. That being said, I stalked stiffly past them towards the door, quickly formulating an idea.

Mason lives around here. I know this because I've dropped him off a few times. I figure I could call him, and he could maybe drive me home. Mom and Dad trust Mason, right? Of course, I should've known that it wasn't going to be that easy. Like Travis would really let me off that easily. I was well on my way to walking briskly outside to Mason's apartment (tiny revision of plans) when I was, once again, intercepted. Travis again. This time, he deviated slightly from routine by grabbing my left wrist. He then proceeded to whirl me around to face him and... There was just this look in his eyes.

His eyes were dark and cloudy and almost sort of... needy. That should've been a warning sign right there. How Travis had gone from being so angry and so uncaring to so... quiet and intent. Then again, Travis is rather mercurial, isn't he?

Too mercurial, I fear. The man is worse than a thermometer. About as poisonous as the mercury too.

I just stared at him, confused, hoping he'd say something so I could leave. Travis, however, had other plans. For many moments, he just stood there, staring at me so unnervingly and not saying a word. I turned to leave, but Travis' hand shot out and grabbed my left wrist again, squeezing it too hard. I froze for a split second, allowing him to spin me around... sending me spiraling straight into his arms. Next thing I knew, we were kissing. I wasn't really responding. It was Travis, pretty late, and I wasn't in the mood. But Travis, now, he was another story. He was really into it. His lips slammed against mine, bruising them. He bit my lips savagely, even to the point of drawing blood which he licked away. He forced his lips against mine, forced my mouth open, and wormed his tongue into my mouth. It was like he was throwing every inch of himself into the kiss in desperation. I hadn't even responded by the time, only seconds into the kiss, when his hands started tugging on my clothing.

I kept pushing his hands away, and somehow, I managed to take a breath... and then I don't really remember how it happened, but I was suddenly kissing him back, and it felt really good. Far too good to be good or healthy for me. So good it was bad. And then my mind turned slowly to mush in its oxgen-deprived state. I only wondered where in Hell he'd learned to kiss like that (Knowing Travis, probably from the Devil himself... or maybe Beezlebub's Bitch, depending) and where he'd learned how to do that _thing_ with his tongue. Somewhere in there, my knees sort of buckled, and I half fell on Travis, who didn't seem to mind. He just kissed me harder. And then his hands were sliding up and under my shirt, going up towards the clasp of my bra. Feeling his touch, I jerked out of his grip suddenly, almost collapsing from the lack of support.

For a moment, I just stared at Travis breathlessly. He was panting too, but there was still the hungry, dark look I remembered lingering in his eyes. I took a step backwards somewhat awkwardly and wiped my lips ungracefully. I glanced down at my hand, noting some blood was on it. I quickly wiped my hand on my skirt, trying to think of something to say. Anything to say. Why is it that just when I need them the most, words fail me? It's like something out of a Paper Moon song. I tried to put him out of my mind, but I'd never been successful with that before, now had I? Okay, come on, Jude... Just think of something to say. How difficult is that?

Surprisingly harder than you'd think. Just saying.

I tried to be angry about it, but I still wasn't quite thinking clearly. And in my slightly inebriated state, Travis was looking better and better. I frowned at him, shaking my head. "I don't think I've had enough alcohol to allow you to do things like that to me," I muttered somewhat weakly. Hey, it was all I could think of at the time! The look in Travis' eyes relaxed a little, though the same emotions I'd seen earlier still lingered in those jade depths.

Travis smirked at me, uncharacteristically offering me his hand. "That can be remedied," came the smug reply. Travis' eyes danced animatedly, the shockingly blue flecks in them finally flickering to life. "How 'bout I buy you a drink?" He proposed, giving me a good once-over. Again. My cheeks flushed a little, and my eyes widened at the implication. Here was Travis, being all gentlemanly after savagely mauling me and dragging me about like a rag doll. Something was clearly off about the whole situation, but I didn't let that get to me. Travis was offering me a free drink, and I wanted to accept it. I should've been looking for the catch. Travis grinned slyly. "After all, I **do** owe you something. I've been so wretched to you for no remotely acceptable reason. And I'm terribly sorry. My conduct towards you has been anything **but** adult and mature, and I apologize for that. Really, just let me buy you a drink. It's the _least_ I can do," Travis apologized in a somewhat pleading, earnest tone.

If I'd been sober, I probably would've noticed that there was something seriously off with Travis. I most certainly would've been suspicious. And odds are that I probably wouldn't have let him buy me the drink. But I was drunk, and he seemed nice enough. Contrite enough for me, anyways. I just nodded, grabbing his hand (effectively surprising the both of us), and walking to the bar. I sat down on a stool with as much elegance as my tired, bruised, and bleeding form could offer. Travis had paid attention to my first order, and in a few minutes, I was nursing another rum and coke. I smiled contentedly as the warm liquor went down my throat, amiably aiming a good portion of that smile at Travis.

Travis cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, as if he didn't quite know what to say. Or maybe he was getting his emotions in check or something. I don't know, but whatever it was was resolved quickly within his mind. He offered me a smile that looked eerily genuine. "I think we got off on the wrong foot," He began heavily. A very familiar song, The Donna's cover of Billy Idol's "Dancing With Myself", which, by the way, just happens to be one of my favorite songs ever, started to play in the background. I took that as a good omen and decided to actually listen to what Travis said. Who knows... maybe it would actually be worth it? I snorted, nodding to that, and I waited for him to go on. Surprisingly, Travis held out his hand, presumably for me to shake. "Travis Quinn," He supplied, prompting me to follow suit and introduce myself.

As my right hand was otherwise occupied with my lovely drink, I offered him my left, and there was some fumbling around, but we shook hands. I smiled as best as I could, feeling rather disgusting while doing it. "Jude Harrison, Instant Star," I responded, sounding almost as if I was being interviewed. I winced at the cool sound of it in my head, but then I wondered why I should care what Travis thinks of me. After all, he is a pervert. Why does it matter? He's not at all morally superior to me. Oddly enough, we held our hands like that for a long while after we shook hands, just hanging there pointlessly in the air. I had to cough to get him to realize that it was long past time to let go of me. "So," I replied, taking a sip of my drink casually, "What do you do for a living?"

Travis smiled wryly, appreciating my approach. He pretended to look thoughtful. "I used to be a recording artist... And I'm a songwriter and composer. But I guess you could say that I'm mainly employed as a high school music teacher," Travis explained eloquently. I suddenly wondered what I was getting myself into. This was like a drunken game of Twenty Questions. Travis' eyes sparkled mischievously, clearly liking the little game we were playing. "I must say, Miss Harrison, I am quite the fan of your work. You have a wonderful voice and an amazing range. I'd love to have you as one of my students. I bet you could teach all of them a thing or two," Travis complimented, smiling a rather formal, polite smile at me. Okay, hell yeah, that's suspicious, but I wasn't putting two and two together, so I just figured he was being polite. Sounds like he wants something, though, don't it?

I smiled back warmly, flushing at the flowery compliment. "Thank you," I expressed sincerely, setting my drink down on the coaster. I pursed my lips, struggling to think of something else to ask him. "**So**..." I said, letting the awkward word hang in the air. I pondered if asking him would be too forward, but I wanted to know. The whole situation with him and Kate had me rather perplexed. "Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked curiously. Travis was surprised, to say the least. He raised his eyebrows, maybe assuming that I was into him. Okay, probably assuming.

This seemed to be a matter that he himself was unsure of because he seemed to take forever to think it over. Finally, after what seemed like an endless eternity of silence, he spoke, staring into space somewhat pensively. "Honestly..." He started, trailing off awkwardly, looking at me, and then quickly looking away, "I've never been more confused about my lovelife than I am right now." I chuckled, taking a rather large swig from my drink and holding it up briefly as if to toast him. Well, that makes two of us. Birds of a feather, I thought. Travis sighed, exhaling a great breath a moment later. "But... No, I don't think so. I recently got reinvolved with my ex, and I have some feelings for other girls, but that's about it. Nothing that serious," Travis elaborated, somehow completely inable to look at me. Nothing that serious. For some reason, the words proved problematic, as they would prove to Travis, and they repeated themselves in my head over and over.

I couldn't help but wonder if maybe I was one of those "other girls". But at least that answered my question. Travis was still living single. I nodded numbly, taking another long sip of my drink. Travis was quick to strike back. "What about you?" He questioned, looking all-too eager to hear the answer. I sighed raggedly. Great.

Just what I need. Travis asking me about my already conflicted lovelife. "_Well_..." I drawled, taking a long pause to try and think of how to best articulate this. I decided straight truth (or as close to it as I could get) was the best modus operandus for what I needed to accomplish. "My lead guitarist is in love with me, my music teacher makes passes at me, and the love of my **life** is dating my sister," I replied succinctly. I thought for a moment, remembering the issue of Tim. "Oh, and I have a sort of quasi-boyfriend, but he has another girlfriend, and I've never actually seen his face," I finished, feeling satisfied with that answer, as strange as it was; it was still complete. A similiarly odd look crossed Travis' face, but he brushed it off. I smiled at him helplessly, for there was nothing else I could do. I was lovestruck by the alcohol. "I'm just _peachy_," I muttered sarcastically.

This managed to get a deep chuckle, and I laughed weakly, but loudly enough to be sufficient, in return. Just so he wouldn't feel like so much of a loser. I sighed, nursing my drink. I ought to get a bit more sober before I drink anymore. Not that that will work. I frowned, still trying to think of a question to ask. "How many albums have you released? Got any hits?" I asked inquisitively. Travis also frowned at this, and his face took on a tint of bitterness. He did nod, though.

He took on a thoughtful look and began counting on his fingers, muttering softly to himself. Then, all of a sudden, he looked at me, holding up a hand. "Five. Five full-length albums. Rock 'n' roll, dance pop, acoustic, anti-folk, and hard rock," He elucidated quietly, barely glancing at me. The idea of Travis doing dance-pop made me laugh my ass off. I only sniggered a little, though. Just to be polite. I nodded dumbly because I couldn't think of anything to say. Well, actually, Travis took care of that for me. Gave me something to answer. He pouted in a very Tommy-like way. "So, what's going on with you and Tommy?"

I stiffened reflexively. He had no right to ask me that question. Absolutely no right! But I had to answer. That was, after all, the unspoken rule. I sighed, wondering how to explain. "It's complicated," I responded immediately, placing my head in my hands. I knew the answer didn't suffice, but that was really the best way to put it. I sighed again, grunting into my hands. "I don't know, Travis... Tommy... I don't know. He changes so easily. One minute he's one thing, and the next he's... something else. I have no idea what's going on in his head... how he feels. We're not dating or anything, but we're friends. Friends who sometimes kiss. But I can't do it anymore. I don't want to play any games anymore," I lamented, lifting my head out of my hands to glance at Travis. His features were rather stiff, probably from the mention of Tommy.

I sighed, already worrying that I'd revealed too much. Travis didn't say anything, and I realized with a jolt that it was my turn to ask him a question. I thought for a good, long while over what to ask him. There were a great many things I could've asked, but at the time, only one came to mind. One possibly world-altering question that I probably would've never dared to ask if I was sober. I know that I'm a fairly impulsive person, always willing to put my heart on the line, but this was a bit much, even for me. My theory is usually that it's better to know than to not know. That way you have closure.

But I would've never even thought about asking Travis what I really wanted to ask him sober. It would've changed things that I wasn't willing to change. That I didn't want to change. I couldn't deal with it. But I was curious and I really wanted to know. I wouldn't get an opportunity to do this again. Travis was never going to be this honest with me again. So maybe I wanted to take advantage of it. Maybe I subconsciously wanted to know. And it didn't hurt that I was drunkity-drunk-drunk off my ass. Which all adds up to me asking Travis, getting an answer I maybe didn't want to hear, but maybe did.

I glanced over at him, seeing something and sensing something different in him. He was farther away than I had previously thought he was. I unconsciously moved closer to him, leaning slightly. The room felt suddenly hot, and I had already broken out into a cold sweat. I seriously contemplating removing my shirt, but I had a feeling that if I did, it would wind up plastered all over the tabs by morning. I took a long gulp of my drink, holding it in my mouth and letting the sweet flavor soak in and coat my tongue. Then I swallowed, letting the burning liquid drain down my throat. Liquid courage, they say. I smiled dimly at Travis, placing my hand on the table and leaning forward, towards him a bit. I slid my hand across the table until it was eventually covering his. His hands were a lot softer and more delicate than I thought they'd be.

Especially after all the times he'd so roughly manhandled me. His fingers were so long and thin, I thought admiringly, brushing my fingers across the top of his hand affectionately. I tilted my head to stare at him. Travis' face softened, and he actually smiled at me. It was a real smile, too. I could tell by the soft lines around his eyes. His warm, friendly, and inviting beautiful green eyes. I flushed slightly and couldn't help but to smile back. "Travis?" I asked in a slow, lilting tone, feeling a mild trepidation about the whole situation. Travis nodded, eyes questioning but still kind. I paused, feeling butterflies flutter in my stomach, wondering if I was doing the right thing. I asked anyways. "How do you feel about me?" I whispered, nervous and unsure of his answer. And, anyways, what did I even want the answer to be?

A deep, contemplative look came across Travis' face. He broke eye-contact, and this worried me. I bit my lip, fearing that I'd said the wrong thing. Damnit, why was my heart beating so fast! It was only Travis, after all! I hate Travis and he... He doesn't give a damn about me. Obviously! So why did I ask him that idiotic question! Have I lost my everloving mind already! Travis pursed his lips, and suddenly those vivid green eyes were on me again. He seemed to stare right through me for that one long instance, absolutely silent. He seemed so sober, but then his face broke out into a slight smile. He wiggled his fingers underneath mine, leaning towards me slightly, and covering my hand with his. "Jude... I don't know how to answer that question," He said weakly, smile turning into a frown.

I glanced down at our hands, feeling suddenly cold and even more disappointed. Maybe I was asking too much of him. I sighed raspily, feeling myself drooping. I felt like a wilting lily, slightly off-kilter, not so pretty, and most importantly... dying from the inside out. I shouldn't be disappointed, damnit! I don't even want him to have feelings for me, remember!

Then again, I don't want to be meaningless to him... I don't want to be some girl he can just push to the limits and make out with whenever he wants to. I don't want to be thought of as a booty call or as a fun way to piss Tommy off. I want... I want to _matter_. And I don't know why, but I do. I want it. I frowned, feeling very confused. I don't know anything anymore, I think. Out of nowhere, when I wasn't looking at him, Travis spoke. His words were deliberate, slow and careful. I guess he wanted to make sure I understood him properly. "I think about you far too much. I see you in my dreams, haunting me... I want you, Jude," Travis murmured huskily, sending shivers up my spine.

Or, at least, his words did until I realized something. I'd heard similar words before from a similar sort of man, and I liked them a lot better the first time around. I stiffened, pursing my lips, trying to reign in my emotions. However, I failed miserably and responded by lashing out at Travis. "**God**! Do you listen to Boyz Attack! tapes in your spare time? 'Cause, really, Travis, you've really got your Tommy imitation down pat!" I snapped furiously, glowering at him. Poor Travis. He just looked plumb confused. My eyes narrowed wrathfully. Maybe I wasn't really mad at Travis at all. Maybe Tommy was really the one I was pissed at. "You're even using _his_ tired old lines to try and pick me up! What, couldn't think of something new and original!" I growled viciously, feeling my tongue burning. I smiled wryly; it was a bitter sort of grin. "Let me know when you do, though..." I paused, extracting my hand from his, leaning back, and dramatically crossing my arms over my chest. "Maybe then I'll actually _believe_ you," I spat venemously, staring at him with blatant distrust and disgust etched into my features.

Travis scowled at me for a moment, but then a strange calm passed over him. He seemed to almost push the anger down inside of him. His eyes took on a soft, heartmelty look as he gazed at me intently. He reached out for me, but I shrugged and moved out of his way. Travis, however, was anything if persistent. And he was easily the most persistent guy I knew. He wasn't giving up or backing down anytime soon. I was understandably surprised by what he finally had to say. He was so... blunt about it. Travis grabbed my hand (against my will), and he forced me to look at him. Oddly enough, even though I was half-wasted by that point, I remember everything about that moment like it was yesterday. I remember that it was so late... It had to be at least the wee hours in the morning by then. Past twelve, at least. It was pitch black outside.

Being a club, there was still a pretty active nightlife, but it had calmed down a bit. The crowd had thinned some. The band had left for the night, so they were just blasting some old tunes. The lighting was dim and sort of warm. It was a comforting soft light that was accentuated by occasional blue and green flashes. Ironically enough, Joan Jett's cover of Tommy James and the Shondells' "Crimson and Clover" was playing in the background. It was ironic on more than one level, really. After all, a Joan was singing it, and a Tommy had written it... Not to mention that my hair was a near florescent neon sort of crimson, and Travis' eyes were the color of lucky Irish four-leaf clovers. And, then, of course, there's the lyrics that made the song fit the moment perfectly. It was almost eerie how it all worked out.

Travis's hair was a little mussed, but it was still standing up. His cheekbones were high and flawless, while his cheeks were thin and smooth. The light shone on his face enchantingly. His lips were full, swollen, and rather red. Traces of lipstick were smeared across them, and as he pursed his lips purposefully, I fought the irrational urge to kiss him again. His tongue flicked across his lips, and he closed his eyes, relishing the taste on them... maybe even still me. His eyes, though, they were what really stuck with me. His eyes were dark and powerfully intense, yet also uncharacteristically soft. They looked like the deepest, most beautiful emeralds anyone could ever see, and they glittered similarly, the gold and azure strands in them flashing excitedly. "I think I have feelings for you, Jude," Travis blurted out hesitantly, staring deeply into my eyes. I think he meant that.

My jaw dropped to about the floor, and I jerked my fingers out of Travis' grip without thinking, moving backward in shock. Travis had sure as hell answered my question... and now I didn't know if it was one I'd wanted to hear. I had absolutely no idea what to say and found myself horrified beyond belief. Travis has feelings for me. Normally it's a good thing when a man has feelings for you... celebrate! Instead, I loudly gasped, "You **_what_**!" Can't you just hear the sheer horror in that voice? Anyways, to resume my previous argument... Not when it's _Travis_, it isn't! Great, talking to myself again. Over, heaven forbid, Travis, who just happens to have feelings for me. Like the song goes: "Now, I don't hardly know her... But I think I can love her." Whoa, okay... Just freaked myself out a little there. I mean, Travis loving me? That's just ridiculous!

Er... It **is** ridiculous, isn't it? I'm right, aren't I?

Travis gave me a mildly irritated look, clearly not wanting to repeat himself. But he did, of course. "I have feelings for you, Jude," Travis repeated more firmly this time, a furiously determined look in his eyes. I gulped hard. Oh, crap. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a mack truck. On the highway. Going over the speed limit. And, similiarly, I was also soon-to-be roadkill. Travis actually had the nerve to continue. Didn't have enough nerve to look at me, but he had enough nerve to do that. "I think about you all the time, you know. More than I should. More than I want to. But I do. And I can't stop or just turn it off like I used to," Travis professed, finally raising his eyes up to my face. "I think I'm in too deep," He muttered, sighing heavily again. He flexed his fingers as if he was itching to hold a glass and drink a little, but he refrained from even asking the bartender for one. Oh, so he can control himself from that, but not from me!

I rolled my eyes at him, trying not to believe his statement at face value. It was pretty hard not to take him seriously... Travis was by no means a joker. I took a long sip from my drink. "And I _think_ you just quoted Britney Spears. What next, you gonna bust out into a sad version of "Bye, Bye, Bye" on me?" I quipped sarcastically. I knew the boyband crack would piss him off. He scowled at me. Good. I can work with an angry Travis. It's this sincere guy I'm worried about.

He glowered at me, suddenly slamming his fist down on the bar. I might've jumped if I wasn't drunk. But I was, so I didn't. Someone's being a pissy drama queen lately, now isn't he? His eyes blazed a ghastly, ghoulish green. "I'm _trying_ to tell you something **important** here, and you just write it off!" Travis growled, staring me down, eyes narrowing in anger. Travis ground his teeth, steaming. "I answered your damn question... _You_ just didn't like what I had to say," Travis snarled accusingly. Then he sighed, looking suddenly tired of arguing with me. "What, Jude, would you prefer it if I lied?" He inquired slowly in a quiet, reflective voice. I choked on my drink mid-sip.

I swallowed frantically and tried to sink my claws in as soon as I could. "Who says you're not lying right now?" I screeched, surprised by his sudden mood swing. That guy has some stones, let me tell you. "With you, it's pathological!" I exclaimed irritably. It was true, too. I scowled at him. "How can I be sure that every word that comes out of your mouth isn't a lie! It's not like you've been honest with me in the past... And if so, why choose _now_ to be honest?" I chastised, trying to castrate him with my laser-vision eyes. Not that it worked. If looks could kill... I shook my head, thoroughly sickened with him. "You're not sincere at all, Travis. In fact, you're probably just saying all of this in an attempt to get me in bed so you can **finally** get back at Tommy," I hissed virulently, only seconds before surprising myself by slapping him across the face.

Travis rubbed his cheek, eyes slightly wide. He looked betrayed. But I hadn't betrayed him at all. You have to have someone's trust to do that. And my name might be Jude as in Judas Iscariot, but I am no traitor. His eyes narrowed again. He must be feeling better to be mad again. "Gee, Jude, could you jump through any _more_ hoops in Tommy's name?" He asked rhetorically, insulting me. He had the nerve to actually roll his eyes at me. "I mean, defending the honor of a whore is a bit much," He replied casually. I almost sideswiped him for that one, and I would've, too... only he took a step back. He might be a whore, but I am still in love with him... whore or not.

I frowned, squinting, tilting my head, and peering at him sideways. I stared as if I was looking for something there, suddenly remembering Joan's words. She was right. There was something fundamentally wrong with him. I narrowed my eyes shrewdly, roughly tossing back the rest of my drink, and motioning for another in a fluid motion. Then I focused my full attention on Travis, intent on getting an answer out of the weasel. "Okay, Travis, I've got a helluva question for you..." I began with a scowl, wincing when I heard how I was starting to slur my words. I forced myself to take a deep breath, inwardly urging myself to sober up. "Are you just using me to piss Tommy off? Or do you actually mean some of that crap you just told me?" I blurted out suddenly, wishing I'd phrased that a bit more tactfully.

Travis didn't flinch. I was incredibly focused on his answer. I expected him to admit it again, like he had before... but he didn't. He just sighed raggedly, and I looked at him... I don't quite know how to explain it, but we just sort of looked at each other and... it was surreal. I looked him in the eyes and... I just knew. "I used to think I was doing that, but I'm not," He whispered, glancing at me with big eyes. I could only gape at him in surprise as his eyes bored into me. I felt like he was looking through me. "I meant what I said, Jude. I have feelings for you," He proclaimed, eyes shining with a feverish misty green fire. I think my heart stopped beating there for a second. "And I think you have feelings for me too," Travis murmured confidently, a small smile on his face, turning that dangerous, smoldering stare on me.

At first, I didn't know what to say. I couldn't really say anything. My throat was mysteriously dry. I guess it was good I didn't speak, or else I would've said something stupid. Like confirm Travis' theory and jump into his arms. Well... Okay, so that probably wouldn't have happened... But I was drunk and in this soft, hazy lighting he looked quite a bit like Tommy. My reverie was interrupted when the bartender set another drink down in front of me. I took a halting, desperate sip of the rum and coke, which noticeably had more rum than coke in it. I guess the bartender thought I needed it, and he was right. Boy, was he right. I followed that sip with one or two more hungry gulps, swallowing just a little too much. I almost choked, but it was worth it to have that sweet taste in my mouth, feeling the liquor burn all the way down. I glowered at Travis, barely noticing that I'd already consumed half of my drink. "You are so full of yourself that it _sickens_ me," I snapped disgustedly, scowling at him.

Travis stiffened, but said nothing. He just brought up that ever-irritating smirk again... the one that grated on my nerves and wore me down. I frowned further, feeling suddenly confused. How was Travis still here? Why was he allowed to stay at school and invite me and Joan to these things? The physics of it all were driving me insane. "Hey, Travis... why are..." I started, trying to figure out a way to properly explain this and get it all out right. Naturally, I stumbled almost immediately. It was such a strange, awkward thing to ask, and my tongue was loose and alcohol-saturated, so I wasn't making any kind of sense. I pursed my lips irritably and began again. "Why are you... why are you still..." I trailed off, failing even more miserably than previously. Travis' annoying grin widened in amusement.

I pouted, feeling defeated. Travis, though, being the teacher he is, decided to help me out. "A teacher?" He supplied helpfully, trying to hide a snicker behind a fake cough. I glared daggers at him, deepening the pout, but nodded nonetheless. Yeah. That's exactly what I meant. I looked down, suddenly afraid to look at him. This whole honesty thing with Travis was... strange, to say the least. I wasn't at all used to it, but Travis was always doing something like this... always turning the tide on me! It was still so new, Travis treating me like a human being. So I was sort of afraid of the answer. He had to be mad at me. I'd almost cost him his job, after all... Hell, they were probably watching him! I was scared of what he'd do. Scared he'd do something like hit me out of nowhere. Travis was always doing something like that, giving me a punch in the gut out of nowhere, that right hook I hadn't seen coming...

I glanced up worriedly, drink in hand. Before I even looked at him I had inhaled a quarter of what was left. A soft smile appeard on Travis' face, but it was a smug sort of smile. The kind of smile that made me hate Travis with every fiber of my being. His eerily calm sea-green eyes twinkled mischievously, almost deliberately. I expected him to be at least remotely angry, but he seemed more amused and clever than anything else. The half-smile was out-of-place and far too modest on his lips. "Let's just say that I was born with a silver tongue, and I know how to use it," He stated mysteriously, giving me a wink. His gaze turned suddenly hard and determined as his hand slithered across the table. He stared intently in my eyes, talking directly to me. "I can talk my way out of _anything_, Jude," Travis replied smoothly.

I winced, feeling sick to my stomach- more from Travis than the alcohol. He said that in such a smarmy way that I would've hit him. Travis could talk his way out of anything, and that thought scared me. They didn't believe me, which meant that Travis was walking around, free and unchecked to do whatever he wanted... to whoever he wanted. The thought made me sick. So, naturally, I remedied that by downing a little more liquor. It didn't make it better, but it warmed me up a bit. I felt his arm sliding across my shoulders and stiffened, panicking and knocking his arm away. "Why'd you become a teacher anyways? Easy access?" I growled irritably, shooting him a death glare.

This time Travis flinched, a pained look crossing his face. However, soon enough he was able to plaster that poker face back on like it was nothing. Always gotta have that damn mask up, eh, Quinn? At first there was this sick sort of smile on his lips, but the smile fell from his face fast. A dark look passed over his face, and he couldn't even keep looking at me anymore. He had to look away. Some things are too hard to face, I suppose. He shook his head bitterly. "No. I didn't really have much of a choice in the matter... It was either that or joining the priesthood," He muttered gloomily.

I laughed boisterously at the idea of Travis, of all people, being a priest. He just doesn't scream monastic devotion. Besides, I've got the notion that he'd be more likely to break any vows he makes than to keep them. Travis shot me a dour look, showing me that he was serious. Well, it's not like he's Tommy. Maybe Travis was serious... but still, he's too tortured, too vengeful, too amoral to be any kind of holy man. As usual, I took everything with a grain of salt. I chuckled lightly, taking a warm, friendly sip from my glass. "Guess those rumors about them aren't just rumors after all," I quipped brightly.

Let's just say that I offended Travis. Pretty big time. You see, random little fact about Travis that I didn't know: He's Catholic. And I mean, before the whole Kate thing, Travis must've been it... the real deal. So, when you tell a formerly devout Catholic who almost became a monk (we really would be better off if he was, I think)... well, when you make cracks about his religion and almost-profession... He's not that happy about it. Travis' hands bunched into fists on the bar. His knuckles turned white. He clenched his jaw.

But he didn't say anything bad. There was a terse, tense silence that seemed to stretch on forever... It was unendingly awkward. He didn't look at me at all, but there was a scary look on his face. I felt my pulse speed up involuntarily. Travis let out a brief, harsh laugh that hung in the air. "Actually, at the time I wasn't feeling very religious. My fiancée had cheated on me in a _cathedral_, after all... In the confessional on the day of our wedding in her wedding dress, her **white** wedding dress... to add insult to injury. She knew I'd go there. She knew that I confessed first thing every morning. They both did... and still..." Travis ranted in a furious voice, clearly full of pain. He turned his head to look at me, and his eyes were shining and painstricken. "_Forgive_ me for not wanting to step foot in another church."

To be honest, I didn't know what to say to that. What could I even say to that? Travis had confessed every morning once upon five years ago? It seemed so unrealistic, that he could've had all those morals and just... given them up because a girl dumped him. It seemed pathetic that his whole world should hinge on that one girl. It's crazy to put that much faith in someone. So, I uncomfortably took another sip of my rum and coke, making sure to swallow the liquid extra slowly. And I said something stupid and callous and rude again, but you know what... I didn't give a damn. He had it coming. I snorted, rolling my eyes at him. "Ha! More like you can't! Wouldn't you turn to dust or something?" I exclaimed a bit more shortly than I should've.

Like I said, I didn't give a crap. Travis' eyes narrowed, his hands fisted further. His knuckles were still white, stark, bone white. His lips were pursed, pursed right into a thin, stiff, unyielding, frowning white line. But still, he demonstrated a remarkable self-control. Kind of like Tommy did Thursday. Travis gritted his teeth, turning an intense death glare on me, shaking his head in disdain. "Satan has a powerful hold on you," He spat judgmentally, shooting me a blistering glare.

I snorted. Oh, yeah, like _Travis_ has the right to tell me that. He's practically Satan Spawn himself. I threw back the rest of my drink like it was a shot before I rose to my feet somewhat unsteadily. I clapped loudly, swaggering drunkenly around his stool. "Spoken like a true priest," I decreed boldly, skimming my fingers along his shoulderblades. I walked around so that I was only a few inches away from him. Wow. I stumbled a little, suddenly realizing how close we were indeed. Yikes! But I fought off my disorientation and bent down a little to stare at him literally eye to eye. "What next, you gonna find a young boy for yourself?" I hissed, abruptly jerking my head away from his. I tell ya, sometimes these cracks just write themselves!

The music changed, and Travis surprised me yet again. He seems to like doing that. All of a sudden, his hand flew up and wrapped itself around my throat. This is not to say that Travis was trying to strangle me, because he wasn't. His hand was wrapped gently enough around my throat so that it didn't hurt but made me stand still. Very still, probably 'cause I was afraid Travis was going to kill me. Travis carefully pulled my head down so that it was much closer to his. I could feel his breathing coming hot up against my throat. He smirked widely, and it was an insiduous sort of grin. Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell", a dreadfully sexual, angry, raw, electric, _rebellious_ make-out song sounded in the background. It should've been a sign, I think. It was a warning of things to come, and I should've listened. "Actually, Jude... I was thinking more along the lines of a young _girl_. You know anyone?" He hissed back, giving me a dark, intense glance. His fingers dug into my throat a bit more, just beginning to constrict my breathing. It was his way of showing that he meant business.

I stared at him with wide, terrified eyes, feeling my heart beat faster. My breathing sped up. Travis leaned in and bit my neck. Hard. Hard enough so it hurt, hard enough so it drew blood. I felt my bottom lip tremble, and I fought to keep myself under control. I wished I hadn't already downed my drink. I felt my nerves slowly fraying, breaking to pieces. And, since I was fully under Travis' control, I exercized the only muscle that _was_ under my control... my mouth. The question came out of nowhere and was nothing but a desperate plea. I was scared and... that's what came out. "Why do you hate Tommy?" I mumbled softly, gazing at him with doe eyes.

Travis' face flushed red, a wine-stained, strained rouge. He looked mentally unstable. I realized suddenly how unkempt he looked. There was a bit of dark stubble on his cheeks. His eyes looked drawn and tired, a little bloodshot with some dark, purplish circles underneath them. His lips were chapped. I, on the other hand, felt all the color draining out of my face. But slowly, slowly, I felt his grip on my throat loosening, until, finally, he removed his fingers altogether. I barely had time to take a deep breath before he snatched up my wrist and once again dragged me through the club as fast as he had before. I must've run into about twice as many people this time, but Travis didn't care. His posture was stiff, firm, too upright. He seemed angry beyond words and... I didn't get it.

I scowled, banging into people left and right, feeling like a rag doll. Once again, Travis pulled me into the bathroom, straining my arm muscles to do it. It was, once again, the mens' and completely filthy. At least I wasn't banged up that much this time, right? He practically flung me into the wall in-between the urinals, pushing my back hard up against it, pressing himself against me. For a moment, an endless moment, we just sort of stood there, his hips against mine, my stomach against his, his chest against mine. We just stood there, and we listened ironically as Lita Ford's "Holy Man" started up. _Lead me into temptation... **Save** me with your healing hands... Show me the **fires** of creation! Baby, be my holy man._ And then... his lips against mine. His lips crashing into mine feverishly. His hands resting on my hips, sliding down the fabric of my skirt, then coming back up, sweeping over my shirt to tangle in my hair. His hands ruined my hair, tousling and fluffing and undoing what had been carefully constructed. I stretched my sore muscles and heard my shirt rip a bit more down the middle.

His hands pushed the straps of my shirt down a little more, and I was rewarded by hearing the sound of more fabric tearing. His hands extracted themselves from my nest of hair, trailing down my long, slender neck, across my shoulders and back again, skimming my chest, tracing my hips... His lips slipped off my mouth, making a wet, messy trail down my neck, sucking desperately at the skin. I closed my eyes, spread my legs apart, felt my knees buckle. I had no choice but to lean my back heavily against the wall. Then I grabbed him by the lapels of his leather jacket. And I jerked my neck away from his head, yanking him up, slamming his lips against mine, plastering myself against him. I was a mass of fumbling limbs, crashing into him. And he was shoving himself against me, and there was friction.

There were sparks, fireworks, my synapses were burning... and life was moving at the speed of light. Suddenly it was all happening so fast... so fast! I threw back my head, breathless, so that he had more of my personal space to invade. And invade he did... like Caesar in Egypt. I felt like Cleopatra in the best way. I also felt like a whore, but I managed to push that down. I was enjoying it, and right then, I didn't want to ruin all that by thinking.

I was too consumed in Travis to care. His gentle hand brushed up my delicate neck. His lips moved over the sensitive flesh above my chest, candy-pink tongue hungrily lapping up the beaded sweat. His restless fingers toyed and tugged on the ends of the curls he'd freed from my elaborate up-do. I wrapped my hands carefully, almost lovingly, around the back of his neck, fingertips toying with the curly hairs at the base of his neck. I raked my nails down his back, pressing my lips against his scratchy cheek, kissing my way down his jaw. I ran my fingers through his hair, wrecking his hairstyle, making his hair stand on end. His touch burned me, set my skin aflame. His arms encircled my waist, wrapping tightly around my hips. His hands rubbed the slick skin just above my tightening skirt... back and forth, back and forth... feeling the indentations there. I accidentally thrust my hips forward in surprise, surprise at the strangely intimate touch and me having to move away from the wall. Travis groaned loudly, licking my lips.

I reached out and took his bottom lip between mine, grabbing it with my teeth, gently at first... then increasing the pressure, biting down hard, making him the one to bleed. And then I let go and I licked away the blood, letting the guilty, bitter iron taste settle in my mouth. The acid taste covered my cherry red tongue, pervading my mouth. I devoured his lips, tasting overripe raspberries, smoke, black coffee, and just a hint of honey on his lips. He tasted like heaven, and I wanted more. I threw myself against him, feeling his chest heave against mine, embracing the desperation of the moment, the raw animal hunger that guided... us? He was heavy and breathless, flushed in the face. We were both sweating, and our clothes clung uncomfortably to our bodies. My feet wobbled in the heels, and I couldn't help but to lean forward... into him.

Travis' tongue slid across my lips, tasting them tortuously. He seemed almost hesitant, but then he leaned in further and really captured my lips. I let out a soft moan, and he surprised me by pulling me up against him, twining my leg around his. I felt him smile against my lips, so I smiled back. I smiled back and his tongue slithered over mine. I pulled back just to torture him, giggled, laughed like a bimbo, and I threw my back against the wall. I didn't expect him to follow, but then again, I did, didn't I? His lips brushed against mine. Once, twice, three times the charm. And I was charmed, immersed in Travis' many charms, so many appealing qualities I'd never noticed.

I blindly groped for his cheekbones, firm and sharp. I caressed his cheeks, pulling him closer to me. He placed a hand behind the back of my neck, driving me closer to him. His other hand rested on the small of my back, pressing me in the right place so that my back arched, bringing my hips flat against his. Compatibility... It's a funny thing. My eyes barely fluttered open as his hands ran up my sides, underneath my shirt, teasing it a little... He tore at my shirt, a small tear here... a rip there... But it still stayed on by some miracle of nature and nature's God, plastered to my skin yet half-torn like some sort of a bizarrely broken corset.

At first I didn't care, not even when he placed his hot hands in my shirt and started fumbling with the clasp to my bra. I relished the feeling of warmth that his hands skimming the sides of my bra brought. However, as Travis' battle with my bra became more prolonged, I discovered a certain inability of his. You see, Travis cannot multitask. Not that this is surprising as he's a male and all... But Travis' lips sort of stop moving when he's fighting a losing war with your bra. And that's a lot like kissing a cold, dead, fish... which obviously sucks because there's no reaction... just cold, wet, unmoving lips that are just... there! I was surprised and sort of disgusted, so I grabbed his arms by the wrists roughly and rested his hands on my hips firmly. Then I leaned in and, smiling, kissed him again.

Travis, however, was relentless. Relentless and desperate. He kept tugging at my clothing impatiently, pulling me closer incessantly, pressing me against him further and further... getting me as close to him as possible. I knew what he wanted. Skin on skin. Finally... His hand went up under my skirt, sliding all the way up my thigh. All the way up my thigh! That's when I objected, smacked his hand down, and stepped back a good meter. I was breathless, sweaty, tired, drunk, and rather beat up... so after I pulled away from him, I practically collapsed against the wall. The room was spinning, and my legs felt weak, like they couldn't even support my weight. I held my head, hands flanking both sides of it, as I tried to properly collect my thoughts.

Naturally, that proved damn near impossible, as I had been making out with Travis for well over an hour. Closer to two hours, actually. I tried to think of something to say, but once again arrived at no conclusion. Travis licked his lips, pressing his hands against the wall by my head, leaning forward excitedly. He tried to kiss me and pouted when I suddenly moved my head so that his lips wound up grazing my cheek. I shook my head at him and said the first idiotic, drunken thing that came to me. "_You're licking your lips and blowing kisses my way... but that don't mean I'm gonna give it away_," I growled, still breathless, trying to regain my sanity. Although, lemme tell you, quoting Christina Aguilera lyrics with bad grammar is not the way to achieve that.

Travis rolled his eyes and leaned in again. His lips were maybe a millimeter away from mine. "But I still rub _you_ the right way, don't I, Jeannie?" He retorted sharply, using a play on words there. About the song title. You know... "Genie in a Bottle" and Jeannie as in... "I Dream of Jeannie". Yeah, Travis is a strange guy. Very stiff. I stiffened, as if to prove him wrong, but Travis ignored this. He was amazingly good at ignoring things he didn't want to face. Then Travis brushed his lips against mine, breaking away quickly to go in deeper for the second one. To go in for the kill.

But, somehow, I had snapped out of my trance, and I was able to pull back and away from Travis. However, as he was pinning me to the wall, that did make it awful hard for me to escape. So, thinking fast, I came up with a brilliant diversionary tactic. It was like something out of Braveheart or The Pa... The Passion of the Christ? Well, you know what I mean. I was like a character in a Mel Gibson movie. Hell, I was like _Mel Gibson_ in a Mel Gibson movie. Only I was a girl about thirty years younger with red hair who also happened to be Canadian. But you know what I mean. I was the sneaky character who had a brilliant plan to win the war.

It was deceptively simple, though, and that was the true beauty of it. The simplicity. I smiled widely at Travis, but it was a fake sort of smile, clearly forced. It would be real soon enough, though. I grinned cheekily at him. "Travis?" I asked softly, batting my eyelashes at him deliberately and "accidentally" my hand on his arm. I crossed my other arm over my chest somewhat awkwardly, knowing that it would amplify my cleavage. Travis nodded somewhat distractedly as he was clearly and without shame staring at my chest pretty much head on. I, of course, being the genius I am, expected this. I bit my lip like I was nervous.

Travis seemed to buy it, so I threw in those big, sort of teary wide puppy-eyes. "Have I ever told you that..." I began enterprisingly enough, but trailing off before I got my message across. I tried to think of all the filthy things Travis could do to me to induce a blush, but I'm not sure if it worked. It's all about acting, baby. I shook my head, smiling a soft, weak smile to show that I was embarrassed. "Nah... I can't. It's too embarrassing," I said, trying to sound like the innocent girl I had once been. Travis shook his head, giving me rapt attention, practically demanding that I tell him. After all, it was important. I don't think he gave a rat's ass about what I wanted to say, but maybe he knew. Or maybe he just wanted to get it over with so he could make out with me again... Or maybe he thought that we were going to have one of _those_ conversations... You know, _the_ one.

_Which_ one? You actually have to ask? Now, really, I am just appalled! What public school did you go to? One that believes that sex doesn't exist? _The_ one, you know... Where I tell him that I'm a **virgin** and to please be gentle and does it really hurt 'cause my big sister, she's a slut, don't you know- she told me it hurts the first time and I wanna know, I wanna know if she was right. 'Cause she isn't, right? I hate my sister. Tell me she isn't. If it hurt, I swear, honestly, baby, I would just _die_! Silly... in both ways. And do I really _bleed_? 'Cause that sounds really gross and if I do, I might just throw up and that's really disgusting, isn't it? Would you dump me if I did? Because it's not really like something that I can control, you know. You're okay with me being a **virgin**, aren't you, Sweetie Pie? Of course you are. Aww, that's sweet, you want to teach me **how**? To practice with me? Aww. I _love_ you too, Baby!

And, hey, what's an orgasm? Oh. Well. Oh... And what if I don't get one and have to fake it like I saw in When Harry Meets Sally? What? _You_ don't want to know? And, hey, why do we have to do it until _you_ get satisfied? What am I, chopped liver? You're so horny you could probably do it with your dog and be happy. But we _girls_, well, we don't work that way. We don't think about sex 24-7, so stop **pressuring** me, okay! GAH! JUST STOP PRESSURING ME! What part of that don't you understand! Maybe I don't wanna sleep with you! You ever think of that! And, maybe I'm not _ready_ yet. Maybe I'll **never** be _ready_. Maybe I don't even want to have sex at all. Maybe I wanna be a nun. Yeah, that's right... celibate for **life**. Just _stop_ it. No, you asshole, that does **not** mean that I like girls. It just means that I'm not ready at this stage of our relationship to sleep with you like _that_. I told you... No. I don't want to and I'm _really_ not in the mood, so just... lay off.

Well, fine, if you're going to be a crude little pervert, then you can just leave. See if I care! 'Cause I don't, you know! I don't even like you that much! Big discussion, eh?

And, then, of course, I'd maybe lie a little and say I was _ready_ to keep my man. And then we'd strip down all shy-like and he'd say that this was the very first time he'd **ever** been with a virgin. Even when _he_ was a virgin, which was in and of itself AGES ago. But she was his sixth grade English teacher. What, he was in seventh grade! And it was an isolated instance. She wasn't even his teacher anymore. And, then, of course, he'd also say that though he's been with a **lot** of girls that he's never made _love_ before. Once we've gotten most of our clothes off, and we're steps away from going over the edge, he asks me if I'm really ready 'cause we can't take this back. Aww, isn't that sweet? So of course I say no! He's so dreamy and experienced, isn't he?

Yeah, I bet he tells all the girls that exact _same_ line, and I bet you ten bucks he has about fifty diseases circulating on or around his person at all times. He's like a prostitute, really. And of course he's great in the sack, knows all the right angles to hit for the _girl's_ pleasure. 'Cause he **really** thinks about pleasures outside of his own, the greedy bastard. Oh and he's safe, too. Uses condoms for her pleasure too. If he uses condoms at all. If she doesn't ask, he doesn't mention them. And puh-lease, he only asks if she's okay with it so it can be consensual. 'Cause he doesn't want to be labelled a rapist. Plus, it's only the polite thing to do. If she says no... and they hardly ever do... he's pretty mad and hot and bothered, but he tries not to show it, 'cause then he has no chance of getting any.

And that's exactly how it'd go.

My ass.

But I giggled infectiously and leaned in, playing with Travis' buttons absently. I leaned up against him, pretending to be a little more wasted than I was in actuality. "Did I ever tell you that _I_..." I licked my full, inviting lips deliberately, slowly, seductively starting with my upper lip... then the bottom. I paused, noticing that Travis was staring and utterly focused on me. I had him in the palm of my hand. I suddenly glanced down at the ground girlishly, like I was really nervous about what I was going to say and that it was kinda more than a little humiliating to admit it, but I just had to tell the truth. "_When I think about you, I **touch** myself...?_" I whispered, quoting a bad '80's song, raising my eyebrows suggestively. I drew one hand across my chest to make my point even more obvious, driving it home. I continued to trail my hand down the flat plain of his chest, feeling the rock-hard, sculpted muscles beneath the all-too thin fabric. Let's just say that I think he got the message.

Travis suddenly looked very alert and _very_ excited. He was eying me with interest, my skirt in particular. I grabbed his hand, taking it in mine, and stuck one of his fingers in my mouth. I licked his finger naughtily and, you know, pulled a few fun, fancy tricks. He was eating out of the palm of my hand... I mean, the guy was about two steps away from jumping my bones right then and there. I know this sounds counterproductive, but you _will_ see the logic and wisdom of my ways. Then, when he was moaning just a little, grunting a bit under his breath, and almost whining with sexual frustration, I cruelly took his finger out of my mouth. It was wet with saliva. "_Do you wanna touch me there?_" I questioned innocently, half-humming another song (ironically one written by a convicted child molester... not Wacko Jacko) with wide, unassuming eyes. I blinked at him naively, and, just as soon as the question registered in his hungry, sex-craving mind, high-tailed it the hell out of there before he even got to me.

Let me tell you, there is nothing like determination and catching your breath to keep you from stumbling drunkenly about the place. I was... determined to get away from Travis and... I did it. Mostly. Sorta. Kinda. Okay... Fine... Not really that much, I guess, maybe. Okay, so I didn't. I thought I did, but I didn't. He just keeps coming back. Never underestimate a guy who's been teased all night... He's usually pretty frustrated and pretty hungry. Travis was both... only to extremes. Now, normally I like a guy who goes after what he wants... But not so in this case. I charged through the club, perservering on towards the door, ignoring the stares and not giving a damn about what people thought of me.

At least, I was... until Travis grabbed my arm and whirled me around dramatically. Being drunk and dead on my feet as I was, I stumbled right into him... or, more specifically... his arms. His touch was surprisingly unhostile, given the blazing, raw fury in his eyes. I knew that he was pissed at me for kinda leading him on like that... But I had to get out! And now... now Travis wasn't letting me. His hands' grip on my forearms tightened, and I could feel my skin bruising beneath the force of his grasp. I gasped softly, paralyzed to the spot and unable to say a word. Travis' stare was hard and determined. He shook his head, holding me fast to the floor. "You're not going **anywhere**, Jude. You're _far_ too drunk to drive yourself home," He stated sternly.

I frowned at him, shooting him a "so what" look irritably. I tried to punch him in the gut, but Travis moved just before I was able to nail him. Travis suddenly reached around me and flashed my car keys in-between his fingers. I gaped at him and reached after them. However, I almost fainted doing so. Okay, Jude, no more jumping and reaching for things that are out of reach. I scowled at him, and, as is his habit, Travis smirked. "I'll drive." I made some comment about his car, but he told me, well, that he had that taken care of. Then he went over to the bartender (a new one), and calling him by name, "Hey, Jeff... I'm gonna take this girl home. Can you keep my bike?" He winked at Jeff the bartender, thinking I couldn't see. "Something tells me it's gonna be a long night," Travis replied suggestively.

I smacked Travis hard in the arm, so he pulled me along, flashing the bartender an apologetic sort of smile, rolling his eyes at my actions. I hated the dismissiveness of the gesture. Then Travis tugged me along stubbornly, hand wrapped around my left wrist. We were walking down the street towards my car when Travis protectively draped his jacket around my shoulders. I was freezing and probably looked like a hooker, so I accepted it grudgingly. I slipped my arms in the loose jacket, reveling in the warmth. I sniffed the inside of the lining... sighing contently when I realized that it smelled like him. Sort of mysterious, smoky, earthy... a lot like his cologne... with a hint of feminine perfume on it. I frowned at the thought and completely didn't notice when he wrapped his arm around my waist.

I did, however, notice when Travis whipped out those tinted, black, mirrored shades and put them on, cultivating an air of mystique. He was wearing a tight black wife-beater... so tight I was practically drooling. I couldn't look away but only stare in awe. I had never realized that he had such sculpted, muscular arms. There was a series of purplish-red bruises on his neck, the top of his chest... swollen, risen bites, flushed skin. He looked like a criminal as he broke away from me a little, moving ahead of me. He strutted towards my car, keys in hand, while I stared at the very nice view I was presented with.

Travis unlocked my car, fingers clearly itching to drive it. He politely opened the door for me, and I collapsed on the passenger's seat wearily, feeling suddenly exhausted. I shut my door wearily, and Travis shut his, fastening his seatbelt and putting the keys in the ignition. He turned the keys just then, revving the engine. I leaned against the seat, shutting my eyes in a feeble attempt to block out the glare of the headlights. My eyes stung, burned, and watered. Unfortunately, however, I couldn't squint my eyes shut forever, so I had to open them. When I did, I glanced reflexively over at Travis, wondering why we weren't moving.

He was just sitting there, looking a little shellshocked, staring at me. It was... so... surreal. The whole situation was incredibly bizarre. I frowned at him, and Travis suddenly straightened in his seat. I thought that was the end of a long chain of strange behavior from him that night, but I was wrong. I was staring out into the night, acutely feeling the chill and wishing I'd put the top up. It wouldn't be summer much longer. Soon enough the leaves would change color... and it would be fall.

I looked over once again, this time impatiently, to see why we still weren't going anywhere. I don't know what's going on in that perverted brain of his, but I am not making out with him. This is a convertible and we are parked on a public street. It's in the wee hours of the morning. We both have school tomorrow... today... tommay... We both need to get some sleep. Imagine my surprise when I turn and find him only centimeters away from my face. I practically jumped out of my own car. There was just something... chilling... about the way he was looking at me. Something utterly inappropriate.

Then again, this is Travis we're talking about here. I should be used to it after all this time. I felt like he was kind of undressing me with his eyes, and I felt my breathing begin to speed up and become erratic. I hated that Travis was able to do this to me. I don't even like him! At least... I don't... Then Travis leaned over, trailing his thumb down my chest slowly. His hands lingered. My traitorous breath hitched in my throat. I hate what being around him does to me. It's like I can't think! Like I'm not myself anymore! I become someone else... someone I'm not proud of. Someone... Something... I don't want to be. I do things I don't want to do.

And the worst part of it is that I don't know why. I don't know why I do what I do, only that I do it... around Travis. And, of course, I'm making no sense now but that would be the alcohol talking and did I mention that I made out with Travis for like three hours and I've lost a fair amount of blood and oh, yeah... I made out with Travis! In a bathroom. Of a club. Again. I blame Patsy. I always go to the damn club because of Patsy, and that's how I wind up in situations like this. Patsy and Joan. Why can't the man just stick to his brunettes? Why's he gotta go after me too!

I don't get it. I don't get **him**. Then again, I probably never will. He's worse than Tommy... in a lot of ways. In all the worst, most horrible, bitter ways.

Now, it sounds like Travis was just randomly molesting me there, and that's not exactly a new thing for him... so I really can't blame you for thinking that. I mean, that's what I thought. Then I glanced down and noticed that he'd fastened my seatbelt. It's amazing how you can miss things like that, isn't it? It's always the little things we overlook, isn't it? Always. There's that word again. Damn absolutes. So, as I was saying, Travis just sorta smirked at me. "Buckle up, girl... It's gonna be a bumpy ride," He murmured somewhat suggestively as an odd sort of warning, flashing me a careless smile. I raised my eyebrows at him and this insane look crossed his face and then, well... he floored it. Guess he wasn't kidding, was he?

He's not as good of a driver as Tommy is. I didn't mean that metaphorically, but you can take it that way. It's probably true, too. Tommy might not be as comfortable in his own skin... But he knows how the parts work. Then again, I'm biased. In Tommy's favor and against Travis. Not like that. Travis broke all the rules of driving. He sped, made illegal turns, drove on the wrong side of the road, went into any lane he wanted... So, basically, he drives like he lives life. By breaking all the rules, he lives a life on the razor's edge!

Predictably, we arrived at my house in what seemed like nanoseconds. I'm not even gonna ask how he knew where I live, because A. It's pretty damn creepy, and B. I felt like I was gonna hurl. Why'd he have to drive so damn fast? Is he crazy in the head? Oh... right. Travis. Duh. Okay, well, that was productive. Not really.

I tried to stand up, forgetting my seatbelt, and I wound up flopping back down again like a moron. Travis laughed at me, but I just glared and frantically tried to undo it, wanting nothing more than to get out of the car already. My fingers were shaking, but I tried to overlook that. I prayed that Travis wouldn't notice. He'd never let me live it down. And, of course, Travis just calmly reaches over with one finger, presses the little button, and it flies off me. Naturally. Why can't _I_ ever do that? Just once? His fingers brushed against mine, and I was, once again, frozen stiffly to my seat. Why does stuff like this happen whenever Travis touches me? I felt so lightheaded and sick to my stomach. I couldn't deal with it! I just, I couldn't! I wouldn't!

Travis leaned in, pressing a sloppy kiss against the base of my neck. He ran his tongue over the bite he'd given me, making it sting from the saliva... Then he sucked on the mark Tommy had left... And, finally, his tongue stopped on the one actually attributed to him, my stigma, the shame of which I must bear. I lightly pushed Travis off, but other than that didn't move. We just sat there in an awkward silence, facing each other. And out of the blue, I found myself leaning in a little...

And then Travis was also leaning in slowly... And we wound up kissing almost remotely chastely. He wrapped his arms around my back, pulling me on to his lap. I ran my hands through his hair wildly, tugging on the ends. I wound up turning my head and planting kisses all over his face randomly. I kissed the soft flesh beneath his ear once and was rewarded with a moan. His arms were tightly around my waist, pushing up my skirt a little more than was appropriate, carefully positioning me over his lap, which I was currently straddling. I closed my eyes the whole time and, honestly... I forgot I was even kissing Travis at all. I mistook him for someone I liked! I liked kissing him... too much. Houston, we have a problem.

I think Travis knew it too. It's not that I wasn't thinking of him at all, because I was. I really was. I was just... Thinking of Tommy too. Tommy was always first. Always. I couldn't help it. And suddenly, I'd stopped kissng Travis like he was Travis. I kissed him slower, less desperately... More... like I actually meant it. Did he mean it? I don't ever know if Travis means anything really. He tasted good, but not like Tommy. I could make myself believe that Travis was Tommy in every other sense save that one. They looked so very much alike... Their skin felt the same, even. They both played the guitar, and, although their voices were different, I could pretend that Tommy had a cold. Or that he'd been singing all day, so of course he had a lower, more baritone sort of voice. Of course it was scratchy and husky. But Travis would never taste like Tommy. He would never... yet I was able to pretend, to mistake him for he who he was not.

Surprisingly, it was Travis who broke the kiss. He shook his head sorrowfully, a stiff frown on his lips. "_I'm not the one you **want**, Babe. I'm not the one you **need**_," Travis crooned softly, almost reverently. He shook his head again, seeming to realize something. With the realization came the guilt. He looked me straight in the eyes, brushing his fingers across my lips. "_It ain't **me**, babe. It ain't me you're looking for... babe_," He muttered, sounding a bit put off and slightly depressed. There was something oddly serious about the whole moment that put a damper on the now bittersweet moment. Quoting Bob Dylan at two in the morning?

The only person who does that is my dad after Mom kicked him out of the house. He sat outside at nights singing Bob Dylan songs off-key. Sadly, he was more in-key than Bob himself. Oh... And after my disasterous Sixteenth, I listened to "Just Like a Woman" on repreat for two days straight. Except I'd shut it off violently about halfway through most of the time, and I'd start sobbing hysterically. And then, on the rare occasions I was able to get through the whole song, it sunk in and I started sobbing again. Because... I'd never be that woman to Tommy.

But, you know, enough of this depressing analogy. Just because we associate singing Dylan at two in the morning with bad, sad, horribly life-altering occurances in the Harrison family doesn't mean that Travis does. I mean, he might not even know it's a Dylan song. He could just break out into "I Walk the Line" next, for all I know. Damn, that would be strange. I frowned at Travis, but I got it. I attempted to stumble out of the car and almost fell. All of a sudden, Travis was catching me. He frowned at me, supporting my drunken weight. He exhaled wearily. "Okay, fine... I guess I'll have to carry you," He muttered, sounding vaguely irritable. For a few minutes, Travis struggled to help my heavy drunken ass climb up the driveway. We wound up making a lot of noise, and I could tell it was starting to wear on Travis. Finally, when we were halfway up the driveway, he gave up, swooping down, and picking me up bridal-style.

Travis carried me up to the door, fumbling with the keys I threw him. But after a while, he managed to open the door. He literally carried me over the threshold. I giggled stupidly, being the stupid drunk I was. Travis actually looked sort of worried. I don't know why. Maybe it was because we were sneaking into my house in the middle of the night, and he was afraid he'd get caught here. Plus my parents kinda live here, and he was maybe afraid my dad would kick his ass. Only, I think aside from the whole touching me thing... My dad would probably really like Travis. Of course, at the moment, I wasn't thinking of that. I was just simulating wedding bells and a white dress in my head, imagining what it would be like to actually be married to Travis.

It wasn't actually that weird. That might just have been because I was drunk. You see, this is the point where my memory of that night starts to get progressively more fuzzy. He sort of clutched me progressively tighter, forcing me to make an exclamation. "What, afraid someone's gonna steal your bride again?" I quipped boisterously. I winked showily at Travis. "Never fear! It'll be a white wedding after all!" I chirped brightly. Travis scowled at the mention of Kate, however indirect, and almost dropped me. Though my white wedding comment make him smirk somewhat sinisterly, and I really didn't like the look that accompanied it much. Then Travis smiled grimly and walked over to drop me on the couch none too gracefully.

I shook my head at him, scrambling to my feet and grabbing him by the wrist. I began to forcibly drag him up the stairs. His boots went clunk, clunk, and my heels wobbled dangerously. But, hell, I wasn't trying to be quiet about it. To tell you the truth, I don't even remember why I wanted him upstairs... with me... Okay, I know what you're thinking. And I can't exactly deny that because, well, damn... Have you looked at the man! I think Travis protested a bit, but what the hell do I remember?

Pretty much bupkiss. So, stumbling on the carpet, I opened my creaky door. It was an ominous type of sound. I smiled invitingly at Travis, turning around, and tugging him by the hand. I pulled him into the room with me, pressing myself up against him, grinning at him stupidly. Then I whirled around, practically throwing him in the direction of my bed. He laid there, all sprawled out helplessly. I flopped down next to him, curling up against his side. I gazed dreamily into his eyes, playing with the buttons of his shirt. I slowly unbuttoned and rebuttoned them again and again.

I shrugged Travis' jacket off lazily, and it fell to the floor without me caring or noticing. I trailed my hand down his arm, feeling an indentation in his arm. I shot him a questioning glance. He scowled at the mere memory. "It's a scar... I spent about a year in the hospital when I was twenty-one. I had a lot of shots," He answered with a grimace. I ran a soothing hand over the scar, snuggling up against him.

I stared pensively up at the ceiling of my dark room. "What's your middle name?" I whispered softly. I don't know why I asked that. My motives from entering my room on are pretty much nonexistent in my memories. Like I said, at least I remember this part. But, like I said, this is where it starts to get really fuzzy.

Travis exhaled heavily, linking his fingers with mine. I think he smiled faintly. "Charles. Travis _Charles_ Quinn. Well, actually, Travis is my middle name... at least, the one I was born with. But my mother's the only one who really calls me Charles anymore," Travis rambled, sounding surprisingly awkward. I blinked, rolling over, half on top of him, in fact, to see his face. Then I smiled radiantly, bopping him on the nose.

"I like it," I proclaimed boldly, grinning like an idiot and rolling off of him. Once again flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, I tested the word. "Charles," I drawled, tasting it, listening to the way it rolled off my lips. "Hmm," I murmured, pursing my lips. I tried it again, this time rolling the r to see how it felt on my tongue. "Charles," I slurred dazedly, staring up into the inky blackness of my ceiling. I said it in this ridiculously low voice, just before I realized that my lips were parched. I dragged my tongue across my dry, swollen lips, wetting them and tasting raspberries. I smiled, and Travis suddenly mauled me, attacking me with a fervent, passionately sudden kiss out of left field.

He ended the kiss as quickly as it had began, having gotten what he wanted out of it. A crashing of the lips, teeth scraping my bottom lip, biting down, repaying me, making the blood trickle out. A tongue sweeping across my lips, my tongue brushing his, a mass of tangled limbs and scanty clothing... And it all seemed to happen so fast. So fast and it was over. Completely over.

He severed his lips from mine, rolled off of me, and stayed by my side. He lay there, acting like nothing had happened at all. Yeah right. Nothing had happened at all, but I was breathless. My skin was flushed. And I wanted Travis so badly it almost hurt. I turned to look at him, blinking in confusion, but Travis offered me no explanations. He remained as cold and cruel as always. Unavailable as always. You know, sometimes I don't think he realizes just how very much he is like Tommy... despite how he tries not to be. By trying not to be like Tommy, he only acts even more like him. It's not even that. He acts worse than Tommy would in the same situation. I just, I hate how Travis does that. He's so violently self-destructive (maybe that's why he likes bondage), masochistic... Worse than Tommy caught up in the deepest, darkest throes of his self-hatred.

I supposed now that Travis expected me to answer the question as the time immediately preceding the kiss we didn't talk about or mention stretched into a long, less-than-comfortable silence. I sighed awkwardly, clearing my throat and letting him know that I was going to speak. I forced a smile, playing with my hair. "Mine's Janis. Like Janis Joplin," I replied softly, taking a chance and glancing over at him. Travis smiled back at me, but I could tell he was faking it. He tried to make it seem real, but I knew.

I shook my head oddly sadly for my drunkenness. Travis coughed and sat up awkwardly. He didn't look at me. Or maybe he did. I can't remember... and it was so dreadfully dark that I couldn't tell. I'll be honest... I was more than a little scared of it. Not Travis, for once... The darkness. I was cold, and it was so lonely in my room that night. "I'd better get going," He said with a frown, or what I assumed was a frown. He slid off the bed, rising to his feet and shrugging. "You know, school tomorrow and everything..." He said as a means of explanation, trailing off. He smiled weakly, starting to back away slowly. "Can't have the teacher falling asleep in class," He muttered, trying to manage a lame joke. Neither of us laughed.

Travis turned to leave, but this time the shoe was on the other foot. I grabbed him by the wrist, using my iron grip to force him to face me. Travis turned around, a pitiable, pained look etched into his features. I gazed up at him adoringly through heavy eyelashes. Still grasping his wrist, I pouted deeply. "Don't leave me. I don't wanna be alone tonight," I beseeched plaintively, giving him puppy eyes to induce his coercion. In retrospect, it was embarrassing, but I was in a fragile, depressed drunken state. Travis looked guilty, and I grew more desperate. "_Please_, Travis... Just stay with me until I fall asleep," I pleaded entreatingly. My bottom lip trembled, and I think that was what did it for Travis.

At heart, he's essentially a good person. That's what I've really learned about him. Then again, we all are, aren't we? I don't buy that crap that people are really so bad. Sure, we all make mistakes. We all screw up and do stupid, moronic, idiotic things from time to time. And we're all mean sometimes. No one's perfect. But people aren't evil. No one is. Some people are just meaner than others. Usually because of some psychological deformity. Hey, we all deal with those little rejections in different ways. Just look at me and Tommy. His mom never paid him attention, so he treats women badly... he acted out. As for me, well, all I did was try... try to get better grades, try to be famous. I threw myself headfirst into music.

You can't see everything in stark black and white. The world doesn't work that way. It's not that clear-cut. Everything is just a tint or shade of gray. That's how you have to see the world... in shades of gray. And, Travis, of all people, is no exception. Travis nodded slightly, only just barely. I felt myself smiling like he'd just illuminated a whole world of darkness for me and me only. "Okay, I'll stay," He breathed, voice only a hair above a whisper.

I smiled, no, beamed stupidly at the comment. "Promise?" I implored innocently with wide, tired eyes. Travis nodded, allowing himself a small smile. I grinned back lazily, patting the spot next to me cordially. He sighed and sunk back down on the bed, wrapping his arm around me. I vaguely murmured some endearing remark half under my breath, snuggling closer to Travis. He was so warm, I remember thinking. I closed my eyes for a minute or so and then I remember opening them again... When Travis fleetingly pressed his lips against mine. However, whatever happened after that is...

I'll just be honest then. And, to be honest, I don't remember what the hell happened after Travis brushed his lips against mine that one second for what I think was the last time. I just sort of let myself succumb to the alcohol that was clouding my mind. So, whatever I did afterwards... I had no control of any of it. And accordingly, I remember none of it. In case you can't tell, me not remembering this worries me greatly. Okay, so I'm freaking out and on the verge of a NERVOUS BREAKDOWN, but that's not the point. Not the point at all. I just... Well, I'll tell you the rest, and you can judge for yourself.

Next thing I know, "(Don't You) Forget About Me" is blaring in my ears (I have a radio alarmclock. It's tuned to the classic rock station)... And I'm waking up with the worst headache of my whole life. God, it was awful. At first I just lay there, trying to block out the sound via burying my head in my pillow. I tried to sleep through it after I turned the noise down (after groping around for my alarm for what seemed like an eternity) and accidentally knocked my alarmclock off the endtable by my bed. I tried to sleep through it with virtually no success when Sadie, of all people, bizarrely stormed in my room. "Jude, get your lazy boyfriend-stealing ass up before I beat you down!" Sadie shouted at the top of her lungs. My ears ached something awful, and my headache worsened.

That's when I knew there was no way I'd be able to go back to sleep, at least not until I'd taken some pain medication. And, seeing as Sexy Sadie was in charge, there was no way she'd let me get away with that. So I blearily removed my head from my pillow, clutching my head and opening my eyes a crack to look at Sadie. The bitch had turned on the lights too! I swore under my breath and forced myself to sit up, even though it hurt, and I felt sick. I forced myself to open my eyes all the way so she wouldn't be suspicious. That, of course was impossible. Sadie knew pretty much what was up, I think. She's too damn smart for her own good sometimes.

In fact, Sadie gaped at me like I was some kind of world wonder. What did I look like? Sadie, however, was tactless, so she commented as soon as she was able to resume thinking in words. "You look like crap," She replied succinctly. I blinked, scowling at her, stumbling dizzily to my feet. Upon getting off the bed, I immediately crashed to the floor. Oh. I'd never taken my heels off last night. Sadie laughed hysterically, but I pushed myself back up to my feet, limping over to the mirror. I was suddenly aware that I ached all over. My back, my feet, my stomach, my head, my arms. I just felt awful.

And, as they say... When you feel awful, you look much the same. I looked... There are no words to express how utterly terrible I looked. My skin was a pasty, sickly white... too white, like my skin had been bleached. My burning, bloodshot eyes were ringed with the remnants of my heavy eye make-up, effectively making me look like a very convincing raccoon. My eyelashes were unattractively crusted together. The eye make-up had also run on various other parts of my face, making me look like a blotchy mess. I looked like a human newspaper. Black, white, and red all over.

My hair was greasy and half-up, half-down, tangled and coiled hoplessly. My skin was dirty, and I smelled strongly of sweat, alcohol, vomit, and stale cigarette smoke. I felt utterly disgusted with myself and that wasn't even the worst part. I was bruised all over... I do mean everywhere... Head, forearms, wrists, upper arms, shoulders, neck, back, lower back, ass, hips, legs, knees, calves, thighs, hands... and my ankles and knees were terribly swollen. I had a few cuts on my hands where the skin had broken a fall or I'd knicked myself on something sharp. There was a small, although still noticeable goose egg on my forehead that hurt to touch. My lips were chapped and bruised swollen. Broken, dark, dry blood marked the cut. I'd scraped one of my knees and it had crusted over disgustingly, looking mildly infected. A long shallow gash ran down the side of my other leg, covered in the brownish color of what was clearly dried blood.

It finally registered that I was no longer wearing my shirt, torn as it was. Maybe it was better that way. The shirt would've constricted my breathing. This meant, however, that all of those love bites were all too visual. There were the ones that had been there originally, and these were fading. Then I noticed two new ones I didn't remember receiving... at all. And, hmm, the one from Tommy looked a bit redder, didn't it? And then, of course, there was the bite mark high, high on my neck... and impossible to cover. I swore loudly this time, not caring if Sadie suddenly rebuked me. I touched it briefly, and it stung like a bitch. It looked infected and painful, which it was... This hideous shade of wrathful, angry red. It wasn't a hickey by any means, but it was even more obnoxious and obvious. My skirt was bunched up just a bit above my underwear, and, flushing embarrassedly, I pulled it down to cover everything.

This worried me even more. My shirt off, my skirt up, new bruises? That all added up to something very bad indeed. At first I didn't remember, but it registered once I realized just who was singing the song in a moment of odd concentration. Billy Idol. Billy Idol, whom I forever associated with Travis. If you want proof, "Kiss Me Deadly" was playing in the background when we were making out in my dream. A cover of "Dancing with Myself" played at the bar when the whole conversation began. And "Rebel Yell" started up when he grabbed my throat. Oh, and "Cradle of Love" was playing in the car on the way here. How's that for irony? So, on some subconscious level, I associate Billy Idol with Travis for a yet undetermined reason.

I grimaced at the saccharine sweet taste in my mouth of sugar liquor and raspberries... always raspberries, always Travis. Oh, and my lipstick was smeared so badly on my face that I looked like a clown. So go ahead, try and tell me that I didn't do anything else with Travis after I lost my memory. Only, when you do, we'll both know that you're lying. I felt even more sick to my stomach with all these thoughts swirling around in my head. I glanced around my room, looking for some clue as to what had happened the night before. My "shirt", however, was missing. As, it seemed, were my sheets. How odd that I'd been fast asleep on my bed, not noticing that the sheets were missing. They'd been on the bed before, I recalled... which meant that before leaving, Travis had to have taken them off and either taken them with him, thrown them out, or tossed them in the wash. And I can only think of one reason why he'd want to do that.

I gulped in shock, paling even further. It was then that I noticed the note stuck in my mirror, addressed to me. Sadie frowned at me from the doorway, motioning to the bite on my neck. "You know... You might want to have that checked out. After all, you don't want to have rabies," Sadie replied somewhat nicely, but with an edge. I could tell, though, that she was trying to be nice, not nasty. Plus, Sadie was actually right. On all counts, really. Not that I'd tell her that. However, that didn't deter her from lingering in the threshold of my room. Ugh. I winced at the reminder of the night before that flashed in my head from that.

My eyes scanned the note warily, reading into each and every word, in between the lines... Over and over again. My eyes widened with nerves, and my stomach dropped as I read on.

_Jude,_ it began simply enough. Simple as all things between Travis and me start. Only they never end up that way. I scowled at this start, but forced myself to continue.

_Had a lot of fun with you last night. I liked being with you. We should do this again sometime. I'd like to get to know you better... _All of those statements were so damn ambiguous. It was like he was torturing me on purpose. But I put that past him because even he wasn't that mean. So far, they were only further serving to support my current theory, a fact I resented greatly. It sounded so dirty. Being with me? Do this again? Had a lot of fun? But what does any of that mean? I read on.

His tone turned oddly sincere with the next line. _I **meant** what I said, just so you know. Every word. _My heart froze in my chest at that. From what I remembered, that was quite a revealing conversation. _**I** wasn't the drunk one, remember. _Does that sound a bit like he's rubbing it in that he was sober? _I'm not using you, I **swear**. _Uh huh. That's what they all say! _And I really am sorry for being such a jerk to you. I'm really not that bad of a guy most of the time. _Now, how in the hell am I supposed to know if that part's true!

However, it is kind of like I saw a new side of him last night. Maybe I don't know Travis as well as I thought I did. _By the way, nice tattoo. _And that further confirms my theory... How'd he see it if we weren't... intimate? _I never figured you as a scarlet letter sort of woman. _He knows my tattoo's a red letter, which means he's talking about the one on my hip. Such an intimate, personal place... Was Travis an intimate, personal person to me? _Then again, I don't suppose Chillingworth figured Hester for one either. I'm sorry... I get literary in the mornings. Did you know that? No, of course you didn't. Why'd I ask that? I'm also stupid in the morning._Travis now sounded flustered... just odd. Off._ But after what we did last night, I think it's understandable that I'm **more** than a little dazed._

Attention, folks! The alarm bells are now officially going off in Jude's head. I think I might've quite possibly had sex with Travis. _I would've stayed around, but you know how it is... had to get to school bright and early. As should you. _He sounded stern and strangely teacherlike, even though the letter was written so casually you'd think he was in high school like me. _Anyways, girl, I'll see you at school. First thing, bright and early._ Girl? Oh, that's the clincher for me! Is it just me, or does he actually sound excited about this?

It was signed simply with his embellished initials... _C.T.Q._ I was sort of glad he arranged them that way, so I didn't have Sadie thinking Tommy'd been in here. Oh, great. There's a postscript. _P.S. Does the "T" stand for... what **does** it stand for? Traitor? Treachery? Treason? Transsexual (okay, so that was a bit farfetched)? Train? Tyranny? Trollop? Thorn? Tender? Tangent? Tangerine? Trophy? Tribe? Tuberculosis? Trenchant? Torture? Tortuga? Thymine? Time? Truth?_

To tell you the truth, sometimes I'm not even sure what the damn letter stands for. At the time, Tim... but now I don't know. There was one last sentence scribbled on the bottom of the cocktail napkin. _Or does it stand for Tommy... or maybe even... **my** name? _Someone's sure got a lot of daring. Not at all up to his normal cocky style. Finally, at the bottom, there was a phone number. I felt scandalized, turning to glance at Sadie, who took pity on me.

She frowned at me, shaking her head disapprovingly. But Sadie sighed anyways and made a decision. "Jude... you clean yourself up. Don't worry about being late to school. You can just skip Study Hall. I'll call Tommy and ask him to give you a ride once you get out of the shower. But... you don't look so good. You might want to see a doctor or something after school," Sadie ordered in a very bossy tone. How sisterly of her. I almost cried at the generosity of the gesture and wordlessly walked over and embraced her, tears in my eyes.

I might've had sex with Travis last night. And if I did... I might actually be kinda okay with that. Horrified by my revelation, I slowly pulled away from Sadie, a questioning look in my eyes. I think she sort of understood what I wanted to know because she frowned, brow wrinkling maternally, and gave me an answer. "You're wondering about _him_, aren't you?" She said knowingly, pursing her lips. "The guy you had a one night-stand with," Sadie further clarified, making me pale something dreadful. I swayed dangerously on my feet, barely managing to avoid falling. I didn't have to nod for Sadie to go on. The frown deepened on her face. "He left pretty early... took a shower... left around five-thirty," Sadie explained. Travis coming and going as he pleased? Oh, wait... That was nothing new.

I turned vaguely green, though, but Sadie quickly assuaged my fears. "Don't worry... Mom was already gone by then, and Dad didn't stay the night. And, relax... He didn't see me either," Sadie said sofly, mollifying me. She awkwardly patted me on the shoulder, and I managed to calm myself down a little. I thought Sadie was done, but she wasn't. She pursed her lips, looking suddenly pensive. "Jude, I didn't really see him up-close... but he sure as hell didn't look like a high-schooler. Do you have any idea how old he is?" Sadie questioned concernedly. Oh, yeah. I had some idea.

"Twenty-five," I answered slowly, feeling suddenly ashamed. To my abject humiliation, I started crying. Sadie rushed to embrace me, throwing her arms around me in a very sisterly way. "Too old," I mumbled, thinking of Tommy.

"Don't worry," She whispered into my hair, trying to placate me. "We all have them. I know what it's like. He won't call, and that will probably hurt, but at least you'll never have to see him again," Sadie soothed, patting my head. She was trying to make me feel better, only it backfired miserably. Because I would have to see Travis every day. Twice. Sadie pulled away quickly, realizing that I was crying harder, not softer like she intended. She took a long, hard, serious look at me, grabbing me by those same bruised arms. "Jude, do you have feelings for that man?" Sadie asked urgently, shaking me roughly.

I thought it over for a minute and then came to a sickening revelation. All the color drained out of my face, and I felt faint. "Yes," I answered slowly, absolutely terrified as the notion fleshed out in technicolor. "I think I do. Oh, God... I **do**. I do. Why'd it have to be _him_, damnit! **Anyone** would be better than him! I can't... but I do!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, panicking and pacing and beginning to hyperventilate.

Sadie put her hand on my shoulder. "You can't help who you love, Jude," She stated sadly, eyes staring into space. She was focusing inward, obviously thinking about Tommy. And it hurt. I was thinking about Tommy too, and, likewise, it hurt bad... worse than this Travis thing I'd stumbled upon overnight... literally. I nodded, breaking away from the sister I'd so wronged. The sister who was still there for me when I needed her the most. "I _know_," I managed to choke out, tears streaming down my cheeks. A wave of sickness crashed down upon me like a tidal wave, and I raced to the toilet.

I barely made it there before I vomited up the contents of my stomach... which mainly consisted of booze and peanuts. I flushed the toilet after I was done heaving in revulsion, swirled mouthwash around in my mouth, spat it out, brushed my teeth, and downed a glass of water. Then I turned on the shower, tore off my clothes, and stood there under the cold showerhead, waiting in the frigid spray until it heated up. When that happened, the burning water washed away all the blood, dirt, sweat, and sin on me. Well, maybe not the sin.

I conditioned and shampooed my hair, scrubbed my skin with the soap until it was red and shiny. But I didn't feel clean. I bandaged my wounds, put on perfume, popped some aspirin. But I didn't feel well. I didn't feel _better_. And then I dried myself off, but I still felt wet and slimy all over. And I dressed myself in the clothes Patsy had given me, but I didn't feel warm or protected whatsoever. I felt like a whore wearing a black leather skirt, leather, lace-up boots, and a constricting black leather corset.

Turns out the bastard, i.e. Travis, took my car. But Sadie wisely (or rather, strangely) said nothing about my outfit. And Tommy only raised his eyebrow, patted my knee, and told me to be careful at school. I wish I'd listened better. Sadie, did, however, let me know something else. The bouquet of beautiful white lilies was for me, from _him _(signed with his professional monogram flourish), and it came with a message... _Parting is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell._ Nice to see that he cares enough to rip off a dead, lonely woman's poetry for me. That being said, it was still horribly romantic, even taken out of context from a poem about death. I forced a smile, throwing both notes in my backpack. Or so I thought...

Tommy drove slow for once, slowly and almost insanely cautiously. The complete opposite of Travis last night. Something was wrong with this picture. He kept looking at me like he wanted to say something, but no words ever passed through his lips. So I just stared out at the landscape aimlessly, thoughts frequently straying to Travis. I cursed myself when it happened for the twentieth time. I felt like I'd been in the car for hours, and the wind in my hair, something I normally enjoyed, was starting to piss me off. I had this strange déjà vu of when Travis was driving me home last night the whole time. I kept having to blink from thinking Tommy was Travis.

Tommy was not Travis. Travis is not Tommy. Simple as that. And then I got this melody stuck in my head, and, me being me... I burst out into song, as I am wont to do when I am bored and distracted. I do, after all, have an album to work on, and I'm prolific as hell. "_Your eyes are **greener** than the sea... They appear almost like **emeralds** to me. Oh, I'm enraptured by your **beauty**_," I sang softly, lovestruck, staring at the scenery that seemed to be passing me by faster and faster. The verdantly green grass reminded me of _his_ eyes. His pretty, liquid green eyes... sinkhole eyes. That beautiful, molten celadon stare of happiness, possessing such comely viridity that it looked like a shining, serene sea made of delicately hand-blown glass. So perfect, so seemingly unreal. "_I'd love to know all of your little histories... That **spark** in your eyes; it always gets me_," I continued rapturously, unable to knock the incredibly dreamy smile off my face. "_And I'm all **caught** up in your mysteries... 'Cause I want to be the girl of your **reveries**_," I finished passionately, thinking dimly that it'd make a lovely chorus to a song. A lovely, extremely personal, extremely true song.

Moments later, we arrived at school, and still distracted, I fumbled with my bag. Tommy practically had to push me out of the car. But eventually, I'd gathered all of my things and started walking slowly towards the building that held either Heaven or Hell. No pressure or anything. I exhaled deeply, meandering towards it cautiously, suddenly incredibly aware of what... or rather, who... was waiting for me inside. I wasn't looking behind me, but apparently something occurred to Tommy all of a sudden, because he called after me. "Wait, _who_ do you know with green eyes!" Tommy barked with less delicacy than he should've. I pondered briefly if maybe this was his roundabout way of asking if I was talking about Travis in particular, but that theory was clearly insane, so I wound up just brushing him off.

"No one," I called over my shoulder, not even turning back to wave goodbye to Tommy. It was strange that things should change so quickly, but they did. That's just how life works. I hid my smile behind my hand, wanting to giggle at the lie I'd just told a Tommy who actually sounded worried about me. Yes, I realize how horrible of a person I am. Tommy just starts to care and... I suddenly don't. Yeah, I'm a hypocrite too. What else is new? I hate guys who give me mixed signals, and besides, I was fixed on another such fellow at that very minute. I strutted down to the door confidently, embracing my newfound affection for Travis.

I realize how inconstant that makes me sound. Like I'm not really in love with Tommy, just exaggerating a childish crush. Like that fact puts my **whole** life into question... How I was suddenly okay with it and half in love with the guy after I'd been horrified and so sickened by the thought of being with him that I'd thrown up. Yes, my words are going to come back to viciously bite me in the ass in the end. Don't worry, I promise. I realize how strange it is, how it's like a total reversion of character and beliefs, but... I couldn't help myself. It was irrational, fleeting, and I don't know why... It was just all so sudden, and I'd only discovered that I'd had feelings for him that very morning. I got caught up in the heat of the moment, so sue me!

A doomed affection... but it was new, and the fondness could not yet be properly eradicated or made sense of. It was an odd feeling, but I relished it. I forgot how good a new infatuation feels at first... It's been a while. But that's just the thing. They call it a crush for a reason. Of course, you couldn't have told me that then. I was on top of the world at that very moment, even dolled up in tight, constricting black leather like a dominatrix or some kind of goth hooker. _Travis_, the most desired guy- no, man, at school, **liked** me. He'd sent me flowers and poetry. He'd left me a note. He actually wanted to see me again. He had feelings for me, simple as that. I couldn't believe my luck. I couldn't believe that someone like him actually wanted me.

And I know you're asking about Tommy and how he's done so many similar things so why didn't I... Well, he was attached to Sadie. _Still_ attached to Sadie, my sister. I didn't want to ruin that. In truth, Tommy had told me so many times that he didn't want me... I had trouble believing he meant it. I should've had more trouble believing Travis... but he was just more sincere. I'd gotten to know a whole new side of him the night before. And while I knew far more about Tommy, just how much of that had _he_ actually revealed to me himself? How much was I supposed to know? Last night, I'd seen a very different Travis than the one I was accustomed to... and I was kind of smitten with him. Or, maybe, on second thought, I was just smitten with the idea of him, a Tommy substitute with the greenest eyes I'd ever seen, _wanting_ me and **meaning** it.

I was elated. I was floating on a cloud. I was walking on air. Suddenly, it didn't hurt anymore. I was overcome by warm, fuzzy feelings. _Travis_, I thought traitorously, sighing contentedily as the lovesick thoughts flooded in and drowned my brain. And a blind girl "saw" the world through rose-colored glasses.

And, as for my tattoo... well, I was beginning to think that maybe the "T" really _did_ stand for Travis after all.

- Loren ;

* * *

Fics to check out (I'm trying to get the chapter out asap, so I can't pontificate this time): "A Bittersweet Homecoming" by shakabuku. Check it out on the ctv site. Just type in www. instantstar. com, and it'll take you there. Minus the spaces, click on the message board, and look for it. And "Slut vs. Virgin" here. Some of my faves, really. "Unexpected" by CJMJM, which is so awesome and she's improved so much as a writer (not that she wasn't awesome before, but you can see that and it rocks). "Natural Disaster" and "Sweet Surrender" by Sixte3n Candl3s, one of my personal favorites (still like it better off as "Wilted"). She's the best at writing twisted goodness. "Tit for Tat" and "Bang Theory" by GiliWasCool... Frickin' hilarious. And finally,"Song to Say Goodbye" by iamthatplace. Absolutely brilliant. 

Reviews are worshipped, revered, admired, idolized, and enjoyed. So they are highly appreciated. I would **love** you if you gave me some. Especially since the PSAT is on Wednesday.

So, tune in next time: Jude's going to be dressed like a dominatrix. That's just tempting fate! So you know something crazy's gonna go down. Oh, and what's up with the crazy lovesickness? Hell, even I'm wondering that one, and I wrote it. Um, blame it on the three Cokes I've had today and the fact that I had ice cream for "lunch". Which was about twelve hours ago. Er... damn. No, blame it on the wonderful case of carpal tunnel I think I'm developing. And don't tell me it's not, 'cause my forearms hurt, and my wrists/fingers/knuckles/etcetera pop if I move them in most directions... Ahem, anyways, back to the story (just a message for the author's welfare. You know how it is)... Plus, come on, you're dying to have that one last question answered, aren't you?


	33. You Don't Exist

So, random facts... Tom is British slang for prostitute. Ironic, huh? And in Danish and Swedish it means empty. Oh, and it's also British slang (among grocers) for tomato. Aside from it's rahther obvious meaning of a male animal. Like tomcat or how male turkeys are called toms. So you can say that Tommy is a turkey. And a whore. Ha. And tomfool means a silly or stupid person, y'know, like tomfoolery and all that. Specifically a male fool. Go figure. Because apparently back in yonder day, all fools were women, just like all cats were girls. So they stuck Tom in front of it so people'd recognize it as a male. Hm. Tom is also apparently a pretty common word: Number 857 on some listy-thing... I dunno. Excuse me. I wrote that a reeeeally long time ago.

Oh, and yeah, I'm completely sorry about the lateness of this update. I had to update my other fic, and then I posted two chapters of this really long brilliant new fic of mine, Wilted. Seriously, you should check it out. I'll love you forever. And no, despite how misleading the title may be, there is no incest involved. ;) In fact, it's sort of an AU version of Season One that starts with a recounting of Un-Sweet Sixteen (you get to see what's going on inside Tommy's head! Really, I promise!). And then you find out what happens if Tommy went after Jude. It's hot, and dark, and Angst!City. It's also pretty much the opposite of this fic, because it's all serious and complex and crap. So seriously, check it.

I also was actually going to try and post this yesterday, but we authors need to sleep too, especially for my first day back. I wanted to post it while I was still technically on vacation, but alas!

Now, mega thanks for this chapter go out to Six. Because I swear her little story, You Will Be Mine, inspired me. After I read Confessions of an Addict, I went and wrote five whole pages... Which just happen to be well, damn near if not the climax of the chapter (my favorite part of this chapter, oddly enough). And thanks to all of you for reviewing!

Oh, important fact about Jude's convo with Jamie. It was running a lot long, so I cut out a good portion of it. Like at least half of it, namely most of the fun junk. Which is a shame because I really did like that conversation and Jamie, but it was so boring to fill in the details and stuff. But I did love it. There was some real comic gold there, lemme tell ya.

I do not own Instant Star or anything associated with it. Nor do I own the rights to the countless Ramones' songs listed, especially "I Want You Around", which has a rather prominent role here (sidenote: "You're Gonna Kill That Girl" is supposed to be playing when, well... you'll know when. And then "Too Tough to Die" afterwards, if that tells you anything). I also don't own "Shakespeare", "Tap That", "The Wrong Guy", "I've Done It Wrong Again", "You Don't Exist", "Instant Pleasure", or "Put Your Arms Around Me". I do, however own Travis' song, "Apple of My Eye" as well as Joan's "Not Yours" and the song Jude writes, which is the same one that's at the very end of last chapter.

Another thing. This chapter in particular is mega dark, quite a bit scary, and foreshadowing coats the air. Straight up. It also deals with mature subject content (chillax, no f-bombs or, well, I could say other things that AREN'T in this chapter, but I wanna make you read it to find out), so be warned. And yes, you will have a completely different view of Travis from beginning to end. It's like a rollercoaster, I tell you. So, see, it's not that unlikely that Travis is bipolar, since he has satyriasis and all... And I don't care that that term's outdated. It's fitting. And you actually do get to find out a bit about him and Tommy... which surprised even me. Actually, a lot of this surprised even me. Like what happens to Jude's wrist and the bit about Travis/Tommy (figured I'd throw you a bone there, though) and the rant about Travis' mommy. To be honest, though, as nervous as I am about posting this (quite), I am really proud of it, and as awkward and strange as I feel posting it... I really do like it because it's fun to be a twisted bitch.

Now, the beginning lulls you into a false sense of confidence with Jamie and Travis cuteness, but really, foreshadowing abounds. Also, the end will try and placate you a little with Tommy goodness. We'll see if it works. To be honest, I don't think it works because it totally didn't turn out like I planned. And I mean, it sort of did, but it's kind of cheesy, I think... And, I dunno. I just don't really like the ending scene. But Tommy compensates for Travis. Sorta. That's why there's so many damn parallels between them. Anyways, yeah. I know ya'll are going to be talking about what Travis does anyways, so why am I even bothering? Because Travis is flashy and he gets your attention like a lightning rod. Anyways, so I guess... read, if you _dare_. And don't get mad at me if you don't see something you like. Ignore the melodrama.

* * *

I walked into school confidently, smile still on my face. Okay, so I was dressed like a whore, clad from head-to-toe in black leather... although considering how short my shirt was, and how much cleavage my shirt showed off... I don't think that's quite the right choice of words. I was, however, wearing those thigh-high boots and Travis' jacket. It really was a wonder Tommy hadn't noticed. The thing was so damn big on me. However, this was to my advantage, as I turned up the collar to hide the, um, blotches. Couldn't have people seeing that and thinking I was a whore. I was walking towards my locker, somehow getting lost in the crush (as apparently second period had just ended upon my arrival), when I heard a voice calling my name.

However, I just ignored it, figuring it was a comment on my rather risque and out-of-character ensemble. I had a feeling it was probably something nasty, and I would be getting a lot of that. But the annoying voice persisted. I tried to ignore it as best as I could, but the voice seemed to be coming closer. And it was, too. "Hey, Jude, wait up! I **need** to talk to you!" A person who sounded an awful lot like Jamie exclaimed. I did a double take. Jamie? As if he'd want to speak to me. He hadn't talked to me in a week, and this was a hell of a time to start it up again.

Besides, Jamie would never say "Hey, Jude". He knows how much I hate that. Unfortunately, the hope that it could possibly be Jamie would not leave my mind. It was, after all, a very peculiar day as it was. After all, who would've thought yesterday that I'd be at a bar, hanging out with my music teacher? And I certainly wouldn't have thought we'd wind up going back to my place. Then again, didn't think we were gonna make out, either... And we did. Could barely keep his hands off me. Is it just me, or has my life become more unpredictable since Instant Star?

As this thought kept niggling at me, I turned around abruptly there, in the middle of the hall. The guy who was following me was, in fact, Jamie Andrews. A very, very, contrite-looking Jamie Andrews. My first instinct was to throw my arms around him and hug the living daylights out of him... I was actually in that sort of mood, too. But then I remembered how he'd treated me, and how long it had been since we'd spoken last... And I remembered what he said to me and how much it hurt. And then, surprisingly, I wasn't so happy anymore. I glowered at him, casually placing a hand on my hip, looking like a real bad-ass. Black leather has its benefits. "Careful, Jamie! People might actually **see** you talking to me! We wouldn't want that to happen, now _would_ we?" I snapped viciously, whirling on him like a harpy.

Jamie knew when to take a step back. Which is what he literally did, by the way. He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, raising his eyebrows. Who was he to raise his eyebrows at me? I had the sudden urge to punch Jamie, and I found myself wondering just where these violent urges were coming from. Jamie briefly glanced down at the ground. "Okay... I deserve that," He admitted weakly, putting his hands in his front pockets timidly. He looked so awkward standing there, all tall and gawky and skinny like a mass of bones with his hair hanging limply in his face in a very emo-esque sort of way. I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest. Pansy, I thought. Travis, of course, had replicated this gesture numerous times in his conversation with Joan last night... but that, that was different. That was less cowardice and more... surrender. Surrender and apology and guilt.

I didn't know back then that Travis _couldn't_ feel guilt. I had no idea just how subhuman he could be sometimes. But maybe I'm being too hard on him. Nope, on second thought, really don't think I am. He's a rat bastard who deserves to be castrated and thrown to the wolves!

But back to when I thought the world of the guy (Travis, that is. I'll always think the world of Jamie)... I glared at Jamie fiercely, deciding to maybe ease up on him a bit. Let's see if he's worth my forgiveness, huh? I stared at him with a careful, watchful eye, surveying him closely. He seemed like the real deal, wrinkled t-shirt and all. I pursed my lips, relaxing my features just a bit, but the anger overcame my cooling logic. "You're _damn_ right you do, after all that Hell you put me through!" I shouted back, sounding far more... far less, actually... far less firm. The words sounded sad. I hadn't meant to utter such a passionate exclamation at all.

Jamie's glass-shielded eyes widened immeasurably, as if he was shocked that I had the nerve to be mad. Of course I was mad! The jerk didn't talk to me civilly for over a week... after, you know, not really corresponding with me for like, three whole months. Well, I mean, we talked some on tour. I just don't get why he didn't tell me about Kat? I mean, hello, I was on tour, it's not like I would've jumped through the phone and broke them up. Kat loooooves Jamie, after all... I can sympathize. "Hell _I_ put you through? **Please**, Harrison!" Jamie exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air angrily. His eyes narrowed as he pointed an accusing finger at me. "You're the one who comes home in the middle of the night, drunk off your ass, with a _strange_ man! And you're the one who had _Tommy_ stay the weekend!" Jamie shouted boldly, not even trying to be quiet. I flinched, reeling away as if stung. Strange man... so he saw Travis, then.

I gulped, muttering a soft string of curses under my breath, feeling myself pale. I found myself hoping against hope that Jamie didn't notice my sudden change in demeanor. And, come to think of it, I didn't exactly like the way he said Tommy's name much either. He said it like Tommy was some sort of sickening disease. Albeit, that analogy isn't so far off, but still... I don't know. It's just different when other people call him a slore than when I do. Especially people who aren't girls and who don't know firsthand. Jamie scowled at me, throwing his hands in the air in a typical Jamie fashion. I almost smiled at the sheer Jamie-ness of the gesture, but I refrained. It would've been too soon. "I mean, _really_, Jude, who answers the door in their underwear?!" Jamie exclaimed, looking quite outraged.

I colored at his statement. How the hell did he know that I answered the door in my underwear that day?! I felt a smile appear on my face in spite of myself with the remembrance of that day. Aw, damn. Now I wanted to kiss Tommy again. Even ga-ga over Travis as I was, there was simply no denying who the better kisser was. And... I think the reason I was so crazy thinking I was half in love with Travis was... Well, for one thing, it wasn't a good reason. I think... I think I just wanted to forget about Tommy. Oh, hell, I'm not gonna deny it! I did. I wanted to forget about him. I wanted to forget and... along came Travis, looking all good and acting so sweet and saying all the right things, at precisely the right moment. The fact of the matter was that I was kidding myself. I think Tommy will always have a hold on me.

At the moment, however, I realized that Jamie must've seen Tommy come in... and how he barely came out of the house for the following days until he left at 4 in the morning yesterday. I also realized how that must've looked to him, and I couldn't help but wonder what he must think of me. Actually, I'll tell you how it must've looked. Never mind the fact that my cousins were staying there with me, it looks like Tommy and I were so wrapped up in each other that we barely left the bed all weekend. Which is entirely ridiculous, as I only slept with Tommy that one night 'cause he "had a nightmare" and both him and Josie turned the puppy-dog eyes on me. And that wasn't even the good stuff. That was just platonical good-sleep-wake-up-curled-up-around-each-other sort of action. Real life is a lot less romantic than they make it out to be in the tabloids. Honestly, though, I did like having Tommy there. It felt sort of nice to have a big, strong man to protect me (kinda like the days before Dad moved out, only I wanna jump Tommy). I would've been terrified all on my own.

So, if Jamie thought I was a slut before... Then, yikes, this looks bad! I wanted to explain it all to him. I wanted to say that nothing really happened between Tommy and me. But I couldn't do that. Because that would've been a lie. Stuff had happened. I'd made out with him on the couch twice, gone to the park with him and my cousin, played surrogate mommy to his surrogate daddy for Josie, gotten drunk with him, watched a porno with him as the star, seduced him in the attic, let him shower in my bathroom, and had fallen asleep on top of him. And, let's just face it... That's kind of a lot to do with somebody if there's nothing going on. But that's just the way Tommy and me are, I guess.

I mean, really... I shouldn't get drunk so often. Then I wouldn't have to wake up wondering what the hell I did when I was drunk. But it suddenly occurred to me that the voice in my head sounded annoyingly like Jamie, so I immediately thought to silence it. I glowered at him, living up to my vivid hair color. "Maybe a better question would be _who_ spies on their supposed **best** friend!" I shrieked, jabbing him hard in the chest with my finger. I frowned at him, shaking my head. "Jamie, that's creepy," I mumbled weakly, feeling vaguely worried that he had seen me. Then again, Jamie was my next-door-neighbor, after all, and so I suppose that I was just asking for it. I exhaled sharply, finding it harder to stay angry with him than I thought. "And you have _no_ right to comment about any of that. It's none of your _business_, remember? It hasn't been your business since you stopped speaking to me," I hissed venomously, suddenly being hit by an extremely lucid memory of our argument.

Jamie flinched mightily, and I felt just the slightest bit guilty. It hurt a little, like an infinitesimal needle pricking my finger. Then that wounded puppy look came across Jamie's face, and I was torn between the dueling desires of kicking him or comforting him. Wisely, I chose neither option and tried to keep my face as blank as possible. He pulled a face, looking a bit disgusted. "In case you forgot, I'm your neighbor. And, while your parents might not notice, and your sister might not notice... I **do**," Jamie said tersely, almost gritting his teeth. At the time, he seemed angry, but there was something strangely intense about his tone that didn't quite sit right with me. Jamie's brown eyes softened, showing me a warmth and concern I wasn't quite sure I deserved. Jamie was that sort of guy who could make you feel like you were the one who had wronged him. Jamie reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder, and I let him. "_Someone_ has to look out for you, Jude," Jamie murmured so sincerely that I had to look away.

Why was he being so nice to me? I felt my eyes starting to water, and, damnit, I did not want to cry. Not today. Today had been such a good day. Well, at least it was good then. I shrugged out of Jamie's grasp abruptly, feeling so guilty that I couldn't look at him- any part of him. I had to keep up this cool act. I didn't want Jamie to hurt me again. He was going to get angry again soon, I could tell. "Don't worry about it, Jamie. I have plenty of people to look out for me," I grunted noncommittally, hearing a strange, harsh edge in my voice. My voice wobbled a bit during that last sentence. Maybe it wasn't half as true as I was trying to convince myself.

I glanced up briefly at Jamie and saw the anger in his eyes. He looked hurt, and I suddenly couldn't look away. Jamie frowned as he assumed a defensive position. He pursed his lips, turning contemplative. "Is that why you don't go home at night?" Jamie questioned stiffly. I flinched at the affront. See, this is what I was afraid of! Jamie's eyes became darker as they took on a malicious appearance. "Huh, Jude, where do you go?" Jamie badgered, knowing exactly what he was doing. He was practically pouring salt into my wound. Jamie sighed, shaking his head, and looking at me with those wide, disappointed eyes. "'Cause I sit up and wait for you sometimes and then you show up at some ridiculous hour of the morning, drunk. And you sneak in through your window. It's a wonder you haven't broken your neck doing that," Jamie continued in a harsh tone, eyes shining mistily. I felt my heart of ice start to crack at that.

I had never realized that Jamie cared about me that much. And, as much as I hated to admit it, he was right. How many nights last week had I slept in my bed? Properly, at a decent hour, for a remotely decent amount of time? I frowned, straining to think of it. Last Monday was... ugh, why can't I remember any of this?! Okay, work backwards... I can do that. Went to bed Tuesday morning on top of my bed with Travis. Fell asleep early Monday morning on the get-some couch with Tommy. I spent Sunday morning curled up in my bed with Tommy, again. Saturday morning I was crashed at Chaz' place, before I came home, got an hour of sleep, then more couch time with Tommy. Hmm, recurring theme anyone?

Friday morning, well, I was actually in my bed... though my insomnia prevented me from getting a wink of sleep all night. I felt like a meth addict. First I did my homework, then I wrote about twelve songs, then I started strumming any song that came to mind... then I cleaned my room, did a load of laundry, and made brownies. And I can't cook and know nothing about laundry. Oh, and I managed to do all of this while thinking about, you guessed it, Tommy Quincy, yet again. Thursday morning I was at the motel, but I was up half the night thinking about Tim or on the date with him. Then I fell asleep in the bathroom stall, which is a clear indication of insanity in the making. And Wednesday morning, lovely Wednesday, I first fell asleep in the slammer, and I later awoke blissfully entangled with Tommy in his bed.

Let me tell you... That was a good morning. Mostly a good day, too, come to think of it. I got to French Tommy a lot that day. Hence why it was a gooood day. Ahem, but I forcibly shook off the beautiful distraction. But he wanted to know why I didn't get home. I didn't go home because I didn't want to. Frankly, with my aunt and cousins there, it's a bit hectic. And my mom's gallivanting with that attorney and Dad's over all the time... It's just a mess over there! Plus the odds of running into Sadie at the old family abode are far too high for my liking, and she kinda hates me since her boyfriend obviously wants me, not that I blame her or anything. Hell, if I was in her place... Well, actually, I'd be Tommy's girlfriend. So you couldn't keep my hands off of him. I mean, really, he would not want for anyone else. Plus, if I go home, I most likely will wind up getting in trouble for some accidental exploit like being semi-drunk or dry-humping Tommy or some other such offense.

What Jamie said had hit me a little too close to home for niceties. I rolled my eyes at him, suddenly wanting this horrible conversation to end. I whirled around, briskly walking towards my locker. I didn't even have to look over my shoulder to know that Jamie was following me. I glowered at the locker, feeling frustrated when it didn't open straight away. "They're called _dates_, Jamie. It's something you would know if you had a social life," I retorted nastily, knowing exactly which button to press.

I think the words stung him just as I intended. I thought he'd just give up on me, sigh dramatically, and walk off. But I was wrong. Needless to say, I was floored when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Next thing I knew Jamie had roughly whirled me around, gently pressing me against the lockers. I swallowed hard, having an unpleasant flashback of one of my drunken nights. Or, really, any unpleasant occurance with Travis. Jamie leaned in simply because he knew it made me uncomfortable. Sometimes I hate the fact that he knows me so well. It seemed that this was Jamie's version of an intervention. Great, just what I needed. Intervention... psh. I would've rolled my eyes at the thought, but Jamie was just so in my face... "You can't drink, Jude. Does your _date_ know that?" Jamie stated bluntly. Ha, can't drink. That's a good one. His eyes narrowed then, taking on a dismissive look. "'Cause I can bet Mister Last Night didn't," He sneered, disgust written all over his face.

I flinched, horrified at the fact that Jamie had seen Travis leave my house this morning. I should've known. Jamie's always up at the crack of dawn. I just prayed to God that Jamie hadn't recognized Travis... or worse, like myself lately, confused him for Tommy. No, wait... I dunno which one's worse. Jamie sorta respects both of them. He might dislike Tommy immensely, but he respects him as a producer and friend to me. I think. He wouldn't do anything about Tommy except... except be disappointed in me. I hate having Jamie disappointed in me. But if it was Travis, he wouldn't hesitate to report him. And it was Travis, but hmm... If he really knew it was Travis, then wouldn't Jamie confront me directly about that? And if it was Tommy, he would've made a direct comment about it. So Jamie didn't know, then. Hopefully.

I glowered at Jamie, feeling claustrophobic. That should've been a warning, I think. I was afraid of Jamie. And I should've realized it was a bad sign... 'cause I kept having flashbacks of Travis throwing me in the closet and... I just couldn't focus well. So, forcing these thoughts from my mind, I pushed Jamie back with an almost inhuman force. "Step **off**, Jamie!" I shouted defensively. Jamie looked at me with wide, surprised eyes. "And would it _kill_ you to use a breath mint?" I quipped sarcastically. Jamie, of course, did a breath check immediately afterwards. His breath didn't smell at all, but, hey, it made him back off, didn't it? I almost laughed, but something about this whole scene made me uneasy. There was just something in the air that I didn't like. "Actually, for your information, he did," I proclaimed smugly, "He knows I'm sixteen, and he still bought me the drink."

Travis, of all people, knows that I'm sixteen. And, unlike Tommy, he doesn't care. I don't quite know why this is so... It just is so. I smiled at the thought of Travis, remembering the night earlier as if in a trance. Jamie, however, was oddly serious. He rolled his eyes at me, crossing his arms over his chest. "_The_ drink? Don't lie to me. I know you had way more than one," He scoffed disbelievingly. Okay, so he'd seen my drunk ass stumbling up the driveway last night, then... with Travis in tow. Two words. Uh. Oh. Let's just hope that Jamie's too near-sighted to... or is it far-sighted? Let's just hope that he's too, uh, near-sighted to have recognized ma prof. I mean, sure, he could've thought Travis was Tommy, but Jamie knows Tommy would never get me drunk... hehe, contrary to that lie I told Tommy.

I rolled my eyes at him irritably. What was it his business for? Jamie hadn't been in my life, hadn't been in my shoes... He wasn't me, and he hasn't had to put up with all the craziness I've dealt with in the past two weeks. I felt bolstered, though, by the memories of last night. Jamie's known me longer than just about everyone, and I suppose that gives him the right to judge me. After all, he's supposed to know me better than anyone. But... There are people out there that don't judge me. People who like me for who I am. And, as of lately, Jamie hasn't been one of them. I think he built me up into some idol, some ideal of perfection that I could never live up to... And now he was disappointed with the person he really saw. I thought all that, and I don't think I could've been further from the truth. Jamie did judge me, yes, but he judged me just as I would judge myself... Tommy and Travis weren't much to judge, really, given their peculiar definition of morals... but Jamie and I thought alike. Maybe I didn't like what I saw in the mirror either, so I ignored it instead. It was easier that way. "What's your point, Jamie? You are certainly no one to be making judgments about my life," I growled, wanting to walk away from him.

I almost did, but Jamie grabbed my wrist again and held me in place. He shook his head, staring at me intently. I knew immediately that he was being sincere. His eyes were big and pleading, and they made me remember why I loved him. I thought about Jamie every day... Now, one would think that this means I like Jamie beyond the realm of friendship, but compared to the space that Tommy, Tim, and Travis get in my thoughts (in that precise order), it's not much time at all. I felt my resolve softening a little, and after the night I'd had and how... happy I was entering school... I thought, well, why not be nice to Jamie? It wasn't that crazy. However, you try telling my mouth that. "I've been your best friend since we were in diapers, Jude," Jamie replied almost sternly, "I think I am in the perfect position to make..." Jamie trailed off. He never was very good with words. Don't get me wrong, he's witty as hell, but he can't talk the way Tommy can. Jamie either sounds like an egghead or a comedian. He shook his head, changing his train of thought. "I'm not even doing that. I'm just saying that I'm worried about you," He finished.

I glowered at Jamie. I'd really seen how worried Jamie was over the week we'd been fighting. He hadn't spoken to me, and other than the thing he did at the concert, he hadn't done squat for me. I rolled my eyes at him, disbelieving. I approached him, poking him in the chest hard. "Oh, _yeah_... You must've been **real** worried about me, _James_. So worried about me that you haven't talked to me in a week. You _really_ care," I retorted sarcastically. After all, the best offense is a good defense. Though my defensive was really more of an offensive against Jamie, and it sort of sucked. Here he was all concerned about me, and I was throwing it back in his face. Not so nice of me.

A pained look came across Jamie's features. He looked genuinely sorry. Jamie looked at the ground awkwardly. Jamie is perpetually awkward because he is so damn tall and skinny. He's like a rail, but yet he's still the hugest nerd. Seriously, Jamie has ridiculously big feet. I don't mean that in a suggestive way or anything, but seriously... He's like a 16 or a 22 or something. When he was little he used to trip over his own feet a lot, and Dad would goodnaturedly say that he had two left feet. Jamie would then of course start arguing with Dad about it, and he'd point out that it was impossible. Jamie did that because he was too smart for his own good and oh-so fragile. Jamie's like a giant stained glass butterfly. He breaks so easily. That reminds me of when Jamie tried to play basketball. Funny story.

You see, when we were freshman, Jamie was like, three inches shorter than he is now. Which still means that he was a giant. He had this huge growth spurt in sixth grade, I tell you, and so he was like 5'9". And then in eighth grade, he grew like ten more inches or something. So he was a giant. Now, naturally, Coach Bunsen tried to get Jamie to play. But Jamie was all: "I'm a white boy. White boys can't jump!". And Jamie is like... the whitest boy around. He trips walking over his own feet sometimes. Coordination is not his friend. Coach Steroid didn't buy that though, and Jamie really tried to tell him how much he sucked, but Coach still didn't listen. So Jamie was signed up for basketball against his will. Coach Steroid has this theory that being tall automatically makes you a baller. Or a jock. Or popular. Or better than everyone. No, really, I'm not bitter at all!

Long story short, s/he was wrong (he's taken so many steroids it's hard to tell). It does not. Jamie's living proof. I went to six painful games watching rail-thin Jamie (who was on the Varsity team due to his being the fifth tallest guy in school) play. It was, as I previously stated, painful. Jamie tripped over his own feet twice, fell flat on his face three times, scored a basket for the other team, got thrown into a basket once (this was when it was truly painful to watch), and once even mistook it for a hockey game.

I almost chuckled at the memory of Jamie's disastrous stint at basketball, but it was important that I was serious. Jamie looked me straight in the eyes. "I mean it, Jude. I'm sorry I pressed the Tommy thing with you... I should've been there for you when you needed me," Jamie apologized softly. He looked so regretful that tears even collected in his eyes. I almost hugged him, but then he said something despicable. His eyes narrowed at my lack of a response, and a grim smile appeared on his face. "And Tommy obviously has... whenever you need him... day _or_ night," He muttered scornfully. I stiffened immediately, not liking at all what he was insinuating. Jamie was right, though. Tommy had been there for me in a way Jamie hadn't lately, and then again, in some ways he'd left me just as cold.

But I always knew Tommy cared. He never judged me, and if he did so accidentally, he apologized. I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling my heart turn to ice at his mention of Tommy. I've had enough of Jamie and Tommy fighting. Ugh. This is a vicious cycle of conversation. "You know, Jamie, this is starting to sound more like an attack on the way I'm living than an apology," I stated frostily. My eyes narrowed. "I mean, you've already resorted to Tommy and making me feel like a whore again... Wow, this is starting to sound a hell of a lot like our last conversation. Only this time I refuse to stand here and take it. I'm _leaving_," I declared, whirling around in the middle of the hallway and starting to speed past him.

Jamie continued to be persistent. He ran after me and grabbed my arm, pleading. "Jude, wait! We have to talk about this before it's too late..." Jamie implored desperately. And as much as I hated to admit it, he was right. He was so right. If Jamie and I didn't talk, then what chance was there that our friendship would be saved? Slim to none, I thought, but we'd have to talk anyways. It was so hard to be mad at Jamie.

I hated myself for it. But I couldn't let go of the anger, not yet. I shook off Jamie's grip violently. "No, Jamie! I'm not going to listen to your verbal attack. I don't need it. I was in a perfectly wonderful mood before you came along, and I intend to stay in that mood," I stated assertively, throwing my hands on my hips. It was surprising just how bursting I was with confidence that day. But confidence is just one of those strange things that comes and goes... You know?

I turned around, walking off to leave again, but Jamie literally threw himself down in front of my feet. He held his hands out in a praying position, begging me on his knees. It was a rather compelling position, to say the least. "I'm **sorry**, okay!" Jamie exclaimed passionately. He looked down guiltily. "I didn't mean to make you feel like a whore... it's just..." He muttered awkwardly before trailing off. I was almost about to forgive him, but then he trailed off. That made me feel uncomfortable. Jamie clearly wanted to say something else.

I felt slightly apprehensive and very, very curious. I knew what Jamie had to say wasn't a good thing, though, which was why he didn't just say it. "Just what, Jamie?! Go on ahead and tell me!" I antagonized irritably. Jamie had always been talkative, so why couldn't he talk now? I glowered at him until he spoke.

Jamie looked down at the ground again, too ashamed to meet my eyes. I suddenly realized that the hall had emptied out a very long time ago, yet Jamie and I still stood there like idiots in the middle of it. "Look at the company you keep, Jude. You pretty much hang out with all guys... guys who are in the public eye. And the tabloids are usually wrong, but sometimes there's a grain of truth there. Not only that, but you count among your friends guys who aren't exactly known for sticking around in a relationship..." Jamie explained quietly.

I cut him off before he could finish. He hadn't insulted me specifically, but they were my friends... as Shay would say, "my boys"... And I couldn't let him talk about them that way. I mean, really, where did Jamie get off? He was insulting people that had taken care of me and been there for me when Jamie hadn't. Tommy had bailed me out of jail, and Chaz was the one who let me crash at his place when I was too scared to go home. Tommy was the one who'd stayed at my house to "protect" me and my cousins when Mom was gone, and he was the one who'd helped me babysit. But Jamie'd just ignored me. I saw red. "So, what, you're calling Tommy and Chaz whores just because they were in a boyband?!" I shouted, even though I knew his comment was well-merited... for Tommy anyways. "Well, here's a little newsflash for you, Jamie... They've been good to me. Their past doesn't change that," I snarled, determined to make Jamie feel guilty.

Jamie got up abruptly, and this time he was pissed. He didn't have the right, but he took it anyways. "Yeah, I'm sure Tommy's been _really_ good to you when he's not breaking your heart!" Jamie sniped, knowing exactly which spot to hit. "He's always trying to make something up to you, always letting you down... It's not a healthy relationship, Jude," Jamie continued securely. He knew how right he was, and he relished in that knowledge. I knew he was right too, and I resented that very much. Tommy always broke my heart, and he always let me down. It wasn't healthy. It was a vicious cycle. But that was it... He tried, at least. Tommy tried to make up for something. He tried to help.

I threw my hands in the air frustratedly. "God, Jamie, I am so **sick** of this bizarre rivalry between you and Tommy! You two have hated each other forever, and neither of you will ever tell me why! Seriously, Jamie, **what** is your damage?!" I snapped venemously, fed up with everything, especially this argument and Jamie ragging on Tommy. At least Tommy said the comments under his breath.

"I don't know," He replied softly, looking away. He said it to cut me off, as if that was that. Matter of fact.

So I kind of called Jamie on his big, fat, lying mouth. My eyes narrowed, and I stepped closer. I was not afraid of confronting Jamie. So I went a bit too far. "That's a lie, and we both know it, Jamie, so don't try and patronize me by saying you "don't know". I'll tell you what it is, all right. You're **jealous** of Tommy! You're jealous because he's rich, confident, famous, incredibly good-looking, and he gets all the girls. You're jealous because he can _sing_, something that you've always wanted to be able to do," I sneered, scowling at Jamie. Jamie reeled back from what I said, but I kept going. I guess... I'd known that stuff all along, but I'd never said it out loud. And once I started, I couldn't really stop the words... They came of their own accord, and I didn't care how much I hurt Jamie... because he'd started it.

I shook my head, almost laughing at him. I was cruel, and it wouldn't be the last time that day. "Don't think I don't see that look in your eyes whenever I sing. I know how badly you want to be able to sing, only you can't, so you try and remedy it by immersing yourself in other people's music, by writing songs that _break_ your **heart** because you know you'll never be able to sing them, and by managing a band you wish you could join. But mostly, Jamie, I think you're just jealous because I **like** Tommy in a way that I'll never, _ever_ like you. You know that, and it kills you!" I screeched shrilly. It sure looked like it killed Jamie from the stricken look on his face. But I didn't feel awful right away.

Jamie sobered up a bit, looking stern. His features stiffened, and Jamie straightened up a bit. "Wow, I see your album going platinum has gotten to your head already, Miss Diva," He replied frostily.

I stared Jamie down, and I wasn't going to let him give me that crap. Jamie knew me just like I knew him. There was no forgetting that. There was no way to get around that fact. We knew each other too well to lie about it. "I know you, Jamie. And you know I'm right about everything I just said."

Jamie's eyes dulled a little and he looked completely downtrodden. He sighed, drawing in a long breath. "Yeah, Jude, maybe you do know me. And maybe you are right about everything!" He admitted calmly. His tone was cool and impersonal. He started pacing, but he never took his eyes off me once. His eyes burned into me. "I do want to sing. I've wanted it with my whole heart for my whole life. I love music, and I wish I was gifted with any ability in it," Jamie murmured sadly, voice escalating in both sound and power. He sighed again, and this time his shoulders drooped. "But I'm not, and that's just the way God made me. Jamie the loser. I'm a behind-the-scenes guy. So I'll be a manager or an A&R guy or a songwriter or a music critic, but _never_ a musician. But I can live with that. And you're right, the knowledge of that fact _kills_ me inside a little every day. Especially when I see **you** living your dream. But that's okay, because I can get new dreams... I can rebuild my life," Jamie conceded, sounding so depressed and so bitter that my heart broke for him. He was so accepting of his fate. "After all, I'm really good at picking up the shattered pieces of a broken life, aren't I, Jude?" He asked rhetorically, making me feel bad.

Because I knew exactly what Jamie was talking about. He was talking about his parents. The shattered pieces of a broken life. I felt awful. Completely low. I shouldn't have said all that, and it was just horrible. I wanted to hug Jamie. "Jamie, I'm **so** sorry... I was angry and I wasn't thinking. I had no right to say such rude, hurtful things to you. You were right. I am a terrible friend," I apologized, meaning every word, and beginning to feel tears forming in my eyes.

But Jamie shook his head. "Jude... Don't apologize. Just let me finish what I have to say. I have to get this all out, or I'll never tell you," He stated firmly. I'd never heard Jamie sound like that. He sounded so serious that it was almost surreal to hear him.

His eyes were dark, and he looked so lonely. "And you know what? You're even right about the other part. I'm **just** Jamie to you, the Jamie who's been your best friend for as long as you can remember. I'm just the boy... I'm just the man-next-door to you. That's all you can ever see me as. And that's all I'm **ever** gonna be to you, Jude... your best friend. I _know_ that. I think I've **always** known that. And yet you feel the need to rub it in, twist the knife in my heart just a little bit deeper!" Jamie declared boldly. His eyes blazed with anger and resentment. I had no idea that Jamie felt this way. "Because... I _love_ you, Jude... and you won't _ever_ love me back in the way I want you to. Not like the way you love Tommy," Jamie proclaimed emotionally. And he was right. I could probably go through my whole life without loving anybody even half as much as I love Tommy. But I did love Jamie, and he came really close to that... but just as a friend. I'd be kidding myself to say it was anything else.

"Don't try to deny it," Jamie said, and I didn't. I didn't shut him up, even though I wanted to. It'd be less awkward that way, but he was right. "Even if you tried, I don't think you could _ever_ love me in any way remotely resembling the way that you love Tommy. And I **know** how you love Tommy because it's the way I love you. The way I've _always_ loved you. Hopelessly, _desperately_, passionately, head-over-heels, not caring what anyone else thinks, against all your better judgment!" Jamie decreed perfervidly, throwing his hands up in the air. If it was possible, I felt even more sorry for Jamie. I'd never known he was that in love with me, you know? Because I know what that type of love feels like, and try as you might... You can never forget how it feels. And I would never, ever feel the same way. I felt bad that I didn't, and I wished I did because it would be so much easier if I felt that way about Jamie. I could feel that way about Jamie. But I didn't.

"Jamie, I... I didn't know... I'm so-" I choked out, fighting back tears. Jamie cut me off.

Jamie shook his head and patted me lightly on the shoulder. I almost jumped. "I know I can never have you, and I'm not trying to make you feel bad about that. I have a really good thing going with Kat right now, and I don't want to screw that up. So, you don't _get_ to say things like that to me. You don't have to remind me how I feel because I know. I live it every day. And, while I'll probably **never** love Kat the way I love you... I could see myself falling in love with her. She's a great girl and she likes me... I mean, she _really_ likes me... for who I am. I'm happy with her, and I don't want to ruin that. I'm _happy_," Jamie finished, managing somehow to smile. It didn't really make me feel better, but I felt bad for Kat. I felt like an unwanted third party in their relationship.

"Oh, Jamie, I **swear** I..." I stammered, trying hopelessly to think of something right to say.

Jamie smiled at me lopsidedly. It looked more real. "Don't swear. I'm okay, really, I am," He swore, defying his own command. His eyes took on a hard, flinty appearance. "Just don't call me crying when Tommy breaks your heart again. I'm not always gonna be around to pick up the pieces and put you back together again..." Jamie warned, suddenly making me start worrying all over again. Jamie had, of course, just quoted "Pick Up the Pieces". I laughed at him as irrational as that was. "And, yes, I do realize that I basically just quoted "Pick Up the Pieces", but I would like to point out that the song in and of itself is highly derivative and borrows heavily from Humpty Dumpty," He pointed out humorously.

And that was it. I knew without a doubt that I had my Jamie back. He was right, too. And all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty Dumpty back together again. I think that's it, anyways. I threw my arms around Jamie's neck immediately, pulling him close and practically hugging the life out of him. "Oh, Jamie, I missed you so much!" I breathed happily. I buried my face in his chest, inhaling his smell. I'd really missed how Jamie smelled, even if it was kinda funky and sort of like musty comic books. "I really do love you... I hope you know that," I mumbled in between sniffs, trying to keep from crying and completely ruining my make-up.

I glanced up just to see Jamie smile weakly. He nodded, and I could tell he was still feeling those things from earlier. It really hit me just how much pain Jamie must be in on a daily basis. The way he feels about me, the way he can't do what he loves most, his parents... Maybe that was why Jamie always had to be the funny guy. Because he was really so sad. "I do... Just not in the way I want you to. But I'm glad to hear it," He replied gratefully. I smiled back at him, pulling him closer.

"Good, because I don't think I say it near enough..." I responded softly, ruffling his hair. I felt a little better. But damn it, that boy had made me cry! I frowned, wiping briefly at my eyes. "Are we friends again, Jamie?" I asked anxiously, because I had to. I had to know for sure.

Jamie stared off into space, placing a finger on his lip and affecting the look of a great thinker. "Depends..." That worried me, and Jamie so knew it. He had this big, dramatic, thoughtful pause, which really got me going. "Do you wanna be friends with some faux-punk emo-kid music geek?" Jamie questioned, finally breaking out into a smile and snickering lightly.

I rolled my eyes at him. Jamie is so not emo. For one thing, his jeans aren't painted on his legs. For another, I can see his eyes. I shook my head at him, briefly enjoying the panic in his eyes. Hey, he deserved it. "You're **so** not emo. Punk, _definitely_ punk," I announced brightly. Jamie grinned and looked relieved. This was most likely because he made fun of the emo kids, which was well-deserved. "But, hmm... Yeah, I guess I am. As long as you're okay being friends with an highly volatile, extremely emotional, insanely impulsive, ridiculously hot-tempered, somewhat slutty, punkish sad girl with a guitar who tends to jump to conclusions," I offered, knowing he'd say yes. Well, I hoped anyways.

Jamie pursed his lips. "Hmm... Let me think about it."

I scowled at him and hit him hard in the arm. "Ja-mie!" I cried irritably.

Jamie sighed, glaring at me and rubbing his arm. However, I continued to give him my withering stare until he capitulated. Jamie made a big show of sighing dramatically and flinging his hands in the air like a housewife. "Okay, okay, fine. I surrender," He said, practically raising the white flag.

I grinned at him stupidly. "I've been so lost without my musical Gandalf!" I promulgated melodramatically.

Jamie snickered at my over-the-top hand gestures and fake fainting. The Southern accent really amused him. "Damn straight," He nodded. "But I prefer to think of myself as a Brian Epstein figure now. It makes me seem less dorky," He suggested, hoping I would adopt it too. Yeah right. I've known him too long for that. Hell, I knew him before he was cool. Not that Jamie was ever cool.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at his foolish attempts at becoming cool. "Uh huh, _sure_ it does, Jamester," I retorted sarcastically, ignoring Jamie's outraged look. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Likewise, a **dork** by any other name is still a dork," I said amusedly.

Jamie raised an eyebrow, shooting me a look. He stepped back from me a little, pretending I was some competitor. "Using Shakespeare against me now? _Ooh_, I just got burned by the Renaissance!" Jamie remarked, fighting back a snicker. I started laughing hysterically. This was why I was friends with Jamie. "Anyways, as I was saying... I'm Brian Epstein now. Really. I even have my own promising band to manage."

He was trying to convince me, only it was failing miserably. I couldn't stop laughing, but really, the idea of Jamie as Brian Epstein was amusing. Especially since he apparently knew nothing about the man's personal life. I glanced up at the clock, noticing that we were over ten minutes late. I rolled my eyes at him, slapping him lightly on the arm before grabbing his wrist. "Oh, now you shut up! Now, come on, we're late for class," I exclaimed, grabbing him and trying to tug him towards class. Jamie struggled with me, but managed to get free. He also managed to land on the floor. On his back.

He might look all tall and strong, but he's all bones. Jamie weighs like, two pounds. He frowned at me but was up in a flash, brushing himself off. "Let's just skip it!" Jamie cried gleefully, very nearly jumping in the air and doing a bell-kick. He would've done that, at least, only he tripped over his own feet. I saved him from winding up sprawled all over the floor. "After all, it's not every day that you make up with your best friend," Jamie suggested helpfully. Naturally, I was surprised. By-the-book Jamie Andrews suggesting playing hooky?

I pretended to gasp outrageously, stopping dead in my tracks. "Jamie! I am appalled! What happened to the morally upright, by-the-books guy I once knew? Who are you and what have you done with James Andrews?" I questioned dramatically, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him hard. It wasn't that hard to do, considering Jamie is as skinny as a rail.

Jamie rolled his eyes at me, removing my fingers from his shirt. He smoothed over the wrinkled fabric, looking cool. "He's still here. Just on a break," Jamie responded briefly. He pulled on my hand, shooting me one of his famous puppy-dog looks. I was almost powerless to resist. "Now, let's go..." He whined.

I shook my head, trying to shake Jamie off. I really did want to see Travis. I mean, he'd sent me flowers and everything! Besides, I needed to find out what happened last night anyways. "Jamie, I really need to talk to Travis about something. I can't just leave," I protested with a pout I knew Jamie wouldn't resist. I tried to beg, but Jamie wasn't having it. I knew he wouldn't let it go, but he was right to be suspicious.

Jamie gave me a strange look, which I'll admit I deserved. "Jude, Study Hall's already way over. His class is right after lunch. I think we could make it back in time," He pointed out matter-of-factly. I usually skipped Study Hall anyways. It wasn't a real class, so it's not like it really mattered... Except that day, of course, when I wanted to see Travis. Jamie frowned at me, furrowing his brow. "But, while I'm asking... why are you suddenly needing to talk to him? As someone who's worked closely with him, I should inform you that he's unpleasant. Unless you've got a crush on him. Which hopefully you don't, by the way... So, um, why do you need to talk to him?" Jamie rambled aimlessly. I couldn't help but smile.

He was right, though, about Travis being unpleasant. I knew that; I did, but I was stupid. I should've listened to Jamie. Hell, Travis is unpleasant at best even if you have a crush on him. And I did. Hopelessly. But, of course, I couldn't tell Jamie that. He wasn't a girl like Kat. Jamie wouldn't understand and he wouldn't even begin to approve. I didn't even really understand what I was feeling. I just knew I felt, and that I really, really, really liked Travis. Love needs no rhyme or reason. I wish it did, but then it wouldn't be love. Not that I was in love with Travis. That's an extreme even I wouldn't jump to. I wasn't. I was... confused... and I don't really know how to explain it. Plus, to top that all off... I had previously denied liking him. And that would make me a hypocrite.

I rolled my eyes at him, playing it off. I pretended it was different, the same it had been before. Only it wasn't, and I wasn't that same person who'd told him that. I told him I hated Travis the day after he'd pressed me against that car and forced that kiss on me. I was so mad I was seeing stars. What really bothered me was that no one knew. Everyone thought that song was about Tommy, but it wasn't. Tommy wasn't that guy. I smiled weakly, hoping Jamie couldn't see through me. "Because I'm in love with him," I quipped irreverently, trying to make a joke of it. It was almost amusing to see how Jamie's eyebrows shot up, but it hit uncomfortably close to home for my taste. I shook my head. "No, just something about my music," I corrected casually, making it seem like less than it was.

Jamie gave me a weird look, and I began to think maybe he didn't buy that at all. After all, he knew of my previous dislike of Travis, so he probably assumed it was something important. But eventually he seemed to let it go and said the magic words. "O-kay. Well... I'm paying. I'll buy you breakfast. Or lunch. Or books. Or shopping... Whatever you want. Consider it a peace offering. On me," Jamie offered enticingly, knowing there was no way I'd be able to say no to an offer like that. Naturally, I wanted to go shopping for CDs, but brunch or something food-related sounded awfully nice. It felt good to celebrate being friends again. I was so happy about it, too.

I finally felt like everything was back to normal. My life was getting back on track... if only I knew. I smiled at Jamie and accepted. "You know, I think I'm free," I replied brightly, linking arms with Jamie. I felt a hundred times better after doing that. I had my Jamie back, and that was all that mattered. This was a wonderful day! Travis and Jamie? It seemed too good to be true. And it was, of course, but I didn't think about that. I just grinned stupidly at Jamie, and then we skipped out of school for a few hours of adolescent fun. I'd forgotten how much I'd missed the simple things in life.

I went back to school after skipping class with Jamie in very good spirits. Plus I bought like, fifty records at that discount store Tim and I went... at Jamie's expense. Not that it cost him a lot. They were cheap. The owner recognized me for one thing, and then when I told him that I'd been on several dates here with my quasi-boyfriend, he practically kissed my feet. So he gave us this humungo discount, and the records were already so cheap anyways that Jamie and I completely loaded up. The owner seemed to think that I'd bring in business, plus it helped that I was dressed like a dominatrix and thanked him rather emphatically and told him that it was my favorite record store. It is my favorite record store, too... Because of Tim and his dreaminess. However, that being said, I also asked the guy about that one CD I saw... He said some guy came in and bought it a while back, credit of course, but he couldn't remember for the life of him the name of either artist or buyer. He did, however, say that he'd recognize both buyer and artist by name/appearance, and he promised to call me if he got anything.

All in all, a very nice trip. Jamie loves my car, too, by the way. He took a look at it, made a comment about how _flashy_ it was and how very _Tommy_-like it was (that earned him an elbow in the ribs). And then I made a comment about he was just jealous that it wasn't a scrapheap like his car. He looked offended then and made some comment about Jamesica and pretended to cry. I took pity on Jamie and let him drive, after he recoiled in terror when I mentioned driving ("I've seen you drive and it ain't pretty! For the cats. Not so pretty for the people either."). Jamie loved it. He's not a speeder, but he really put the pedal to the metal, the screech to the tires. I told him Tommy would be proud, and Jamie looked disgusting and said that Tommy would be even more proud if he screwed the whole cheerleading squad in one day.

Jamie also promptly christened my car Thomas, saying that it made perfect sense... that it was taking that Tommy emulation to the next level. It was, too, but Jamie immediately recoiled and then said that he felt weird, being in and driving a guy. I giggled and pointed out that I'd be driving the car more than anyone, though it was physically impossible for me to be in a guy. Jamie made a face first, but turned it around by saying that Tommy wanted... Yeah, not gonna finish that sentence. Then Jamie shuddered violently and muttered something under his breath about me being "hell on wheels". He looked a bit like a scared rabbit. Jamie's sooo cute. So then I told him that his cherry was effectively popped; he'd been in a guy. Jamie flushed embarrassedly and looked horrified. I burst out into hysterical laughter.

And then we came back to hell, but I was still in a good mood. As Jamie promised, I arrived only minutes after Travis' class had begun. I was very excited to see my now (or is it then?) _favorite_ teacher, so I practically flew into the room. Travis was, strangely enough, once again in the middle of a lesson, teaching, but he didn't seem to mind as much as he usually would. This was odd for three reasons: Number 1. It's me, and everyone knows that Travis and I simply do not get along, Number 2. He's given me detention before, even when I had a pass, and Number 3. Travis' pet peeve is tardiness. He merely turned to see who had made the disturbance, and actually smiled when he saw me. Naturally, I smiled back and practically melted into the floor. Then, less than a minute later, his eyes practically bugged out of his head when he noticed what I was wearing.

Trust me, it wasn't just him reacting, all right. Travis gulped noticeably, and he looked mildly uncomfortable. However, he had smiled at me... He didn't act like it had never happened as I had suspected and feared. I should've known he wouldn't, though, but Tommy was like that song stuck in my head, playing endlessly on repeat... And I just assumed that Travis would be like him in that respect. But Travis is not Tommy. Period... as he proved later that day. I could've conquered the world in that moment. I managed an embarrassed, apologetic look, shrugging and sticking my bottom lip out just a little. "_Heeey_... Travis. I'm so sorry I'm late. I just got held up and..." I replied happily, probably a little too breezily. Okay, so I was lying through my teeth, but I really was sorry. If we hadn't stopped to get Jamie fries, I would've been on time. Plus, you can't imagine how hard it was to explain to Jamie why I had to go to Travis' class without explaining how I'd made out with him and etcetera. So I said something about how he would put me in detention indefinitely, which really isn't too much of a lie.

I was so caught up in acting like I wasn't lying, acting like I wasn't completely falling for him, acting like everything was perfectly normal, and acting like I didn't want to shove him right up against that wall and have sex with him that I didn't even notice I'd called him by his given name. Considering how distracted I was, it's impressive I didn't call him Charles. How much of a giveaway would that have been? Travis grinned a little too widely. "Hey, Jude," He replied casually, and I didn't even mind, even though I hate people saying that with every fiber of my being, "It's fine. After all, you are one of my best students, and it's not like you really need to be in this class anyways. You don't even really have to show up to get an A. It's fine, really. Just take your seat next to Joan." Then he went back to scribbling on the board, hiding his smile.

Now, I know what you're thinking, and you're not the only one. The whole class was staring, and not just at my outfit. You're thinking: Has Travis lost his mind? He'd just completely reversed his whole Jude policy in one day. Now, this is Travis, so I have no clue what the hell happened to him. No one does. Travis is just... like that, you know? For starters, he said nothing derogatory about me whatsoever. He actually complimented me and called me by my own name. Then he bypassed the option of punishing me and actually treated me like the rockstar I am. Even I was shocked. Actually, I was flummoxed, to tell the truth. But, like a good girl, I did as he said and walked obediently towards Joan, who was once again sitting in the front. Only this time I didn't mind.

I _wanted_ the better view, as cheesy as it was. Our desks were like only two feet away from his, prime for Travis-watching, my new favorite sport. Or at least I would've... except Travis whirled around suddenly, just as I was passing him, and he grabbed my wrist. I guess he realized just how suspicious that all must've looked. Of course, grabbing me in the middle of the classroom is a bit suspicious. It kind of misled me a little bit, too. Travis looked me levelly in the eyes, trying to communicate something with his steely green-blue eyes. He looked so much like Tommy then and so serious. "But, seriously, Miss Harrison... I don't care what the hell your producer's got planned for you. If you wanna make out with the guy, do it on your own time 'cause after school you're with _me_. Today, right after school, my classroom... Detention. Until five, to make up for that first one I oh so generously "forgot" about. You can work off your debt," Travis growled possessively, looking for all intents and purposes a fierce taskmaster.

However, what the class didn't see was that he winked at me, effectively letting me know that it was all a show. That coupled with the decidedly lecherous look Travis gave me let me know exactly how I would be _working_ off my debt. And I didn't mind. In fact, I was so unprepared for Travis' blatant flirtation that I could only nod dumbly. Another thing the class didn't notice was that he leaned in to whisper in my ear. I don't know how he managed it, but he made it look innocent to the class somehow. Being so close to him again, feeling his breath against my skin... It sent shivers up my spine. And so did the way he was looking at me with those lusting, hungry eyes. "By the way, Jude..." He murmured huskily, eyes openly checking me out and liking what they saw, "You're looking _incredibly_ bangable today." Travis coupled that with this sexy, completely devious, overly confident smirk that made me weak in the knees.

He had me in the palm of his hand from pretty much that moment on. I barely managed to walk to my seat, and incredibly enough, I was looking forward to the detention. I have never, ever looked forward to a detention in my life like I have looked forward to that one. Mainly because it meant that in a little over an hour, I would get to make out with Travis. And really, he might be an ass and all, but he's hot. I practically collapsed into the seat, still staring at Travis in disbelief. He just went right back on teaching like it was nothing. He was a consummate professional about it, pretending he hadn't just propositioned me. I know that most perverts are teachers, but seriously, do they teach _that_ in school?

However, I managed to snap out of it, suddenly feeling Joan's eyes on me. Joan was scrutinizing me curiously. I just shrugged, completely not wanting her to get the right idea... Since she, you know, liked Travis too. As I realized that I winced, feeling immediately guilty. I did not want to lose another friend. But then again, Joan had never told me she liked Travis and had, in fact, always denied it. So I could argue that I didn't know... But who said she was even going to find out? Travis wanted me then, or so I thought... and that was all that mattered. But Joan, bless her heart, wouldn't give up. She knew something was wrong. "What's up with you today? You came in grinning ear-to-ear, dressed like a biker whore, and... You called Travis by his first name. Plus he was actually decent with you," Joan pointed out incredulously, trying to keep her voice down. Actually, Travis was not just decent. He was downright nice and flattering to me! I flushed, but she was right. I did feel a bit like a biker whore, but it was a confident outfit. You had to be confident to wear it, and it brought you confidence... Some might say the wrong kind, but it was confidence nonetheless, and I was too happy to let some stranger drag me down.

Joan glanced back at the man currently lecturing uncomfortably close to this conversation. I peered at him too, catching a rather nice visual of his ass. Joan frowned, and I immediately jerked myself from the reverie. Joan looked suspicious, and I began to get paranoid and increasingly nervous. This was not something I wanted Joan to find out about. She raised an eyebrow at me, glancing at Travis once again. "Either Hell has frozen over or something happened last night after I left..." Here she trailed off, but her voice didn't waver. Joan's eyes were surprisingly steely as she turned to look at me, utterly serious. "You didn't stay, did you?" She asked curiously, shooting me a piercing look.

At first, I didn't think I could lie to her. But then I thought about Tommy and what he would say. It all came so easily at that. I stared at Joan like she was the crazy one. "No, of _course_ not!" I exclaimed, lying through my teeth. I laughed fakely, fixing Joan with a look of my own. "But I do find it awfully strange that you're acting like a possessive girlfriend, though, when you've made it pretty damn clear you want nothing to do with him," I replied a bit too frostily. Ouch. Jeez, do I sound like a bitch here or what? Joan stared at me with wide eyes and looked like she was about to say something, but she refrained, stiffening a bit. After all, she wasn't Travis' girlfriend. But Joan was wiser than I was, and she clearly did not want to start a fight in the middle of class about Travis, of all things.

Joan turned back to the board, no longer smiling. She resumed her notetaking without even a trace of emotion. I, on the other hand, completely ignored the notes. I focused instead on writing a song. It was a goofy, somewhat sappy love song. Or at least, that's what I was thinking of. I wound up writing down the lyrics to Tommy's new song and THEN, flushing, I scribbled down the ones I'd been thinking of. Just absentmindedly, not doing it for work or anything. I nearly jumped out of my seat when I heard Travis' voice. "Okay, so in a few seconds we're all going to head to the studio, and I'm gonna do a demo... Of how to use the equipment, and then maybe an example of how to record. Then we'll start recording you guys. Now first of all, everyone has a song, right?" Travis explained, glancing around the classroom with his hawklike eyes. I noticed his eyes lingering on our corner just a bit, and I felt myself grin at that. "Anyone got any new material?" He questioned curiously, poised to leave.

Joan suddenly turned to me and glanced at my paper. Seeing the lyrics (which she had most assuredly known about), she made a point to comment. "Wow, Jude! You were writing those just now? They're amazing!" She exclaimed exuberantly and loudly enough to draw Travis' attention. They were pretty basic and rough. I glowered at Joan, who smiled sweetly, nodding at me as if to say that they really were great. Sure enough, Travis came over, smoothly picking up the paper. He read over them, asked me about the chord progressions, blah, blah, blah. I fixed Joan with a look, thinking of a way to get her back. But I didn't get to find one, because Travis grinned like an idiot and proclaimed that it was brilliant.

I looked at him like an alien, and Joan gaped at him openly. Then Travis smiled at me, asked me if I would help him out a little, since I already knew my way around a studio. I agreed, because, well, what else could I do? I could barely stand, let alone do anything else! A few moments later, shooting me a grateful smile, we headed towards the studio. Travis stepped inside first and pulled some fancy producing tricks, but nothing like what Tommy could do. Travis' skill was basic and obviously Do-It-Yourself. That being said, he smiled grimly and told me to press the button when I gave him the proper gesture. Joan stood next to me, but said nothing, staring instead at Travis as was everyone else in the class.

Travis began by making sure his guitar was in tune. Once that had been accomplished, he practiced a bit before finally plugging his fancy guitar (It was a very expensive-looking high-quality Gretsch electric) into the amp. Then he gave me the signal, and I pressed record. Travis started playing immediately, a slow, sultry tune. I swear to you, he looked right at me as he started singing. "_Am I the apple of your eye?_" He began slowly, dropping his voice an octave. "_We teachers like to eat them, don't you know?_" He teased in a throaty voice. I felt myself flush all over, and I glanced at Joan, who was frowning disapprovingly, but also a bit pink in the cheeks. He shook his head, glancing down. "_I know I'm definitely not what you're looking for in a guy_," Travis continued, a self-deprecating twinge in his voice.

Travis was, of course, pretty damn close to exactly what I was looking for in a guy... So it made me wonder if it was written about Joan. After all, Tommy is the standard I measure by, and... Mean streak and all, Travis is as close to Tommy as they come. Except for his eyes, but they both have pretty eyes, and Travis' are changing color all over the place! Tommy's like the gold standard. And Travis is like, well, fool's gold, almost. I quickly resigned myself to the fact that he was most likely singing about Joan, and it made me ridiculously disappointed. "_Please, answer me, baby, you've got to stop being shy_," He sang amusedly, glancing up and winking at someone. I couldn't tell if it was me or Joan or... some other class chippy, and that made me unpleasantly nervous. "_Oh, and I know it's supposedly wrong, but I don't know why_," He drawled, reminding me so incredibly much of myself chasing after Tommy.

Joan's eyes darkened, though it seemed more like fury than lust. Maybe Travis was trying to make her feel bad. He looked up, smiling lightly. His smile widened as he looked directly at me. "_I could say that I feel nothing for you, but that would be a lie_," He pronounced in a sing-song voice. I felt myself shudder, and I tried to pretend it was because I was just cold. I'm not sure Joan bought it, but then again she knew almost better than anyone the affect Travis could have on a girl. He glanced down suddenly, as if he couldn't look up for this next part. I don't know why. Maybe he realized just how damn weird it was, trying to serenade a girl he was interested in under all the prying gazes of the rest of his students. "_And if I ever did anything about it, I'd have to say goodbye,_" He murmured so quietly you almost couldn't hear it.

It's something most sane artists wouldn't do, especially one as obviously experienced as Travis. Only a musician knows these things. But Travis wasn't recording this for real. I mean, I can tell you that had I been Tommy, I would've pulled the plug from the second line and made him start over at least twice now. But I don't have that kind of power, and I liked the guy... So I wasn't about to make him look bad due to my picky producing scruples... the ones I'd inherited from the guy's enemy. As for Joan, she looked as incredulous as I felt. Travis always did something about it. He simply didn't care. It wasn't an issue that was really eating him up. Travis glanced towards the two of us, for Joan was standing next to me, and a tortured look appeared in his eyes. I don't know... Maybe that look was his way of mourning what he couldn't have- what Joan wouldn't let him have. Maybe that was why he looked so tormented. Or maybe Travis was just a good actor.

Travis' eyes darkened to a deep, deep jade. It was a color I'd seen frequently, being alone with him all the time. The rest of the class, however, had never seen that exact look in his eyes. I peered back, and they looked pretty entranced by him, except for a few, very disgruntled garage rockers. I can't exactly blame them. "_But if I don't do something soon, I'm going to die_," He nearly moaned, frustration clearly evident in his voice. I saw one such garage rocker roll his eyes. Yeah, I can see how that would be weird. The effect that almost-moan had on the female population... well, it left a lot of them quivering. A suddenly mischievous look appeared in Travis' eyes. "_I suppose I could do something, but only on the sly_," He suggested, shooting a look straight at me this time. There was no question that it was definitely me he was talking to this time. He swallowed hard, eyes widening slightly. "_On that note, I'd better make this vodka extra dry_," He finished on sort of a... well, a strange note.

Then I went in the studio for a bit, sung a verse of a Boyz Attack! hit ("More to You (Than That Guy)"... remember, the one that pissed Tommy off?), just because I knew it'd piss Travis off. Travis is very hot when he's furious with you. I mean, the fact that he couldn't do anything about it with everyone else in the room was sufficiently pissing him off bad enough as it was. I figured he'd be pretty enthusiastic after school. He was worse than Tommy, if that was possible. It was probably because he was a great deal more sexually frustrated than Tommy usually is. Not that Tommy's not sexually frustrated sometimes. He has been in the past, especially when I was singing "Your Eyes". I mean, seriously, why do you think it took him so long to mix the thing? It was pretty much the fact he couldn't have me and the fact it was written about Shay. Oh, and when we were recording "Minor Liaison", because, well... That's sort of obvious why. The only reason we didn't spontaneously make out in the studio while we were singing it was because I was pissed with him and Kwest was watching us and doesn't approve.

So Travis interrupted me about twenty times because yes, he does hate the song that much. He wanted to punish me too. Travis, however, doesn't know that I only sing Boyz Attack! for guys I really like. Plus it sort of had a secret message since the guys talk about wanting to get serious with a girl they had a one-night stand with... Hence I wanted to get seriously involved with Travis. I was so naïve then. I only sang like two verses, though, and then I left. When I came out, I told them he wouldn't be as hard on anyone else (except, of course, Joan... but I didn't say that out loud). It was true, but Travis was frustrated, so he took a little frustration out on the poor garage rockers. For my part, I tried to calm him down by physically putting my hand on his shoulder, which was, might I add... a mistake. Travis' eyes only flashed more, and it didn't even work. So I pretty much snapped at him to cool it and gave him a stern look, and well... He got the message. Concordantly, he stopped being such an asshole.

I grinned and stepped back, feeling fairly self-confident. Coincidentally, Joan happened to be the next up to the mike. Go figure. When she got up there, you could see something was different about her. There was this unholy fury brewing in her head, and it sort of radiated outward. She was stewing in resentment as she sang, and it was... It was fiercer than a Next Top Model winner. She wound up singing "Not Yours", this angry girl anthem song that's pretty much about date-rape. Well, not really. It's about that sort of rape that happens at parties, you know. And there's kind of a stalker guy figure in it... She's pretty much saying that I'm not going to be yours, even if I'm dead. Or that she would rather be dead than hook up with Travissimo.

Yeah, how nice is that? You should've seen the look on his face. He couldn't even interrupt her, because she went on singing anyways. Not that he should've interrupted her. She was great. Anyways, so after she pretty much dissed Travis straight up and managed to sing about an uncomfortable, awkward, and rather common situation... She pretty much stalked out of there and everyone left her alone. If it was possible, Travis was even more sexually frustrated after that. Come to think of it, Joan's song choice was sort of ironic, fittingly ironic, given what happened later that day.

Anyways, so after that I kind of zoned out and wrote some more of that song. Some of the kids in my class were really lousy. Although that could've been on purpose, considering it meant he had to work with them longer. Then the bell rang and I managed to sneak out without Travis noticing, which I assure you pissed him off to no end. I raced to my locker, dumped my things in and grabbed some things I'd need for Music Theory, and I tried to dash to class. Key word in that sentence being _tried_. As usual, there was a certain obstacle that sort of prevented that. I think you know him. His name is Charles Travis Quinn (if, indeed, that is his real name... You never know).

So I was heading towards my class, right, when someone comes barreling down the hall, grabs my arm, and pretty much throws me into an empty classroom. It was Travis, of course, as I said earlier. He flicked on the lights in the classroom and I saw his face. But I knew it was Travis even before I saw his face, though. I was pressed up against him, pretty much against the door. I could smell his cologne, and well... I knew how Travis felt. I mean, I have been in this situation with him numerous times! Travis' fingers reached down to lock the door, and for the first time that Travis and I had ever been in an enclosed space together... all alone... I wasn't afraid or nervous. He shook his head at me, scowling. "You are one hard girl to get a hold of," He mumbled breathlessly, eyes that beautiful liquid green color.

He was wearing pretty much the same clothes from last night, which meant that he hadn't had enough time to go home. He probably just left my house, went out for some breakfast, and came here. Let me tell you, the wholesome Travis of yesterday was completely gone. Yesterday at school, I mean. He was unholy, wickedly hot at the club. Looking that good is a sin, and Travis is a dirty, rotten sinner. His hair wasn't gelled up, for a first. It was down and wavy, actually, because like I said, he hadn't gone back to his place after he'd showered at my house. He was still wearing the dark black jeans, leather boots, and the black barely-there (half see-through) wife beater. Only he was wearing a silly red blazer over it. The hickies were dark, almost blackish violet color. They looked painful and stood out starkly against his far paler skin.

I grinned at him, sliding my hands up to push back his blazer, running my fingers softly over every painful bruise. Travis winced a little, biting his lip in pain. I leaned in, beaming contentedly. "Well, you've got a hold of me now," I replied suggestively, trailing my hands down his chest. Travis groaned, briefly closing his eyes, and he pulled me closer to him. I definitely didn't object. Then Travis wrapped his arms tightly around my waist and lifted me up so he didn't have to stoop down to kiss me. When he kissed me, he kissed me hungrily, desperately. And, although I was sandwiched in between him and the door, feet in the air, I completely didn't mind. In fact, I actually threw an arm around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist.

We were pretty much right up against each other, and it felt so good. Travis ran his fingers through my hair, trailing wet kisses down my neck all the way to the (massive) cleavage of my "shirt", if indeed you can call it that. To be honest, it was a really skanky, skimpy bustier. He pulled his head back just enough to glance at me with dark eyes. He set me down slowly, pressing every inch of him against me. I wished that there weren't so many layers of clothes in the way, even though I was barely wearing anything. "I like the way you look in my jacket," He murmured possessively, copping a cheap feel. He grabbed at my flesh eagerly as if he wanted to memorize the feel of it for later... and I let him. I shouldn't have, but I did. Hell, I was dressed like a punk rock whore, and I figured I deserved the whore bit for today because it felt so damn good. A few moments later, after Travis' starving hands had had their fill, he ran his fingers over the covered-up marks he'd given me.

Okay, so one Tommy had given me, another was a bite mark, and then the other three were ones Travis had given me. Whatever. He grinned mischievously and said something I couldn't understand under his breath. I just shrugged, grabbing him by the collar of that ridiculously flashy blazer of his- something I well knew that Tommy the fashionista would never wear, although Travis shouldn't have worn it either, mind you. "I like the way I _feel_ in your jacket, Travis," I replied huskily, so close to his face that our lips brushed as I talked. I did, too. I liked it, feeling like I was someone's girl. Not Tommy and not Tim. Even though I was dating Tim, I'd only seen his face once in the dark... He was like a ghost of a boyfriend who had another girlfriend and faded in and out of my life. As for Tommy, well, he was never really mine anyways. He didn't even want me half the time.

But Travis, I knew he wanted me. And I'm not going to say that Travis didn't ever want me because he did. If only for my body, Travis most certainly wanted me. And not just because I'm easy or whatever, or because hooking up with me would be the fastest way to piss Tommy off. Some of it was actually because of me, who I was... Travis did like me for me after all. I don't know how much of me Travis really likes/liked, but it was a substantial amount, I guess. I sure liked what I saw of him, even in spite of himself. He was so... unpleasant about half the time.

It wasn't just me who saw it. Wally's a teacher's aid, and so he has to go to the teachers' lounge from time to time. He says every time he goes there, they're in there talking about Travis. About half of them think he's a right loon. Apparently Travis is a bit of a loner and an elitist, which means that just about no one likes him. He's crazy smart and apparently has a PhD or two, and a bunch of other degrees... I mean, he seriously has the envy of a lot of the teachers here. The more degrees you have, you see, the more you get paid in the teaching world. They think it means you know your stuff or something. It's kind of unbelievable that he has so many, but Travis later told me that he spent a year and a half of his life in a hospital recovering from... something. I guess he had a lot of free time then.

A lot of free time to do the required schoolwork and write a thesis or twenty. He said something about having a few broken bones, so he couldn't really move, only write and rest and read. Travis was polite and all, I guess, but not polite enough to them. They didn't think he had the tenure to be so casual. They just thought of him as some know-it-all whiz kid who didn't know how the hell to teach. They might have a point there. Plus Travis naturally has this sort of supercilious, condescending attitude, which obviously doesn't help matters. But back to what Wally was saying, Travis was apparently also a notorious flirt- and I wasn't the only one who'd noticed his resemblance to Tommy. All of the other teachers were too polite to say it, of course... and too scared (as his hatred of all things boyband was well-known), but then again, so was I. It was just something, perhaps the one thing, between us that went unspoken. But in private, when he wasn't around, Wally said they took to calling Travis "Big Tommy Q."

Which is hilarious, for starters. Not to mention how much that would actually offend Tommy. Tommy liked to think himself the bigger man, after all. They thought their little nickname was so clever, but it wasn't. Not really. From someone who knew the both of them, I knew that despite all their similarities- interest in music, appearance, taste in cars, taste in clothing, initials, and, well... their interest in me... That Travis and Tommy were two very, very different men. While I suppose one could say that they have similar personalities, they're almost polar opposites. Both are angry men, cold men, the type to use a girl and not care. Travis and Tommy are both simultaneously fire and ice. That switch changes so fast that you can't even see it coming.

But, fundamentally, Travis is more fire, and Tommy is more ice. Tommy's more predictable, and Travis, well, when he does something... He goes all out. You never know what to expect from him, but maybe that's because I don't know him that well. Not that Tommy won't occasionally do something surprising, but... Tommy knows he's a screw-up, but he does it anyways because he doesn't know how not to. And Tommy... Tommy tries to apologize and atone for his sins. Travis makes no apologies. He just does things without regard to anyone else, anything else... He doesn't care about the rules. He doesn't care about anything.

Which makes Travis a lot more dangerous to contend with, that and his far more mercurial changes of mood. But still, Tommy's the one I'd bet on in a fight. Travis is all talk and no action, like I thought Tommy was in the beginning. I don't mean that he just talks about doing things, Travis does them, but... Not like Tommy. Tommy's passionate where Travis isn't. Travis doesn't... He's so apathetic it'd make you sick. Tommy throws himself into things; he pursues them endlessly. It's one of my own traits, so I admire it a lot in him. I guess it sort of means that I'm rubbing off on him. He was so cold and uncaring in the beginning, kind of like Travis, only Travis is warm, all heat, and uncaring.

I thought I was falling for Travis for a lot of reasons. Firstly, it was because I was. I finally saw the things to him, the sides of him, that everyone thought were so damn appealing. Heaven knows it took me off, but I was better off before, hating him. It was a hell of a lot less confusing. But why I really think I was falling for Travis was because he was _different_ from Tommy. Now, Tommy and Travis were doing the exact same things to me at the exact same time, pretty much... But like I said, Travis was hot where Tommy was cold. And, at the moment, Travis was giving me no mixed messages. He'd made what he wanted pretty damn clear, and to be frank, I didn't care about what else he wanted.

I should've, but I didn't. I should've cared about whether or not he was actually with Kate. I should've cared about how he felt about Joan, and especially how she felt about him. But I hadn't got a declaration on either end to any of those ends, so I didn't care. I wanted Travis because he had no objections to wanting me. And since he didn't object, and I didn't object, it seemed perfect. It only _seemed_ perfect, though. If it was really perfect, we wouldn't have been hiding, holed up in some lousy free classroom, now would we? He wouldn't have to schedule a detention just so he could make out with me.

Make out we did, though. Travis and I were connected at the lip, and I was so caught up in the moment that I didn't even notice anything. He pushed his jacket off my shoulders, grasping at my bare skin almost gleefully. His lips kept crashing against mine, only breaking the kiss long enough so that we could both get one long drag of air before we came back together. Travis' hands went all over me and almost drove me crazy... up my back, fingering the sliver of skin in between my skirt and my "top", over my skirt and back up again, around my hips, down my legs, up my legs, on my ass, in my hair... His kisses kept stifling my moans, which rather got on my nerves, but I think Travis did it on purpose. I think he knew exactly what he was doing.

He was worried about people finding out that he'd made out with me... which showed that, on some level, Travis did care about his job and what people thought about him. It was a very fine line, and he took calculated risks. He didn't think either Joan or I would tell on him. But I'd upset that system. I told on him, and he discredited me like _that_. At the time, I'd forgotten how angry I was with him and how scared I had been when I came to school and saw him yesterday. All I had in my head was this ideal picture of one drunken adventure with this man, who'd somehow managed to put up with me and like me in my drunken state. I'd romanticized it a little and made Travis this heroic guy that he really wasn't, so that I could like him more and forget about his faults that much easier.

I did, however, manage to notice when the tardy bell rung. Travis pulled away almost immediately, and I managed to pull myself away from him and resume a standing (rather than straddling) position somewhat awkwardly. When Travis finally pulled away from that kiss, he was grinning worse than the Cheshire Cat and was twice as smug. He bent down to pick up his leather jacket, smiling from ear to ear like an idiot would, before he carefully placed the jacket around my shoulders. I about melted into a puddle on the floor at that very moment, but I managed to pull it together at the last minute. "You trying to send me a message with your attire, Harrison?" He asked quite seriously, or at least, trying to be serious.

I shook my head slowly, a slow, lazy smirk curving up on my lips. "Actually, although your love for bondage and fetish clothing is well-known to me..." I began amusedly, scowling when I remembered how I learned of Travis' fondness for the type of clothing in question. I was not a dominatrix type. "Thanks to Patsy..." I muttered under my breath. He looked sort of surprised and sort of intrigued. A second later, I stopped avoiding his glance and stared at him full-on, straight in the eyes. "I did not dress like this just to make your wildest dreams come true, Buddy," I hissed sternly. I straightened my skirt, looking down to smooth the wrinkles. I pursed my lips. "For your information, I lost a bet," I replied primly, looking up just in time to see him start to glower at me.

He was, however, still amused. He licked his lips, crossing his arms over his chest, and leaning forward a little bit. "How do you know about my fondnesses?" Travis asked curiously. I gave him a hard look that asked whether he really wanted to know or not. Travis, however, didn't take my bait. He refused to back down, per usual. I should've expected it from him. After all, I thought I knew what to expect from this new, strange, flirty Travis, the one I was so fond of and knew so very well, much better than Joan.

I rolled my eyes, exhaling annoyedly. I really didn't want to tell him, to tell the truth, because it was more than a little (okay, a lot!) embarrassing... But I had no choice. And when one is backed up against a wall, one must resort to the truth. Honesty is actually the best policy sometimes. Despite how much I lie. I made a face, wrinkling my nose as I remembered the disgustingly graphic images from yesterday. "Patsy showed me your sex tape," I said bluntly, not even pausing to account for or register the shocked look on his face. "It was enlightening," I finished sarcastically, rolling my eyes at him. Travis looked like a fish; he was that shocked. Oh, please! It's Patsy. What did he expect? Discretion?

But Travis recovered fast, and a sly smile sprung back on his face so fast I could've sworn it was on the rebound. He gave me a blatantly suggestive once-over, trailing his hand up my thigh languidly. And damn him, the bastard, he knew exactly what he was doing to me! I felt my breathing speed up as his hand crept further and further up my thigh. Even though there was a layer of fabric between him and my bare skin, I could feel his warmth through the thick medium. He leaned in a little more, and I got caught up in the heady, heavy, utterly masculine scent of his cologne. "Did you like what you saw?" He inquired in a low, throaty voice as his fingers climbed even further up my thigh.

I could only nod helplessly, weak in the knees, and enraptured in the sensation. Travis' hand slipped back down a little, and I was able to catch my breath enough to speak. I managed a small smile, feeling stupid and completely flustered. "Well, I liked the parts with you naked... Ever since then, it's been kinda hard for me to look at you without undressing you with my eyes," I explained, thinking as I spoke. That was stupid of me. Very stupid of me. Travis smirked at me widely, eyes glittering with pride and amusement. I realized what I'd said a moment later and mentally hit myself in the head.

Stupid Jude, I thought. Travis smiled at me, pleased as punch. "Good." The man was so pleased he practically patted me on the head or petted me like an animal. Of course I liked what I saw, though. I mean, seriously, would I be making out with him if I didn't? Obviously not. Travis was so amused by the whole thing. He was like, two steps away from ruffling my hair, no joke.

Travis smiled an indulgent smile, making a big gesture of removing his hand from my thigh entirely. He leaned in, placing a hand on my cheek and smiling at me. "Come detention, you're all mine," He whispered in a deep, quiet voice. I smiled back at Travis, and before he could kiss me, I closed the gap between us. I brushed my lips against his, relishing each and every spark I felt. I pulled back, feeling a flush rising up in my cheeks. Travis pulled me against him one last time, lips mere inches away from my own. "Now, come on, Harrison... Get your ass to class," He drawled in a near snarl, smirking widely.

Travis pulled away, knowing full well how much I wanted to kiss him. Smirking all the way, he straightened his clothes and slipped out the door first. After all, he had a class to teach. On his way out, he turned off the lights, leaving me in obscurity and darkness. As soon as the door closed, I pressed my back against it once again. I slid down the door, exhaling dazedly. A silly grin was plastered all over my face. For a moment there, I just sat there, sighing and thinking of Travis. Then I remembered, like Travis said, that I had to get my ass to class. So I did. I hauled ass out of that room and down the hallway, still smiling like an idiot.

I wasn't really that late to class, maybe five minutes at most, but Lyra frowned when she saw me. This was probably because I looked like an escaped mental patient or someone who'd been to a Taiwanese S&M Club and had been bashed lightly by an evil dentist. Not that that's surprising, given the whole... uh... Black leather ensemble. I had obvious sex hair, not to mention that I was walking like a drunk pirate in tranny heels. Not as much fun as it sounds, really. I mean, now, Patsy was fine walking like that. I swear to you, if she wasn't goth/punk/fetish/whatever, she could be a supermodel. She has Janice Dickinson potential, except Patsy's less of a bitch and even... stranger. Patsy has her own walk; it's pretty fierce. It's sort of this visceral pelvic swagger (ew), coupled with these swiveling hips, and these ridiculously long legs and crazy tall high heels. She should model for Vivienne Westwood. I bet her and Malcolm McLaren would just eat Patsy up.

Anyways, as I was saying, I probably looked that whacked out to Lyra. She looked disappointed with me and we had this brief discussion about me being late for the second time. I swore it wouldn't happen again, even though it probably would. I'm a very tardy person. Anyways, no one was in this class with me... Or so I thought, until I went to my seat and then, BAMMO, saw Jamie, who said he'd dropped out of accounting or something sucky like that. I was kinda surprised, but I offered to teach him guitar. See, Lyra was unaware that Jamie was my best friend in the whole world, so she told me to mentor this poor boy who was so fond of music and so unable to produce it. Jamie doesn't have very good pitch, you see, that's why he's not a musician like me. He can tell when others are off-key like a pro, though. It's really, really, really strange.

So I became quickly involved in the art of teaching Jamie guitar... and he sucked. So bad. And Jamie was all set to quit, but then I said he played better than Sid Vicious (which, although he was a notoriously bad bass player, is not true yet). That made Jamie feel a bit better, and then I brought up how Joe Strummer wasn't even that great of a guitar player, hence the last name. And I told him not to expect to be Hendrix or Clapton or Harrison in one day... Because Jamie's no Speed. Speed just happens to be a guitar virtuoso. Anyways, I'll get Jamie decent, come hell or high water. I mean, sure, he can't sing, but when has that ever stopped a rockstar? You don't need to sing to be a rockstar. It sure never stopped Neil Young, who can't sing on-key to save his life. Or Sid Vicious. And look at Bob Dylan, who has made a fortune off of writing songs and singing them worse than Paris Hilton at karaoke. No, actually, that's a lie. _No one_ sings **that** bad. Not even pitchless Jamie and tone-deaf Sadie.

Although it does help, singing, especially if you're a pretty girl like myself. Anyways, so the class seemed to stretch on for eternity. But back to what I was saying earlier about how the other teachers talk about Travis in class... They don't just talk about Travis in there. They talk about _me_ **and** Travis. Apparently word of our legendary feud has even reached the other teachers. They don't know that I brought up charges against him, though, or at least, if they did, Wally's too polite to say anything about it. But yeah, they said it was blatant... The opposite of favoritism, the way Travis was treating me. And they said he was unprofessional and acting like a two-year-old and maybe, just maybe, with the way he singled me out... Maybe he was attracted to me, since he was, after all, only what, eight years older than me?

Kinda dead-on about that one, huh?

I swear to you, I bolted out of that room the second the bell rang like there were rockets attached to my feet. I flew to my locker at practically the speed of light, rifled through my things, chucked my homework in my backpack, and then I started off for Travis' room. However, on the way there, I happened to run into Joan. She seemed a bit distraught, but she wasn't crying or anything. More than anything, she seemed confused and cautious. Joan was restless, tugging on her hair, wringing her hands, rocking back and forth on her heels. She was nervous and jumpy as hell, too... It seemed so wrong and unnatural to see her like that. Joan was always so calm, and I was used to that Joan... That resolute, firm, unyielding Ice Princess.

That isn't to say that Joan wasn't a fun person. She is. Now, I tend to skim over the parts where Joan and I are hanging out and talking and such... mainly because you're not reading this because of Joan. You're reading this because you want to find out what happens to me and Tommy and how this whole Travis situation resolves itself. Joan wanted a distraction, and I somehow knew that instinctively. But I was hungry and I missed Travis and the twisted little tryst we'd been having, which was still so new. I had my very own distraction. And, to be honest, I can't tell you what the hell had gotten into Joan. I don't know what had her so freaked.

Maybe Travis had done something to her, maybe... I don't know. Maybe she was just lonely or something. Or maybe she was regretting that we'd fought. Or maybe... Maybe she knew what was going to happen later on. I can't help but think that she did, and that's why she did what she did later on... I feel bad about it now, how much of a lousy friend I was to Joan that day, when she was so good and patient and forgiving to me. But then again, maybe I deserved what I got. Maybe I deserved it for playing the field and betraying my friends and for wanting what I couldn't and shouldn't have.

Joan looked slightly crazy, to tell the truth. But she was my friend nonetheless, and no matter how much I wanted to run off to see Travis, I owed Joan my attention. "Jude," She asked quietly, in a strange voice, pausing for a brief instant, "Can we talk?" Maybe she wanted to talk to me about Travis, to tell me the truth I already knew. I frowned, wanting to help her, but only a little. Joan suddenly seemed to remember my detention alarmingly. Her eyes widened, looking slightly frightened. But she wasn't scared of me. She was scared _for_ me. Joan nodded slowly, a far away look in her eyes.

It was a side of Joan I had rarely seen, this suddenly quiet, introspective girl. "Right. Your detention. How could I forget?" She muttered thickly, glancing down. She shook her head, pursing her lips. The frown lines deepened on her forehead. There was something strange about the question, though. And the way Joan was acting was really starting to freak me out. It was almost like I didn't even know her at all. Joan looked up at me, swallowing hard. She wasn't crying or anything, but there was still this unbearable sadness about her. "I would've asked if we could do something now, but you have that detention... Maybe we could do something afterward?" Joan questioned in a strangely stilted voice, regaining a bit of her normal composure.

I managed to nod, finding myself more than a bit confused and distracted. "Yeah. Just meet me around... An hour or a half hour from now. I'll probably either be in the classroom or the studio," I explained briefly, trying to remember what Travis had told me. I didn't remember it right, though, and it was damn lucky I didn't. Silly me, I thought about an hour would be enough. I figured that I could maybe get Travis' number and go over to his place and... Well, to be honest, I don't know what I was thinking. It was lucky that I told Joan the wrong time. You see, the detention was supposed to last until five. School ended at two-thirty, and it was about three then when Joan and I talked.

That sounds ridiculous, given how I hustled out of the classroom, but... Okay, so I dawdled a little and said goodbye to people. I just wanted to tease Travis a little. Part of it was the fact that Travis was already so sexually frustrated... Travis is really hot when he's angry, so maybe I wanted to rile him up a little. Last time I checked, that wasn't a crime. So, as I was saying previously, that meant that Joan would come around 4-4:30. I suppose I'd forgotten that Travis had told me five. Like I said, it was a good thing that I forgot, and it was an even better thing that I told her where I thought I'd be. I don't think I ever properly appreciated Joan until later on that day, today.

Then I bade her goodbye, because it was 3:05, and Travis was sure to be bordering on murderous tendencies by this point. His pet peeve, after all, was tardiness. I strutted to Travis' classroom, throwing open the door boldly and dropping my backpack on the floor. I felt rather than saw Travis there, lurking in the shadows. In less than a minute, he'd slammed the door shut. I could feel his rage radiating off the walls, and for a moment, I was almost scared. But then I straightened my posture, threw my hair back and waited for Travis to show himself.

I was not disappointed.

In a flash, I felt Travis' arms enveloping me from behind, and not gently. His grip was rough and possessive. He acted like he owned me. His embrace cut off most of my oxygen supply, and his fingers dug into my ribs. "What took you so long?" He growled hoarsely, lips nearly brushing against my skin. I forced a smile, feeling uncomfortably breathless. I didn't feel like I could say anything, let alone lie. It was like he was choking the breath out of me. Suddenly, Travis jerked me around so that I was facing him and only millimeters away from his face. His eyes were a dark, smoky emerald. His stare was intense and bewitching, and I couldn't help but get lost in it. Travis' eyes were searching, but he eventually seemed to find what it was he was looking for. He clenched his jaw, throwing an arm around my neck. "Screw it," He muttered irritably, so close I could feel his breath brushing against my lips. Then he suddenly pulled back a little, almost as if to get a proper look at me. "I want you, Jude," He said in this thick, husky voice that came all the way from the back of his throat and sent shivers up my spine.

I wanted Travis bad, but I had to be a lady... so of course I couldn't say that. I had to be respectable and play hard to get. I figured the angrier I got Travis, the better it would be... I can't tell you what that _it_ was, because, honestly, I don't know what the hell was going through my mind then. I'm not exactly certain what I was willing do to with the guy, because, to be frank, I was head over heels for the guy, and I half-thought I'd already slept with him. I was pretty damn open to suggestion. So I pulled away from Travis, grinning and placing my finger on his puckered lips. He was pretty far gone, too. His eyes were nearly closed from lust, and he leaned forward a little disorientedly. "Teacher, how did you want me to work off my debt?" I asked in a cloyingly innocent tone, batting my eyelashes at him coquettishly.

To his credit, Travis didn't even flinch. He only reached out and pulled me against him again, eyes still closed. Travis sighed raggedly. "Just kiss me, Jude," He pleaded, leaning towards me infinitesimally. "Kiss me **now**," He ordered needily, in that low, guttural voice of his. "We can figure out the rest later," He mumbled just as I kissed him. It was a promise. But it was his order that I was powerless to resist. When he spoke in that deep, hoarse voice... I was powerless to resist. So I obliged. I kissed Travis, and I like it. When my lips first brushed against his in that one moment, it was like we were coming together after a long, long, long time apart. It was heavenly, and I remember thinking just... Wow. This is what it feels like when someone actually reciprocates your feelings. And like the dumb, stupid little girl I was, I thought that I was in love with Travis. I guess, for the moment, at least... I was.

When I pulled back from Travis, believe it or not, I almost told him that. I was so star-struck. It's funny, though. I'm never that much of an idiot around Tommy. Travis looked really happy when I pulled back, breathless and flushed. He leaned his forehead against mine, looked me straight in the eyes, and he admitted unashamedly, "I missed you, girl." I would've killed for one of those from Tommy, you know that? All I got when I got home from tour was nothing... avoidance... And when he saw me in Montreal, it was all yelling and lies. And okay... maybe a kiss or two. Whatever. But I'd only seen Travis last less than an hour ago... and he still missed me. I was touched, so it never occurred to me that he might've just missed making out with me.

It's funny, too, because earlier I'd scorned his usage of that tired old cliché, "I want you", and now, here I was... eating it up. I hadn't done that for Tommy... And there I was doing it for Travis. I didn't even care that he'd called me girl, and I hate that, I really do... Because it's what Tommy calls me, Tommy and no one else! And in that moment I couldn't do anything but kiss him again. I was weak and stupid, and I will never, ever, _ever_ like Travis again!

A few moments later, Travis pulled back, breathless and smiling like he'd just won the lottery. For a moment, it looked as if he was going to say something, but he thought the better of it. He just closed his mouth and drew in a breath slowly. I frowned at him, but I leaned forward nonetheless... not to kiss him again, like he expected. I smiled softly and ran my fingers through his hair. His hair was so soft. I sighed pleasantly and leaned against him, burying my face in his chest. And as much as I hate to admit it, it was nice, really, really nice. It felt good being so close to him and his skin, all wrapped up in his smell, with his arms around me like a warm, protective cocoon. I liked it there, and in that one, long, eternal moment... My only place was there in his arms.

Travis sighed blissfully, still a little breathless. The corners of his lips turned up as if he was incapable of rending the smile off of his face. He rested his head lightly on top of mine so that his chin just brushed my hair. Then he bent down a little to press his pretty lips against my forehead in an innocent kiss. He smoothed my hair afterwards, tucking loose strands behind my ears, and trying to fix the disarray he'd caused. It didn't work, but it was a sweet gesture. "Je suis _infatué_ avec toi," He murmured solemnly, bringing me further into the warmth of his embrace. I stared up at him adoringly just then and finally managed to catch his gaze, making sure that he understood that the feelings were quite reciprocated.

I grinned right back at him like an punch-drunk groupie. I felt like I was one of those ridiculous people you see in a musical. We are in a high school, after all... It could be like Grease. We've even got the hair gel and Ramones-esque leather jackets. And I suddenly understood the irrational desire to suddenly break out into song all too well. But this isn't a Bollywood picture, so I quelled it, debating whether not to kiss him again. I sure wanted to. And, really, how many times in my life have I ever gotten exactly what I wanted? You know, aside from that whole Instant Star thing. "Je t'adore," I muttered simply, unable to get out any other words. If I had, I would've broken out into a chorus of "'Til There Was You" or something like that.

Which would've been utterly ridiculous and completely would have blown the mood. Travis laughed softly, taking my hand and tugging me towards the door. I resisted, reluctant to leave the safety of this room. It just had this sort of soft, dreamy love glow to it, which was really just a result of the blinds being drawn and the overhead lights being turned off. It was so warm and lovely... and the only thing I was missing was the proper background music. I pouted at Travis, who sighed, feigning irritation. He walked back towards me, and I backed up nervously. I wasn't afraid of him or anything, no, not anymore... I just didn't want him to start tickling me or something. However, I couldn't escape near fast enough because before I knew it, Travis' arms were around my waist, and he was pulling me towards him.

I was flailing, but he merely smiled at me, amused, and leaned in a bit further. "Did I ever tell you how sexy it is when you talk French?" Travis practically purred, nuzzling my neck. That tickled. I giggled stupidly as he started to kiss my neck. His lips made a wet trail up my neck and down my jawline until he stopped just under my earlobe. He pulled back, but only slightly, so that he could look at me. And look he did. But Travis didn't just look. He stared at me openly, unashamedly, with dark, hungry, molten green eyes. The gold flecks in his eyes glittered and then flashed. He undressed me with his eyes, and he had his way with me with his piercing stare. I could only look back helplessly, trying to be aloof but feeling that I was failing at it more and more by the minute. I wanted to kiss him so badly I could hardly stand it, but I refrained out of propriety.

Actually, that's a lie. Dressed as I was, all over him as I had been, there was no propriety left any more. I was just being a tease. I smiled instead, biting my lip and forcing myself to stand still. There was just something about that moment. It made me feel like we were in a movie, and there was a rock 'n' roll love song playing in the background. If it was in a movie, it'd be like that moment where the two characters start to see each other in a different light or fall in love. Or kiss. Travis looked at me curiously, differently, as if he was debating something. "Come on... I want to show you something," He said mysteriously, grabbing my hand again. He seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, so I had to run to keep up with him.

Then he pushed the door open and held it like that for me. However, this also meant that I almost went spiraling into the hallway, but his grip on my hand was firm and warm... and strong. It was a good sign. He kept smiling, looking completely boyish and foolish, of course... But he was just so adorable that it made me smile. I don't know why, maybe it was because we were in high school... But he seemed so much younger then, so carefree- and I had never known Travis to be carefree. In fact, he was usually the opposite: frustrated and awfully temperamental. And yet, despite all of that baggage... I liked Travis. I mean, I really liked him. Every time I even thought his name, I smiled.

He shut the door with a menacing thud that echoed throughout the hallway. It was spooky, too, how no one was there, but I paid that no mind. Still holding my hand, although looking a bit more serious, Travis made his way to the school's studio, which was only a short walk away from his classroom, with me in tow. I would've laughed at his eagerness, but I sensed that it was the wrong place, this wide, open hallway, for such an action. Something about the idea of me and Travis in school was just so... private. Yeah, I know how ironic that sounds, considering that he made out with me in the back parking lot... But what can I say? It was still a new idea to me, this thing I had going with Travis.

Believe it or not, in that moment, I actually saw it having a future. It was stupid of me, but I couldn't help but get caught up in Travis like he was this mystery I wanted to solve. And then he opened the door to the studio, and all the thoughts sort of evaporated. I couldn't help but follow him in, even though it gave me a funny feeling. I felt it in my stomach, this fluttering feeling that everything wasn't exactly right. And I knew it was wrong; Travis knew it too. But neither of us cared about that for whatever reason. I didn't know what he was going to do, but it seemed innocent enough. It could've gone worse.

Travis shut the door behind me, but it wasn't shut all the way. Neither of us noticed that, though. You see, the studio is this small, enclosed space. It's an addition to the school, so it's small and it has no windows, except, of course, for the glass. It's really small because decent studios (i.e. Equipment) cost a fortune. The actual recording space is big... It's just the booth where you actually do the singing that's small. It's very tidy in there, well-kept and efficient. There's a little storage cabinet in the back. There also happens to be three couches in the room. One's this red vinyl contraption that's totally retro and totally rock and roll, and then there are two that are sort of broken-in rejects. They're black and green, fairly clean. The couches flank the sides with the red one in the middle a ways behind the soundboard. There's fancy swivel chairs a few feet in front of it for the producer and engineer. It's painted this soothing sort of emerald green color, except the recording booth, which is black from the soundproofing.

I can't help but think that Travis had something to do with the color selection. The whole time we'd been walking to the place, Travis had held my hand. He even continued to do so when we entered the studio. However, the second he saw the soundboard, he immediately dropped my hand and strode towards it. But halfway there, he seemed to remember something, and so he suddenly stopped, turned around, and opened the back closet. I watched in silence as he dug around in it for a while. After a few moments, he emerged triumphantly, brandishing a CD. By then, he was too far away for me to see what the CD was. It was a big room. It also didn't help that he was waving it in the air like a madman. A victorious Travis, grinning brightly, walked over to the soundboard. He opened the jewel case carefully, pulling out the CD adeptly. He proceeded to stick the CD into a slot on the soundboard. Then, of course, dear Travis just had to go and press that fateful play button.

I later found out that it was a mix CD, which sort of surprised me. I would've expected Travis to have the real deal. Then again, maybe he had all the real CDs and just made that one so he could have all the songs he liked on it. But, I don't know... It was strange, almost like he'd read my mind. The first song that came on was "I Want You Around", which is like, the ultimate punk rock love song. I honestly don't know how Travis knew that that's one of my favorite songs... Or maybe we just have freakishly similar taste. It's a melodic, sort of sweet song, and it perfectly suited the moment. What was really funny was that I'd been sort of imagining it playing in my head (as part of my built-in soundtrack) earlier.

I guess the moment could've been more romantic. Travis could've actually been playing the guitar and/or singing it to me. Or we could've been in a place lighted with candles... Or something. But that's why I love this song. It was so stripped down and basic. Simple, like love should be. It's not a huge, mushy declaration, either. Just... I want you around. And then Travis sauntered towards me as if in a dream, and I practically melted to a puddle on the floor. He stopped real short of me, so he was in my face a lot, and then he backed me up towards that red vinyl couch. I flopped down on it inelegantly, and Travis leaned forward and started singing along. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Here was this completely gorgeous guy, who was sweet and funny to boot (although that's really quite debatable), falling all over me. Travis, international dreamboat and school sex symbol, wanted me. He was singing to me. It was all so inconceivable. "_I want you around. **I** want you around_," Travis chanted in a low, husky voice. His nose was only inches from mine. I was transfixed by the beautiful image he made there, standing in front of me, looking like a Greek god. I wanted him around too, so badly. Why had I ever conspired to be rid of him? I felt then that I'd be lost without Travis, completely at sea... And I didn't know how I'd gotten there so quickly. "_They're telling us. They're gonna make a fuss... about the two of us_," Travis continued in a quiet voice. His calloused fingers brushed against my cheek, smoothing over my skin like it was made of velvety-soft rose petals.

I smiled at him, and he grabbed my hands slowly. He pulled me up soon after, careful to treat me like glass.

I suddenly felt like I was Riff Randall being serenaded by Joey Ramone. Only I wasn't high or wearing only red underwear... And, unfortunately, the studio was not my bedroom... Nor was Dee Dee Ramone soaked and playing bass in my shower, which I have to say is damn disappointing. I briefly entertained the thought of Travis soaked to the bone in my shower back home, playing the guitar and crooning along. To say the least, it was a pleasant picture. "_I want you around. **I **want you around_," Travis drawled with a sly grin. He pulled me towards him a little bit, raising my hands in the air so he could get a better look at my outfit.

His smirk widened, and I looked down, somewhat embarrassed at the way Travis was seeing me. His thoughts were written plainly all over his face. His smile was knowing. "_I know what you're thinking about_," He assured confidently, nodding. Then his eyes took on a suddenly thoughtful, serious look. "_That you must have some doubts_," He replied softly, almost as if he was unsure about this... thing. He was right, too. I did have some doubts, some pretty big ones. But they were so far from my mind at that very moment it was almost laughable. In that moment when Travis was unsure, he looked so vulnerable. I just wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let go. It was this completely irrational urge, but I tugged on Travis' hands and pulled him slightly closer to me.

I tried to rest my head on his chest, to get so close I could feel the heat radiating off of his skin, but Travis pushed me away lightly. He smiled in a soothing way, but I still didn't understand. He had a way of turning me away gently that didn't make me feel like I was rejected. I don't know why, but I guess he just needed to look at me and know that I was really there, before him. "_I know what you're thinking... when you find out_," He sang in a clear voice, drawing out the last word. He lifted one of my hands up to his mouth and kissed the back of my hand warmly. His lips were full and warm against my skin. What I couldn't get over was how the whole time he did that, he never took his eyes off of me... not even once. After what seemed to be an eternity, he removed his lips from my hand. He brought the hand down, lacing our fingers together. Then Travis leaned down comfortably close to my mouth, and he whispered, "_I want you around_."

I was starry-eyed by that point, and I leaned in to try and kiss him. But Travis merely smiled and pulled away before our lips could connect. Now he was being the tease. I guess he wanted to finish the song. "Y_ou know if it comes **true**_," Travis began sincerely, staring at me fixedly. He poked me lightly in the chest, right above where my cleavage started, and left his finger there. "_I'll be so good to you_," He promised as his finger traced a heart on my skin. The way he said it made it sound like he really meant it and that he'd try. I wish I could say I was sure that he was earnest, but I wasn't. I wanted so badly to believe in him, to believe in someone, that I was too trusting. So I pushed my worries down and focused on living in the moment.

He was making promises that I think he knew I couldn't keep. He licked his lips. "_I'll never treat you **cruel**_," He intoned soberly, looking suddenly regretful. It was almost an apology for all the lousy things he'd done for me. I thought it meant he was regretting the thing, but I was wrong. As silly as it sounds, a part of me still couldn't trust Travis, which was just as well... Because that was the side of me that ended up being right in the end. Only I didn't want that side to be right. I honestly wanted to believe that Travis was the guy I'd made him out to be. I wanted to believe that there was some good left in him. So I kept waiting for a catch, you know? I held my breath and the wait during the next few seconds seemed to stretch on forever. It seemed like life was moving in slow motion as I awaited this answer. And then it came, of course, with the next line. "_As long as I have you around_," He finished with a happy smile.

Travis finished the song, and I absorbed each and every word, falling deeper and deeper under his spell. As the song ended, I walked over to him and wordlessly kissed him. I broke the kiss a few seconds later, and he kissed me again and again. Each kiss lasted only a few seconds, but he must've kissed me a hundred times. Then "Do You Wanna Dance?" came on, so Travis asked me if I wanted to dance. Only he didn't ask with words; there was just such a strong connection between us that it was no longer necessary. Even with Tommy, I'd never been to the level of conversation without words. Yet here I was, sending Travis flirtatious messages with my eyes. We danced for a while, maybe two songs... Which equates to about 4-5ish minutes.

Then Travis started kissing me again, and we sort of stopped dancing. He kissed me on the neck first, and after that, well, I sort of lost count. I remember the first thing I did, though. I practically ripped off that stupid red blazer of his. Man, was it stupid. He looked good enough to eat, so I pulled him off of my neck with some difficulty. I grabbed fiercely him by the collar of his shirt (or lack thereof). My lips crashed hungrily against his, teeth and all. I would've kissed him on the neck, but, well, he was sort of beringed with dark, dark violet bruises as it was. Patsy had definitely done a number on him, and it felt dirty to touch some other girl's marks. The thing with Patsy was still fresh and still very, very, very disgusting to me. As willing as I was, it still felt sort of dirty. Although I was dressed in her clothes, I wasn't Patsy.

Travis coerced the jacket off of me so smoothly I scarcely noticed. Not that I especially cared. Travis was a an awful firm disciplinarian. If all of his punishments were like this, maybe I ought to look into getting more detentions... I was lightheaded with the happiness of it all. Come to think of it, maybe that was the oxygen deprivation. Travis really has an impressive lung capacity. I giggled against his lips. "I think this is the best detention I've ever had," I muttered gutturally in between kisses. I felt Travis smile amusedly. His hands crept up the outside of my shirt, and it felt so good. It felt a lot like when I was dating Shay to tell you the truth. Good on the outside, but empty on the inside... Empty of real, lasting feelings.

I fell for Shay so fast, you know? And I did love him... But well, I guess the song says it all. _Waste my time, waste my time... I'm not so sure that I'll be yours, but baby, you could be mine. It's all about... hanging out... 'Cause you know how to waste my time._ Not that Shay and I had ever done anything like what I was doing with Travis. "Then I guess I'll just have to give you some more," Travis murmured huskily so that the words brushed over my lips. His hair was softer than I'd remembered. I buried my fingers in it, tugging lightly on the ends just to annoy him. "I bet you commit tons of infractions every minute," He mumbled, ravenously attacking my lips. He left a trail of wet kisses down my jawline, coming up for a momentary gasp of air before he started in on my neck. My skin tingled everywhere he touched, drying quickly. I tilted my head back so it was easier for him to kiss all the right places.

"Like now?" I barely managed to gasp out, just as Travis found a particularly sensitive spot on my neck. This was exactly what Travis was best at. He could do things to my skin that damn near made my eyes roll back in my head. I couldn't focus on anything but the moment and barely even that. I licked my lips, still tasting him, remembering the feel of him. Then I pulled him closer, sliding a hand up the back of his shirt. His skin was hot and slightly sweaty, which surprised me. His muscles were firm and lean under my fingers. I ran my hands along the ridges of his spine, kneeding the taut muscles as my hand went up his back. He was predictably stiff under my touch. I could tell it was driving him crazy, but I wanted to tease him just a little bit more. I dug my nails into his skin, leaving a painful scratch down his back. Travis hissed from the pain, shutting his eyes closed tightly. His back, however, was virtually untouched from his encounter with Patsy, so it didn't hurt that much. His skin was smooth and so slick.

And we stayed like that for a while, Travis attached to my neck like a leech, me with both my hands wrapped around his back... The song changed again and again, it seemed. "She's the One", "She's a Sensation", "Don't Come Close", "Something to Believe In"... He smirked during "She Belongs to Me", which I found peculiar... Then "I Lost My Mind", "All Screwed Up", "Indian Giver", "Death of Me"...I remember noticing that "I Want to Be Your Boyfriend" wasn't on the CD, which perplexed me some because I thought it should be. I know that's a strange thing to be thinking of, as... in the moment, let's say... as I was. But I was seriously searching it out. I think I wanted Travis to, I dunno, want that. Although maybe Travis' decision not to include that particular song was founded out of another reason... Maybe he didn't like it. Or maybe he was petty enough in his dislike of my blue-eyed prince, who of course wasn't really mine or a prince, that he didn't want to include a single song written by Tommy Ramone. And, maybe there's the obvious; he didn't want me getting the silly, mistaken, completely, wholly _wrong_ idea that he actually wanted to be my boyfriend.

I think somewhere deep down I knew that he didn't want anything serious, but that didn't make me stop. I don't know why, either. I wasn't that kind of girl. A few moments later, just as "53rd and 3rd" started up, Travis slowly pushed down one of the straps to my top. His lips followed it down, gently kissing my shoulder, and I didn't care. However, there was this overwhelming sense that something wasn't right that stuck with me. It sort of hung over my head like a dark cloud and made me feel increasingly nervous. But I tried to brush that strange feeling off as best I could, which was relatively easy given the situation. The song changed again. "Can't Control Myself", which I guess was fittingly ironic, given what followed. Travis pushed the other strap of my outfit down, and I still didn't care. His lips were moist and so soft that I pulled him off my skin and up for another kiss. I felt flushed and pleasantly warm and tingly all over.

And I really, really, really liked Travis. I was crazy, of course, but I didn't care. My only concern was making out with a hot guy, and honestly, can you blame me? He tasted sweet, and his lips were sticky like caramel. But I don't think Travis liked that, me pulling him back up to me for a kiss and taking control. Because, sure, he was comfortable enough to stick his tongue down my throat, but he seemed suddenly so angry. He bit down hard on my lip, and it wasn't so fun anymore. It hurt, but Travis didn't notice. Actually, he probably didn't even care. He was so hungry he just sucked right on my lip, lapping up the metallic taste of blood like a vampire. That fluttering, nervous feeling I'd felt before started to rise up in me again and this time I couldn't quite push it down, bury it, and forget about it. And I couldn't ignore it, either, because it was right there underneath my skin, a continuous reminder like an itch I couldn't scratch.

Needless to say, the fluttering feeling stayed in my stomach. I felt sick to my stomach, so nauseous I could barely stand, and I didn't know why. I was starting to get worried, but what Travis was doing still felt so good that I didn't care. It helped me to get my mind off my stomach. I wrote the feeling off as butterflies, deciding that maybe I really liked Travis. I only get butterflies around guys I really like. But the feeling wasn't butterflies, and it sure as hell didn't go away, no matter how hard I kissed Travis or what he could do with his tongue and his perfect lips. In fact, the feeling only seemed to grow as time went on. It felt like dangerous, volatile nervous energy running through my already excited veins. Once again, I wrote it off as sensory overload. My heart raced like I'd run a track meet, and my pulse was erratic and fluttery at best.

I tried to catch my breath, but it didn't work. I suddenly felt like I was suffocating. Had the room always been this hot? So I took a deep breath, but I found that too hard to do as Travis' lips went lower and lower down my skin. He was kissing me like it was so easy to him. And I hated how easy it was and how much he affected me a little more every time my breath hitched. Eventually, his grasping fingers came to rest on the front of my shirt. He traced my neckline with one finger, deliberately making sure to brush against the heated skin beneath the stretchy fabric. I shuddered, hating that I relished the feeling and wanted him to touch more of my skin. And then I hated myself for hating that natural feeling. I took a sharp intake of breath, which made me feel only a slightly less lightheaded. Then Travis slowly started to unfasten the hooks that happened to hold my shirt closed. He didn't stop, either, not even for a break.

His lips slackened a little on my neck, and his fingers kept undoing hook after hook with ease. He made sure to skim my bare flesh on the way down too, and every time it singed my nerve endings. However, suddenly I noticed that he had unbuttoned my shirt half the way. And I realized that, hey, that wasn't cool! I don't know why that occurred to me then, but I didn't feel ready for... this... for whatever Travis had intended to do to me. Which was just so utterly stupid of me because I knew what he wanted all along. He wanted me and he wanted to have sex with me. It was as plain as that. But that was all he wanted, nothing else. No relationship, no nothing. Just sex, and I was unwilling to give that to him.

Regardless of whatever the hell I'd done the night before... And whether or not it had involved a condom, I was not ready for this. I didn't want to have sex with him. Not like this. Not now. Only I sort of did, really, but... It wasn't right, and I knew it wasn't... And suddenly, I was just all too nostalgic for Tommy, who wouldn't dare to touch me. Everything Travis had said and done before was just an act to lull me into a false sense of confidence, making me think that this was what I wanted. That he was what I wanted. Because, you see, that's how he reels them all in. And I was stupid enough to believe it. I was dumb enough to fall for his act. But I wasn't dumb enough to worship him. Just like I wasn't dumb enough to say yes and agree to something I didn't want or need.

And as soon as I realized that, I couldn't do it. And damn if I didn't want a normal teacher right about then. So I pushed Travis off of me, and I tried to straighten myself up. I felt low and dirty. He was still using me, even then after he'd pretended to be sincere. I was so... humiliated and embarrassed by it all that I just wanted to get out of there and forget about this ever happening. I had just started refastening my bustier when Travis came at me again. He thought I was teasing him again, but he couldn't have been more wrong. His lips crushed mine in a passionate display, and I couldn't help but respond. First big mistake.

I was weak in the knees and still lightheaded and breathing fast, so I pulled away reluctantly and shook my head. I took a full step backwards, away from him, refastening the hooks as I went. I was trying to show him I meant business, but as usual, he failed to grasp that. He charged at me again, but I flew to the side, dodging him as best as I could. "No, Travis," I managed to get out in a dead whisper. I looked him in the eyes, not yet afraid. "No," I insisted louder this time. He crept towards me, and I began to panic. "No!" I cried a final time, backing up even more. The worry sounded in my voice, and the word ended on an odd, sour note. It was an unfinished, broken word.

For you see, seconds after I said it, Travis flew at me, an animalistic urge burning in his eyes. His eyes were darker than I've ever seen them, so dark of an evergreen that they appeared black. I was afraid. Very afraid. And boy, did I have the right to be! I never remembered being so absolutely petrified of Travis in all the time I'd known him. Not in the club, not in the bathroom, not in my own room, not outside against my car... Not even in the janitor's closet had I been this terrified. Within seconds, I was pressed up flush against him. He backed me into the soundboard with a menacing, hungry gleam in his eye. I was shaking, biting down on my lip so hard it started to bleed again. But Travis didn't care. It didn't even register to him. He stared at me with pitch black, dead eyes, and he was completely devoid of any emotion... save lust. I was immediately repulsed by this, but I couldn't do anything.

At first, I was too paralyzed by fear to move, but then I knew I had to do something. I knew what Travis wanted by then all too well, and it was clear how far he was willing to go to get it. I didn't have a choice this time. This time I knew exactly what the bastard was going to do to me, and I'd be damned before I just **sat** there and let it happen to me. I am not that kind of girl, no matter what errors in judgment I made before. I am and will always be a fighter. So you better believe I fought back. I struggled against him, pushed forward, but that was a mistake, too. I only wound up pushing myself further against Travis, who'd made it all too clear how much he wanted me. He only groaned from the effort, eyes shutting reflexively, and pulled me closer.

I felt like throwing up, but I tried to use that to my advantage. I tried to slip away from him, but his grip was too firm. He held me in place and when he opened his eyes, it became clear that he was furious. I wiggled and struggled. I tried to hit him, but he grabbed my arms so hard I could feel the bruises forming. I tried to shove him off me, but he pushed me back. Eventually, I got desperate, and I kneed him in the groin. I had almost managed to slip away when he grabbed me by the wrist so hard that he whirled me around, and I swear I heard something snap. My wrist exploded in pain and I cried out, hoping that someone could hear me. I screamed bloody murder at the top of my lungs, putting all the breath I had in me into it, but it was to no avail. No Prince Charming janitor was there to hear me. And even if one had been, the area was pretty much entirely soundproofed, which makes me wonder if Travis had planned this all out from the moment he met me. Who knows? Maybe he just thought a studio would be a good place to shack up.

My eyes were wide and quickly filling with tears of the realization that no one was coming to help me, but I tried frantically to blink them away. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, feel the blood rushing in my veins. I was lightheaded, and my head ached something awful. My throat was hoarse and dry, but I kept screaming as loud as I could. And then, of course, after a few seconds, Travis kissed me hard, silencing my vocal protests. He took all the breath out of me and yanked me towards the soundboard once again, pressing my body against it. It was like some sick fantasy he had, to have Tommy's girl up against the soundboard. I guess it would've worked better if that had actually been Tommy's home-turf, but it wasn't. He made me bend over backwards to accommodate him, pushing me into all those hard buttons and stiff nobs. And I hated it, God, I hated it!

Travis put my hands on his shirt, still pressing me against the soundboard with his lower body. He glared at me sternly as if he wanted me to do something. But I didn't know what he wanted me to do. I was so scared. Then his eyes narrowed, and he got real mean. "Take it off," He snapped venemously. And then suddenly, it wasn't about me at all. None of it really was. I don't know why he'd cornered me there, but it wasn't really because he wanted me or because he wanted sex. Maybe it was because he wanted Joan, and maybe he was frustrated that she wouldn't give him any leeway. Or maybe he was sick of me being a prick tease, and he decided to take matters into his own hands. Maybe I was just some symbol to him of everything he hated, and maybe he wanted to conquer me, to crush me, to drag me down into the abyss with him and make me his bitch. Maybe it was for control like those MOCSA people always said, because his life seemed to be lacking so much in that lately... and Travis was a control freak. I was a big chaos factor in his life, and maybe he thought this would end that and make me predictable. Hell, maybe he was even so pissed at Tommy that he wanted to take away that innocent part of me that Tommy loved so much... That he was going to make a competition out of this and beat Tommy by getting there first, by viciously taking what Tommy wanted for himself.

My fingers shook as I slowly began to pull the shirt over his head. Travis was in a rather vulnerable place, and I tried to leave while the shirt was over his head, but he just grabbed my arm and pulled it all the way off with one hand. He grip was like steel, and his eyes were like diamonds... Not that they gleamed or sparkled, but that they were unyielding, unbreakable, and biting. A new song started to play, and Travis stiffened even more. It was "I'm Affected", and had I not been scared out of my mind, I might've laughed bitterly at the irony. "You leave when _I_ say you do," Travis growled threateningly, twisting my wrist painfully. It wasn't the hurt one, but it felt like he was breaking my arm. I gulped fearfully, and he let go of my arm. I wanted to rub it, but he roughly slammed his hips against mine, and my knees buckled. I fell painfully against the soundboard, but Travis only grinned vilely. I felt even more sick to my stomach, hating that I'd ever flirted with him, hating that I'd kissed him and touched him and actually _liked_ him... But most of all, I just hated him.

I focused on a line of the song, trying not to think about the pain, what Travis was going to do, or how scraped up I was. Something suddenly occurred to me, and I realized why he'd stiffened when this particular song had started to play. If it was even possible, I was even more disgusted with him. He was so repulsive that I didn't even want to be _near_ him. And by near, I mean in the same city. "Brown eyes, Travis?" I asked angrily, feeling suddenly bold and reckless. Too reckless, of course, for the position I was in. "You made this mix for _Joan_, didn't you?" I continued rhetorically, accusingly, suddenly talking so fast I wondered how the words didn't all blur together. I wasn't just afraid. I was hurt, and I was offended. I had real feelings for Travis, and he was just using me. I thought I could trust him, and how wrong had I been? For the first time, an emotion registered on Travis' impassive features. He looked incensed, and that should've been a warning, but I just continued on. I couldn't let it go. I had to poke the bear.

I should've known it would only make him more enraged, and I probably did... It made him rougher with me, but I wanted to delay it as much as I could, so I kept talking. My big fat mouth. "What, were you gonna hold her after too, tell her you wanted to show her something, then drag her here where no one could hear her scream?" I shouted irately, red in the face. I pushed my hands against Travis' flat, bare chest as hard as I could, but he barely moved. "Were you going to try and seduce her too? And then **rape** her like you're gonna do to me if she said _no_?!" I snarled so bitterly and so lividly that I barely had any voice left. I knew right after I said that that there would be repercussions. I thought he was going to slap me, but I didn't care. It needed to be said, and I thought that maybe me making a point of it would snap him out of his state. But it only got Travis even more pissed off, which I certainly didn't need. Travis slammed me violently against the soundboard, leaning in so close to my skin I could feel the heat radiating off of him. I ignored the pain as best I could. I had bigger fish to fry. I leaned in closer to him, an ill-hatched plan in mind. "Were you, Travis?" I sneered in a mocking hiss, feeling my breath against his neck.

Travis pulled back suddenly, and I almost thought he'd regained his senses. But he was too infuriated, too fierce, and entirely too aroused for that. He scowled at me nastily. A dark, malevolent fire flashed dangerously in his dusky green eyes. I should have ducked or headbutted him or... or... or... DONE SOMETHING. But I didn't, and I was rewarded by him grabbing me by the hair. He yanked hard on my head, holding fast to the fistful of my hair, and I felt like he was ripping my hair out. The searing pain nearly overwhelmed me. He came in real close to my face, so close that he leaned in and I could feel his hot breath on my cheeks. "Don't you _ever_... ever say anything about _her_ ever again. Don't even open your **dirty** little mouth to say her name. You're not even worthy of that," He spat threateningly, glowering at me so intensely I could barely breathe. Then he let go of my hair abruptly and threw my head against the glass wall. I welcomed the dull head pain, hoping he'd give me a concussion or something so I wouldn't have to remember this. But, of course, I was not that lucky.

I glared daggers at him, hoping that they stabbed into him like he deserved. I was petrified, but not into silence. I'm too stupid to know when to shut it, I guess. And something about his little threat really offended me. I was just as pissed if not more, and I'd be damned if I was going out like this. If he wanted it, he was going to have to get it over my cold, dead body. There was no way I'd willingly consent. Suddenly, any pain but that _one_ pain was worth it because it would delay him the satisfaction of getting what his stupid, sick, twisted, perverted mind demanded. I was limp against that board for only a few minutes, catching my breath, before I started in on him again. I intended to make it as unpleasant as possible. "Oh, so I'm worthy of commiting rape, _then_, you lousy sonuvabitch?!" I snapped poisonously, slamming my forehead against his and then taking the extra step of shoving him back. He grabbed me once again before I could escape, and he held me in place. I was terrified that I'd be dead by tomorrow, but I had to keep fighting.

My head ached, and I knew Travis was even more furious. I didn't want to get him mad. But when people get angry, they get sloppy... Travis wasn't sloppy yet. I just wanted to hold him off. That's all I wanted to do. "You say one more word about my mother, and I'll murder you, Harrison," Travis bit back ferociously. I didn't know if he meant it, but it sure frightened me. His hands dug into my shoulders. He moved so fast I didn't see it coming. He was just like lightning, even with the shock. Travis grabbed the outsides of my thighs, picked me up, fingers skimming my ass, and set me on a remotely smooth part of the soundboard. I felt dirty, and I wanted to wash his touch off of me. He leaned forward, holding up my hands and pressing me right against the glass wall. He pushed my hands flat against the glass so I couldn't fight back. But I had words for that, and words were all I needed. I'd hit a sore spot, and I knew just how best to press it.

I grinned cruelly, but I was really baring my teeth at him. It was more of a grimace, to tell the truth, but I wouldn't let him know that. I plastered a dumb look on my face. "Why, do you have a problem with that, Oedipus?" I asked coolly, spitefully throwing the accent on the last word so he would understand just what I meant by that. Well, I hadn't said anything about his mother, per se... Just his relationship with her. Somebody's a Momma's Boy, you see. "Did Mommy _touch_ you when you were little?" I questioned clinically as if I were a doctor, feigning innocence. He knew exactly what I meant by that comment, though, and I saw him begin to weaken a little. Travis' jaw tightened, and I grinned bitterly, glad my words had affected him. He didn't do anything at first, and the words were coming out of me like water, so I didn't stop. I licked my dry lips, needing a boost of courage. "Did her fingers creep ever so slowly underneath the elastic band of your underwear at night right before she tucked you in your bed?" I began nastily, smiling a sick smile. The words flowed like wine, smooth and sweet. The thoughts, however, weren't so sweet. It was a dirty scarlet wine, of course.

Dirty like blood, which was the whole purpose of my little speech... drive the knife in a little deeper. Travis' eyes darkened, and he slammed me against the wall again, but I kept talking. "And were her fingers _hot_ against your skin, did she grin a gleaming white smile, liking the way she affected you?" I inquired, grinning myself at the darkness, loving the power I felt. Maybe I'd just hit upon a grain of truth... I stared at him through cold eyes that flickered with amusement as I weaved my web. "And did she lie to you from those _pretty_ lips that loved to kiss you on the mouth and say that it was **okay** and **right** for her to do that, for her to touch you like she did? And that it wasn't wrong for you to respond back? And when you were a teenager, did she lure you to your bed and give you lessons on how to do it right and make you pleasure her in all the _best_ ways?" By this point I knew that I'd gone way too far, but I didn't care. He deserved it, and it had distracted him more than enough. Travis' grip on me loosened, and he looked horrified and sickened by my incestuous little tale. "Did she make you orgasm like you made her?" Actually, _that_ was when I really went too far, but, well... "And did you lie to yourself and say that it wasn't **wrong** what she did to you? And that it wasn't **wrong** that you liked it, that you wanted to be inside her _always_, like you were when you were a little baby, only not _that_ way at all... the way your **father** had been on her wedding night and the night you'd been conceived. And all you did was _love_ her. You loved her so much, so much that it killed you... You practically burst to say it, but you could never tell anyone. Because she was your mother, and you couldn't love her in that way, and what would they say? And then she left you, cast you aside for your _father_ and the Mexican pool boy... And that just **ate** you up inside, didn't it? Because you _still_ wanted her, and you still loved her, even if it was **incest**," I finished darkly, taking advantage of Travis' distracted state to slide forward a little.

Unfortunately for me, he snapped out of his disgusted daze far faster than I anticipated. Naturally, he was beyond furious, beyond irate, beyond any stage of anger I'd ever seen before. He grabbed my wrists again, this time with one hand, and he held them up high against the safety glass. I met his gaze unashamedly, hating him and everything he stood for more than I could believe. I didn't love him, and I never had... And never would again, I vowed silently. It was then that I knew I was a goner. And I would be okay, I assured myself. I had fought my damndest, and I had gotten him back with a dark dive into the realm of Jude's thoughts. It was all up to God now, or rather, Satan (since I somehow doubted God really wanted something like this to happen to me, considering he's a father and all). I might not be the most religious person, but I can't think of one father that would be okay with something like this happening to his daughter; that's for sure! Still, I prayed for someone to save me desperately, even though I knew it wouldn't come true. Travis' eyes were inhuman and cruel. But above everything, they were empty. "**God**, could you want me to touch you any more?" He countered irritably, as if I actually had been asking for it. Could I want you to touch me any _less_, I retorted in my head. I dared not say it aloud because I knew instinctively that if I did something like that again, Travis would murder me. Not murder me... He probably would've slapped me. He rolled his eyes at me and then unzipped his jeans right there in front of me.

Travis wasn't wearing anything under those jeans. What a great day to go commando. I kept thinking that I should've expected it, but the truth is that I didn't. This only further served to reassert the idea that Travis had somehow planned all of this out. And the fact that I might've had sex with him last night was looking increasingly more likely. I was revolted at the mere thought. I felt my heart slow down, and my stomach dropped. I swallowed back the bile, resisting the desperate urge to vomit. It suddenly struck me, just what Travis was going to do, and I was completely terrified. I couldn't even move, and it was almost like the fight had all gone out of me. I was resigned to my unfortunate fate, which was looking me right in the eye. I snapped my eyes shut tightly, not wanting to have to see Travis' face... A face that was so much like that of the man I loved that it made me sick to think about it. I didn't want to see him and associate this horrible memory with someone who didn't deserve it. I suddenly appreciated Tommy very much, and I wished he was here to save me more than anything I've ever wanted. God, I really did love him after all. I felt the tears silently begin to trickle down my face, and I felt ashamed for that.

I was embarrassed that I'd made myself weak and vulnerable in front of them, so I forced myself to open my eyes and look at him for that one last time... To try and appeal with him, to make him see what he was doing. He was so blinded by wrath and lust, though, that it didn't matter. It was as if he didn't even see me. I resented him, and I resented him with every inch of my body. There was still one card I had yet to play, and it was the most important card of all... Tommy. I knew instinctively that that old issue was what would get him, what would make him so angry he couldn't see straight. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to breathe slowly. Travis' fingers slithered up my leg and underneath my skirt. As his fingers climbed up my thigh, I found that it got progressively harder and harder for me to breathe. That was when I knew it was time for me to speak my peace. "Every time you touch me, Travis, I'll be wishing you were _Tommy_. I'll be thinking of _Tommy_. I'll be wanting _Tommy_," I swore vehemently, looking Travis straight in the eyes without a hint of the fear I was currently feeling.

Travis stiffened again at my mentioning of his rival, and that gave me some semblance of power. It was like I was saying do your worst... I won't let it get me down because I'll be thinking of someone else, someone who's far better than you will ever be. Only it was a sham, because I couldn't pretend Travis was Tommy. I'd already tried that and failed. And, well, let's face it... I couldn't really think of Tommy, because no matter how hard I tried to picture him in my head, doing these things to me... I knew. I knew the truth, and the truth was that Travis was doing this to me. And, frankly, I knew that Tommy would've never put me into this situation. And if it was really Tommy, I wouldn't have nearly so many objections. Maybe that was why I had to say no... Because I knew I was fooling myself into thinking I felt more for Travis than I really did, and that was wrong. That feeling of power was entirely too short-lived, but I knew it would be. Travis' eyes darkened further, and any traces of light in them disappeared. His eyes flickered menacingly as he leaned in even closer than before, pressing his chest against mine, leaning over me so close that there wasn't an inch in between us.

I tried to look down, to look off to the side... To look anywhere but at Travis, but he didn't allow that. Once again, he slammed my hands against the wall, stretching them out painfully... like he was a medieval torturer. When my already injured wrist hit the wall, I closed my eyes and saw stars. Travis took his hand off of my leg as if he'd been burned, and he used it to hold my chin up and force my eyes open to make me look at him. I guess he wanted me to look at him while he did it. I held my chin up with as much pride as I could muster, trying to blink back the tears. His hand slowly let go of my chin and resumed its place, creeping silently up my thigh, pushing my skirt up just a little. I recoiled from his touch. "And for every time _I_ touch you, that's another day that Tommy _won't_ want you, won't be with you, and won't **touch** you with a ten-foot pole!" Travis shouted with more passion than befitted his character.

You see, I was all wrong about Tommy and Travis. Tommy was fire. Travis was ice... Because at least Tommy had feelings. Travis didn't. He was so... inhuman... I couldn't believe it. Oh, he's a good actor. He acted charming and nice and thoughtful... But in the end, it was all just words, and Travis is a master of words. He was so fake that I was surprised he wasn't choking on it. Tommy was real. Tommy cared... He cared, and look at how I'd repaid him?! By carrying on with this asshole, thinking he actually cared while ignoring someone who really did. Great job, Jude. And I was scared. I was panic-stricken that what Travis had said would come true. I was petrified that Tommy, or anyone else really, wouldn't want me after Travis was through with me... if I was even alive then. I wasn't so sure there'd be anything left of me after he was done. I felt the hot, shameful tears streaming down my face again. I didn't want Travis. I didn't want Travis... I really didn't want him. I kept repeating that in my head like a mantra so it would help. But it didn't help.

Travis' fingers finally reached the ridiculously lacy underwear Patsy had bought for me. The panties were already so skimpy I was embarrassed to be wearing them. He grinned at me sadistically, looking so crazed I almost threw up right there. I shuddered, horrified at how fast this was all happening... at what was happening. He jerked the fabric down, and I felt my heart beating faster, so fast I was surprised that it wasn't flying out of my chest. But apparently this was too slow for him, so Travis practically ripped the underwear off of me, down my legs, and off my boots. He carelessly threw it far across the room, and I could feel the wrathful tension radiating off of him. His eyes were bitter and full of rage. And I was so scared... There aren't any words for how terrified I was. I was trembling and sobbing like an idiot and thinking "this is it". Travis didn't see any of that, though. All he saw was a piece of ass. "And after I'm through with you, there isn't a chance in Hell that he'll even _look_ at you, much less **love** you anymore!" Travis vowed vehemently, making every word a promise.

His hot fingers slid back up my thigh, closer and closer to that forbidden area. I froze immediately, feeling his clammy fingers creeping closer and closer... I was about to lose it, honest to God. And then what he said hit me, and I stiffened. Travis thought Tommy was in _love_ with me? I suddenly realized just why Travis was doing this. Tommy was that guy, wasn't he? He had been Travis' best man who... This was all about revenge. Travis wanted to burn Tommy, to hurt him the same way he'd been hurt. I gasped too loudly at the realization, and Travis responded by crashing his lips against mine to shut me up. And maybe it was about all those other things too... control and getting satisfaction and all that stuff. Hell, I don't know. Maybe Travis even had some genuine feelings for me... I still don't know if he was lying about that. But the point is that it was mostly about revenge.

I shut my legs to stop him, but Travis just split them open again, wrapping my legs around his waist. He kissed me bruisingly hard, wiggling closer to me. His fingers trailed down the front of my shirt, over the rubbery fabric, and he started at the snaps again. But Travis was insatiable, and so he tired of that quick enough. I was shaking again, trembling all over, and Travis slammed my shuddering, flailing form against the glass again. With one hand, he ran his hand over my chest, copping a cheap feel. My skin burned under his touch, and not necessarily in a good way. His hands trailed over my breasts, pinning me against the wall, pressing my hands flat against the glass. I was going to leave one of those cheesy handprints like in Titanic. The thought of that made me feel so cheap. His right hand held my noninjured wrist to the wall, but I didn't struggle. It was like all the fight had gone out of me.

I suddenly couldn't stop staring at all the _love_ bites on his neck. Love, my ass, I thought bitterly. They were such a dark, peculiar shade of reddish violet. They were so dark... as black as his soul. I resented him. I hated him. In that moment, I wanted him dead. If I told Tommy about this, that could be accomplished fairly easily, I thought maliciously. It wasn't like Travis didn't deserve it. He pushed my skirt up further, skimming his fingertips over the smooth skin, running his hand down the curve of my thigh, making me feel even more uncomfortable. I swallowed hard and screamed as loud as I could, but Travis smothered my cries with his mouth, kissing me so hard I tasted blood. Silent tears ran down my face. Then his fingers slid the rest of the way down my thigh, and he was maybe a millisecond away from molesting me when...

The door flew open and banged against the wall. Blinding light streamed in the room. Travis stopped moving, and I was glad. Someone had interrupted us and I wasn't worried at all. I was overjoyed, so happy that I grabbed Travis' hand by the wrist and yanked it away from my thigh as if I'd been burned. I pushed him off of me with a surprising force and immediately pulled my skirt down as far as it could go. I jumped to my feet, feeling embarrassed. But that was nothing compared to how mortified I was when I saw who'd interrupted us. Three guesses as to who it was and the first two don't count.

Yeah, that's right. It was Joan, of all people. Then again, who else would it have been? I was lucky, though, lucky that it was her. I was so lucky. It was a good thing I'd told her the wrong time, just like it was a happy coincidence that Travis had left the door open a crack and that I'd screamed when I did. I gaped openly at Joan, who looked absolutely furious. I don't blame her, to be honest, because I can't. I'd have felt the same, and I know what it's like to be in her situation. But this wasn't like that because I didn't have a choice. Travis was all over me like a cheap suit... or really a cheap cologne... And I didn't want him within a hundred yards. Joan's cheeks were flushed, and a look of disgust was written all over her face. Not that I blamed her. If it was possible, I was even more sickened. I stepped warily far, far, far away from Travis.

Joan looked so miserable and so betrayed. I felt guilty for my part in it because for a time I had welcomed Travis' advances. For a time I had flirted and laughed and drank with him... and kissed him. I'd as much brought this on myself. But I needed to explain, because I wasn't about to lose a friend over Travis attempting to rape me. "Oh, Joan, thank God you're here!" I exclaimed stupidly, rushing at her and throwing my arms around her gratefully. Joan immediately brushed me off, however, and she did not hug back. She merely regarded me coldly like a Benedict Arnold. She had clearly expected more from me. I was in a flurry to explain it to her, wondering how she didn't understand from my appearance. There were tear tracks down my cheeks, after all. And last time I checked, people who are enjoying the activity in question don't sob.

Joan looked away coolly. "I heard noises. You said you might be here. So here I am, and don't I look stupid?" She muttered bitterly, glancing away from the both of us, clearly embarrassed at what she'd witnessed. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, given the feelings and personages involved, Joan's voice was amazingly level... even if she couldn't look at either of us. "So, how long has this been going on?" She continued coolly. Her voice was sub-zero with cool. I didn't look at Travis either, but I didn't really know... so I couldn't answer. I said nothing instead. Joan nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "You lied to me about what happened last night, didn't you, Jude?" She said frostily, turning her eyes on me to show me that she was addressing me and only me. I swallowed, feeling guilty but still glad. I couldn't lie to her now.

"Yes, I did," I admitted shamefully, unable to look at Joan. Joan's features stiffened, and she looked even more betrayed than she had before. I had to come clean. "I got drunk last night and... It was stupid," I muttered pathetically as if it was an explanation. It was a lousy excuse, and I knew it, but it was the only one I had. We all have our moments of stupidity, and that was mine. My big, shining, glorious moment of absurd stupidity. Because I don't do things half-assed. I go all out. I wiped at my eyes, which were still wet, and I could feel Travis' eyes burning into me.

"She took me home last night," Travis injected cruelly. I whirled around to face him, jaw slack and absolutely horrified. How could he tell Joan that?! Traitor! As if what he'd tried to do wasn't enough? He had to... Joan's eyes widened a little, but then she relaxed and shook her head at me, disappointed.

"Why am I surprised? I walked in on you trying to screw her in the studio!" Joan exclaimed frustratedly. She sighed heavily and plopped down on the couch, needing time to think. I glanced over at Travis, and I was so furious that I wanted to throw something at his head. Something hard and brick-like. He'd ruined me, so I felt like ruining his ugly-ass head. Joan sighed again, leaning against the back of the sofa. "I can't believe it... I was so stupid. I actually thought you two hated each other," Joan mumbled half under her breath. She wasn't crying, but I could tell she was deeply hurt. I felt so, so bad for her, and I needed to explain.

"Joan... I'm sorry, and what I did last night was wrong. But you've got it all wrong... I don't want Travis. He's come on to me from the beginning and I..." I apologized frantically, stumbling over my words. It wasn't coming out right, but I tried to explain. However, attempting to pin it all on Travis was not my brightest idea. Joan knew he wasn't a good guy, but really... She had no idea. Hell, even _I_ had no idea that he could sink this low, and I am the opposite of his biggest fan. Joan looked at me with disbelieving eyes. She rolled her eyes, seeming to say "yeah, right". I wasn't lying, though, and I hated that she thought I was. I knew Travis could talk his way out of anything, but I wasn't about to let him talk his way out of this.

I could sense that Travis was about to speak, and so I cut him off bluntly, deciding that it was best to be honest here. Even brutally honest because that was the only way she'd believe me. "I know you don't believe me, and I don't blame you. I did originally come here with other intentions in mind, and I can't blame you for thinking I would... That I would do... _whatever_... with Travis," I explained sincerely, looking directly at Joan. Her eyes were emotionless. I was owning up to my part in this. I sent a glare over to Travis, hating him with every breath I was lucky enough to breath. Then I quickly glanced away because I was still shaken from the... Well, what would you call that event? I can't even say it, not even now. I sighed heavily, continuing on, needing to make Joan understand.

"I did kiss him last night. I kissed him more than once. And I even took him home with me because I was too drunk to drive, and I hate being alone when I'm drunk. It makes me feel like an alcoholic, and I'm a social drinker. I can't tell you if I had sex with him or not because I honestly don't remember, and I don't want to ask him. In fact, right now, I hate him with every fiber of my being. I'd be happy if I never saw him again in my _life_," I admitted somewhat reluctantly, except for the last part which I meant. I was sober, though, painfully so. How I wished for some alcohol to numb the pain of this, the shock of this. I needed a stiff drink, but that was what had gotten me into this problem in the first place.

Joan stiffened, and her body language said this was clearly something she didn't want to hear. So I decided to step her up and inform her of Travis' extracurricular activities. After all, she had a right to know what she'd really walked in on, didn't she? My eyes narrowed angrily, and I brandished my wrists. Bruises were fast forming on my skin, and the one injured wrist looked terrible. Joan looked remotely surprised, but I guess she just wrote it off like I liked it rough or something. I knew that I'd done something bad, but she didn't get to sit there and give me that look, like it was my fault Travis... It wasn't my fault. I was stupid, yes, but it wasn't my fault. "You don't get to sit there thinking I'm some slut who'll give it up like _that_, okay?" I growled frustratedly, feeling incredibly pissed off. Joan turned to look at me and shot me a look that stated that she did. I felt my lower lip curling into a sneer. "I may not be as _pristine_ as you, Joan... Really, I'm so damn sorry we all can't be as _frigid_ and upright as you! I'm only **human**, and I made a mistake. And that mistake was _Travis_, a vice I recall even **_you_** have indulged in, oh mighty Saint Joan," I snapped venemously, mocking her with every word.

Joan stiffened, and her eyes turned sad. She didn't even look surprised that I knew about Travis. And then she started crying- real tears, too... And Joan was not a crying person. I felt horrible and spiteful. I was the world's biggest bitch. I mean, here was this person who'd never judged me... I'd known her only like, a week or two, and she was already one of my closest friends. She stood by me when few others did. She even sat next to me in Travis' class and helped me out. And she'd walked in on me kissing a guy she was most probably in love with. She had the right to be mad. I deserved that. She'd been a great friend to me, and, well, I'd been pretty lousy to her. "Is that really what you think?" Joan sniffled weakly. I felt completely lousy, and even Travis looked disgusted with me. Joan looked up at me, fighting back tears. "That I'm some Ice Queen who doesn't have feelings? That I don't make mistakes? That I sit on a pedestal and pass judgments on everyone who doesn't act like me?" Joan continued sadly, wiping frantically at her eyes.

She looked down embarrassedly (probably from her display of emotion). I felt so guilty I wanted to die. Did I really think that about Joan? That she was better than me? Maybe I said that because she was. I wish I was like her. I wish I had that kind of intestinal fortitude. But I don't. I give into my impluses, and I don't know how to say know to a good offer... or a bad offer, in this case. "I thought you, of all people, would understand what it's like to feel like an outcast," She whispered, blinking fast and running a hand through her hair. If it was possible, I felt a million times worse. Great. Now I was the biggest bitch in the universe too. Just great.

Now I was crying because I was thinking... Joan was going to leave me here with that bastard, and I knew Travis wouldn't let me escape. I didn't want this. God, I didn't want him. I want Tommy, I thought miserably. I wanted Tommy to hold me in his arms and tell me it would all be all right. And I actually wanted it to all be all right. But somewhere deep down I knew it wouldn't ever be the same. I'd really lost my innocence that day... Not my virginity, but my innocence... or whatever remnants were left anyways. Joan got up to leave, still crying, so I did what I could to make her stay. I did not want to be left alone with Travis. I didn't want to say it either, at least not aloud... That would be admitting what had almost happened, and I would've rather gouged my eyes out than said that. But I didn't have a choice, and desperate times called for desperate measures. "Travis tried to rape me, Joan," I cried after her, feeling the hot tears flow down my cheeks again. Joan turned around slowly, and I tried to blink. "_That's_ what you walked in on."

Joan looked so guilty after that that I almost wished I hadn't told her. But I knew I'd had to, and I was glad I did. She immediately rushed back over to me, shooting Travis a withering stare before she pulled me into a hug. But Joan wasn't Tommy, and I didn't love anybody like I loved Tommy. Tommy was the only one who could make this all better. Still, though, I owed Joan. I was indebted to her for life. "You saved me," I wheezed, hugging her back and crying unto her shoulder. I felt Joan nod, and she grabbed her jacket and wrapped it around me in an attempt to give me more modesty. I appreciated the gesture, but I really just wanted to leave. I wanted to go home and take a long, hot shower, and file a million police reports, and snuggle up with Tommy, and hug my dad, and let my sister braid my hair, and eat my mom's pancakes. I wanted to rip this stupid outfit off and change into some pajamas and just curl up in my bed and sleep. But a part of me, a rather substantial part of me, just wanted to die from the shame of it all.

She gently set me down on the couch and whirled around to face Travis. I couldn't make out much in between the tears. Joan placed her hands on her hips and glared at Travis like she wanted to disembowel him. I personally wanted to see him castrated, but that would do. "I hope God strikes you down, Travis. Or better yet, I hope Tommy finds out and comes here to kick your ass in person, because you deserve it... You lousy, two-timing, abusing, violent child MOLESTER!" Joan snarled furiously, shoving him back hard. Then apparently she glanced down and saw his erection hanging out of his pants. Joan looked absolutely disgusted, and for once, I was glad of her puritanical upbringing. Now, Joan had given Travis several verbal upbraidings in my presence, but never anything like this... She slapped him so hard across the face that his head spun and then she threw him against the glass. She grabbed him by the throat with a surprising physical strength, squeezing so hard he couldn't breathe. "Keep your **dick** in your pants, or I'll go Lorena Bobbitt on your ass so fast you'll _blink_, and it'll be gone!" Joan screeched menacingly, almost gleefully, making a threatening scissors gesture with her hands. She let go of him just then, jerking up the zipper painfully, effectively assuring that Travis got stuck in his zipper. He was almost purple in the face, and he had to bite back the scream. Travis winced something awful, obviously cringing in pain. I grinned sadistically, liking to watch him suffer. It was so damn fun.

Although, as I later found out ('cause I looked it up, stupid)... Lorena, although abused by her bastard of a husband, claimed she'd cut a piece off of him because he was "selfish" and refused to give her orgasms. That might have been why Travis was smiling like a dumb idiot after the initial grimacing... Because he was thinking Joan wanted him to give her an orgasm. And so he was devising ways to, for lack of a better phrase... "give it to her". Give _one_ to her, really. He always was a cocky son of a bitch. I assure you, that couldn't have been further from what Joan really wanted. She'd rather walk a tight rope while doing strip aerobics over a pool of razor blades and liquor set on fire. Yes, she would rather face her fears and certain death than dare to have sex with Travis. Hell, at least she knew where the razor blades had been. In the pool, with the liquor there to sterilize them. You really can't say the same about Travis. He's dirty.

Joan continued glowering at him, seething silently for a few moments. Then she'd stewed enough and could continue with a little clarity... or not. "Now, Travis... You have a choice here," Joan began coolly, but she stopped, suddenly thinking the better of it. She shook her head and started over. "No, actually, you **don't**," She growled boldly, staring him down. "I'm gonna _tell_ you what you're going to do," Joan continued bossily. She didn't even expect Travis to listen; she assumed he would. And maybe that was why she had his full, rapt attention. I'd never seen this authoritative, administrative side of Joan, but it scared me. She was absolutely fearless. Here she was, standing only inches from the guy who'd just tried to rape me, and she wasn't batting an eye, afraid she'd suffer the same fate. And Joan was shorter than I was.

Joan straightened a little, faking a smile. "For starters, you're going to stay away from me, Jude, and any other student of yours that you want to bang. That's a given," Joan dictated, looking him in the eyes to make sure he understood the message. Her face darkened some, and she glared daggers at him. "Now, I personally would like to see you quit, but if you're a _good_ boy and stay away, you won't have to do that," Joan explained with a mocking sneer. Travis made a face, and I could tell by the look on Joan's face that she wanted nothing more than to smack it off of him. But Joan was dignified, so she restrained herself. She grabbed him by the chin this time, pulling him close enough so she could speak directly into his face. "But if I ever hear that you touched any of your students inappropriately, well... Then I'm going straight to the administration and telling them just what you've done. I don't care if you can talk your way out of anything... Because I won't give up until you're nailed to the wall," Joan swore vehemently, digging her nails into his chin so hard she left marks. She leaned forward a little, and I know Travis must've been uncomfortable with that proximity. "And then you won't just be out of a job, but you'll be in jail," She hissed, releasing him.

She tried to whirl around and leave, but I could've told her that wasn't going to work. Travis was no doormat, that was for sure. Joan got him all wound up, so I knew he was going to try something. What I didn't know was how different he'd be with her. He grabbed her by the wrist, but gently this time, using only enough force to turn her around and make her face him. I almost wanted to close my eyes because I knew all too well what was going to happen next. He was obviously going to make a move on her, and Joan never saw it coming. "Why can't I get just one kiss?" Travis whined about two seconds before he took that kiss from her. Could he be any more like Ethan Hawke in Reality Bites? He kissed her softly, but he had her distracted enough so that he almost pulled her against him. When Joan realized what was going on (which, I assure you took a while because I can tell you exactly what she was thinking... Soft lips and wow, was he a good kisser! and where the hell did he learn that? and Oh my god, what is this man doing to me?!), she pulled away almost immediately, eyes still pretty glazed. Sadly, it was obviously too late for her.

Travis looked a bit desolate and lonely when she pulled away, but he was still holding her face. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I would love to _love_ you, lover... But something won't let me make love to you," He murmured softly, attempting to kiss Joan's cheek. Yeah, Travis... And that something is Joan and her common sense/wits. Naturally, he pretty much screwed himself there by making his indecent intentions all too clear. I even managed to roll my eyes. Gah, if he's gonna try and seduce someone, why can't he at least use his own songs? Now he's gotta rip off the Violent Femmes too (On an incestuous twist here... The lyrics before his little beginning line are: "Oh, my, my, my, my mother!")? But, looking at them, I knew that his feelings for Joan were real. I hated that I knew that, and I hated that he had to be so much of an asshole... But I envied that because at least the both of them got to know the other felt the same. Even if Joan wouldn't admit it and all. Although Joan probably had a few questions about how Travis felt, what with the whole making-out with me thing and that unfinished business with Kate.

Joan jumped as if she was on fire and greeted Travis with a slap that seemed a bit light to me. However, a moment later, she seemed to regain her senses and punched him in one of his already bruised eyes... the right one, I think. She slammed her knee into his groin and whirled around, turning her back on him. She was about to storm away from him, but then she looked over her shoulder and spit on him disrespectfully. "You kiss me again, and I'll give Tommy a point-by-point of what I walked in on," She threatened stiffly, wiping off her lips as if Travis was diseased (and, really, who knew?). Then she pivoted and stalked over to me. I suddenly noticed for the first time that Joan was wearing heels and a miniskirt, and I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Joan grabbed me and pulled me up, careful not to touch any of my bruises or my arm, and she dragged me out of the room.

It didn't require a lot of force because I was so... weak... and I wanted to leave anyways. I didn't even want to step foot in Travis' classroom, but I remembered I'd left my backpack there, so of course we had to go get it. I recoiled at the unpleasant memories that room had, but it was like I couldn't move. My eyes were fixed on that cloudy green blackboard, which reminded me eerily of Travis' eyes. I saw his briefcase on the ground next to his desk. A sudden flash of him and Patsy on top of that very desk hit me. I shuddered, disgusted, thinking how that very well could've been me he was having up against that desk, only I wouldn't have been so willing... or so legal. His desk looked so innocuous and casual, even professional... a crossword puzzle, the New York Times, an mp3 player, Rolling Stone, Billboard, some papers... But it wasn't, and he wasn't. Joan had to pull me out of there, but I was glad she did before Travis came back and found me there. He'd probably go back for Round Two.

Only then he would've gotten exactly what he wanted from me.

My skin crawled at the thought. I knew then that Joan and I definitely weren't going to hang out... But I had to get to G. Major. Tommy was probably steaming already. There was nothing he hated more than being blown off. Joan warned me to button up my shirt, which I suddenly remembered was exposing a lot more of me than I was comfortable with. I gulped, feeling myself flush, and I buttoned the shirt up the rest of the way. Not that it changed the fact that I felt like a whore. I wanted all of my skin to be covered up, because I knew that all of those guys out there would be thinking the same things of me that Travis had, and I hated that. Joan was nice enough, though, nicer than I'd expected. She walked with me for a while, until I got to a subway stop that could get me pretty darn close to G. Major.

I thought I probably looked sad... But Joan looked even more downtrodden to me. Then again, I don't know how miserable I looked. And I knew from looking at her, by the way her posture had drooped, that she didn't really want to turn Travis in... She'd put on this big show of bravado that I was thankful for, because heaven knows I couldn't have mustered it at the time... And when had Travis ever listened to one word I said? How many times had I told him to lay off? But it was all an act, and she wouldn't turn Travis in, but wasn't she good at bluffing? She wasn't like me, itching to turn him in. Hell, I was _burning_ to turn him in, but I'd already tried that once, and it hadn't worked... And I'm sick of people gossipping about me behind my back. I thought maybe it'd be okay if I avoided him... since Joan had told him off, and he seemed to believe her.

But I dared not mention any of this to Joan. And Travis had kissed her right after she'd told him all of that, so what was to say that he'd actually go through with it? Thinking all this, I separated from Joan wordlessly, weakly waving a goodbye. I strutted unto a subway car with more confidence than I felt I possessed, plastering a fake smile on my face. After all, I was out in public now and dressed like I was into S&M. If photos of this got out, it wouldn't do good for me to be looking miserable. I mean, they'd just give me more of that "sad girl with a guitar" crap. Only I can just imagine all the awful things they'd say, and I didn't need them. I tried to look happy, but I must've seemed unrecognizable... I hope I was because I looked absolutely disgusting. I probably looked like a crack whore. Then again, Courtney Love and I do share the same (birth) last name, so maybe it wouldn't be that surprising... I mean, do I have a good girl image going? I don't really know how they market me. I know it's in the rocker girl vein, but I so detest the Avril comparisons... Although with this outfit, they might try and give me that party-girl label, which is so not my thing.

While, yes, I do occasionally indulge in a drink or two... I'm not Lindsay Lohan, blonde and in AA before she can legally drink. Seriously, it stops being anonymous when you're a popstar who did _Disney_ to death (how ashamed do you think Michael Eisner was of that, huh?). And I'd rather be shot than go blonde. I see the way Darius eyes my hair, and lemme tell you... I don't like it. But I'd rather have him drop me than dye it. And, in light of my recent drunken affairs... by which I mean that idiotic night where I was all over Travis like a cheap suit... I think I'll refrain for a while from drinking myself into oblivion. Or drinking at all, really. "Never Gonna Drink Again" by The Planet Smashers will be my anthem. It's bad, don'tcha know?

I tried to ignore these overwhelming feelings and questions though, to hold it together. So I stood there, clutching the pole and trying NOT to look like a stripper, and counted stops until G. Major. Finally, I got off at the right stop and walked the two blocks to G. Major. When I got there, I assure you that I looked about as run-down as I felt. I walked in there, and still felt like all eyes were on me. I hated the feeling, and suddenly all I wanted to do was find Tommy. Desperately. So I kind of just blazed through there, or I would've if... Shay. Shay was there. My day had just gone from worse to absolutely dreadful. I stopped dead in my tracks. Revenge of the ex. And of course Shay was looking right at me.

I was not in a good place to face him, that was for certain. I saw his eyes rake over me, and I repressed a shudder. He held out his arms like his uncle often did, but Shay was annoyingly more... vile and disgusting. Darius is really a bear, you see. He looks all tough and gnarly on the outside, but he's nice and cuddly on the inside. Shay... not so much. I wasn't gonna let him try and charm me, that was for sure. Because that had gone so _well_ as of late, really, it had. "Hey, Shorty... So I hear someone's been missing The Big Shay," He remarked casually, coming closer to me. I fought the urge to throw up.

Instead, I glanced around for Darius, Georgia, or some other mediating influence. Sadly, I could find no one. There was only that damn receptionist who gives me the dirty looks because she has the biggest crush on Tommy ever, and it was pretty damn obvious she wasn't going to assist me in any manner. Just peachy. I immediately surveyed the ways out, but unfortunately I couldn't use any of them. Damn. "What are you doing here, Shay?" I asked wearily, barely glancing at him. As soon as I said that, I wanted to kick myself in the head. I should've denied that I missed him because I don't. I mean, even our break-up got overshadowed by Tommy breaking my heart. Yeesh. He's really that forgettable.

Shay grinned that big, annoying mega-watt grin he stole off Darius. I hate that smile when Darius flashes it, but I hate it about a million times more when Shay does. Oh, and wow. Look, Shay has grills. Grrreat. Could he be any more of a cheesy rap cliché? I mean, seriously, I can't believe I ever dated that reject, much less thought he was suave and actually complimented his rapping. Ew times infinity. "I had to see my girl. I've been seeing what you've been up to lately, and it's kinda sad," Shay explained condescendingly, putting a hand on my shoulder. He made a tsking sound that was supposed to indicate that he didn't approve. "I'm here to tell you don't have to screw every has-been in town to get my attention, Baby. You've got it. You've always been my girl," Shay said in what was supposed to be a soothing tone.

It ended up making him want to punch me. Go figure. Somebody needs to go to Charm School. Hell, even Victoria has more tact than this guy, and she hates me. I rolled my eyes disgustedly and ripped his hand off my shoulder, slightly surprised that I had moxie enough to do that. I immediately stepped back, feeling incredibly annoyed and grossed out. Shay was like a parasite that wouldn't go away. Like Paris Hilton. I am not his girl. I'm Tommy's girl if I'm anybody's girl, so Shay doesn't get to say crap like that... Or Tim's girl, come to think of it... Either way, Shay ain't my man. "I'm not your girl, Shay, and I never was. I'm your **ex**-girlfriend. I already rejected you once, but apparently you don't get it. And saying that I'm screwing every has-been in town to make you jealous is not only presumptuous but wrong, insulting, and not something you'd say if you really wanted me to get back with you. Now don't act stupid and stop wasting my time," I snapped irritably, feeling a bit more courageous. It felt good to dig on Shay in a public place.

He couldn't do anything to me here, and I was glad for it. Shay rolled his eyes and gave me a look, clearly unaffected by everything I just said. Does he even listen when words come out of my mouth? "Come on, Jude. You went with ex-boybanders, the lowest form of industry trash. A real classy choice. I know you want me. So, come on, just take me back already so we can pick things up where we left off," Shay whined insultingly, sounding very annoyed. Once again, I wanted to strangle him. I told him no twice... And he still didn't get it. I bristled at his insults... not against me, although that was rich. He was the cheater in the relationship. So where does he get off calling me a whore? But what pissed me off is what he said about Tommy and Chaz. Hell, they were classier than him, and at least they didn't pretend to be from The Projects when they'd been raised by their rich uncle and had lived in mansions for their entire lives.

Shay wouldn't last two days in Bed-Stuy. Okay, he wouldn't last two minutes. And at least Boyz Attack! wrote their own songs. We couldn't just pick up where we left off. I'm not wired that way, and it's just too late. "God, what part of **no** don't you _men_ understand?!" I screamed bitterly, feeling that anger from when Travis had touched me starting to rise up in me again. "You cheated on me with Eden, then you lied and said you'd dumped her... Only to make out with her again in Montreal. And I was left looking stupid because I believed you again. Now, I made it clear in Montreal... I don't want _you_," I growled bluntly. Then I paused and said something very stupid. "And I already have a boyfriend, anyways. He's a million times better to me than you ever were, and I'm in love with him. I'm not gonna give that up for some spineless, philandering, second-rate 50 Cent-wannabe who can't even stand up to his uncle!" I retorted viciously in what was clearly a parting shot.

Shay looked a bit stricken and surprised by this (as if it was surprising that I'd moved on after him?). He glowered at me and shot me a doubting look. Technically, I wasn't lying to him. Tim and I are going out, so he could technically be considered my quasi-boyfriend. Okay, yeah, so I'm not in love with him... But I am in love with Tommy, and I love him more than I ever thought I loved Shay... And damn, I so should've put that in the speech! "Yeah right. I know what you're trying to do, and it's not working. Now, come on, tell me about this big boyfriend of yours, if he even exists at all..." Shay replied coolly, deciding to humor me. Okay, so that is a bit of a problem.

Luckily for me, Chaz happened to be walking by at that very moment. I knew immediately that neither Chaz nor Mason would make Shay get the point, as he would view them as nonthreats. So I needed Tommy. Again. But I always need Tommy, so that's irrelevant. "He's... Well, actually, you know him," I muttered briefly, seconds before grabbing Chaz by the collar and pulling him in real close to my face. "Get Tommy now," I hissed so low Shay couldn't hear, motioning with my eyes to Shay. Chaz' eyes widened a little (probably at both our close proximity, which is rather ridiculous when you consider that I've kissed him several times, and Shay), but he nodded with understanding and immediately set off for his friend.

Shay gave me an expectant look, and I didn't want him to be all smug and irritating, so I started talking. "He's wonderful... Treats me great. He's completely crazy about me. He writes me love songs, and I think he's the most wonderful man alive... And I just love him so much! And, uh, he's gorgeous. Total babe. He thinks I'm gorgeous too, and he would never, ever, ever even think about cheating on me. He's so true and accepting and wonderful. Really, truly, completely wonderful. I'm really, really, really lucky to have someone even half as great as he is. He's everything I could've ever asked for and more. Oh, and so, so, so hot. I feel fireworks every time he touches me, and whenever I see him I just wanna do him right there. He's such a stallion in the sack, too. I could, hehe... and have... spend whole days in bed with him. He teaches me so many new things. And he's an open book. He tells me anything I want to know about him. He gave me a key to his place too... And he's completely non-commitment-phobic and completely okay with intimacy... And he's so mature, so on my level. I'm completely over the moon for him, but he makes me feel this way, and I just have to tell people! He's so romantic, too... And he buys me things all the time... He's so thoughtful. Always goes out of his way to do little things for me. Even if he's just going out to get gas he'll think of me and buy that candy I like. He knows me so well, and he can read me like a book. He's just so smart, too, and his parents love me, and I've met his family, and I'm going to his house for Christmas and we're gonna have a million babies because I just can't keep him off of me sometimes, and it'll be so perfect and they're all going to have the prettiest blue eyes... _There_ he is!" I rambled effectively and exuberantly until I saw Tommy show up. To tell you the truth, I have no idea what the hell I said. The words just kept coming out, and I had to let them. I had to keep talking until Tommy got here.

And then I saw Tommy with Chaz trailing him, walking towards us. Tommy hadn't noticed me yet because he was arguing with Chaz. I raced to him because he was my savior, and I had never been so happy to see anyone in my life. I sort of blindsighted him by almost kinda tackling him... not that he didn't like it. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him so passionately I swear I heard the air sizzle. Tommy groaned and steadied himself. I broke the kiss for about two seconds because I had to say something important. I also had to get some air. "Pretend to be my soulmate," I gasped out before going back in for Round Two. I paused briefly and pulled back again for an even shorter time. "And make it convincing because I just went on and on about how wonderful my boyfriend is," I mumbled breathlessly before I leaned in and literally plastered myself against Tommy, attacking his lips with an admirable zeal. Predictably Tommy stiffened at my casually calling him boyfriend, but Shay couldn't have noticed that.

Now, I do realize how unrealistic it is to make Tommy over into that guy I just described, but Shay sees Tommy as a threat. Besides, anybody would be better than Shay. A donkey would be better than Shay. I pulled back from Tommy, who, bless his heart, looked adorably surprised. I smiled widely at him, giving him an adoring look before I grabbed his hand and walked over to Shay with Tommy in tow. I smiled thinly and smugly at Shay while simultaneously showing off Tommy like an engagement ring. "I believe you've met my boyfriend already," I said politely as Tommy wrapped an arm around my waist, possessively pulling me closer to him. I leaned up and kissed Tommy on the cheek affectionately. I turned smilingly to Tommy, staring at him openly and coquettishly. "Tommy, I love you," I proclaimed unashamedly, trying to avoid wincing when I saw the look on his face. I glanced down in mock embarrassment. "Just wanted to tell you that again," I replied bashfully. I was being sickening, but see then Tommy was obligated to say it back.

Oi. That was painful. Tommy smiled at me awkwardly, and I elbowed him in the side irritably. I kept that rubber smile on my face, though, and I snuggled up right against his side. "I love you too, Jude," Tommy somehow managed to say, even though it sounded completely plastic and rubbery. Not one of his better acting moments. It sounded so stilted and awkward and **forced**. And it was forced, but he'd sorta said crap like that before that sounded ten million times less awkward, and it should've been easy. Hell, this was Shay, and Tommy hated him. It's not like he cared what he thought.

I forced my smile upwards a bit at the corners, needing it to meet my eyes. "Then show me," I murmured quietly, placing my hands on either side of his face and kissing him aggressively. Okay, sure, Tommy has _no_ problem with that! In fact, his hands started to go a bit lower than I was comfortable with... I had to rebuff these advances with grace. Although that is as impossible as it seems. I pulled back feeling somewhat awkward and out of sorts myself, but I smiled and faked it. When had my life become so awkward and so... forced? Shay gave me a look that still suggested that he didn't buy it. Great. Now my target didn't even believe it.

Shay looked bored. He thought I was so predictable. "You're just using him to make me jealous. Like you did in Montreal," Shay declared vainly. He really thought this was all about him. More like he wouldn't leave me alone. I'll admit that what I did in Montreal was stupid and jealousy-motivated. But this wasn't like that. I felt Tommy's irritation in the way he gripped me just a little bit harder. This day was just... neverending.

"How vain are you, Shay?" I questioned irritably. Rhetorical question. I rolled my eyes at him. "My world _doesn't_ revolve around you... I gave that up the day you dumped me," I growled furiously. Shay had the grace to flinch, which he wholly deserved. My world stopped revolving around him a very long time ago. Jeez, I was obsessed. "And my relationships with other men are really none of your business anyways, but don't you dare sit there and suggest that I'm using Tommy right now. I **love** Tommy, okay!" I shouted passionately. I meant every word. Shay had no right to say I was using Tommy. How would he know anyways? Tommy almost sort of winced, but he halfheartedly held me back from Shay.

That was a good thing, as I clearly wanted to pummel him. "Whether you accept that or not. And you know what? You were just a speed bump in my love life," I snarled cruelly. I didn't care if I hurt Shay. As far as I was concerned, he didn't have a heart. "You always thought you were all that when you were in it... But you weren't. I forgot about you like, twelve minutes after you dumped me because _Tommy_ was there for me. I only thought I loved you. It was more of a crush, and I got crushed," I hissed rudely. The sad thing is that every part of that was the truth. "_Tommy_ taught me what real love was," I replied boldly, looking over at him. Tommy actually smiled, which was contrary to everything else he'd been doing. "I **love** Tommy, and I tried to let you down tactfully and without bringing him into it... But you kept persisting. So leave me alone. Can't you see that I'm happy with Tommy?" I finished with an icy politeness.

Yeah, I only said Tommy's name about twenty times in the course of the speech. You think I was trying to make a point there? And I sorta dropped in that I loved him about three times. But Shay rolled his eyes at me again. He didn't believe me. I don't get how because I really did mean all of that. "Oh, please. If he's your idea of true love, then you have serious issues. He's just as much of a philandering scumbag as you say I am," Shay pointed out, scoffing. He was not without merit, only I would never say that Tommy's a scumbag. A whore, yes... an asshole maybe... but not a scumbag.

Tommy glowered at Shay for that, so I smiled at him to pacify him and ran a hand down his chest. Tommy's eyes darkened and I stood up a little bit more, feeling victorious. Then I turned to Shay, ready to end it once and for all. I don't know where I found the courage to say everything I said, but somehow it kept coming like adrenaline... I had no other choice, really. It was either be assertive or wind up with Shay again, and I was no doormat. I didn't want what Travis tried to do to actually come true and happen to me all over again. So I had to nip this Shay thing in the bud.

"He's _changed_, unlike you, because he actually wants to be a better guy. For _me_," I said pointedly, remembering how he said I made him want to be a better guy. What a crock that was. "Eden makes me feel cool the way I am." Ugh. He's so frigging disgusting. What he really meant was that Eden gives him sex. She's a good lay. That's how she makes him feel cool the way he is. He was stupid to think I wouldn't know that. I glowered at Shay, using all of my power to make him feel every inch of shame he deserved. "And I'd love him anyways, even if he was the worst person on Earth. Because he's Tommy and that's the way it's always been," I vowed intensely, lacing my fingers with Tommy's and trying my best to stand up straight despite the fluttering feeling in my stomach. The sad thing is that all of that's true. I would love Tommy if he was a murdering psychopath.

My eyes narrowed as I put a hand on my hip. "You were just a brief footnote before the main action. Get over yourself, Shay. It's over. It's been over for a long time. You made that decision, not me, and you have to live with that," I said bluntly before finally turning away from him and walking off towards Studio C. Well, actually, I turned around again and walked right out of the building again. Predictably, Tommy followed. Ah, my knight in shining headphones! I ran, feeling very determined, to Tommy's car and managed to slide in without exposing anything. I felt annoyingly self-conscious. When Tommy got in the car, he couldn't take his eyes off of me. It was insane. I don't know what was going on in my head, but I leaned over and put my hand on his thigh. "Let's go back to your place," I murmured suggestively.

Yes, I do wince to think of that. Tommy sort of jumped a bit, but he wasn't repulsed. Oh, and his jaw dropped. He gaped at me for a solid five minutes and then looked mildly terrified. But then he just shrugged like he was Mister Cool and put the keys in the ignition. In about one second flat we were out of there. I have never seen Tommy drive that fast in my life. I know Vipers are some of the fastest cars you can drive on the street, but I swear he must've been going 190 or something. However high the dial goes. His apartment is pretty close to G. Major, so it's generally not a long drive, but he made it there in like... three and a half minutes. Maybe. It was just ridiculous. It's a wonder he didn't get a ticket.

When Tommy finally stopped, my legs were like jelly. He practically had to carry me out of the car. He wordlessly let me in, and we got in the elevator to go up to his place. Okay, so I lied. I knew exactly what I was thinking. I wanted to forget about... what Travis had attempted. And what better way to do that than with Tommy, his polar opposite? I was willing to go to extremes to forget, in case you can't tell. And that was ridiculously stupid and ironic and everything, but it wasn't quite a mistake. Tommy sure knows how to show a girl a good time, after all. I think I muttered some come on right about then in the middle of the elevator. Well... actually, I propositioned him pretty blatantly. Tommy looked a bit surprised, but he seemed enthusiastic enough.

I had completely forgotten about Sadie by this point. So I kissed Tommy, practically pouncing on him in the elevator. Tommy didn't mind at all. In fact, he wrapped his arms around me and got a bit handsy with me. He did the typical thing, slipping a hand up my skirt, and that's how he discovered that I wasn't wearing anything underneath the skirt. He didn't touch me inappropriately; just my leg and then his hand was out of my skirt, and he'd stopped kissing me. He pulled back to look at me, looking shocked. He clearly thought that this whole thing was premeditated. I rolled my eyes and threw myself at him again. Only the ding of the elevator interrupted this happy little moment. That must've been the longest elevator ride of my life.

Tommy smiled at me and pulled away smugly, slinging an arm around my waist while waltzing towards the door. He was humming "Pick Up the Pieces". Sadly, I do not jest. He looked very, very, very happy. Almost ecstatic. Tommy opened the door, and we both went inside. He immediately shut the door behind him and plopped down on the couch, casually dropping his car keys on the floor, and making himself at home. I reluctantly joined him on the couch. I was beginning to feel a little apprehensive. I smiled awkwardly at Tommy, who gave me this ridiculously self-assured smile because he'd done this _so_ many times. I, however, had not. I had maybe only done this once, and I don't even know if I did do that because I was wasted... and I'd rather shove bamboo under my fingernails than ask Travis. How embarrassing would that be?

I personally wasn't even sure how the mechanics of it worked or what exactly we were going to do. I mean, yeah, I knew we were going to do _that_ sort of thing... But I didn't know which thing. In movies I'd seen, the girls always seemed to position their legs in some strangely fantastical position that only some incredibly bendy yoga-woman could do, and really, do I look like Dharma Finklestein to you? 'Cause I'm not. I can't even do a cartwheel. Yeah. I know. Betsey Johnson (Kat's FAVORITE designer... mainly because she's the only other person alive who will wear such awkward-looking clothing) does one at the end of every fashion show. Beaten by a sixty-four-year-old woman. How sad is that? It's like saying that Paul McCartney is a better skateboarder than I am. I seriously hope that's not true either, though, come to think of it.

So I was sort of sitting there nervously when Tommy leaned over and kissed me. I smiled and pulled him on top of me. Yes, that does make me sound like a slut, doesn't it? Then I slid down the couch and somehow wound up horizontal. Tommy was trailing kisses down my neck and over my skin. Surprisingly, he didn't touch a single hook on my shirt. Because it looked like he wasn't going to do anything, I grabbed his hand and put it up my skirt to show him it was okay. Tommy kept his hand on my leg, but he didn't move it. He just kept kissing me like he couldn't get enough. I groaned irritably and grabbed his ass, pressing him against me. Tommy stifled a moan by kissing me again. I found myself frustrated.

I didn't want him to be kissing me, well, just kissing me... If you get my drift. I wanted to forget all about the crappy day I'd had, and Tommy was the answer to my problem. I realize that makes it sound like I was using him, but he makes me happy. I must've complained, but Tommy just shook his head and kissed me again. I pushed him away a bit and asked why. He looked down at me levelly. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do," He said, as if that summed me up. I told him rather bluntly what I wanted him to do, but Tommy just gave me this look like he knew better than I did, which infuriated me. I kept protesting, and Tommy sighed, annoyed. "Jude, you don't want to do this," He muttered knowingly yet again before he started to kiss me.

I swore up and down that I did want to do it. I begged Tommy, which makes me feel absolutely disgusting. I wonder what he must think of me now. Eventually, however Tommy gave in to my whining, and his fingers slowly climbed up my thigh. His hands were warm, and his touch was very light. His fingers were halfway up my thigh when I opened my eyes. Tommy's eyes were closed, and my lips were very, very occupied, but I had a sudden, horrific flash. Of Travis, of course. He'd never once closed his eyes, but with Tommy's eyes closed, so close and on top of me... I freaked. They do look an awful lot alike after all. His hand felt like a creeping spider, and I felt dirty all over. I immediately removed his fingers violently, breaking the kiss and breathing shakily.

And Tommy... He didn't even look confused. He just pulled back and helped me sit up. But I didn't want that. I wasn't having any of that. I hit his hands away, batting him off like a bad combatant. This made Tommy look surprised, finally, and I shoved him so that he was far away from me. To make matters even worse, I started to cry like an idiot. Before my vision blurred completely, I saw the stunned, worried look on Tommy's face. I knew he would think it was all his fault, but it wasn't. It was all my fault for being stupid. "I'm sorry," he whispered heartbreakingly, reaching out to try and comfort me, but I smacked his hand away. "I shouldn't have-" He began, but I shook my head, effectively cutting him off. Travis had completely ruined this for me. I thought I'd cried enough there... Why here and why now?

I drew in a weak breath, trying to wipe at my tears. I hated feeling weak, and then I felt weak and so low. I kept shaking my head and blubbering like a moron. "It... It wasn't you," I somehow managed to choke out through sobs. I breathed a great, gasping, sucking breath and looked down at my blurry, trembling fingers. Tommy reached out to wrap an arm around me once again, but I dodged him and scooted far away to the other side of the couch. I tried to curl up in a ball or get more comfortable, but my clothes were stiff. I was so tired. All I wanted to do was sleep, but I couldn't. I was crying too damn much. "I just wanted to forget. I wanted to forget. I want to forget. Why can't I forget? The memories..." I explained quietly, rocking slightly.

This time Tommy leaned over, scooting close to me, and had actually embraced me before I realized he was there. I panicked and very nearly jumped up in the air. Only I couldn't because he was confining me. I felt trapped, so I struggled wildly against his hug. I threw his arms off of me. I clutched the arm of the sofa, wiping at my eyes frantically so I could see better. But the salty wetness kept dripping down my cheeks, even when I willed it to stop. Again I felt Tommy's hands on my back, only this time the gesture wasn't soothing. "**Don't** touch me!" I shouted finally, and that made him stop and step back. I sighed, feeling relieved for approximately a second. Then I felt nauseous and dirty and guilty all over again.

Tommy kept his distance, but I kept hearing his voice. "Jude, what's... Are you okay? Did something happen?" He continued to ask, sounding increasingly concerned. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't okay, that I was bad, that I was wrong, that I felt terrible. I wanted to tell him exactly what had happened. But just like that I knew that if I told him, he'd run off to kick some ass, and he'd wind up in jail. And of all the things I wanted Tommy in jail for involving me... That would not be worth the sentence. Beating an innocent... Well, okay, so Travis wasn't innocent, but that didn't mean that it was right to hit him. Vigilante justice makes you feel better, but I prefer to go through the proper legal channels. And, as sick as it was, I think some part of me deep down still liked Travis and thought that good guy I'd seen for about five seconds that reminded me so much of an honest version of the man now standing before me was still in there somewhere. I didn't want to see him hurt, only I did. I wanted to do it myself, but I couldn't imagine killing him. I didn't know how to tell Tommy what had happened without using any names. And a part of me didn't want to tell him because I was afraid of what he'd think of me.

As much as I loathed to admit it, what Travis had said to me had sunk in. He made me wonder what Tommy would say if he knew. Would he write me off as some whore? Would he be betrayed? I knew somehow that he would at least be betrayed, and so I was scared. I was terrified. But I had to say something, no matter how unwilling I was to confess even a little bit of the story, all censored and sanitized and washed of Travis' name. Only it wasn't a clean story. It was filthy and black and disgusting and humiliating and incredibly demeaning. I had to tell Tommy, to get it off my chest. I couldn't keep it from him. Because I couldn't go on pretending that I was okay anymore. I couldn't keep lying to everyone and putting on this happy front when I was really absolutely, dejectedly miserable. I wasn't okay.

So I just shook my head blindly, wrapping my arms around myself. "I'm not okay," I said softly, accompanying that with a deep, shuddering breath. I tried to explain because I had to, but it hurt... And I was so scared. "This guy... He, uh... He..." I started weakly, only I couldn't finish, and my voice kept breaking. I started sobbing anew. I could literally hear Tommy seething. He knew what... Well, he sort of understood. I had to clarify it for him so he wouldn't think... That what could've happened did, you know? 'Cause it didn't, not to Travis' credit because he wanted it so badly he was completely blinded. It just... It didn't happen like he wanted it to. It didn't happen like I wanted it to either. I would've preferred that nothing happened. "It wasn't like t-that, Tommy. My, my friend... She walked in and stopped him before he could... Oh, God," I trailed off, crying hysterically. I don't know what I would've done if Joan hadn't showed up when she did.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tommy stiffen. He leaned in closer to me. "Who is he? I'll kill him!" Tommy proclaimed furiously. I could feel his breath on my neck, so I jumped. I shook my head frantically because Tommy must not find out. I couldn't tell him. I mean, I know he wanted me to... But he hates Travis already and... what happened would just make things even worse. I now knew what Tommy meant when he'd said Shay wasn't worth his sweat. Travis wasn't either. He wasn't worth Tommy's sweat, and every tear I'd cried over him was wasted. I could tell Tommy's resolve was softening a little. "I'm not him, Jude," He reminded me quietly, "I'm not going to hurt you." It was a promise, but it didn't relax me much. I wasn't in the mood for trusting deceitful men. Not to mention the fact that Tommy and Travis were so alike it was overwhelming. It's like Mary-Kate Olsen saying she's not Ashley. I mean, obviously she isn't, but she looks just like her, which damages her already crappy credibility.

And then, of course, Tommy said the one thing that he knew would calm me. "It's me, Jude. Tommy... I would never hurt you. I care about you," He assured me soothingly. That was it, the magic words. I lifted my head up slowly, almost as if in a dreaming state. I was still a little unsure, but Tommy moved forward and wiped the tears from my eyes. And slowly, my vision stopped being blurry. Then he wordlessly pulled me into his warm, caring embrace (I'd say loving, but I don't dare to assign to Tommy feelings he doesn't necessarily feel). I sighed and inhaled the smell of his cologne, burying my face in his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you, Jude," Tommy promised, trying to mollify me. I just sort of sat there and let him hug me. It was kind of nice to know that Tommy wasn't going to try anything with me. It was so... touching.

Which is really ironic, considering. But eventually I pulled back from his arms, blinking fast. I felt like crying all over again because Tommy was being so sweet to me, and I wholly didn't deserve it. "I don't want to go home, Tommy. I want to stay here," I said softly, glancing up at him as if afraid. Tommy really was so much older than me. I sniffled weakly and looked him straight in the eyes because it was the only place on Tommy that didn't immediately remind me of Travis. "I need to take a shower. I feel dirty," I stated calmly. I bit my bottom lip because it was trembling. "Can you get me some, um, clothes?" I asked awkwardly, looking at him with big, sad blue eyes. Tommy nodded wordlessly, and I stood up awkwardly. I stumbled through his apartment, completely disregarding any privacy. I unzipped my boots as I walked, carelessly tossing them on the ground. I undid the annoying bustier top faster than Travis ever could and threw it to the ground halfway to the bathroom.

Then I walked inside the bathroom, turned on the water and ripped off the skirt. I took a deep breath, finally feeling like I could breath. Those clothes were so tight... They left red marks on my skin. Although, glancing at myself in the mirror, I noticed grimly that I had rather a lot of those. Not just from the outfit either. I had a bunch of bruises left over from last night. My legs were still kinda cut-up looking and just starting to turn purple underneath the all-purpose cover-up I'd applied meticulously this morning. There was that lovely bump on my forehead too, not to mention my wrists, which were turning a dangerously blackish purple. I made a mental note to buy some more wristbands. I touched the bruises on my neck, which were red and even more inflamed. They itched, too, and I didn't think they were supposed to do that. _Je n'ai pas de sucettes nouvelles_, I pointed out as optimistically as I could, which was not very. I shuddered in revulsion as I remembered the low, sultry way Travis spoke French to me. Every word that came out of his mouth had sounded like poetry dipped in honey with a harp accompaniment. I turned my neck for a better glimpse at the bite mark, which looked infected yet again.

My back was all sorts of shades of black and blue, and my spine was completely killing me from having to bend over backwards that far. I'd probably pulled about a million muscles overextending myself. I was going to be sore for weeks after this, I thought with a grimace. There were even bruises corresponding to the specific shape of the buttons. I walked over to turn on the shower, setting it for steaming, just like I liked it. It felt like every inch of my body was bruised or wrenched or something. My feet were killing me too, and not just from the boots. Remember how I "fell" yesterday and kinda almost twisted one of them? I honestly don't understand how I didn't notice this pain. Right after I took my shoes off, my feet practically exploded with pain. And then there was my wrist, which was definitely broken in some way, even though it looked fine. It didn't feel fine, I assure you. Maybe I had a hairline fracture or something. I cursed Travis once again.

Damn jackass son of a bitch rat-bastard asshole Lothario.

And then I ransacked Tommy's medicine cabinet while waiting for the shower to heat up. I had a good shower, and when I came out in a towel like I lived there, Tommy was waiting, dry-mouthed, with the requested clothes. I don't like wearing boxers, but it was either that, my miniskirt, or the skimpy thong of some idiot debutante Tommy's screwed... And his type always seems to be open for business, so I wasn't willing to wear the aforementioned slut's clothing and risk catching something. And then I'd end up doing Valtrex commercials, which really isn't my cup of tea. I put the clothes on while wearing the towel right in front of Tommy because I just didn't care anymore.

After that, I tried to go to sleep... I tried for hours upon hours, but I just couldn't. I was so restless, and I'm normally not. I was wired and hungry, but I couldn't eat because I felt sick. I tried to write a song, but I couldn't write anything about what had happened to me. It was still too fresh in my mind, and I didn't want to relive it. Not now, and definitely not yet. Not ever, really, if I could. I tried listening to music, practically every CD in Tom's collection... But I couldn't stand any of it, and I kept thinking about it. I tried talking to Tommy about music, but I was devoid of any ideas and didn't want to listen to shop talk. I tried watching movies, TV, talk shows... But nothing was on, and half of what I turned on immediately reminded me of Travis and what had happened. Or if the show was boring, my thoughts would drift off, and I was gone. It was horrible. I didn't even want to think his name, much less think about him, the mistakes I'd made, and what had almost happened.

I tried calling people, but I kept hanging up when they answered. I somehow managed to leave a message home that I wasn't feeling well and was staying over at a friend's house. Then I called Jamie and managed to tell him where I really was. I told him I wasn't feeling well, and then I hung up abruptly and ran off to throw up. Tommy was nice. He held back my hair, helped me out a little. Ugh, I was as sick as a dog; at least, that's how I felt. I tried to sleep again, but I couldn't. So I employed Tommy to distract me. He tried everything. He told jokes, spoke softly, chit-chatted with me, bored me to death with production stories; hell, he even sang to me.

And periodically I would think I was okay, and I would start to drift off. Only I kept having these dreadful nightmares, and I always woke up less than fifteen minutes later, screaming my lungs off and interrupting Tommy's sleep. Tommy wasn't with me those times because he was in his guest room, trying to sleep. Maybe that was the reason. Tommy's presence always manages to calm me down. Either way, after I'd kept the poor man and myself up until four in the morning with this vicious cycle, he gave me two Ambien and stayed there to watch over me. I managed to pull him into the bed with me, though, because I felt guilty about keeping him up so late. And like two seconds after that, nothing really mattered.

Because in less than ten minutes, I was asleep. And, sure, sleeping in Tommy's bed next to Tommy in Tommy's clothes didn't make it all better. I still had all those bruises, and it was nearly impossible to get comfortable. I still had those maybe wrenched ankles and that broken wrist, and they still hurt me. But that's the good thing about sleep. The pain fades away. In the end, I got what I wanted. I was able to forget.

But I never said anything about forgiving.

Loren ;

Note: Originally Jude wasn't supposed to be in love with Travis at all because yeah. And so I originally intended for something much more twisted about how Joan found them. See, Jude wanted Travis to go down... So she was supposed to kiss him and sort of start things up, and then Joan would see and would be so heartbroken she'd tell on him. So in the original idea, Jude was gonna kiss Travis so she could have a witness. Now, don't think that that also meant that Travis wasn't going to try and attempt rape, because he always was. Jude just would've been even more... It would've been even worse, and Travis would've known why she was doing it. But yeah, then she fell in love with Travis (sorta), and that just shot my plan to Hell. Either way, though, Joan was supposed to walk in then and save Jude.

Also, the next chapter will not be Wednesday. The next chapter will be around two months ahead of this one. Which means that it will be just before or the beginning of Tommy's birthday. Because I actually wanna get this story done, y'know? ;) But look at what I've done in two weeks... Lol, by which I mean that these entire 33 chapters take place in two weeks. And after Tommy's birthday we have Christmas, which is where all the stuff with Travis/Tommy comes out. You also get to meet Tommy's big-shot little brother, Taylor, who's an actor. Jude also gets a boyfriend and spends one very awkward Christmas with Tommy's family in the good ole chateau down in Montreal, because Tory likes things as awkward as possible. So yeah, you all are in for fun times. ;)

Reviews are highly appreciated! They also tend to make the author update faster, just a hint. I mean, I love this story and all, but my other story gets like, twice as many reviews. Easy. Or if you would like to give a long rambling review full of specific likes/dislikes or just general thoughts on the chapter. That would REALLY be great. But if you don't, then that's okay. I understand. Thanks to all of the reviewers! You really know how to make a girl feel loved (that's why I'm up at three-thirty posting this for you!)!


	34. Star

Okay, for starters, this one's for Know It All. Now, normally I wouldn't even say anything about what you said, or I would've addressed the parts of it that irritate me in a PM, but I can't do that. Because this is a free country, and you do have your own right to your own opinion. And I believe in that freedom. And I don't want to make something out of it. I really don't. I mean, I'm seventeen, not two. I don't want to get in one of those stupid flame battles. Yes, the story is rather cliché, I suppose. I know that. But I'm big on originality, so if you have a story to show me that is not at _all_ cliché, I'd be happy to read it. I will acknowledge that the prologue is short and if I could, I'd go back and do it again It kind of sucks. I wrote it before I knew where the story was going. Wow. You caught me. However, after chapter... 5-ish, they get progressively longer. Maybe too long. I'm going to disagree with you saying Jude's a slut. I mean, she does kiss a lot of guys, but she hasn't had sex. Although I will agree with you that Tommy is a moron. ;) Then again, he was one of those on the show too... I honestly can't say whether Wilted is better or not because I don't really know. I appreciate that you like it because I like it too. I just wish you would have posted how you feel about that story in a review for that story.

Now, for the rest... You can say all you want about me. Don't worry about hurting my poor, POOR, precious feelings, okay? Now, it's when you say stuff about my friends that re-e-e-ally pisses me off. I won't take that lying down. And, considering you said rude, completely unprovoked for things about two of my best friends (who are seriously, some of the nicest people) on the whole site, yeah, I'm going to be pretty annoyed. It's a low, insidious, and _vicious_ thing to do. Because I'm not about to let you get away with insulting them. Don't go dragging my friends into it when your problem is clearly with my story. Now, I would like to say that Belle is not an idiot, and the things you said about her story are uncalled for, untrue, and **cruel**. Especially that really mean, downright _malicious_ part where you called her a pathetic sap. Words cannot express how utterly _despicable_ it is to say something like that about someone. Just because she disagrees with you on a point does not mean you have to go trash her as a person. Because you **don't** know her as a person. How can you dislike someone you don't know as a person? Same goes for Six. And secondly, don't go calling Six a moron because for starters, she isn't a moron. Oh, and don't you go implying that she's a pathetic sap just for having this story on her favorites list. Surprisingly (for the both of us, I assure you), a lot of people have this story on their favorites list. She, just like you, is entitled to have her own preferences and mention them in public forums. She's the exact opposite of an idiot. Besides, you obviously wouldn't go around reading people's stories if you think they're idiots. So don't waste your breath insulting my friends in a story that isn't theirs. That's cowardly. If you want to insult me, _bring it on_. Say all the nasty things you want; I don't care. Just, **please**, leave them out of it.

I could delete your review, I guess, if I wanted. I almost would just because of the things you said about my friends. But that would be letting you win. And that would be saying that it's okay to mess with my friends because I'll just delete it. But I won't. It _isn't_ okay. I've worked hard on this story, regardless of what you think, and I deserve each and every review I get... even if they're not all positive. All in all, thanks for the review. Really. You stopped my head from getting too big. ;)

On a lighter, happy note, dances up and down and shouts it's finally fixed! I can update now! Thank you! Firstly I would like to thank all you wonderful reviewers for bearing with me. I know it took forever, and I'm sorry. Lol, and here's the update after practically a week. Secondly, I would like to give mega thanks out to the person who invented Copy and Paste. It is geniously simple, and yet so, so valuable. This update would honestly not be here if not for C&P (as my bro's computer doesn't have the letter m on it, or at least, it doesn't work). Also, big thanks go out to Yahoo and my Writers' Workshop class. Because I had to write over/around half of this in a draft email form, I kid you not.

Finally, updates probably won't be coming real fast for a while until my laptop gets fixed. So yeah. Anyways, thanks so much for your patience. Oh, and I don't own Instant Star. Damn. ;)

* * *

"**_Asshole_**," Joan muttered vehemently under her breath, glaring at the back of Travis' head.

He was up at the blackboard, once again teaching and going over boring musical techniques I'd mastered long ago. And he was an ass, which is why half the class happened to be staring at him. Because he is a fine ass after all. I was personally zoning out and looking everywhere but at Travis. It was so awkward now. I felt so dirty around him. I honestly don't know how Travis heard her.

For starters, she obviously muttered it under her breath, and we were sitting in the back row. But Travis suddenly whirled around and dropped his chalk. I jumped and felt my breathing and heart rate speed up involuntarily. There was that dark, scary look in his eyes once again, the look that I had learned to be wary of. I shuddered and grew progressively more worried as he suddenly stormed right down our aisle. I thought I was going to die when he stopped right between me and Joan. He wasn't even a foot away.

But all of that worry was for naught because Travis didn't even look at me. I felt sorta cheap, like he'd really just used me and none of it had mattered to him... He could act like nothing had happened, of course, because it was easy for him. And I'm sure he wasn't proud of what he did, unless he's an even bigger asshole than I thought. But I couldn't pretend that it was okay. I felt like Joan had made a deal with the devil, only I didn't want anyone to know, but then again I did. I wanted Travis nailed to the wall. I wanted him to suffer. I hated him more than I ever had. I was so affected by it, and Travis didn't even care.

I still have nightmares about it. And that's why there are dark circles under my eyes. Because I can't sleep. Not that I was sleeping much before, but whatever. At least my room is sparkling. I make like a meth addict when I can't sleep and clean almost nonstop. Because I can't write any songs. It's been over two full months, and I've only written one song. One damn song. "Over-rated". I really don't know why there's a dash in there, since overrated is a word, but I guess it just looks cooler that way. Then again, I hadn't slept for about 64 hours, we had a deadline, and I was completely out of it. And that's why it makes no sense and sucks the bag. And now Speed's been calling me "Over-rated", which I guess is his way of saying that I'm a failure now.

And every other bit of a song I've tried to write since has completely blown. I sorta wrote two, but with help... One with Mason and one with Speed "Who Am I Fooling?" and "Anyone But You", respectively... They totally kick "Over-rated"'s ass. That's what Travis did to me. Joan's little gag rule and Travis' acting silenced me. It was as if nothing had happened. I couldn't talk about it, not even in a song. And that was wrong and unhealthy.

Travis, however, focused solely on Joan as he always did. Joan glowered up at him, radiating beams of hatred. That was usually my shtick. I glanced at her and felt my own eyes harden. I was jealous of her. I was jealous that she could do what I couldn't. She could hold that anger inside and let it burn. That anger kept her going. What was keeping me going? I was jealous that Joan was so strong about it all. She could keep her mouth shut and make snide comments and stand up for me when I couldn't. But mostly, I found myself jealous of the way that Travis always looked at Joan, and never at me. It wasn't just that I wanted someone to look at me that way... I wanted that someone to do something about it. And then, a small part of me, way deep down, still... Still wanted Travis. As much as I could say I hated him and that I had no feelings for him anymore... It was a lie because that part of me still remembered.

I couldn't take the feelings back just like that, like Joan could. I've never been good at denying anything. I wear my heart on my sleeve; that's just what I do. And I hated that I still felt for Travis, but I couldn't do one damn thing about it. I think maybe Joan felt about a thousand times worse than I did, but she never said anything about it, and she'd never told me how she felt about him in the first place. I was just feeling rather stressed out and so... tired lately. I'd been rushing all over the place preparing things for Tommy's birthday and singing all those songs I'd written when he'd broken my heart. That took so much out of me, exerting that emotion. I felt so drained, so empty, and sort of lonely, too.

The worse thing, though, I think, was seeing the pained look on Tommy's face every time I whipped out one of my songs Together we were able to edit out a little of the rawness from the originals, but it took a lot out of the both of us, rehashing those memories. I saw his face when he saw the tear marks on the page. It was awful. Tommy looked about as guilty as I felt, but he had to pretend like nothing had happened because it was too awkward otherwise. And I had to pretend to be happy even though I was miserable, tired, and half-crazy. I think Tommy knows how I feel right now, but if he does, he's the only one who's noticed. Except Jamie and Kat, I guess, but they're too wrapped up in each other to delve deeper. Or maybe Jamie just knows I don't want to talk about it. Not that I could, even if I did.

Half of the time Tommy doesn't even let me sing. My voice is too hoarse, he says. He says I'm sick, and I am. I currently have the Cold from Hell. But I think it's getting better. I've been swilling Chicken Noodle soup by the gallon and drinking massive quantities of Tropicana, so I should be good. I have to be, so I can sing in time for Tommy's party. I have it all planned out, wrote the song myself a long while ago in a fit of affection for Tommy. E.J. approved it. We got him cake, sent out all of the invitations. You wouldn't believe the guest list. His party's today, you know, later on, of course. Sadie has a cheerleading competition all this week, so she can't go.

Which means that I get the double duty of being hostess and Tommy's arm candy... Or, more appropriately, since I am not a model or incredibly good-looking... His date. That means that I have the duty of making sure everything's in shape, which basically means that I double-check and approve things E.J.'s noted. And I calm E.J. down. However, my most important job is insuring that Tommy doesn't know about the party because it happens to be a surprise party. I kept him out of G. Major by sending him on a week's vacation that I got approved by Georgia. I went to Yvette because she got Sadie that trip for about two dollars... Plus, since you know, she was boffing my dad and all, she kinda owes me a favor for being a homewrecking skank. So Tommy spent a week up in this nice, festive cabin in Vermont on top of a mountain with a studio where no one will bother him. Because Sadie let it slip to me that that's kind of his dream.

He's still there right now, but he ought to leave in an hour or so for the airport then get on his flight, which goes directly to Toronto. He has the day off work, so he's not going into G. Major. Georgia helped me by saying he was a perfectionist workaholic, so she officially banned him from coming to the studio, which suits our purposes. Tommy and I have "dinner plans" for tonight, so he's expecting me to come over and get him. I am also his conduit to the party, since I will have convinced him that I am safe to drive, albeit very reluctantly. For the first time in ages, I'm actually excited about it. Even though Tommy hates surprises, it's still the most alive I've felt since that last date with Tim, which was two weeks ago.

My album finally went platinum about a month ago. There was a small party. I should be happier about that than I am because it's quite the achievement. That's what everyone says, and I agree. I nod and give my thanks and fake a smile. Dad was so proud of me. He says I'm a shoo-in to win a Juno, something I would've killed for a couple of months ago... Maybe even a Grammy or a VMA or... Some big award I'm supposed to be proud of and want with all my heart. But now that I think about it, Eden's right. That sad girl with a guitar crap is so played out. I'm no Avril. And right now, I hate to say it, but I could care less if I won anything at all.

My parents are still sorting things out, but it's good. Dad hasn't moved in yet because he still has a month left on the lease. They're happy but really focusing on themselves. They should be, too; neither Sadie nor I begrudge them for it. We're just happy Mom stopped carrying on with Don. Dad is too. Besides, Don was a jackass. They're working things out finally, and they're getting along so well. I really am happy for them.

But I know what you're wondering about. Me and Tommy, right? Because we looked pretty tight and all, and so close... And Tommy said he wanted me. Well, talk is cheap. Tommy got over that decision. I think the both of us did. He's still seeing Sadie, and things between them are getting awfully serious. It's going on what... maybe five months now? Because their three-month was the filming date for our video... And that was about five months and a week ago. More or less, I believe. For Tommy, that is some serious commitment, given that his longest relationship was Britney Spears (a whopping six and half months then two or three after), before and after Justin, and even that didn't last too long. Sadie's ecstatic about it understandably. I can't really comment on the situation... I mean, I could, but I try and avoid it. It's an awkward situation, but I can't hate Sadie anymore. It's too hard, and it's not worth it for any of us. At least I don't have to see them together much. They're good at avoiding the PDA now. And they both seem happy, so who am I to interfere with that? I just... Sadie is the right girl for Tommy.

No, Hell didn't just freeze over. She really is, and I really think that. They're like-minded (not that that's necessarily a compliment or a good thing), and Sadie's a good person. She's an achiever, and Tommy, well, isn't. She can inspire him and make him better. Plus, they'll have beautiful children, won't they? They're the perfect couple, really. And as much as I'd like to step in and ruin their happiness, I can't. Because I'm too young, and my moment with Tommy has long passed. Even if our song still plays on the radio, that doesn't mean a thing. After all, there's no accounting for taste. Hell, if Paris Hilton gets airplay... "Minor Liaison" was a number one hit, you know. My second, after "Too Sexy Sadie". Ironic, isn't it?

The video was so steamy that it was banned after two days on MTV2. I was amused and all-too glad, but that only stirred up the buzz for the song. It made it forbidden, which the whole song is kind of about, now isn't it? I like to say I don't care, but that's a lie. It was just a song, and a lousy song besides, but it... It still meant something. And the feelings were still there, no matter how much we denied them or ignored them. We didn't really have a song anyways. Don't you have to be a couple to have a song? Tommy and I never even came remotely close to that, to dating... like normal people.

You're wondering about what happened, aren't you? Think it had something to do with Travis and what he did, don't you? Well, I guess that's sort of right in some ways, but Travis wasn't even remotely involved in the decision, if you could even call it that. That night... Tommy and I never really came to an agreement about it... whatever it was... But after the morning after... We both kinda went our separate ways. And it hasn't been the same since. I feel like a part of me's missing, and the studio's so quiet now... No laughing, no jokes, no pranks, no pep talks. Tommy doesn't even make fun of Speed and Jamie anymore. He doesn't care when I talk to Mason and Chaz. There's nothing but Tommy's voice giving me instructions through those headphones, guiding me musically. The rest doesn't matter. It's unseemly for me to be that close to my sister's boyfriend and my producer, after all.

But I miss him, really, I do. We're barely even friends anymore. It's pretty obvious, but no one dares to comment on it. Not even Georgia or E.J., and E.J. talks about everything. Even Chaz and Kwest pretend like they haven't noticed. I think they're afraid, but I wonder if they're more afraid of Tommy or me. Tommy doesn't mope like I do. I can only mope around Tommy unless I'm alone, because Tommy knows why I'm like that. He has been brooding an awful lot lately, though. And he's being strangely quiet, living up to that strong, silent type of his. I just lie to everyone else, and none of them ever notice that my smile doesn't meet my eyes. Or maybe they do and don't care or want to bring it up.

I miss him something fierce. It's always worse at nights, because I've been in his arms and... I keep expecting that, but I never quite get it... And it makes me so depressed because I remember how nice it was, just to... just to be close to him. I lied when I said I fell asleep right away. I tried to go to sleep, to close my eyes and succumb to the pills and my own weariness, but I couldn't. I kept thinking about Tommy and how grateful I was to him, how sorry I was that I hadn't gone through with it and that I'd kept him up so long. He'd been so caring and sensitive to me, even when I didn't deserve it. Hell, I was just his girlfriend's little sister, his client... He never even had to be friends with me, but there he was, looking after me in my time of need. He was even okay with me not having sex with him. I don't think I have ever been in love with him more than I was at that moment, with the exception of when I fell in love with him in the first place.

And even that wasn't like this. I felt contagious and completely lovesick, so much that my heart was swelling and exploding and every color seemed suddenly brighter. When I first fell in love with him my stomach was all fluttery, and every place we were touching tingled. His arm was draped around me heavily, and the heaviness of his weight on me was just... It made me feel swoony and weak in the knees, and it was suddenly so much harder to breathe. It was a completely new feeling, one I'd never had before. Then it kind of hit me that I wanted Tommy, and I immediately flushed at the thought. But I kept glancing over at him when he wasn't looking, just so I could sneak a glance at his face. He was that amazingly gorgeous, so much so that I had to pry my eyes away from him or I would've stared at him all day. After what seemed like an eternity of this, Tommy looked up and caught me looking at him. He smiled at me, really smiled at me, and I felt myself falling and falling hopelessly fast. For him. Our stares connected in that one moment. And when I looked deep into his eyes, it was like the world came into focus for the very first time.

You know when that was. Everyone knows when that was, thanks to Talk National. At the pier, the day after I first met him. No, it wasn't just a crush, like I'd tried to tell myself. You see, no one knows why I fell for him. Not even Tommy, not that he knows. I don't think he thinks I'm in love with him. I think he thinks it's just a childish crush, but he couldn't be more wrong. I didn't fall for him because he was hot, or romantic, or flirtatious, or charming, or because he had Tiger Beat's Dreamiest Smile, even though Tommy was all those things and more. It wasn't even the music or how close he was or how warm he felt or how good he smelled. It was what I saw in his eyes. I saw potential because, for the first time, I saw through all his issues, his past, his lifestyle... his act, pretty much. I saw the real thing.

He said that I was it, the real thing. Even better. Now, as much as I like to be compared to Coca-Cola, and really I do... He was that to me. He was real and even better than I'd imagined. I don't mean that I'd imagined Tommy to be some sort of demigod like my sister. If you remember correctly, I loathed him for many a year. He was the guy, you know? The One, that mythical Prince Charming. I'd always loved fairytales as a little girl, and there it was- There he was, really, standing right in front of me. I never spared a second thinking of my wedding, but I spent a lot of time thinking over my groom. It's the one girly habit I possessed as a little tomboy. And Tommy was exactly what I'd pictured... and so much more. He was a thousand times better than what I'd pictured. Only he wasn't a myth anymore. He was real, and he was perfect.

So when our eyes met, and we had that moment, I knew. I thought to myself, this is it for me. This is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I had found my Blue-Eyed Musical Prince, and I loved him more than anyone else in the world, even my Dad.

Later, I wrote that off as a stupid girlish fantasy thought because it was really, truly ridiculous, and my Prince was a cheesy nineties popstar who shook his ass for money like a common stripper, and he'd screwed around with every slutty starlet in Hollywood. Besides, he stood for everything I hated about music. And so what if I thought he didn't suck huge anymore? He was just a friend, not even that, right? But I was just lying to myself.

So, suddenly, while I was remembering all this, I felt a huge burst of courage, the type of courage that only comes when your heart is almost exploding with love for a person like mine was for Tommy. It's the kind of insane, undefeatable courage that makes even the most sensible people do insane things. I wanted him to know so badly I ached. So I turned to face Tommy, snuggling up against him, and I leaned to whisper in his ear. "I love you, Tommy," I murmured softly, so tired that my own eyelids were fluttering. Then I leaned over him a little to see if he'd heard me because I'd said it sort of soft. I also wanted to kiss him on the lips very badly. But of course, when I looked, Tommy's eyes were closed, and he was soundly asleep. He was even snoring a little.

That made me so sad, seeing that my confession would be for nothing. I watched him for a few seconds longingly, feeling an unwanted tear slide down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away, cursing myself for being so sentimental. He was asleep, and I could tell him later. Only I knew I never would because even I, the infamous Jude Janis Harrison, didn't have courage like that. Right after I thought that, however, Tommy rolled over, placing his head on my pillow, and slinging his arm around my waist. He was half on top of me, but he tried to get closer. I smiled wearily and wrapped my arms around him, pulling up the sheets where they had fallen off of his back. I sighed and inhaled the smell of his hair, trying to memorize it. And, seconds later, directly after I closed my eyes and began drifting off I could've sworn I heard him whisper my name.

I miss him so much it kills me sometimes, even though I've tried to anesthetize myself of the feeling. And some nights, I cry myself to sleep, thinking about what I've lost there. All that I've lost there because we've drifted apart. I regret that it happened, and I still don't know how it did... I guess these things just happen.

I still love Tommy, though, and I always will. I don't think I know how to stop loving him, and I can't seem to remember a time since I met him where I haven't been completely head-over-heels for him. It's just different now. I guess you could say I've given up and accepted that I can't be with him. Maybe later, if I'm lucky, but not now Not for a long time, until I'm ready, and he's ready. And that could be forever.

God, I am being so damn maudlin! I shouldn't be this way! I should just get over it and forget about it... Like Travis and Tommy obviously have. Is that genetic? Are some people just born with that ability? 'Cause I don't think I'm that good of an actor, and I'd like to know if it's congenital in case Tommy makes me an aunt before my time. I wish I could be like that. I guess some of us just have to learn.

But back to reality... So Travis the Asshole had approached Joan the Stubborn, who was acting like the subject of "Daytripper" or "Norwegian Wood". Travis was frustrated because Joan's a big teaser, and he's known for taking the easy way out. He matched Joan's furious stare and was deadly silent. I knew, however, that Travis was an asp-in-waiting, and he wanted just the right moment to strike. He turned his back to me, slamming his hand down on Joan's desk. I jumped, as did about half the class, and I was genuinely afraid for Joan. Joan wasn't even fazed by his show of machismo. I don't even think she blinked. Travis spoke before Joan could, but I knew a comment was burning on her tongue. "What did you say, Miss Travers?" Travis spat vaguely threateningly, suddenly showing a professionalism I hadn't seen since the first day of school.

Joan rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked at him, completely nonplussed. "I called you an _asshole_, Mr. Quinn," She said primly, mocking Travis' usage of a clipped, professional tone. This time, she said it loud enough so that he couldn't mistake it for what it was. There was a brief, collective gasp at this comment. Joan had some audacity. Travis' face, I assume, must've contorted in rage immediately, but Joan didn't back down. "But you already knew that," She stated blankly, presumptuously. She gave him a dismissive once-over. Her eyes were devoid of warmth and did not linger.

Travis was glaring daggers at Joan now, I'm sure. His fist clenched at his side. His other hand was still on her desk, making a bold statement. Travis could touch whatever he wanted, that was what he was saying, I thought with a shiver. "I will not tolerate such impudence, Miss Travers," Travis snapped frostily. I imagine his eyes must've turned that aquamarine color. The cold in his voice must've brought out the icy blue shards in his irises. Travis leaned forward a little, and Joan shot him a warning look. She bristled a bit and straightened in her chair. "Detention in here right after school," Travis growled authoritatively. He made a big show of whirling around dramatically. And then he saw me and leered suggestively...

And I suddenly wondered if he'd really forgotten. He smirked at me widely, and I felt disgusted. Was he trying to throw that day back in my face? He seemed almost proud of it. I wanted to sink into the floor when he stared right in my eyes. If my eyes were empty, his were soulless. I got a chill up my spine meeting his stare. I suddenly wondered why I'd ever wanted him to notice me. Right now all I wanted to do was sink into the floor. Joan saw all this, though, and she was quick to stop it when I didn't. "Because that went so _well_ for you last time, Travis," Joan retorted in a voice so cold she could've made molecular motion stop dead in its tracks. I felt myself flush self-consciously, and I was aware that everyone was staring at this section. I felt sick to my stomach again, and I wanted to throw up.

Travis immediately pivoted to face Joan after this. He looked angrier and more frightening than he had ever been to me except that day. The look on his face was bone-chilling, and rage was etched into every feature. I felt myself trembling slightly, but Joan didn't budge from her seat. She looked at Travis levelly, contemplating something. "I'll **do** a detention," She consented after a while, pausing briefly. Then her eyes narrowed, and she licked her lips. "As long as it's not _under_ you," She finished disgustedly, making a face at him. She was a master at double entendres. Then, only seconds later, such a look of revulsion crossed her face that I had never seen anything like it.

Travis immediately stepped closer to her, to the point of invading her personal space. He forgot all about me, and this time I was glad for that. I gulped, gasping in a breath. How had I forgotten to breathe? Travis leaned down, too, stooping so he could get really close to Joan's face. He could've kissed her if he wanted to. Not that he didn't want to kiss her, but he was too conscious of the crowd watching for that. Joan backed up a little, but other than that gave no immediate response. Her eyes flickered maliciously. "See, every time you have a detention with a female, you seem to wind up having sex or attempting to force sex with her. So forgive me for not wanting to get in on **that** action," Joan hissed venomously, a biting tone to her voice. No one but Travis and I could hear her. She moved her head back away from his then, as far as she could.

A cruel, shark-like smile slithered unto Travis' face then. His eyes were shifty and glinted like daggers. His lip curled as he leaned in towards Joan, quickly closing the distance between them. "At least I'm getting some," He pointed out in a vicious whisper, obviously alluding to Joan's alleged frigidity. Her lips stiffened, but she didn't look ashamed of that fact. Rather, Joan looked proud of her virginity, and she held it above Travis' head. Oh, yeah... They were a perfect match for each other, all right. So self-righteous, the two of them. "It's not like they weren't _asking_ for it," Travis continued insidiously. This time he said it loud enough for the rest of the class to hear. Naturally, they assumed he was talking about detention. "Just like **you**," Travis finished nastily before he backed away to a respectable distance.

Both of us were pissed at that. For one thing, I resented being compared to Patsy, who had slept with Travis for a bet. And I didn't "**ask** for it". Maybe I brought it on myself with that outfit and the flirting and what happened the night before... and how I was kinda teasing him, and how I might've led him on or whatever. But I said no. I said no three times, and I tried to escape. Repeatedly, but he wouldn't let me go. I resented him for saying that. And Joan resented him for saying she had "_asked_ for it" too, not that I blame her. From what I could see, she rebuffed him at every chance. He just didn't get it. But, for once, Joan seemed to be at a bit of a loss. Finally, she shook her head, shooting him a withering look. "You're a regular case of abnormal psychology," She spat irritably, rolling her eyes at him.

Travis looked proud of his abnormality. I couldn't believe someone would be proud of his or her mental deficiencies. It's like going around with a banner saying, "I'm insane and I like it!" written on it. He pulled that menacing testosterone-y crap again. Joan scoffed. He was that much of a joke to her. "I'm not falling for your machismo. You're obviously overcompensating for some perceived inferiority. And gee, I wonder what that could be?" Joan remarked intelligently, gesturing subtly at Travis' crotch. "Snip, _snip_," She muttered menacingly under her breath, intent written in her eyes.

Travis stiffened and scowled at her threat. He was clearly not afraid of Joan. He glanced over at me and grinned so smugly I had the sudden urge to wipe that look off of his face. And then he opened his mouth, but I cut him off. "**Don't**, Travis," I said in a low, almost pleading voice. He turned to meet my eyes, checking me out openly. He was clearly amused by the prospect of me begging; the thought made me feel ill. I didn't give him the satisfaction of blushing, although I felt incredibly uncomfortable under his stare. "After all, I'm sure your fiancée wouldn't approve of you molesting your students," I mumbled rudely, glaring at him. Joan looked surprised but proud of me. I was proud of me too for standing up to him.

Travis looked mildly shocked himself. Oh, right. He probably just remembered he's engaged. No, seriously, he made a big announcement about it a few months ago. On Friday of that week. Three days after he… God, what is wrong with me? I can't even say it! They got engaged right after he tried to... you know… Yeah, see, he's moving on. Travis Quinn and Kate Adams are going down the aisle once again. Who knows, maybe this time Tommy won't sleep with the bride and ruin the wedding? Then again, maybe I'll ruin it out of spite... or the glaringly obvious fact that the monster's in love with Joan. It was oh-so romantic. Kate told me all about it. He really went all out. He took her out to the fanciest restaurant in town, had a real creative way of doing it that didn't involve the food cliché. I don't remember off the top of my head, but boy was it romantic. And he's a freaking hypocrite who gets his jollies elsewhere. Maybe he'll resort to prostitutes and strippers before the wedding.

Travis just stiffened a little, as if he was trying to straighten his moral compass. I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth at the gesture. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her," He said diffidently, shrugging like it was a casual thing, cheating on his girlfriend. I hated him so much it was almost redundant. Then a cunning, predatory gleam lit up his face. "Oh, _please_, Jude! One more second and I would've had you screaming my name for the world to hear! You were practically trembling from the want. I had you exactly where I wanted you. I was so close that it _hurts_ to think about it. I _almost_ had you. You were **mine**. If I'd had two more seconds, I would've been on top of you... like **that**... and you would've been writhing beneath me, moaning in pleasure," Travis murmured seductively in a low, throaty voice that tickled my ear. It was a voice that normally would've turned me on, but now it just sickened me and brought all the awful memories back. He snapped his fingers repeatedly to emphasize his point like a beat.

I closed my eyes and shuddered involuntarily because the memories all suddenly came back at full speed. He wasn't telling it right. I was shaking because I was terrified. I tried and tried to resist him. And I would _never_ have screamed his name. No or **RAPE!** maybe... but not his name. He almost had me, all right, but I was glad he hadn't, so glad words couldn't express my happiness. But I would never be his. Ever, over my dead body. Like Joan said in her song that day, "I _will never be yours to love/I'm not going to be yours to hold_." And that last part is total crap. Because he was already on top of me, and I was writhing to try and get away. And I would've never moaned. Seriously, who has an orgasm when they're being raped? Was Travis on something? I stared at him blankly, crossing my hands over my chest. "Because people typically enjoy rape," I snarled sarcastically, wanting to make him hurt. Where were some hedge trimmers when I needed them? Then I paused, seized by a sudden thought. "I'd have screamed _Tommy's_ name instead... Because the whole time I would have been picturing him. Not you," I hissed, twisting the rivalry against him.

I tried to do that, and I've tried to do that in the past. It doesn't work, though, and it would've made things worse. Associating Tommy with Travis in my head only leads to trouble. It's bad enough that I have to blink whenever I look at Tommy just to make sure it's Tommy I'm seeing, when all of Travis swarms in my vision, mocking me. You know, maybe Travis looks like Tommy just to torment me so I can never be happy with him because I'll always be thinking of Travis. God, how twisted is that? How twisted is it that I just said I'd have screamed out Tommy's name if Travis had raped me? That I said I'd be picturing Tommy?!

I could never do that. I tried that, and it failed me. Why associate such awful memories with Tommy? I would've known it was Travis' hands on me, and thinking about Tommy would've made it worse. He would've been forever associated with that moment in my mind. But I would've _screamed_ for Tommy... to come save me... until my throat was raw and swollen, my voice throaty and raspy, and there was no more breath left in me. It would've been a bloodcurdling scream, too.

He made a face but otherwise showed no reaction. "And I would've made you forget **his** name," He retorted smugly. Travis didn't even have the decency to look ashamed of himself for a minute. Not even one damn second, or even a flicker of guilt. He was proud, damnit! He grinned cockily, rising to his full height and towering over me. There was that vile smirk and those dark, smoky jade eyes that haunted my nightmares. I knew immediately that I was going to have to throw up after this was all over with. He opened his mouth, flashing those perfect white teeth, oozing charm and casual humor. "Guess I'll have to give you another detention too, Mrs. Quincy," He sneered smarmily, mocking me with that evil smile. "To get _you_ done," He muttered under his breath. At that thought, I was immediately seized by two overwhelming urges. Number One: I felt all the warm, sad feelings towards Travis evaporating. And Two, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of fear. But I couldn't show him that.

He was wrong, too... Travis could never, ever make me forget Tommy's name. No matter how drunk I was or how afraid or how much he could charm me... Tommy would always be my number one, first on my mind, and first in my heart. Kinda makes it hard to date. And besides, Travis' mere existence alone was a constant reminder of my beloved. The only difference would be the eye color, the force Travis brandished, and the empty, soulless look in Travis' eyes.

His leering grin insinuated that if he had any say about it, we'd be doing the same thing he'd attempted last time. That was more than enough to get me moving. I leapt out of my seat so quickly it even startled Travis. "No one **_asked_** for it, Asshole," I snapped virulently only seconds before I faked going to leave and then turned around and... I hit the bastard straight in the nose with the hand he'd injured earlier. It was ever-so satisfying, and there was the most marvelous cracking noise. I then shoved him to the ground and resisted stepping on him. I felt exhilarated with glee at the thought of causing violence to him. There goes Jude Harrison, breaking noses everywhere with her right hook!

I don't know if I mentioned this, but broken noses usually heal fast. Sadie's healed in about two weeks, since most of it was just bruising... Something no one bothered to tell me. She was just a baby about it. This case, however, was not true for Travis, since I'd punched him ten times harder, and his nose had already been broken once very badly. He also had a neck injury apparently, but he didn't wear a neck brace or anything. He was sporting a big bandage for a rather long time, maybe a little over a month or so. He had to have a nose job done, and his nose looked a bit more crooked than it was before, but virtually the same. He still had an aquiline, aristocratic French nose. Damn him. I didn't really get to see, considering I wound up suspended for two months. Oops, oh well, but at least it was worth it.

No means no, I thought grimly, stalking past Travis. I stopped suddenly, hand on the door, and turned around impetuously. I had a sudden idea. I mouthed an apology to Joan before turning to face the class. Might as well go out with a bang, incriminating Travis. I knew I was going to get suspended. "By the way... Ladies, in case you're wondering..." I said loudly, addressing all the fangirls in the glass. I paused, grinning and feeling properly avenged. God, this was a good-ass day! I licked my lips and paused deliberately. "Tommy's a much better kisser. He knows how to multitask," I proclaimed informatively, beaming like a madwoman. Let them think what they will, I decided, walking out of there with a devil-may-care swagger in my step. I finally felt like me again, and that was the best feeling of all.

I walked out into the parking lot, immediately hopped into my car, and I drove to the Music Garden, notebook in hand. I went inside of it, sat down in a quiet area, and wrote like a madwoman. I finally felt normal again. And I wrote a pretty rocking song. "Not Standing Around" Or Alone. I can't decide. You know, empowerment tastes nice. I inhaled the fresh air and sighed happily, flopping down on the grass and relaxing... Letting the world just pass me by for a few blissful moments.

Then I got up because my eyes were fluttering, had some lunch, and, noting the time, decided to meet Tommy at the airport after all. The thought of a whole day with him on my arm as Sadie was out of town suddenly sounded incredibly appealing. Maybe the fight wasn't over yet. My hand was still covered in Travis' blood, but I didn't care. Let it stand as a symbol of my triumph over him. I do have a killer right hook, don't I, I thought admirably. Grinning like a madwoman, I drove to the airport, using every one of the driving skills Tommy taught me.

When I got to the airport, I did the typical airport thing, remembering how much I hated these places. This was the very place I'd taken off from all those months ago. If I glanced over in that direction, I could just point out the place where Jamie planted one on me. I couldn't help but touch my lips in remembrance. He'd really gotten better since that time I frenched him in my living room. But back to the more important navigational quandaries. I managed to find Tommy's flight, which was late, as are all international flights. I shrugged, bought some crap in one of the stores and searched for a homecoming present. His flight was due in an hour. And then I found it... licorice. I smiled and bought it, before snagging some expensive sunglasses for Sadie. Never let her say I never bought her anything nice.

Then I put the sunglasses on and strolled over to the gate. I'd put on a blonde wig in the bathroom, and sadly enough, my hair looked exactly like Sadie's. Luckily I bought a book, some extremely cheesy romance novel about a Lord and a poor girl. Naturally, I'd just gotten to the good part, right where they were about to have sex, when the flight came in Tommy, being in first class, was one of the first to get off, so I immediately set my book down and walked over towards him. It was more of a strut, actually... Which would make you think I was wearing clothes that were more impressive than baggy jeans, combat boots, and a button-up tank-top in a bandana pattern. You would really think I'd know better, wouldn't you?

But I don't. Besides, I figured I could just kick someone's ass with the combat boots... Plus I carried a knife in my pocket. What, like that's weird? A girl's gotta have a little protection, and a taser won't fit in my pocket. Anyways, so I immediately walked up to Tommy, who looked very surprised to see me. He actually dropped his bag to hug me. "Sadie? What're you doing here?" He asked curiously, sounding like he really liked that his girlfriend was there. Only I wasn't her, and I hated myself for wishing I was. I didn't really hug back, and I was the one who pulled away. Tommy was about to kiss me when I took off the sunglasses, feeling panicked.

I forced a smile, and Tommy looked horrifically surprised. "You actually thought I was Sadie?" I mused, laughing hysterically. I didn't want to laugh, though, because it wasn't that funny. Tommy just glanced down, almost embarrassedly, and picked up his bag. I rolled my eyes at him, presenting him with the licorice and walking over to grab my cheesy romance novel. Neither of us said a word as we went to baggage check. I helped him with his bags, some of which he had sent home and some of which he put in my trunk. Tommy does not travel light. Tommy seized the wheel of my car (by which I mean that he was driving, not me), and I began to wonder why I'd missed him so much if he was just going to act like this. This was worse than him not being here at all.

In the middle of the drive, Tommy glanced over at me and said slyly, "You make a good blonde." When he said that, I felt like... for the briefest second, things were normal again between us. They weren't, of course, but it was nice to pretend. I tore off the wig, glowering at him and punching him hard in the arm. Then Tommy noticed the blood on my hand, Travis' blood, and I stiffened immediately. He shot me a look. "So, where'd you hide the body, eh, killer?" He inquired with a grin. I rolled my eyes at him, peering down at my blood-covered fist. It was a wonder more people weren't giving me strange looks. Er, stranger looks. I got loads of weird looks on a daily basis.

I smiled back at him, feeling incredibly proud of myself. I brandished my dry, bloodied fist. "I think I broke my music teacher's nose," I replied brightly. Tommy immediately glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow. I winced at how that must have sounded, but then I shrugged because Travis deserved it. "He was _asking_ for it, though," I said breezily, making a face and using Travis' own words. That's no justification, but it was true. He had no right to say crap like that. I can't believe a part of me still thought he was a decent guy. He just talked about it so casually... Like he hadn't even done anything wrong. He made me sick. Then Tommy smiled widely because he remembered just who my music teacher was.

Tommy straightened and beamed. "That just might be the best present of all," He declared, wrapping an arm around me. He made a face. "Certainly better than what my mother's going to give me. She'll send it in about a week, saying she forgot... Or worse, around Christmas... And it'll be something she could've got from a 7-Eleven," Tommy ranted, bitterness showing through his tone. He glowered off into space for a few moments before remembering why his arm was wrapped around me. He smiled again but removed his arm. I felt cold without it, longing for his warmth. I was surprised when he suddenly grabbed my hand. He looked at me pleadingly, asking in a soft voice, "Milady, would you let me kiss the hand that punched out my archenemy?"

I giggled and nodded stupidly. Seconds later, Tommy pressed a kiss to my bloody knuckles. We stared at each other so long it was a wonder Tommy didn't crash the car. He pulled back after a while, his lips red, smiling at me with an almost predatory gleam in his eyes... about Travis, not towards me. You'd think I would be paranoid about that kind of look, but Tommy hadn't really touched me anywhere in about a month. I've heard of giving someone space, but what he did was just ridiculous. He seriously went out of his way to avoid physical contact with me. He hadn't even brushed against me in the hall. I was just grateful for any contact with him. Then Tommy pulled his head up a little, and his eyes sparkled like aquamarines. "You have _no_ idea how much I love you right now, Jude," Tommy proclaimed excitedly, getting a bit starry-eyed on me. Okay, I'll admit it. I kind of stopped breathing there for a second, but I know how he meant it. Unfortunately.

You better believe I faked a laugh and plastered on that fake smile. How I wished his words were true! I felt ashamed that I still felt the same way about him. It wasn't right of me, and it wasn't good of me. I guess maybe I couldn't help it. It's sort of like I knew the car was coming, but I walked across the street anyways. Like when Speed and I went out, for instance. He told me it was a GWAR concert. I know what GWAR concerts are like. They're insane and flashy and... exciting. And ridiculously graphic and violent. I mean, they're not shock rock and thrash metal for nothing. But I've never actually been to one, you know? I've kinda always wanted to go to one, though, and Speed knew that. My parents never let me, though. So I said yes, partly because I was really curious.

It was a brilliant idea on Speed's part because he knew I wouldn't refuse. He got a date and his favorite band live in concert. I know I said how Speed loves Pearl Jam insanely and everything, but nothing gets him fired up like GWAR. Seeing as he's of the um, maturity... of their typical fanbase, he's totally into it. Balsac the Jaws of Death is his favorite because he's the (rhythm) guitarist, although I believe Oderus Urungus is his idol. For some reason, Flattus really seems to piss Speed off. He chucked his drink at Flattus, and the drink hit him too, since we were in the front row. That was awesome. Oh, yeah, and Speed seemed really disappointed that Slymenstra wasn't there because he always wanted to see her fire dance. So I went there with a basic idea of what to expect. Only it wasn't at all what I expected. It was completely insane and probably the noisiest place I've ever been in my entire life. There was something so exhilarating and alive about it I had a blast.

I knew it was going to be like that, too. Just like I knew that they sprayed their audiences with stuff. They really took out some vengeance on Speed and me, lemme tell ya. I even wore crappy clothes, and still... And that's how the morning after that, Tommy found me in the bathroom at G. Major, covered in blood, washing the semen and urine out of my hair. They were fake bodily fluids, of course, but they sure looked realistic. But hey, if I wanted that kind of disgusting realism, I'd go steal Speed's G.G. Allin tape. The imitation bodily fluids are actually made of some mild stuff- water and powdered food coloring, seaweed extract. It's all supposed to be easy, you know... You can wash it out or brush it off. For the most part. That seaweed extract, though, was really chunky and very sticky in my hair for some reason. And the blood was just a bit too red. I kept scrubbing my skin, but it didn't want to go away.

Tommy completely freaked about that, by the way. I was mostly deaf then, though, so I didn't hear him. You should've seen the look on his face, though, when I told him I was cleaning the semen out of my hair. It was priceless.

Anyways, after what Tommy said... God, I can't even say it! But, yeah... After that, we spent the rest of the car ride in companiable silence. Every now and then, Tommy would glance over and smile at me. I would smile back, of course. It took me a while, but I realized that Tommy was driving us somewhere very familiar. Actually, he was driving me to the pier for some reason. I thought he must've been hungry, but apparently he'd eaten something on the plane or something. He looked really good, not so drawn and tired like he had before. Vacation and Vermont had treated him well.

Since it was well into November by that point, it was starting to get cold. The docks weren't exactly the warmest place in Toronto, to say the least. Tommy made me get out of the car and I walked with him over to one of the benches nearby. Since it was pretty cold, I huddled nearby him for warmth. Not for other reasons or anything, and most certainly not because I wanted to be near him. "So, Tommy, want to tell me what we're doing here?" I asked curiously, glancing around. The whole pier was virtually deserted. Not even a sailor or bum in sight. Damn. They must've been lying about those shirtless guys. Stupid Canada. Of course our beaches/boardwalks don't have shirtless guys walking on them. "All **alone**. On your birthday. When you could be doing _anything_ you want?" I continued pointedly, shooting him a look.

Tommy grinned sneakily, insinuating that this was exactly what he wanted. I shot him a strange look, feeling vaguely apprehensive. That meant that I was in for trouble. I knew we weren't there to write a song since I hadn't brought my guitar. Although, wait, Tommy's guitar was in my trunk. As if he'd planned it, the very second I thought that, Tommy told me to go get the guitar and my notebook. I did as he asked and brought back pen, notebook, and guitar. Tommy and I started working on a song, as is our way, but my head totally wasn't in it. I was thinking about Tommy's party and Sadie and Tommy, of course, and Tommy's party, and the fact that I was Tommy's date to the aforementioned party... So you can see why I was a little distracted. I guess Tommy must've noticed because he not so subtly chucked a pen halfway across the pier. Naturally, he demanded imperially that I go get it. Since he was the birthday boy, I bent like a sapling in a blizzard.

I rose, feeling vaguely annoyed, but I obeyed Tommy nonetheless. I walked over, knelt down, and picked up the pen, feeling like a total moron, of course. I straightened and stood back up and then... next thing I know, I'm crashing into Lake Ontario! How the hell do these things happen to me?

Actually, I can tell you how that one happened to me. Tommy blindsighted me. Yes, Tommy pushed me in the damn lake. And I love this man? Seriously, I mean... Friends don't push friends in nearly frozen water. Toronto is the opposite of a warm place in November. I send the man to Vermont in his own personal cabin in the middle of nowhere up in the mountains, punch out his rival, go to the airport to pick him up, plan his whole birthday party, and even write him a song to sing at his party... and he shoves me into a lake! Asshole. Ahhh, the nerve!

So, I was treading water, feeling like an idiot and still clutching that damn pen. Tommy, of course, was on the pier with his hands on his hips, laughing at me. That's how I knew it was him. The water was absolutely freezing... we're talking only a few degrees above zero here. I'm lucky it wasn't iced over, or I'd have been doomed to a frosty death like I saw in that one episode of Alias where they were in Siberia... Yeah, so she didn't die, and Ontario isn't as cold as Siberia (okay, and the lake usually doesn't even get half covered by ice), but I'm not a super spy either. And the love of my life sees fit to push me into cold bodies of water like I'm the one who needs a cold shower. Please! How many times has Tommy wanted to jump me, I ask you? I so could've made him my bitch up in the attic.

Anyways, I waited for Tommy to try and you know, be a gentleman and help me up. He did nothing of the sort, but at least he stopped laughing. I stared at him unflinchingly, sure that my eyes were as blue as my lips, but Tommy did not relent. Finally, I just gave up on him, wondering why the hell I depended on him so much in the first place. The guy clearly wasn't reliable. He was no rock, so why make him one when I'd only wind up disappointed? Shivering violently, I managed to swim over to the edge of the docks and push myself up... At least I hadn't gotten up close and personal with a fish. Or been poisoned, given some of the unhealthy pollutants that are in there (lead, mercury, E. coli, and DDT... to name a few). With an extreme display of force, I pulled myself out of the water and into a standing position. Water dripped down my sides embarrassingly, and my clothes were just about plastered to my skin (making me very glad I hadn't worn that white t-shirt today).

Naturally, I wasn't going to let that stand, birthday or not. I also knew it would be incredibly rude to push the birthday boy into the lake. But I had to give him a taste of his own medicine. So, thinking on my feet, I squelched towards him, arms outstretched. Now, I don't know whether it was the stiff posture, the blueness of my skin, or the fact that I was making strange noises... but Tommy like, thought I was a zombie or something. He managed to evade me, so I sighed and just shook off like Scruffy. The chill was seeping in through my clothes, and I knew like every other Canadian that it was bad to walk around in wet clothes. That gave me an idea.

I sat down none too delicately on the hood of my car, removing my shoes quickly. As I did this, I noticed that my fist was no longer bloody. My knuckles, however, were bruised and kind of roughed up. I scowled, hating Travis even more, and I promptly emptied my shoes out. There was a lot of water in them, apparently. I was forced to put my shoes back on only moments later, however, because my toes got cold. Then I stood (or rather, squelched) up, and began to unbutton my shirt. Boy, would the paparazzi kill for a shot of this. Well, at least I'm wearing a bra... And I've got a bunch of clothes in my trunk that I can change into. Well, technically they're not my clothes; they're Tommy's. But it's my car, my trunk, and I've slept in the same bed as the guy. The worst part was the water dripping down my head, because a lot of it got in my mouth. While the lake might be freshwater... that doesn't mean it tastes good.

Now, stripping on a deserted pier in broad daylight during the afternoon was not one of my wiser ideas, especially given the media exposure I've been getting lately. But I was freezing, and I needed some warm clothes. Plus the look on Tommy's face when he saw me was just priceless. He gaped like a fish and ran towards me. To tell you the truth, he practically tackled me. He pretty much had me pinned up against the car… and when he was standing over me, let me tell you, I got déjà vu. Because Tommy's eyes were darker and kind of greenish like Travis', and I'm not entirely comfortable being close to guys right now. Even though I trust Tommy with my life… it doesn't exactly help matters that he looks almost exactly like the guy who sexually assaulted me. I kind of tried to flatten myself against the car so that I could be as far away from him as possible. "What the **hell** do you think you're doing?!" Tommy exclaimed incredulously.

Oddly enough, his yelling relaxed me. That's when I snapped out of it and realized that no, Tommy wasn't Travis, and that I did, in fact, quite enjoy being close to him. Tommy, that is. I also noticed Tommy's eyes dart down to my chest. Not subtle whatsoever, but then again, that's not his strong point. I was wearing a bright red push-up bra, one of my favorites actually... It makes me look like I have actual cleavage. I loosened up a little, shrugging. "I'm getting out of these wet clothes, Tom," I muttered irritably, shooting him an accusing glance. It's his own damn fault I'm stripping on the pier, so he shouldn't get to look at me like that. I had to bite back a quip about the inappropriateness of him staring at me. Finally, I couldn't take any more of his gawping, so I had to say something. "**God**, Quincy, you got me _wet_!" I snapped loudly, shoving him back. Then I realized how dirty that sounded, and you should've seen the grin that spread across Tommy's face. Perv.

He smirked, gesturing to my attire. "Hence the stripping. Message received loud and clear, Harrison," He murmured with an appreciative stare and a salute. I think my face turned redder than my hair. Apparently the blush spread too because Tommy's eyes darted down my chest and stomach. "So that flush goes all the way, huh?" He asked interestedly, raising an eyebrow. My face felt hot. Could Tommy make me feel any more embarrassed? But somehow I managed to collect some of my wits and respond to him.

I glanced at him dismissively. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" I insinuated, narrowing my eyes. Tommy's dark stare clearly insisted that he did. Oh, wait, sorry, I forgot that I've flashed Tommy. Twice-ish. He already knows. "And while you're pondering that, could you make your staring a little less obvious? You'll get yourself in prison with thinkin' like that. And I'd **hate** to see you on To Catch a Predator, Tommy," I retorted viciously, knowing that would make him ashamed. Sure enough, it did. I finally got his eyes off my chest. Then I walked over, popped the trunk and opened one of Tommy's bags. I began to rifle through it for clothes. Hmm, dirty, dirty, dirty, smells like one of his whores, mm, smells like Tommy, delicious looking on him… I hate this shirt, hate it, hate it, smells like perfume…

"Jude," Tommy interrupted impatiently, "Do you really think undressing in public is a wise move, given what's been happening lately?" Tommy said it in this blithe, used-car dealer sort of way. His eyes flicked purposefully to my neck, and I knew exactly what he was looking at. The bite mark from Travis. All the bruises had gone away, but not his bite. No matter how much I cleaned, dressed, and babied it, the damn thing stung like a bitch and wouldn't go away. It was most assuredly infected. Made me wonder if the guy had given me Rabies or something. As for what Tommy alluded to, well, I won't dignify that with a response.

Okay, so here's how it is. These pictures of me got out with hickies all up and down my neck, like I looked two months ago. So rumors were flying around like crazy. And it doesn't help matters when you've already had rumors about engaging in a three-way with your ex and the "Hottest Thing in Producing". Oh, and then there was the disastrous music video with Tommy. Never dry-hump your producer. It always spells trouble. Especially since I think if the cameras weren't there, well, I might not be a virgin after all... That's what the people are talking about nowadays. Am I a virgin or not? I mean, really, you would think that they could worry about things more important than my sex life. But no, my sex life makes the papers. Tommy and I… That was a headline. I mean, honestly, Talk National made it look like we were caught in bed together. All they did was use stills from the video. That was bad, though. Tommy got hate mail for "corrupting yet another innocent girl". Actually, I laughed at every piece of hate mail he got.

I got a few myself, mostly from girls like me who wish they could have sex with Tommy. Those hurt a bit more, the ones that say I'm a slut. Because it's not true. Penetration is involved for being a slut. Or at least fondling on some part of the nether regions… Neither of which I recall having done or being done to me. Besides, I'm a minor. They're not even supposed to think about me in a sexual context. Although I don't exactly know whether I'm a virgin or not, so maybe I shouldn't be so quick to jump to my own defense. It's weird, though, how easy it is to forget that Tommy thinks I had sex with him. He doesn't act like he thinks anything happened. Then I got another bright idea. I grinned at him, looking at him all starry-eyed, leaning towards him just a little.

Then I said it.

"_Tommy_..." I breathed softly, staring into his eyes shyly. Tommy's features softened, and I leaned in further, making my eyes wide. "I want to have your babies," I stated bluntly. I swear to you, it was like dropping the bomb on Nagasaki Tommy's eye twitched, and he practically started seizing up right there. I had to work so hard to keep a straight face. Tommy's reaction was ridiculous, especially given that comment he made to me when he was drunk. Naturally, as I'd predicted, a horrified Tommy backed away awkwardly, giving me the room I wanted. But I decided to have my fun with him. I followed Tommy relentlessly. "You know, Tommy... Be the mother of your children. What do you think of a son, huh, Tommy?" I continued brightly, smiling like the sun at his terrified reaction. Any mention of commitment and the guy freezes.

It occurred to me that I probably wasn't the first woman to offer to carry Tommy's children. I mean, hello, he was married and all. I wondered vaguely if Tommy freaked like this with every woman who made a similar offer. Or maybe he just freaked because I was me, and I wasn't even seventeen. The sad truth of it was that I really, really, really... wouldn't mind having Tommy's kids. It'd be sort of nice. Does that make me pathetic? Still, the opportunity was just too entertaining to pass up. I walked towards Tommy, who had turned and continued to backpedal frantically. "I knew the minute I saw you that you were... _mine_," I explained warmly, knowing that the possessiveness would further alarm him. He's had one too many close encounters with crazy ex-girlfriends who're insanely in love with him.

True to my thoughts, Tommy backed away violently. I had to bite back the laughter that bubbled up within me. Tommy looked like a deer caught in headlights. Only he was more afraid of being hit than the deer. I think he has deep-seated psychological issues. Nonetheless, I walked towards him, acting completely lovestruck. "That there was no one else for me," I declared dramatically, amused by the way Tommy's eyes widened. Utter panic was the only emotion I saw reflected within them. "I wanna **marry** you, Tommy," I murmured, so close I practically fell into Tommy's arms. Since he had his arms around me, I didn't get a chance to see the look on his face, but I was sure he was absolutely mortified by my apparent adoration. I mean, don't get me wrong. I love the guy. I really do. If I could, and if he would, and hell, if it was legal and he wasn't dating my sister... I'd marry him in a heartbeat. But I don't have that option, so I don't walk around acting like a lovesick moron.

I remember the way that wound up backfiring on me last time. Plus it's completely stupid to obsess over what I can't have. Now, that doesn't mean that I'll stop, but I can try, at least. But that decision didn't stop me from leaning my head against his shoulder and inhaling his smell. What can I say? The man smells nice, and I have an appreciation for the finer things in life... or, rather, love. Tommy jerked away, though, moments after... Maybe it was because I was wet, or maybe it was because I'd sufficiently freaked him out. He seemed a little reluctant, though, but maybe I'm just attributing that to him. There was actually a pained look on his face, and I knew he was going to say something that would embarrass the both of us. But my eyes caught on something, and I smirked.

I had the perfect way to make Tommy pay. Just as Tommy was about to speak, I very nearly charged him, clapping my hand over his mouth. "Don't say a word," I exhaled warningly, meeting his gaze. I fluttered my eyelashes, dropping my voice an octave. Tommy swallowed hard, and the grin on my face widened. I leaned in close to Tommy's face, and he took a few steps backwards. My hand fell off his lips, so I marched towards him. "Tommy, I want to have sex with you. Right here, right _now_," I whispered huskily, moaning loudly at the thought. Tommy's eyes were the size of watermelons, I kid you not. I smiled flirtatiously, leaning forward just a little and shooting him a lascivious look. Tommy gulped painfully and took a full step backwards. And then I smirked spitefully, reaching out to place a hand on his chest. "Oh, cool **down**, Tommy," I remarked crassly, shoving him off the dock and stepping back just before he hit the water with a splash.

Revenge effectively achieved.

I laughed hysterically, watching with sheer joy as Tommy surfaced, looking as mad as a wet hen. In fact, he actually looked like a wet hen. "Ah, revenge is sweet," I proclaimed blissfully, sighing happily. Tommy glowered up at me silently, treading water. I rolled my eyes. "Man, Tommy, are you really so afraid of commitment that you'd rather jump off a pier than be with a girl?" I asked disbelievingly. Some people will do anything to get out of something I shook my head at him, pitying his inability to have serious, adult relationships. Note that I said adult relationships, not adult relations. Tommy's had enough of those to make a porn star call him a slut. "I can't believe you actually thought I was serious. I am not _that_ pathetic, Tommy," I mumbled, somewhat offended, rolling my eyes at him.

Tommy swam towards me, and I bent down, holding out a hand for him to grab on to. Someone had to be the mature person here. And while I knew full well that Tommy could pull me right back into the water, just like that... what did it matter? I was already soaking and freezing, so it wasn't going to make a difference. Tommy glared at me but latched on to my hand nonetheless, and I began the tiresome effort of pulling Tommy up. I used both hands, but Tommy is a lotta man for any girl to handle. Much less when you're pulling all of his weight dripping wet. Maybe that wasn't one of my wiser ideas.

But, somehow, using all of my strength, I managed to do it. Of course, given the force I exerted to pull him up, he wound up landing on top of me. Because I really wanted to be soaked again. I didn't mind the proximity so much, but I did mind the way Tommy was scowling at me. I shoved Tommy off of me abruptly, rising to walk back over to the car. I pulled out the first shirt I could see, which, fortunately for me, was a black stripey button-up. I immediately put on the shirt, which ended in the middle of my thighs and hung off my frame. But I couldn't afford to be picky here, so I used my belt to try and make the shirt not look so huge. I have to give myself some sort of figure, you know. Admittedly, I didn't feel much warmer with the wet hair and wet jeans and all, so I pulled a damp hair scrunchie out of my pocket and put my hair up in a messy bun. And then, fully aware that Tommy was probably watching me, I undid the top button on my jeans.

Then I unzipped them, pulling them down and kicking them off... It was really hard because the water made them all clingy, and I had to take my boots off. I looked generally ridiculous while doing this, too, like I was jumping around. I could feel his eyes on me, burning a hole through my clothes... okay, his shirt. "Okay, Quincy, you can either stand there all day, staring at my ass... or you can come over here and **do** something about it," I growled, putting my boots back on and then tossing my damp clothes in the trunk without even glancing back at him. I didn't expect Tommy to do anything, really, but the man just loves to surprise me.

Suddenly his arms latched around my waist. I jumped about ten feet in the air, paranoid. But Tommy didn't really know why that freaked me, so I couldn't be mad at him for that. And then Tommy leaned in really close so that his breath brushed against my cheek. "What do you want me to _do_, Jude?" He rasped in a low, throaty voice. This time I was the one who swallowed hard. There were so many different answers to that question shut up inside of me. I want Tommy to kiss me. I want Tommy to dump Sadie. I want Tommy to... I want him to love me, really love me. And then there's the score of dirty answers. I managed to somehow collect myself enough to turn around and face him.

And then, miraculously, I spoke without a shallow breath. "I want you to get out of those wet clothes, Tommy," I stated seriously. Right after I said it, I regretted it. It sounded like a come-on, and the mischievous, flirtatious look on Tommy's face clearly indicated that he had interpreted it as such. I think he was looking for a "Me". Great. I bit my lip. "So you don't catch a cold," I tacked on, wanting to maintain some semblance of respectability. Tommy completely didn't buy it. His smirk just widened, and he raised an eyebrow at me before shrugging and cleanly ripping his shirt off. The sopping wet shirt landed on top of my clothes, and it was all I could do to refrain from gaping at his chest. Business-like, Tommy soberly searched through another of his bags for clothes, finding a white t-shirt, which he later slipped over his head. Since it was a white t-shirt, it was semi-transparent from all the water Tommy had been wearing.

"Well... since you asked, _Princess_," Tommy murmured with a sarcastic shrug. He then shot me a look and unzipped his jeans. I managed to avoid flinching involuntarily, but only just barely, and I was relieved to notice that he was wearing underwear today. Then, of course, I looked away embarrassedly… because me, Tommy, and little clothing equal disaster. I really wanted to look, of course, but I knew if I did I'd get sucked into it, mesmerized by the way the water dripped down his muscular chest. Or, um, staring at other places, you know. It was, after all, very cold on that pier. Tommy threw his jeans down on top of the clothes in the trunk, nonchalantly retrieving a pair of his own.

"You know," I remarked casually just as Tommy was stepping into his pants (somehow, unlike normal men, Tommy managed to do this both legs at a time), "When you were wasted that night… you said our kids would have blue eyes."

Tommy dropped his pants. Not in the fun way. And then his mouth formed a narrow little "o" shape, and he was a perfect picture of shock. Seriously, it made me wonder how immature he seemed about the whole idea. He had sex all the time. I'm pretty sure he had to think about kids somewhere in there. I mean, condoms are far from 100 percent effective. And at least three per thousand… I think… don't work, not to mention those that break. Hell, with those chances, there has to be at least one girl he's gotten pregnant. You really think he'd be less freaked. Well, other than the fact that having sex with me could get him in jail, and here I am speaking of it so casually. That might be it. "**WHAT?**" Tommy gasped.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, Tom. You looked right at me and said _when_ we have kids… Like there was no if about it. So you apparently want me to have your babies," I continued nonchalantly, noticing how his face went ashen and serious. He was both embarrassed and mortified. And let me tell you, seeing Tom Quincy come undone like that is a rare sight. I smirked, feeling pretty proud of myself. Predictably, Tommy just looked away and said nothing. Oh, and he put on his pants, because, really, standing on the docks in your boxers is kind of an invitation for sailors to come gang-rape you. Or kick your ass. Tommy's stony silence also meant one thing; he had actually considered me having his kids, which meant in a roundabout way that he wanted to have sex with me, but come on… I mean, there's a big difference between wanting to screw someone and wanting to have kids with her. It makes him different from Travis.

So, after that we got back in the car anticlimactically, and Tommy drove back to his house because he had luggage and wet clothes to clean and dry. And loads of laundry to do because Tommy unbelievably knows how to do his own laundry. And he's good at it too! Then again, I guess you have to when you're such a priss about clothes. I think half his wardrobe is dry-clean only. I recused myself from this activity, as I had to go to Party Central and check things out with E.J. who was probably freaking out since I was supposed to meet her like, an hour ago. I told Tommy that in no circumstances was he to go out and that I'd be back in a couple of hours for our "dinner" plans. Dinner, my ass.

I hurried over to G. Major, disregarding the fact that I looked like a drowned rat who'd had sex. Tom's shirt wasn't that short, really... When I got there, E.J. was marching around like Stalin, snapping orders at everyone, faithful clipboard in hand. Georgia was standing right by her side, rather bemused by the whole thing. I waved to Georgia, who smiled and motioned me over. I had to tap E.J. on the shoulder to get her attention. E.J. gave me a quick once-over and frowned. That was okay, though; I'd long ago gotten used to E.J.'s disapproval. "Uh, Jude, you sure you're up to this party... You're not busy or anything?" E.J. said tactfully, still eyeing my attire skeptically. I shook my head no, knowing where she was going with this. I was just waiting for her to crack. E.J. was a blunt person, and she couldn't keep up the polite facade much longer "Okay, Jude. Tell me who the guy is. I'm gonna have to do clean-up on it, so you might as well tell me now before your romantic entanglements get you into further trouble," E.J. grunted irritably.

I colored at her insinuation. What is up with me and blushing today? Then E.J. leaned in, invading my personal space, and peered at my neck. She clicked her tongue, biting back the question. I rolled my eyes and pushed her away less violently than I wished. "There _is_ no guy, E.J.," I retorted, cutting her off before she could say any more. E.J. raised an eyebrow, and I realized immediately what she was about to say. Once again, I interrupted her before she could comment. "Or girl... Honestly, E.J., you should know better. I mean, you did see my music video, right? The one where I was, you know, going at it with Tommy all hot and heavy? **Seriously**!" I exclaimed shortly, trying to avoid getting caught up in my own memories. Georgia chuckled, but she looked a bit disturbed. Then G shot me a sympathetic look, although I could tell she too was wondering about my choice of attire. Now, I guess that was a lie. The guy was Tommy. But I mean, come on, he pushed me in Lake Ontario! That is like a cold shower, the exact opposite of... yeah I'm trying to stop thinking of sex and Tommy in the same context. It only spells trouble. "Now, what do you need me to do?" I asked, putting on a chipper volunteer attitude. For a moment, E.J. continued to survey me, disapproving silently.

Then she gestured off to some random place in the room. "Jude, I need you to supervise those men. I think they look suspicious and that they're up to no good. Hence why I need you to monitor them. And while you're at it, chat them up. It's good publicity to know that you associate with everyone- even smelly, nonfamous workers who don't speak English. And after that, I'mma need you to put on your dress and get ready, of course, because we can't have the hostess looking like she just stepped out of a man's apartment. And you do have your song ready for tonight, right?" E.J. rambled demandingly, quite out of breath once she finished. Georgia looked a bit frazzled herself; maybe the stress was contagious. Or maybe that just had to do with the fact that both her sister and Darius would, inevitably, be there. I winced at the comment she made about my attire, but I did what I normally do around E.J.

I bend to her will like Laffy Taffy. So I went over and chatted politely with the workers, signed some autographs for their kids... Even though only one of them spoke any English whatsoever. It really put things in perspective. I mean, I thought talking with Tommy was awkward, but that... That really takes the cake. Hand gestures and all. God bless nonverbal communication. I nodded about the song part, but I refused to show her the lyrics. She made me swear on a Ramones CD though that it didn't contain any inappropriate language... since parts of the party were going to be televised. Honestly, I barely remembered. I had the words of the song scribbled down on, I swear to God, a napkin from the coffee shop across the street from G. Major... and I knew that I'd memorized them, and that melody and lyrics were buried somewhere in my head or my heart. But I'd only sung the song once, when I'd been writing it, and then just in bits since I was in a public place.

To be honest, something about the song worried me. This was no "Happy Birthday". It was a song I had written expressly for the purpose of singing it at Tommy's party... solely for Tommy. It could be interpreted in no other way than that... a song for Tommy, and he would know. And so would everyone in the room. Even Britney Spears, just one of the famous guests. So I was performing in front of all of Tommy's celebrity friends and industry people. Just fantaaaaastic. Not nerve-wracking at all. Something about the song made me nervous... I was afraid that it would expose too much, that it would illuminate my soul... reveal some of the recesses of my heart best kept hidden. And, while the trip to Vermont was nice and all, I knew that the song was my real present to Tommy.

After that, I described my dress to E.J. (for once, she approved), and she told me to go home, get ready, and pick up Tommy. She would sort the rest out. I must say, the lobby looked fantastic. There were a few tables at the party, chairs on the rims. There was this giant cake, too... So big I thought the Pussycat Dolls or strippers would hop out of it (wait, is there even a difference?). But it turned out it was just a really big cake for all the guests. Go figure. Tommy likes his frosting, I guess. The stairs were set up nicely, even though Tommy and I would be entering through the front door. Unless I could persuade him to scale the rusty ole fire escape, and, c'mon, yeah right. This is Tommy the primadonna we're talking about here. Like he's entering his own party through the back entrance. I'd be performing up on the stairs. No pressure or anything. The mike stand was already set up.

And then there's the matter of my oh-so fabulous dress. Kat made it, hence why I have to go home and get ready. I'm not too big a star for my mom to do my make-up. Only Mom's out with Dad tonight, so Kat will be doing it. Anyways, back to the dress... It's this beautiful royal midnight blue silk strapless number, full-length, but it flares out at the bottom. There's a bit of black see-through fabric arranged artfully around the top, and the waist of the dress is right under my breasts, so the dress pushes my breasts together and gives me some actual cleavage peeking through the gauzy fabric. The dress fits like a glove, but somehow still manages to let me breathe. It's so soft and just... wonderful. Kat really knows what she's doing. She's going to make a brilliant designer some day, and by then I'll be an internationally-acclaimed rockstar, one who's properly broken the U.S. The shoes were dyed to match, of course, and they're freakishly tall (and freakishly expensive), but Kat insisted that I splurge and wear one of those big fancy names in shoes. I don't know shoes. Yes, I know my membership as a girl should be revoked for that one phrase, but it's true.

No matter how many episodes of Sex and the City Kat makes me watch, I cannot understand it... The difference between Manolos and Jimmy Choos. They look pretty, though, my shoes. Of course, they're ridiculously uncomfortable, but as Kat says, "Beauty is pain. Pain for beauty." I'd rather be ugly, though... It'd be less painful. It's kind of hard to walk in them, so I'm hoping Tommy will be around to hold on to. For strictly balancing purposes, of course. Although touching Tommy is always a bonus.

You know, this is gonna be awkward for him. All his exes (including his ex-wife), one-night stands, and rivals in one room? Not to mention his family. I shudder to think of it. Especially his mom... She's just, kinda, well... evil. I mean I have absolutely no qualms meeting Justin Timberlake (Tommy hates him, so that forced civility might be amusing- how pissed do you think he'd be if I flirted with Justin?) or Christina Aguilera. It's just those skanks he's dated that might grate on me. Eh, hey, at least Paris Hilton isn't showing up, right? Canada rocks like that. I mean, I should be insulted that she thought Canada was too boring to go to, but I hate her. And besides, Tommy only dated her for like, what, a week back in the nineties before anyone knew who the hell she was. Damn his modelizing ways. But I hear that he used her like a Kleenex; he blew his nose in her a few times, then crumpled her up and threw her away... in the trash where she belongs. Tommy was quite the mover and shaker back then. Oh, and then I remind myself that she's a walking Valtrex ad, and that makes me laugh. Although it makes me wonder exactly how many STDs Tommy's had.

But I prefer not to think about it. Just like I pretend not to know that Tommy's been messing around on Sadie because at least he has the decency not to publicize it and (lately) NOT to come on to me. I'm sure Sadie doesn't like to think about how her boyfriend's screwed just about everybody. And not just the jumping... he was a real backstabber, lemme tell ya.

I know all this, and yet I still love the man, despite all rationality. Then again, doesn't love always defy explanation?

Love is stubborn. It only hears what it wants to hear and ignores everything else. It can block out certain occurrences and chase relentlessly after what it wants. Even if what it wants doesn't feel the same, the chase continues. Until Love snares its victim eventually... because love conquers all, right? I don't really think that's true, though. I mean, what are the odds of Tommy Quincy ever falling in love with me? He's getting serious with Sadie, despite the cheating, and I think he might actually want to settle down. She'd be the perfect girl for it. Or maybe he wants to be wild. Either way, I'll be lucky just to get a make-out session or two out of him. Maybe even a roll in the hay if I'm desperate enough... 'cause I'm really not that cheap. I'm not going to delude myself.

I know what Travis said. And, clearly, Travis is a delusional would-be rapist, which puts anything he says into question. So I wouldn't believe him anyways, even if he and Tommy have a past. Because he doesn't know Tommy. No one really does, not even me. I don't care what anyone else says. I know, okay? They don't think that I've analyzed everything that man has ever done in connection to me, looking for those signs? I've been doing that for the past year, and what have I found? Absolutely nothing, and I've been scanning like a madwoman. He might have feelings for me of some sort, possessiveness, lust, that sort of thing. And I know he cares. But that's all. Tommy doesn't love me, end of story.

And, as I was thinking these morbidly depressing thoughts, scowling, I'm sure, I ran into a very cute obstacle on my way out. The obstacle was tall-ish (but shorter than Tommy), blond, and gorgeous. And, mind you, I don't normally go for blonds. He had warm, friendly brown eyes that reminded me of my beloved cappuccino, and I just wanted to get lost in them. I smiled at the guy, whose eyes widened as he saw me. "Oh my God. You're Jude Harrison!" He exclaimed happily, giving me a not-so subtle once-over, grin widening slightly. Looks like I've got a fan. A cute fan. I smiled at the thought and nodded. "I **love** you! I mean, not like that, you know, because that's a little stalker fan of me, but you're... phenomenal. An amazing artist and I just love your music, and you're so _hot_... And now you probably think I'm some sort of obsessed freak, but _wow_. Here you are," The guy babbled, looking somewhat embarrassed. I thought it was cute, though. I gave him a good look, sizing him up, wondering how old he was.

I knew he was younger than Tommy, at least... Maybe nineteen? Hmm. I smiled at the boy, which was really easy because of his hotness, as I mentioned previously. "Yeah. That's me. It's always nice to meet a fan," I responded politely, actually glad to meet this one. Who knows? Maybe something could come of it. I'm pretty sure this isn't illegal anyways. My admirer broke out into a wide, easy smile. He had such a nice smile, all wide and white and dimple-icious. Mm. "Do you want me to sign something for you?" I asked, trying to keep my breathing steady. He was that cute.

Surprisingly, Mystery Boy nodded, ripping open his shirt. That's an exaggeration. The first three top buttons of it were undone, so he just sort of pulled the sides of the shirt apart. He didn't break any buttons. He merely showed me a wide expanse of his beautiful, firm, muscular, tan chest. The guy looked like he'd stepped right off of the beaches of California. He radiated star power and matinee-idol good looks. And he kinda looked like a surfer, but he wasn't a surfer. "Only my heart," He moaned dramatically, gesturing to his chest. I giggled, but since I still had that damn pen of Tommy's behind my ear, I took it and actually did sign the skin that covered up his heart. It was hard not to giggle or cop a feel, really, though I doubt Cali Boy would've minded. I held out my hand, pleasantly surprised when he kissed it. "I'm Taylor," He said simply, meeting my gaze with a stare that practically melted my heart. He sure was... refreshing.

I smiled back at him dreamily and then said something very, very stupid. "So, how do you know Tommy?" I questioned somewhat dazedly. Dumb question. Well, not really, but I shouldn't ask a hot guy who is a huge fan about Tommy. Especially since that reminded him of Tommy's existence and how everyone in the media thought I was his girl. I wish, ha. Then again, if I was a little smoother around guys, I might actually have the story to back up my attire. Hmm. I'm glad I'm not a skank. Taylor sort of frowned a bit, and I felt sad that I'd ruined it all by mentioning Tommy. It was still a valid question though, so Taylor answered.

Isn't he a sweetheart? Taylor almost forced a smile. "Tommy and I grew up together," He explained quietly, "We go way back." Taylor didn't notice how I flinched. His words had bone-chillingly reminded me of yet another man who could claim the same. Travis. I shuddered at the thought, but Taylor didn't notice. He was rather unobservant. "I'm an actor, by the way... Or at least I'm trying to be. I'm bigger in the States, really," He continued, sounding wholly American. In fact, Taylor had grown up in America. Yet somehow he grew up with Tommy. Later he told me that his French was absolutely atrocious and that Tommy could put him to shame any day. That wound up being true, actually. It was no modesty on his part

Since Taylor had unpleasantly served to remind me of Travis, I wasn't in the most pleasant mood. Perhaps I was a bit sharper than I usually would've been. "You know, you are not the first person to tell me that. So I wanna know how this whole thing worked out. I've seen Tommy's familial home in 'Treal. So, what, was it some sort of communal living thing or were you adopted...? Now, see, I'd go for the Family because it would explain why Tommy was so promiscuous and sexually active at a young age. Was that it? Did you all travel around like the Phoenix family? Are you like, his half-brother or something?" I inquired quite exhaustingly, feeling all the words just bubble out of me.

Normally, this would've embarrassed me, but I was absolutely shameless. Tommy and Travis had grown up together. Chaz had grown up with Tommy. And they're all messed up... Sadly, Chaz is the most normal one. How does that work out, I ask you, how? I mean, I was seeing Taylor as a potential mate. And, obviously, I suck at picking the right guys. Every time I think I like a guy, he backstabs me or somehow morphs into an ass. Case in point: Shay, Tommy, Travis... And then guys who like me tend to be jerks towards me too, like Jamie and Speed. So I needed to investigate the guy to determine whether or not he'd wind up a waste of my time like Shay. Taylor, bless his heart, didn't look overwhelmed. He merely looked amused and tolerable of my insanities.

"I assure you that it was nothing like that," He began with an easy, calm smile. Taylor had charisma in spades and oozed charm out of his pores. He shrugged casually, a general sign that he was headed towards vagueness. "We just... grew up together, like I said. We lived nearby when I was a kid, and I looked up to Tommy. He was just so cool. He always won fights and all the girls adored him. And his French was perfect. I wanted to be like him. He was so much older than I was, but we were sort of friends. And then he went off to Boyz Attack! And I didn't see him around much anymore... And then I moved to the States with my dad when my parents got divorced. I don't think I've been back to my old neighborhood once since, even when I was filming in Montreal," Taylor elucidated clearly and concisely.

He was not florid and careful with his words like Travis. But Taylor had charm enough to say anything he wanted. He was no leader, but he could've well been a politician. I made the obligatory frowning face because divorce sucks, as does moving away. I wondered vaguely how many pictures he'd been in. Oh, what does it matter! The boy is cute. He could be in a snuff film and... Well, actually, I take that back. I'd be sad to see him die. The man could make an attractive Frankenstein. Seriously. As you can tell, I was getting roped into his charm like he was cowboy and I was the cow. It was strange to see someone who idolized Tommy almost as much as I did. Taylor's eyes sought out my gaze, a coy smile on his lips. "I just turned seventeen, you know..." Taylor hinted, eyeing me purposefully.

I filed this information away for further use. Totally dateable. I smiled in spite of myself before proceeding on with my question. Because this one I had to know. Tommy was one thing. If he wanted to be like Tommy, well, that was okay. I could deal with that. After all, I'd dealt with the real thing for over a year. But Travis, well, Travis was a whole other ballpark. If he said the wrong answer to my question, any hopes of a possible romance between me and Prince Charming was no dice. "And what about Travis? You know him too?" I interjected quickly, accusingly, completely ruining the burgeoning mood.

A surprised look passed across Taylor's face. "How do you know about Travis?" He asked reflexively. I didn't dignify his question with an answer. Besides, I had asked first. I stared him down stonily, unflinching. Then, when Taylor knew I wasn't going to back down, he sighed and looked somewhat sad. "Yeah, I know Travis," He murmured softly, frowning to himself. "I grew up with him too... We weren't as close as I'd have liked, but Tommy and Travis used to be real tight. Tommy wanted to be just like Travis, but Travis was always, I don't know... jealous of Tommy. They were best friends, but eventually as time went on, Tommy's fame escalated. And Travis' career, well, wasn't doing as well as he'd hoped. So they started fighting, and it all kind of exploded on the day Travis caught Tommy in a compromising position with Travis' fiancée," Taylor muttered with a grimace. Tell me something I don't already know. Oh, yeah, I knew that story, all right. Still, it makes me wonder what exactly Travis walked in on.

Did he walk in on them in the middle of the act like Travis thinks? Or after the act or before? I've heard Travis' side and I've heard Kate's side... but I haven't heard from the one person who really matters... Tommy. Tommy would know. Tommy wasn't scared and guilty like Kate, and he knew exactly what was going on. Unlike Travis, he wouldn't jump to conclusions or let his anger rule him.

But it was hard to make Tommy open up. The only way I could crack his shell was to get him drunk, and he came on to me when he was drunk, which is bad for all involved parties.

Because, remember, Tommy can't do that to me anymore.

And yet I was still standing there, listening to a cute guy talk about him. Shows what my priorities are. "And then, well... Tommy was really in a rough place then, and Travis' life sort of took a drastic downward spiral from that point on. But Tommy managed to sort himself out... quit the band, got a divorce, straightened his life and priorities out. Travis, who had always been so together, so organized... so damn smart. He... didn't. He went backwards, gave up everything he believed in, and became someone different. Someone a lot like how Tommy used to be," Taylor finished, frowning at what had become of his former friend. He obviously didn't approve. And that settled it for me. I knew Taylor was okay.

He was right, too, of course. And I knew he'd never be Tommy. He was charming, but not like Tommy. He didn't drip with raw, almost dirty sensuality like Tommy did. Sex wasn't written all over him. Sure, you could look at him and think, "wow, I really want to bang this guy"... I guess. But Tommy was the sex god, pure and simple. Tommy was like a magnet, and I was like the moth to his flame. Taylor didn't have the same draw. He was cute as a button, but unlike Tommy you couldn't fall in love with him in a second. Nor was he like Travis, who had too much confidence and said all the right words. Tommy's greatest tool was, obviously, his body (pun not intended). He could use his fists to hurt and his hands and lips for, well... more pleasurable things. And you actually **want** to use him for said pleasurable things. What can I say? The man's Don Juan, Casanova, however you want to put it. Travis' greatest tool was his words; he knew how to use them, to wield them like weapons, to shape your thought patterns, to put you at ease, to befriend you, to seduce you... And while those two seemed so similar, almost like mirror images, Taylor was not even remotely like them.

He was not overly confident as both of them were, but he was confident and secure in his person. However, he was exceptionally good-looking. He had everything: perfectly coiffed golden blond hair, warm, friendly melted chocolate eyes, impeccable taste in clothing, and a perfect white smile. What struck me most was his sincerity. It was funny... for an actor, Taylor wasn't at all complex. With Taylor, what you see is what you get. He told me later that, aside from his acting, he never lies, and I actually believed him. But then again, there are lies... and there's omitting the truth. Even honesty has technicalities nowadays. He was so honest, enthusiastic, and utterly nondestructive. Not like Travis and Tommy, who seemed to both have a pathological need to ruin their lives and make me miserable without even knowing what they were doing. He possessed some instant quality that made you like him, like him but not love him or necessarily respect him. And, although he was ridiculously adorable, it was just that. He was adorable, maybe even hot, but he wasn't... handsome. He was just really, really, really, really, really cute.

I suppose some other girl might've disagreed with me because in some ways, Taylor was far better looking than Tommy. But maybe I don't like my men simple. Because as much as I admired that quality in him, I resented it all the more. Taylor's outward appearance just didn't inspire dirty thoughts. He was so wholesome, so All-American that such thoughts weren't allowed. I felt an attraction, but it wasn't like a conflagration as it was with Tommy. It was merely a carefully maintained campfire, just a spark. Taylor also was about as straightedge as they come, which I honestly don't mind. I mean, I don't do drugs, and I don't smoke... I drink sometimes, but I've sworn that off since, well... Travis. So I could deal with all that, but from the looks of him (and it was a preppy sight), it was like he didn't do sex either. Not that I do, but come on, I'm a girl and not a movie star. Kat later would call him "Brad Pitt rolled up in Heath Ledger with a side of Chad Michael Murray". Or just delicious, really. Sometimes I think she's more enthusiastic about Taylor than I am.

While I'm all for the idea of that kind of a manwich (and I would so gobble that sandwich up whole)... I thought she was talking about some bizarre kind of Brokeback Breakfast Burrito promotion. Made me wonder, though, where Jake Gyllenhal was. Kat knows of my mad love for Jakie.

I don't know... I just, I couldn't imagine Taylor at a GWAR concert with me, you know? Not that GWAR is exactly Tommy's scene, but I could picture him there... in an alternate universe. Something in me was just really reluctant to try it. Honestly, I had known Tommy and Travis at the destructive parts of their lives... I managed to talk Tommy out of it, and a part of me wondered if I could ever do the same for Travis. Was it even possible? And why did I care anyways? The guy was an asshole. Who cares if he destroys himself?

But I did care, because what if he snaps again and does that to some other girl? Or what if I wound up alone with him again and Joan didn't walk in and save my ass? What then? He needed to be fixed. But it was a bad time to think about Travis. I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Travis and Kate are engaged again," I told him, because that was the only thing that came to mind. Idiot. I was so fixated on Travis and Tommy that I was completely blowing it. In that respect, Taylor was like me. He said the wrong things, but they always sounded right. He stumbled with his words, and he wasn't smooth like Tommy... but he managed to pull off everything with charm, even if he was messing up horribly.

Taylor looked surprised at that comment, and he frowned, obviously thinking as I did that it would never work out. And he hadn't even seen Travis around Joan. Oy. I probably would've rambled on more about Travis had Taylor not (blissfully) prevented me from doing so. He smiled at me so prettily that I forgot how to speak, and then, biting his lip, started saying something. He had to repeat it, though, because the first time I think I was just staring at him, his lips, in particular, and drooling like a moron. "So, Jude, you wanna maybe go out sometime?" Taylor inquired anxiously with a nervous look on his face. He was so adorable that I couldn't say no, even if I wanted to.

So I contemplated it for like, two seconds. And I said yes, of course, even if he was different from me. Well, actually, I was just about to say yes when a thought occurred to me. I got cruel. "Ask me in French," I demanded impishly. Both Tommy and Travis had used French... so sexy... so I figured I might as well make Taylor try it too. I knew it wouldn't be some rant about how beautiful I am, or something about how much he liked me. I just wanted to know if he could ask me Even I knew enough French for that question.

Taylor actually got nervous. His face turned sorta red, and he looked all tongue-tied. There was a really long silence while he was thinking. He obviously hadn't spoke French in a long while, although he told me later that his family always made him talk in French... to practice. "Uh... Est-ce que... vous voulez sortir avec moi... de temps en temps?" Taylor said very, very, very slowly. He was practically stuttering. I almost pointed out the fact that I was younger than him, and he was asking me out, so we were obviously on familiar terms. I smiled amusedly, watching him fidget.

I waited for a few moments 'cause I'm a bitch like that. Then I answered with a poker face, in French, of course. "Mais _oui_! Je veux bien!" I answered with a small smile. It was amusing watching his whole expression change. I'd tested Taylor, and he had passed every single one... not without flaws, and not like Tommy or Travis would, I'm sure... but he passed, and he did it his way. Very Frank Sinatra of him.

I say that because, although, Sid Vicious, my idol, covered the song... Oh, come on, there was nothing about Taylor that you could even mention in the same sentence with Sid. They just weren't on the same level. There was no punk rock in the boy, which is why it's weird I was attracted to him. I'm always attracted to musical guys, and Taylor had shown absolutely no interest in that.

Taylor nodded and smiled so brightly I thought I was literally looking at a star. "Great! So, how about dinner... oh, say... this Friday night at six? I know this great place in town, Italian, that you're just going to love!" He exclaimed enthusiastically. My new suitor was always enthusiastic. If you're not used to it, it gets a bit grating. Plus I was used to hanging with the Kings of Pessimism and moodswings, so it was a bit weird for me. Nonetheless, I found his babbling adorable, so I said yes, ignoring the fact that I had a date with Tim that night. Eh, Tim and I always have late dates anyways, but seeing him was still a big deal. Our relationship had cooled lately. I blame his girlfriend. And doesn't _that_ make me feel like a skank.

But hey, at least I'm not screwing the guy. I mean, there are worse things I could do. Like what I've done to Sadie for instance. I'm pretty sure making out with your sister's boyfriend in the rain on their anniversary... so that you can feel every sinewy muscle of his against the thin fabric of your dress because he's just **that** close... sort of eclipses everything else, even dating a guy with a girlfriend. I glanced down suddenly at my watch, noting that I didn't have much time left. "Well, um, I gotta go now. Change into my dress for the party and all, you know... Anyways, yeah, Taylor, it was uh, nice meeting you. I'll see you later at the party, right?" I rambled anxiously, barely waiting for an answer before I turned and ran.

To make a long story short, I went home, took a shower, called Kat to bring over my dress, changed, and then did my own make-up with Kat's assistance. I sort of told her about my date, and Kat made sure to compliment me with a wry smile. Kat knew I needed that, some guy like Taylor... But I think she knew that my feelings for Tommy would retard all possible relationship growth. I had no idea how right that assumption was until much, much, much later.

Then I went over to Tommy's, of course. For some reason, there I was, standing in front of his door, almost afraid to knock. What did I have to feel nervous about around Tommy? He knew me better than pretty much anyone. The man had seen me at my best and my worst... he'd even seen me naked! I've showered in his place, worn his clothes, used the same soap... And it wasn't even that I was afraid I couldn't control myself. Because I had done that once I'd set my mind to it. It was... I just don't know. Something in the air, I guess. Turns out that Tommy opened the door before I could knock. He seemed fresh out of a shower, given that he was toweling his hair, but he was fully dressed. He was wearing a navy blue blazer over a neatly-pressed white shirt unbuttoned widely around the collar and a pair of ironed black pants with pinstripes... not too dressy, but still formal enough for dinner Strangely, our outfits somehow matched.

Tommy smiled and carelessly threw the towel to the floor. His eyes immediately scanned my body, taking in what he saw appreciatively. He smiled and gave me The Nod. Once again, I blushed like a tomato. Well, actually, I don't know if I did, because I didn't have a mirror. But my face sure felt hot. Then Tommy did something really unnerving. It was like all the distance between us was gone, not like it had been earlier... because that sexual tension had been raging. It was like... like it was before. Like no time had passed at all. As if we hadn't spent the past two months utterly avoiding each other and only speaking when it was absolutely necessary. He just looked at me with a smile on his face- that smile, you know the one... And the whole world disappeared. I forgot all about my upcoming date with Taylor. Tommy's like that, you know? If he gives you the right look, you can forget about everything, even your name.

Tommy has such an easy smile. It just bursts out of nowhere like a beautiful, unexpected sunbeam. So, after smiling this wonderful smile, he walked towards me and got real close. His eyes sparkled, and I reflected dimly that they matched his blazer. "You look absolutely stunning, Jude. You really know how to blow a guy away," He murmured somewhat breathlessly, as if I actually took his breath away. I beamed like an idiot, I'm sure, and I couldn't utter a single word. But I didn't have to because right then Tommy embraced me. I felt a rush of warmth spread from head to toe, and I wound up feeling kind of like I'd been punched in the stomach. It was amazing; I don't deny that, but I didn't want to feel like that. I tried to fight it, but you just can't deny the way you feel. Me least of all people. You know what they say about irresistible forces...

Well, actually, I don't. I wasn't paying attention that day in Science. Whatever. Who needs force and motion, I say!

And, of course, I couldn't help getting sucked into his arms, closer and closer and closer. I really was reluctant. Okay, so I'm lying about my own reluctance. He reeled me in like a fish. I'm a fish, a helpless, stupid, dimwitted fish. And I inhaled his smell because there's just something so... intoxicating about it. And then I was pretty much lost from that point. It's a wonder I didn't plant one on him right there. I mean, the moment was right. The moment was perfect. Everything about it was just right. I could've really done it, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't regret not kissing him. Because a part of me really does, no matter how wrong it was. In fact, the only thing that stopped me from kissing Tommy was his big birthday bash. If I stayed around like that, drooling and lollygagging by making out with him... well, for one thing, we might miss the party altogether, if you catch my drift. Eventually, I was forced to tear myself away from his side, skin still tingling something awful.

I smiled and thanked him because he had complimented me in the first place, effectively jumpstarting my strange foray into fangirldom. Then I tried frantically to recollect my cool by giving Tommy a once-over. Like that would affect him in any way even remotely resembling the way he affected me. What a joke. "You clean up pretty nice yourself, Quincy," I declared appreciatively, giving myself another good opportunity to check out the package (that is... the whole package, i.e. Tommy, not Tommy's... you get the picture). Tommy smirked cockily, and I could almost see his head growing larger in front of my very eyes. Normally I would take steps to quash his overlarge ego; how many times have I insulted him lately? But not today. Today was his birthday, and the Birthday Boy always gets what he wants. It's scary to think that Tommy has that much power on just one day out of the year. Not that he doesn't usually exert a fanatical amount of power and control over me, but today I was absolutely powerless to refuse him anything. Anything at all.

So, in theory, if Tommy wanted me... He could have me in a heartbeat. And I couldn't use Sadie or Tim or anything else as an excuse. I'd just have to succumb to that irresistible force I'd been fighting for ages. Not that Tommy would ask. It's not even that he doesn't want me. It's the fact that he doesn't know the power he currently holds. And I don't intend him to. Seriously. Imagine the things he'd ask of me every year! It's terrifying! Tommy has a very, very, very vivid imagination, you know.

And that's how I wound up indulging and, yes, even stroking Tommy's ego. I realize how sick that sounds, the stroking part, but Tom would be into that kind too. It sure didn't need to be stroked or babied, but I wound up doing it anyways. If Tommy wanted me to stare at him, as he was clearly indicating with his eyes, well, then... so be it. Plus, he was really great to look at. Like I'm gonna look away from an Orlando Bloom sundae smothered in Johnny Depp sauce? Please. The damn sundae wasn't made for me to push it to the side. It was made to be **devoured**. Like ravenous wolves. That's why it was dripping with sweet deliciousness.

Okay, girly moment over, I grabbed his arm, starting to pull him towards the door. Yeah, I knew I wasn't going to get him to go outside with me, what with his hair all wet and not... up to his usual standards But still, I had to try. "Now, come on, Tom... don't you want to get your present?" I posed, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist that. He's just so damn curious, like a little boy who always gets into trouble. He got really excited about that. He seemed surprised that the week in Vermont wasn't my only present to him. After all that he's given me... I think I owe him more than a week away from me. For my birthday last year, the man gave me nothing short of a Herculean effort: he got along with Shay. Didn't even punch him after he'd broken my heart (and I still resent Tommy a little for not doing that). He gave me everything I wanted, granted my three wishes like a cute genie. He got along with Shay, the then boyfriend... He let me drive his Viper... He contributed to that beautiful Gibson I'm still afraid to use... And, most importantly, and best of all, last but definitely not least... He kissed me for the first real time. The first time it meant anything. He let me know that I meant something to him.

And that was really the greatest gift of all, even if my heart still wound up broken in the end. I mean, what other way could it have ended? There's the obvious, but it can't be. Tommy and I can't get ourselves together like that. But that one moment... I honestly think that's the closest we've ever really gotten. Well, not really, but it was special. It was the end of something, and the start of... all my problems. It was just this completely wonderful surprise. And I normally hate surprises... They have a nasty tendency to turn out bad for me. Case in point: The surprise dumping I'd gotten from my birthday. I have to say, though, in retrospect, I'm glad. Shay was nothing but a waste of my time. But this kind wasn't like any other surprise I'd ever gotten.

I don't really know how to explain it. Just to say that I totally didn't see it coming. It was the wonderful, wholly unexpected kind that knocks you out of the ballpark, takes you for a ride, and gets you dizzy with the thrill of it all. I was swept off my feet, knocked backwards, and suddenly the whole world had turned completely upside-down. And everything I thought I knew had been shot completely to hell. I had thought Tommy wasn't holding back any feelings for me, that it was just brotherly or friendly concern for me, my safety... not jealousy. But I've been wrong about Tommy a lot. That was one of the rare times where it was a good thing, when I'd expected less of him and wound up with more. And I didn't mind that one bit. Because it happened and nothing will ever be the same afterwards.

And when I say it's the closest we ever got to really getting together, I don't mean that we were finally both in the same place in life. Because we definitely weren't. Tommy was a free agent, flying solo, freewheeling, and still not willing to commit. I was an all too recent dumpee who was still hung up on her ex and looking for a rebound guy. Not that Tommy was that guy. Clearly neither of us was ready for any sort of romantic, exclusive relationship. That's the thing with Tommy and me. It's always been a matter of timing, and the timing is always off. The difference was that, for once in the months I'd known him, everything the both of us were feeling was finally out in the open.

Tommy had, to some degree, finally revealed his true colors. It was the first real, concrete sign I ever had of any reciprocation of feeling on his part. And it could've really happened for us then, in some alternate universe, I suppose. If Tommy was That Guy. If he could even make up his mind. And I'd forced my pain unto him so he had no alternative. But it was a revelation nonetheless.

And, like a little boy, Tommy whined and moaned his way into getting time to fix his hair. It took the damn primadonna thirty minutes, and we were probably going to be late. But fashionably late... because you know, of Tommy's hair. It did look fantastic, though. I tried to help him blow-dry it, 'cause, you know, I'm a girl, and I only do that like every day, but Tommy pushed me off. He mumbled something about my dress and stubbornly insisted on doing it himself. It's really amazing that he can put so much gel in it and still have it be so soft, but I've discovered his secret- he uses mousse instead. And his hair's soft, shiny, and wonderfully in place.

I insisted on driving Tommy, who looked a bit green around the gills at the mere suggestion. Hey, I am not that bad of a driver! I mean, I haven't hit our trashcans in over two months... Well, I take that back. Last week. Damn, and I was going strong, too! Tommy demanded that the radio be turned off; I apparently needed all of the concentration I could get. Well, chauffeuring in silence is really quite dull, so I decided to engage him in conversation. After all, I had to insure that he didn't realize that we were actually headed for the studio, and Tom was watching me like a hawk.

So, in my infinite wisdom, I brought up a subject very near and dear to my heart. Power Rangers. I kid you not. I loved that show when I was little. Plus, I knew it was just outrageous enough to distract Tommy, and I was counting on being on the receiving end of one of his bizarre looks. "Hey, Tommy... Who was your favorite Power Ranger?" I asked languidly, turning the car sharply as I always take my turns fast. It never occurred to me that Tom might not have watched Power Rangers, oddly enough. If you think about it, I was five-six when it came out... so Tommy had to be at least eleven, a little old for Power Rangers, when you consider that two years later he was drafted into Boyz Attack!.

Tommy gave me a classic WTF look and did a bit of a doubletake. He tried to pretend like he had no idea what I was talking about, but I saw right through him. Closet Power Ranger fan. I so called him on that. I stared at Tommy until he gave in. That would up being a couple minutes, seeing as Tommy was rather alarmed that I'd taken my eyes off the road for so long. And maybe I almost crashed... but what else is new? "Fine," He stated gravely, pausing for a moment to lapse off into one of his brooding periods. Then he turned to me and pronounced decisively... "Kimberly." A mischievous smile played on his lips. "She was hot... and flexible," He explained somewhat lecherously, grinning nostalgically.

As much as this would've normally made me jealous, I couldn't help but smirk. I shook my head at him, fighting back a chuckle. Typical Tommy, always chasing skirts. Honestly, I don't think I'd know what to do with myself if he wasn't so perverted. It sure would be strange, talking to a gentlemanly Tommy. I felt his gaze on me, though, and I knew his question before it left his mouth. I also knew what he really wanted to know. He wanted to know why the idea of Kimberly being his favorite ranger was amusing to me. Aside from the fact that she was the Pink Ranger (no matter how "hot" he says she is, she's still the Pink Ranger. It doesn't get any girlier than that)... I could commend him on his taste.

She was one of the original ones, don'tcha know. Then there was the irony, of course... Kimberly's boyfriend just happened to be named Tommy. And, of course, Tommy just happened to be my favorite ranger. He was the green one. And the white one. And the red one... And the... But who's counting? You know me. It's like fate. I am drawn to guys named Tommy.

It's why "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend" is my favorite Ramones song... because obviously the writer was my favorite member. It's why I own the album, movie, and even went to a theatre version of The Who's rock opera of the same name (mind you, I saw that before I ever met Tommy... Speed played Young Tommy. He was surprisingly good). It's why I've beaten Grand Theft Auto: Vice City over three times... Hey, a girl's gotta do something when she isn't playing the guitar, and if it's killing people and making a crime empire, then so be it. Plus it hella freaked Shay out to watch my zeal and mad prowess.

So, when Tommy asked me who my favorite ranger was, as I knew he would, I turned fully around to face him, giving him one hundred percent of my attention. He likes that. It's a wonder I haven't crashed the car ten thousand times by this point. But Tommy's like a car accident, and I can't look away, so eventually even I get stuck in the jam. Blindsighted. "Tommy," I said authoritatively, even primly. My Tommy merely looked confused. I hadn't expected confusion, but I was banking on it anyways.

In curious contemplation, Tommy barely noticed when I made a hairpin curve down an alley. The very alley, in fact, that led to G. Major. Tommy was less likely to notice this way. "What? Who's your favorite ranger?" Tommy asked, sounding perplexed. Simple Tommy. His memory's really not what it used to be, getting old and all that. I shook my head at him, making another abrupt turn right into the front parking lot of G. Major. If Tommy looked now, it just might blow the surprise. Not that there were any cars or anything; it looked normal, but Tommy would be suspicious when he noticed.

So I did the only thing I could… I answered his question. I mean, had I wanted to be hyperdramatic, I could've planted one on him or flashed him like in Ten Things I Hate About You. But it's not a life or death situation, and I'm sure there's stalkerazzi lurking in the shadows who'd love to get a peek of me or a hint of anything nonplatonic between the two of us. And I have dignity, so I refrained. "Tommy," I repeated dumbly, pausing before elaborating (I stopped the car), "The Green Ranger. He was my favorite. What can I say? I like my bad boys tall, dark, handsome, and reformed." I shrugged, turning away and throwing my keys in the matching purse.

I got out of the car then, but I didn't fail to notice Tommy's grin. He thought I missed it, but I see everything when it concerns him. Confession: I wasn't talking about the Power Ranger that time. I was completely talking about Tommy Quincy. And Tommy could know that, or he could just be smirking because he's my type. Besides, the Green Ranger had, like, green eyes or something. And notice that I said reformed, not evil (that would be like saying I preferred Travis). 'Cause the Green Ranger started out evil but then, well, there was this big story arc and whatnot… And then they made him the White Ranger, and I cried. White's such a pure, innocent color, you know? And I like my heroes dark and twisted with as much baggage as they can carry yet still with HUMANITY. Travis is… inhuman.

Tommy was in a good mood, so he scrambled out of the car like he wanted to hold the door open for me. This was pointless as I was already out of the car, but I appreciated the gesture. He was staring at me rather intently, eyes burning a hole in the back of my neck. I had to pretend like I didn't notice, but at least he hadn't noticed where we were. I decided to keep up the misdirection for as long as possible. Contrary to what everyone thinks, the pretty face doesn't hide an empty mind. He was bound to put two and two together once he saw where we were. Eventually.

I gleefully continued to misdirect him with yet another Power Rangers diversion. "You know, I always hated their little Transformer-zoid things," I remarked casually, and at a key moment, as Tommy was just about to glance towards the building. He instead turned to me, jaw half open. It was still an attractive sight. It also made him stop in the middle of the sidewalk, making us quite possibly even more late.

"Dinozords," Tommy corrected primly. I suppressed a smile. Wow. I can't believe he knew that. So there you have it. Tommy is a secret dork. He was such a fan, no matter how much he tries to play it off. I mean, I actually watched for the cute guy(s). And the mighty morphin' action. I just couldn't get enough of that. You know, I bet Jamie would know that random factoid too… Wow, who knew? Tommy and Jamie might have something in common besides just me.

However, Tommy was bound to eventually register our surroundings. No matter how much I dazzled him with talk of Power Rangers. And yes, I do realize quite how childish that sounds, but he's becoming an old man. That kind of talk will loosen him up. He did notice where we were, though. Even my considerable charms couldn't distract him from that. It happened when we were a little more than halfway to the front door. "Why are we at G. Major?" He asked suspiciously, shooting me a look.

I plastered on a big phony smile. "Your surprise is in there," I said honestly, gesturing towards the door. To say the least, basically. Boy, was Quincy gonna be surprised. And I was going to be on his arm for the moment. I just can't wait to see the look on his face. He'll probably be petrified once he realizes that all of his ex-girlfriends are in the same room. Not to mention his mother. Tommy opened the door, and together, arm-in-arm, we walked down the hall. I opened the door to the lobby.

We were greeted by a blinding flash of cameras and a deafening cry of "**_SURPRISE_**!" Tommy looked mortified; he immediately turned and shot me a glare. Oops. He looked MAD. Then he turned and grinned flawlessly, fakely for the cameras. He was a real pro. He began walking through the party. "I can't believe you kept this from me! I hate surprises!" He hissed irritably, gritting his teeth and muttering an unprintable obscenity between each word. His grip tightened almost bruisingly on my arm and the low stream of curses continued.

I tried to make the best of it by smiling at everyone like a demented showgirl, hurrying to keep up with Tommy. His legs were so much longer than mine. Ironically, the first person we ran into was his mother. Victoria was dressed impeccably in an absolutely lovely ice blue dress with clean lines and no wrinkles. It was definitely designer, very chic. Her hair was coiled up in a wondrous bun that I'm sure required massive quantities of hairspray. Then there was the bling. She was wearing a brilliant diamond bracelet on each wrist, and a long, elaborate, ropey necklace… platinum and blue and white diamonds. She also had on matching earrings. The woman had to be wearing at least 200 carats, and I know nothing of diamonds.

Her matching shoes were clearly one of those big shoe designers, kind of like mine. They were also ridiculously tall, but hers had a pointy toe… the kind I loathe. Honestly, I found it kind of strange that we were all wearing blue. If someone had taken a picture of us, they might've mistaken us for a happy family. Her perfectly manicured hands (containing, among other things, her own nails. Acrylics were too tacky for Torie) were strangely bereft of ornamentation, except for a ring on her left ring finger. It was, of course, her wedding band, not the big sha-BANG engagement ring. Less obtrusive and wiser, given the divorce. It was a thin ring, rather plain but classic, with a few inlaid diamonds for a little sparkle.

She then performed the standard, perfunctory greeting, embracing her son stiffly and kissing him on both cheeks with her usual frostiness, although it did seem like the Ice Queen was melting some. Probably because she knew instinctively that her ex was here. Tommy's eyes darkened, and Victoria dismissed his look icily. "Don't worry, darling… _Charlot's_ not here, if that's what you're wondering," She drawled coolly, shooting him a warning look as his eyes blazing. Tommy's hands clenched into fists at the mere mention. I assumed it was some sort of nickname for his brother. "Happy birthday, Thomas," She said with a trace of life in her. She rummaged around in the handbag I hadn't noticed she was carrying for a few moments. Tommy sighed, relieved, as she finally tore her piercing gaze off his face.

Both Tommy and I were surprised when she pulled out an actual wrapped present. It was wrapped in cool silver paper, topped off by a magnificent sky blue bow. "Here, son," Victoria said almost maternally, handing him the present. She forced some semblance of a smile, and Tommy merely stared at her in wonder, surprised that he was not an afterthought. I might've had a little talk with Victoria about what to buy Tommy… I honestly didn't know what to get him, and, I dunno, maybe I threw in something about how much a present from her would mean to him. Who knows? The woman, like her son, does what she wants.

Tommy smiled back somewhat awkwardly and opened the present in front of her as family custom dictated. He untied the bow and took the wrapping paper off carefully, as if his mother, like mine, was the type to save it to wrap other presents. He handed me both paper and ribbon, now holding a small, navy-colored box embossed with Cartier. Ooh, designer presents now! I went to Cartier once, when I was in Paris… I did the conversion math in my head; stuff in there cost about as much as a car! Victoria had excellent taste. Tommy opened the box, revealing an absolutely beautiful wristwatch. Screw Rolex; Cartier knows what they're doing. It was platinum and rather understated, although tiny flecks of diamonds glittered every now and then when Tommy turned the watch in the light. He was pleased with the present.

So pleased, in fact, that, still clutching the present, he threw both arms around his mother, enveloping her in a bear hug, and kissed her warmly on the cheek. He whispered almost tender words of thanks that I was unable to hear. Victoria flushed lightly and pulled away from him awkwardly. She mumbled something, waved goodbye, still red, and walked off to chat with other guests. Tommy was smiling like a kid at Christmas, either because of his mother or because he realized he'd be getting all sorts of presents tonight. Slightly giddy, Tommy tied the lovely ribbon around my pale wrist, making a bow suspiciously like his mother's. He grinned, leaning in extra close to whisper in my ear. "You really are _something_, girl." Then I fastened the new watch around his wrist and disposed of the wrapping paper in a trash receptacle.

As we were heading towards the food table, we were intercepted by yet another finely attired person. This one was a tall youngish man with longish, messy dark hair. In reality, I was later to find out that he was in his early forties, but he looked maybe 32 at the oldest, much like his ex-wife. The person in question was, of course, Tommy's father. He, like Tommy, had blue eyes, but his were much darker, almost the color of Tommy's jacket. Tommy had his mother's eyes. He did, however, look quite a bit like his father, especially in his chin and forehead. Theodore (although people often call him Thaddeus, his middle name, to my endless confusion) Quincy didn't even have a gray hair.

He was wearing an elegant blue gray pinstriped suit with shiny black shoes and a loose white dress shirt. The first three buttons of it were undone. And, as weird as it is to say, Tommy's dad was kind of, well… hot. I'm not gonna lie. Tommy broke into an even wider smile when he saw him. The two immediately embraced. "Dad, it has been way too long. You should stop by and visit sometime," Tommy proclaimed, thus alerting me to the fact that the attractive elder gentleman was his father. Is everyone in his family so attractive? Then Tommy grimaced just a little and continued somewhat hopefully, "You can even bring Tiff and Tammy."

He clearly did not want Tiff and Tammy to come. Tiff, I should say, is his thirty-year-old stepmother, while Tammy is her sixteen-year-old offspring (yes, that math is correct. She was fourteen when she had her which means she got knocked up at thirteen. And Theo's not the dad). The girl has a mad, stalkerish crush on Tommy. He's almost terrified of her. He isn't actually terrified, of course, since he's bigger and scarier than she is. He can be quite dark and unsociable when he tries (all that brooding has its benefits). I'm not talking trashy unsociable or "I don't want to be around people" unsociable. I'm talking antisocial, misanthropic, pessimistic, bipolar, depressed, wrathful, threateningly scary, I-hate-the-world, kill-all-humanity, DIE-DIE-DIE unsociable. The kind of unsociable that makes Heathcliff and Travis look like civilized gentlemen, not brutes in suits.

By the way, though, Tammy proved to be a great source of amusement for me. She's my age, you know, and completely mad about Tommy. Obsessively so. "Number One Crush" (Garbage) obsessed. You know, so psychotically in love that she is about two steps and a sex change away from being that guy who tried to kill Reagan to make Jodie Foster love him. But what the two of them don't know, and I so painfully do (aside from my fearsome grasp on reality, this is one of the only key differences that separates me from freaks like them), is that you can't make someone love you. As someone wise and cute once said, "Passion doesn't just happen. You make it grow."

Interestingly enough, 'cause I wikipedia'd it, that syndrome is called Erotomania or de Clerambault's Syndrome, where one believes that someone, often famous or of a higher social class, is in love with them- when they're quite obviously not.

I do not suffer from such a delusion. Tommy doesn't love me. Period. But man, Tammy is whacked. She thinks that the fact that there's only a one letter difference between their names means that they're destined to be together. She thinks stuff like the way he eats his cake is an expression of how much he cares. Hell, she thinks he runs away from her because he's too shy to talk to her! Oh, and here's the piece de resistance... She thinks he has sex with everything with legs because he's fantasizing that it's her, and he doesn't have the courage to tell her. Have you ever heard of anything so utterly insane?!

I was stuck with the job of distracting this dangerously unstable girl while Tommy went to take a piss or hide under tables... I tried a million times to tell her that Tommy had no qualms going after what he wanted (she persisted that he did, because she was far too young for him). Now, while her claim was actually quite sensible and definitely true... The fact of the matter is that he's slept with teenage girls before, and he'll do it again if given the chance. If he can't get in jail for it, and she says yes; he's there. He's tried it on me, remember? So I told her that Tommy wasn't that noble, which he's not, and that he had recently nailed a girl just a year older than her. He just likes _sex_, I tried to tell her, but she didn't buy that. She thought Tom's raging nymphomania was a product of something other than a pathological need for touch, attention, a little love, ecstasy, and chronic mommy issues. Plus he thought it was fun, not to mention a great form of natural exercise (how do you think he maintains that killer physique? He doesn't get a _hard_ body from going to the gym, I assure you).

But I digress. I have so many anecdotes about Tommy's crazy stepsister from that one night that I could write a book (when we were first introduced, she promptly slapped me across the face, proclaimed me an "over-dyed man-stealing little wench" who was "too slutty, sloppy, slatternly, and utterly disease-ridden to even merit five minutes of Tommy's attention", and tried to gauge my eyes out. I cattily remarked that Tommy could last much longer than a mere five minutes, which would never satisfy him. Bitchily, I continued that Tommy sure macked on me a lot for someone who thought I was apparently so disgusting (such were the benefits in a place where everyone automatically assumed we were sleeping together. I was his honorable courtesan of the month), and I added that I had never seen him coming around or even heard him mention her. All this after a personal introduction from the man himself. Don't I stand by my man? Even though he's not actually _my_ man). But enough about her.

Then Tommy suddenly snapped out of his reverie, noting my intrigued gaze. He also realized that his father was staring at me curiously and quickly strove to introduce us. "Jude," he began softly, "This is my father, Theodore Quincy." Then he turned to his father, pulling me forward. "This is Jude Harrison, Dad, my protégée," He introduced proudly, thrusting me even further forward.

Okay, I'll admit it. I was kind of disappointed when he didn't introduce me as the love of his life. But I'm used to it by now. I just can't get no satisfaction nowadays, you know? And I try, and I try, and I try, and I trrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyy...

I awkwardly smiled, feeling as I imagine a trophy must (minus the nudity and gold body paint), and shook his father's hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Quincy…" I muttered nervously. This was big time, meeting the 'rents. Well, the one that I haven't already met. Tommy's dad had this really warm, easy smile that put me at ease. He smiled this smile at me encouragingly, making me want to open up and tell him everything, even stuff I couldn't tell my actual father. I guess you could say I liked him immediately.

He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Tommy. "Here, I got the tickets you wanted," Theo replied with a smile. Tommy looked at the tickets, which were to some sort of music festival. They obviously weren't a present. Then he turned to me, looking me over with a critical eye. The look worried me, and for some reason, reminded me of Travis staring at me. Maybe it was because his wife was over ten years younger and he was her vocal coach when she was six. And that was just sick.

He grinned at me engagingly. "I'm a fancy sort of vocal coach... And I've worked with all sorts of artists. Tom-Tom's told me so much about you. I'd really love to work with you sometime," Theo declared, knowing exactly how to flatter my vanity. I see where Tommy gets it from. Not that I need vocal coaching or anything. That's Tommy's job, of course. Theo smiled lopsidedly at Tommy. "He never shuts up about you, actually. He thinks you're the next Celine or something," Theo continued amusedly, knowing full well how much he was embarrassing his son. I beamed at the compliment, since Celine Dion has been my idol since forever (okay, since I heard her version of "It's All Coming Back to Me Now", which reigns as one of my favorite songs of all time. It kicks some serious ass, dramatics and organ and all. And her version **owns** Meatloaf's). Then Theo paused and gave me an appraising look. His eyes sparkled, and I honestly couldn't blame Torie for marrying him. "However, I'm afraid he failed to mention how beautiful you were. His words just don't do you justice," Theo complimented warmly, making me blush.

Tommy almost seemed to glower at his father, as if he thought his dad was actually trying to pick me up. Theo and Torie were complete opposites, weren't they? He was warm like Equator, and she was... Antarctica. I fought the urge to say that his progeny hadn't mentioned him at all. Theo promised to do a lunch date. How industry is that? I personally find it ironically sad that I have a standing invitation for a date with his father before Tommy ever even asked me out. Assuming he ever plans on doing that. I might have been imagining it, but Tom seemed a little too happy to see his father go. I don't get why. The man is adorable, and he calls Tommy "Tom-Tom". How cute is that?

My lovely arm-candy didn't find it nearly as amusing. I wonder if he was actually... embarrassed or something. That being said, Tommy made sure that both of us had a nice big glass of something sweet and ridiculously alcoholic. I smelt my drink, saw it for the cocktail it was, and promptly refused to touch it after the initial sip. Against my wishes, Tommy wound up consuming both of our drinks. He wasn't even fazed. He was still stone-cold sober. Then we schmoozed some more with the guests, talking about Tom's new music and old times... I managed, for one brief period, to break free from him. He met me in the bathroom less than two minutes later.

I did get to hear plenty of stories about young Tommy, though. Brit, Christina, the two Jessicas, various Jennifers, and just about every big name in music were there. Basically the Ex-Girlfriend's Club. Britney had ditched the husband (who I assume was either too wimpy to face the inevitable beatdown from Tommy... K-Fed really IS that annoying... or too afraid to find out, to mess with the boy who put the ATTACK! in Boyz Attack!) but brought loads of pictures of her son to compensate. You should've seen the way T cooed over that child. He's the Godfather, you know. I learned that Britney was actually really sweet, which made it really hard to dislike her. Even if she was his ex. In fact, she actually said she liked my music and gave me the cards of some of the best songwriters in the biz. I politely rebuffed her because, no matter how awesome Dr. Luke or the Matrix or Max Martin are, I write my own songs. I told her as follows, with perhaps a saucy grin, "Tommy's more than enough co-writer for me to handle."

She nodded appreciatively and winked at me good-naturedly. I totally kept the cards, though. And then she laughed and said she knew exactly what I meant. Tommy was... well, actually, I don't know where he was at this time. Perhaps he was besting J.T. in a dance-off. Or getting a quickie in the coat closet. Who really knows with him?

Speaking of J.T., I somehow managed to speak to him too. Entertaining conversation, even if it only lasted like two minutes. Tommy almost exploded, and I wasn't even flirting or anything! Okay, I mean, he was flirting with me, but he's Justin Timberlake. He flirts with everyone. But anyways, back to their shared ex...

We actually talked for a pretty long time. Guess Tommy has that effect on people... bringing strangers together. It was awfully surreal though, and pretty weird on top of it. Britney started explaining to me how much Tommy meant to her and all, which I completely understood... And that he was really very fragile and needed a lot of TLC, like an abused, unloved puppy. He needed to be with someone who would love him and take care of him like he deserved. And, without even knowing me, she said that she knew I was that girl for him. Woman's intuition or whatever.

I kinda thought she was crazy by that point. I mean, this is the woman that married K-Fed, scourge of the planet. Her sanity was just a bit questionable to me THEN. It was my woman's intuition telling me that they'd be divorced within a year or two. It also might've helped that according to her, Tommy mentioned me an awful lot and in strictly glowing terms (destined to be neither the first nor the last time I heard that that night). Even despite her marriage, she and Tommy were still on good enough terms for regular, frequent communication. Don't get me wrong; it was incredibly flattering to think... that, you know, maybe just _maybe_ he felt the same way. But I couldn't keep the hope. Unfortunately, I'm perfectly sane.

And then Tommy found me and kind of tried to whisk me away, obviously wondering what his ex-girlfriend could possibly be telling me. If he thinks she told me about the time he wound up naked at the Strawberry Fields memorial, he's got another thing coming. I've known about that one for weeks. Chaz told me. I couldn't stop laughing for two days. Seriously. I'm just waiting for the right time to use it.

Only the whisking away doesn't work when you're the birthday boy. At that precise moment, a very energetic Asian compelled Tommy to slice the cake. By compelled, I mean that she literally dragged him so close to the cake that he nearly face-planted. Made me wonder if E.J. had scraped off some of the frosting. Or maybe she'd jacked a couple of the some-thousand cupcakes also on the same table. They seemed to be a personal favorite of Georgia. Oddly enough, Tommy seemed to loathe being the center of attention, but he cut the cake with a smile nonetheless… even if it was more of a grimace.

As it was proper and the polite thing to do, Tommy gave me the first slice of cake. I thought that was incredibly sweet. I only had time to appreciate the beauty of the gesture for a few moments, though; as less than a minute later, he shoved the cake in my face. As good as the baked good tasted, and as lovely and sweet as the frosting was, having it smeared all over my mouth, nose, and cheeks was not my idea of joy. I glowered at him, picked up a napkin, and someone muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Ah, newlyweds!" I was extremely tempted to shove Tommy into the cake, but, well, there were other ways of getting revenge. I merely hissed, "You are so dead," and walked past him. Besides, that stunt would make him look less pretty.

Plus, I am totally not regressing back to second grade because of that loser. Sadly, I wanted just as much to ask him to lick it all off. The cake, however, gave me an excuse to leave Tommy's side to get cleaned up and properly powdered. I grinned evilly as I left him alone to deal with the cameras. Revenge is sweet, but not as sweet as the cake. I am so snagging another piece when I go back in. I made my way to the bathroom haughtily, wiping away or licking at frosting as I went.

When I got in the bathroom, I made quick work of swiping the frosting off and washing most of my face. Then I reapplied the make-up that had been washed away, brushing some blush on my cheeks almost haphazardly. My lipstick had more staying power; it didn't even smear. I wondered for a moment if it was kiss-proof, smiling at the thought of asking Tommy to help me try it out. But, of course, that mustn't happen.

Tommy had trouble escaping the limelight this time, as he was in the middle of it all, so I didn't meet him in the hall as I'd expected. Honestly, as much as I love the guy, it was kinda nice to get away on my own for a few minutes. Being around Tommy like that all the time, smiling for the cameras and what not, gets pretty tiring after a while. As does the whole pretending-I'm-not-in-love-with-him-thing every time I look at him. I must be so transparent. I actually ran into Taylor in the hallway.

For some reason, this really surprised me, which is stupid, given that the boy was there EARLY. He smiled when he saw me, and I smiled back purely out of politeness (I wish). Okay, so maybe I smiled because his smile was dreamy. Whatever. In all truth, I was more than a little anxious to get back to my date. For all I knew, Tommy could be going off to the Janitor's Closet with an ex or strange girl by that point. I wasn't gonna let him do that to Sadie again. "Hey," He greeted me somewhat breathlessly.

I gave him a manly sort of nod then shook my head idiotically and settled for a simple… "Hi." Jeez, awkward much? He gave me a look as if asking why I wasn't at the party. "You saw what Tommy did to me back there, right?" I asked, expecting that he had. Apparently he hadn't because he looked really confused. "He…" I trailed off, not wanting to tell. Why should I, anyways? It's not my fault the kid is blind. Though, in his defense, it really was a big party… in a small building.

Taylor's eyes flickered with hope upon hearing that Tommy had somehow screwed up. Like he knew about my… thing with him… and suddenly thought that he (Taylor) had a bigger chance. Gimme a break. "Tommy's loss is my gain," He replied enthusiastically, if not a bit rakishly. His eyes flashed a brilliant gold. I smiled at that, corny as it was, and shrugged. I knew that Tommy was probably looking for me, but I stayed anyways. I guess I needed a longer break than I thought. Oh well. Tommy can take care of himself. He's never needed a woman to do it- not even his mother, although she's just about as much robot as woman.

We walked along in a comfortable silence for some time, occasionally glancing at each other and then furtively looking away. Your typical junior high romance. Taylor held my hand, and I felt my heart beat faster. "He never should've let a girl like you get away," Taylor mumbled softly, suddenly stopping and turning to face me. That offended me, I remember, and I was about to say something. And then Taylor's lips crashed against mine. BAMMO! Out of nowhere.

That's how it happened with Travis too. And Tommy, those first two times… Out of nowhere. Now, I'm not gonna lie and say it was perfect. Because it wasn't. Taylor paid for his relative lack of experience in these matters. He wasn't ever short of a girlfriend before, but he was just… I dunno… not that physical, I guess. Taylor was a pretty busy kid growing up, what with the acting, school, sports, and other extracurriculars. He was class president, you know. So he was lacking in some of the all too important practice my ex-boyfriend, producer, and teacher had all had in spades. His nose kind of knocked into mine (and it HURT for a week afterwards, damnit), and his lips were too wet… kind of like Scruffy's, more than a little slobbery. And then, I dunno, he just did something _wrong_. I felt; well, not like I would've wanted to. I felt like…

**EW**, must get this **barbarian** off of me! I didn't kiss back or anything. At all. Seriously, remember that first time I kissed Tommy? I got more of a reaction then. And I felt, well… nothing. Or just a tiny spark, completely one-sided. It was unfortunately diminished by his lack of a reaction and the sensation of OH MY GOD, I JUST KISSED MY PRODUCERandhedoesn'tlikemelikeIlikehim and… He'sacheesyboybander,howcouldIhaveeverkissedhimandevenremotelylikedit?becauseIcan'tposssiblylikethisguy! And then, of course, how could I have been so wrong, and I should _never_ have listened to Kat, and _God_, how monumentally stupid was that!? Guys like him don't want girls like me. That was about a million times better (not to mention less painful) than this one with Taylor, as embarrassing, humiliating, and shameful as it was. Plus that kiss wasn't altogether too bad… our lips barely brushed, and his lips were soft, and my lips were bone dry.

As if the kiss itself wasn't bad enough, just as I was about to pull back and maybe punch the loser for getting fresh with me, I heard someone clear his or her throat. And I knew immediately that it was Tommy. It was _always_ Tommy. Tommy caught me kissing this loser. I was suddenly even more mortified than when I kissed him that first time, which was so embarrassing that Tommy and I never even officially discussed it. After that I didn't really want to go out with Taylor so much. Okay, I never wanted to see him again. Not even in the Afterlife. I mean, I know the kiss can be improved (and it did), but **jeez**, I didn't even want to try!

I tried frantically to pull away then, but Taylor's arms were on my shoulders, pulling me to him like he wanted to mold us into the same person. Tommy's voice was like steel, cool and smooth. "Taylor, I think both me and my date would appreciate it if you took your hands off of her. Especially since her _dog_ slobbers less when he kisses her. Honestly, are you trying to give her a cold sore?" Tommy ordered authoritatively, clearly not amused. Although neither was I, so he could've been as jealous as he liked. Not that that one, stupid kiss was anything to be jealous of. _Ashamed_ of, definitely.

Taylor looked somewhat abashed at this, as well he should've, and he let me go. Finally! I rubbed my nose and wiped my lips disgustedly. The lipstick remained, my theory proven. Suckily proven, yet proven nonetheless. Tommy then turned to me with a look that could've frozen the blood in my veins. "I didn't know you two knew each other," He said levelly, staring at me with beady eyes. I shot Taylor a dirty look, pissed off that he'd made Tommy angry so fast.

"We just met today... I didn't realize I knew him _that_ well," I answered somewhat irritably, resisting the urge to hit Taylor. Taylor looked apologetic when I turned to glower at him some more. Somehow, he had no slobber on his face. I tried to show Tommy how grateful I was, but I don't think he understood. I think he was under the mistaken supposition that I actually liked the wet-fish kiss. Taylor didn't even taste good. He tasted like he'd drank some of the spiked fruit punch. I so hate the taste of Hawaiian Punch.

Tommy gave Taylor this look that, I swear, said (aloud and everything), "What are you doing with my _girl_, little brother? You think a shrimp like you can play with the big boys?" Of course, Tommy didn't need to say all that. Then he blinked, as if nothing had happened and began to introduce us. "I'd introduce you, Jude, but it sees you've already met Taylor Quincy, my _baby_ brother." Tommy nearly spat it out, as if the words tasted bitter in his mouth. Now, that was probably about the most obvious thing in the world.

I mean, I knew Tommy had a younger brother my age. I even knew he was named Taylor. You would think that would be enough for me to put the pieces together, connect the dots, and all that jazz. Nope. Am I stupid or something? I mean, hello, he said he grew up with Tommy, that they went waay back... He even mentioned the story about Tommy and Travis and his parents' divorce. The bad French, though, that made me wonder... Isn't it logical, then, that Tommy's kid brother would be at his birthday party?

But that brings me to my second point. Taylor knew full well who I was. He would've known from Tommy, too, since Tommy apparently tells everyone about me. And he had to have seen the tabloids saying that we were going out or whatever, States or not; a salacious story of forbidden love just sells, especially when it involves celebrities. Even if they are Canadian. So he knew better than to approach me and ask me out. And yet he did. He knew he'd have to piss Tommy off to do it. And I asked indirectly if they were related. He lied and said no. So, feeling embarrassed, slutty, ashamed, betrayed, and thoroughly disgusted, I did the only thing I could do.

I slapped him (**hard**) right smack across the face. It made a beautiful sound, like music to my ears. "You never said a word!" I growled furiously, hating that he'd made me feel so stupid. "Not **_one_**!" I couldn't believe it. Some nice guy he was! He was just as scheming as the rest. It felt like here was yet another guy who only wanted me to piss Tommy off. Like all I am is a pawn in the game of making Tommy jealous... and I don't even matter to him. Taylor reeled from the slap, but he still had a smile on his face. I shook my head, still in disbelief. "You have _some_ nerve," I hissed bitterly. I've had enough lying males to last me a lifetime. Some might say I have issues, but there's really just a point where you realize you can't take it anymore.

Taylor rolled his eyes and straightened some, shooting me a skeptical look. "Like you would've really given me a second glance if you knew Tommy was my older brother?" He retorted, justifying his point. I hated that he was at least partially right. Now I was no better than Tommy himself, going after his age-appropriate brother. Taylor had made me somewhat of a hypocrite. And I hate hypocrisy just about as much as lying, if not more. I wouldn't have looked twice at Taylor. He wasn't my type. He was out of my league. We had absolutely nothing in common except Tommy... And, above all, he was Tommy's brother. Had he given me any choice in the matter, I wouldn't have crossed that line out of sheer principle.

Tommy clapped, not amused in the slightest. He was, in fact, the unhappiest I'd seen him all day. "Guess you have more balls than I thought, Taylor, coming into my party and frenching the hostess," He stated almost respectfully. He wasn't proud of his brother, though. Tommy has always been possessive and more than a bit greedy. In reality, his voice was positively dripping with disdain. It was like he never knew his brother had it in him, that ruthless, killer instinct. Tommy was radiating anger in short, choppy waves, practically seething in his skin. He did not want to be made to look like a fool in his own domain.

Taylor shrugged indifferently. I suddenly realized just how messed up this family was. "Well, Bro, watch your girlfriend. She sure said yes to my offer awfully fast for someone in a serious relationship. And would she really be all over me if _you_ fully satisfied her needs?" Taylor taunted oddly maliciously. I began to wonder if this was some sort of family ritual or whether this was actually real. Taylor had seemed so nice... but now it turned out he'd just been using me all along.

I didn't see the real truth of the matter, which was that Taylor and Tommy were fighting over me. Tommy normally would've settled it with fists, but busting your brother's ass at your birthday party looks really bad.

I'm not sure who was more enraged by that little speech: Tommy or me. Probably me, since Taylor implied that I was unfaithful, slutty, and into him like water. No thanks. He acted like I was all over him like white on rice, but that simply wasn't the case. He was the psycho fan. He'd nearly jumped me. He'd asked me out (and I made him ask twice before saying yes). Then again, what did it matter? Tommy and I weren't actually dating anyways, as much as losing a girl he didn't really want to his kid brother stung his pride. Not to mention his completely uncalled-for insinuation that Tommy wouldn't satisfy my needs. That's just insulting, plain untrue (from what I can surmise), and ironic, coming from a boy who is a worse kisser than a dog or a Wet Vac.

I sought immediately to correct the heinous mistake. "Don't you **dare** make me sound like a slut! You came on to me. I didn't _ask_ you to kiss me, nor did I want you to kiss me. I have never been so humiliated in my life! And, just for the record, I don't date **liars**!" I snarled poisonously, shooting Taylor a disapproving glare. Ah, the swift sting of rejection. DE-NIED. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Tommy smile at me. Thatta girl. I felt a surge of pride for standing up for myself. Just because I was Tommy's trophy didn't mean I had to be a doormat. Taylor's face fell, but I tried to ignore that. He had been forward and too fresh. It was too much. He had lied like all the others.

Taylor made some comment to that effect... about Tommy being an even bigger liar, but Tommy brushed him off like an insignificant mosquito with some vague remarks. "You knew better than to mess with Jude, bro," Tommy chastised knowingly, with the calm superiority of one who knows he is right. And he was, of course. Taylor knew better, but for some yet unknown reason, he up and decided that he had to have me. Tommy, of course, saw the flames of passion a-burnin' in Taylor's eyes and saw red. Naturally, he took it too far. "She's **_mine_**," Tommy rasped darkly, in a tone of voice so harsh that it sizzled.

I experienced two emotions at that lovely little emotional breakthrough... I got all girly and sentimental... And then I got all angry feminist. Conflicting, yes, I know. It was, quite possibly, the neediest, most possessive thing I'd ever heard him say... much less directed towards me. It was incredibly romantic in that sense. That Tommy really wanted me that badly that he was willing to fight his brother for me. Then again, it was also incredibly offensive that Tommy knew he had that much power over me... He completely took it for granted. He took _me_ for granted, thinking I'd always be there. Well, I didn't exist to suit his purposes either.

The rage won out first, although the rush of love around my heart softened it a great deal. It was only a minor breakdown. "Whoa, whoa, **whoa**!" I exclaimed, alarmed, stopping them before one of them went for the jugular. I looked between them, feeling like a piece of meat about to be jerked in two different directions by two vicious, starving dogs. I gulped nervously, trying to keep the tenuous peace. "I wasn't aware I _belonged_ to anyone. Last I checked, I am a **free** human being, and I own _myself_," I stated assertively, edges of irritation creeping into my voice.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, pushing the first response aside. "But I'll put that aside. Because this is Tommy's night, and just for tonight, one night out of the year..." I began, taking a deep, shallow breath before saying some words I knew were going to get me in trouble- one way or another. Either Tommy would collect or I was cursing womankind everywhere in a moment of weakness. Among other occurrences, some possibly worse than the described ones. "Tommy owns me, mind, body, and soul." As soon as I spoke them, I knew the words really were true, and a part of me thought they always would be... and I resented Tommy something awful for it. Then I opened my eyes and took a shallow breath. And the world hadn't imploded. Thank God for small miracles.

Softening the effect of those oh-so mindbogglingly powerful words, I added afterwards, "My obligation is to him first." Only those words didn't come out right. It wasn't really much of an obligation, but I didn't want it to sound like it was... or wasn't. He hadn't forced me into it. I freakin' volunteered. I enlisted, signed up, registered for the draft, even got my physical and everything. I was nothing but cooperative, no coercion necessary, guilt-based or otherwise. "And you knew that, Taylor," I said quietly. I didn't realize that the whole world knew that too.

Taylor was angry with me. His cheeks were flushed as he took a few steps towards me almost threateningly. "Yeah, of **course** I knew! I can't believe you thought I didn't! His name was the first word off your tongue. And then there was the shirt... You even smelled of him!" He screeched dramatically, oozing frustration. His lips formed a bitter line. "_Forgive_ me for wanting a chance with a pretty girl," He murmured sarcastically, shooting me a look that made me burn with guilt. It was not my fault that he lied to me. Taylor scoffed, shooting me a dirty look. And I felt low.

Tommy, however, didn't suffer from pangs of guilt as I did. He had none to suffer from, after all, since he'd met me first. He was in the right, for once, even if he did have a girlfriend who wasn't me. He held his ground. "But she's not just **a** girl, Taylor... She's _my_ girl," Tommy interjected, eyes flashing cerulean. I couldn't help but smile at the comment as Tommy approached me slowly, wrapping an arm around me. Taylor sent me a withering glance, and then turned to Tommy. His gaze accused Tommy, leaving the words unspoken. _She may be your girl, but you're a _**_man_**_, Tommy._

Taylor rolled his eyes, turning to me. At least he seemed to understand. "Next time you have sex with Tommy; don't wear the shirt off his back. It makes you look like a slut," He replied coolly, almost turning as if to leave. I realized suddenly what he meant. He had known somehow that the shirt I had been wearing earlier was Tommy's. He had known because he'd recognized it. I wondered how that was possible; Tommy and Taylor hadn't seen each other in around five years. As if he sensed my question, Taylor turned around to answer it. "Our mother gave that shirt to him five years ago for Christmas." His eyes flicked over to Tommy dismissively. "I remember it because it was our last Christmas as a family, much less a happy one... You know, Tom, before _you_ screwed it all up," He hissed bitterly.

Tommy's eyes darkened at the comment, hands clenching into fists. Taylor saw that he'd affected Tommy, and he seemed to get some sick thrill out of it. He opened his mouth, fully ready to continue tormenting his older brother's guilty conscience, but Tommy stopped him before he could even utter one syllable. "If you so much as speak his name, I'll beat you so bad they'll have to i.d. you by your dental records," Tommy said in a silky voice that had every intention of fulfilling its intentions... if pressed. Taylor wisely knew when not to press his older brother, who he well knew could liquefy him. His eyes widened just a little, and he backed off.

Okay, I take that back. I see why people avoid mentioning Tommy's older brother by name. That would be enough to scare anyone into silence. Taylor clearly didn't want to be a bloody pulp barely recognizable as something that was once a human being. I had a sneaking suspicion that Tommy was about to say something he'd really regret, so I decided to extricate the both of us from this awkward situation. Besides, Tommy needed to cool down, and what better way to do so than by serenading him with a song about how much I was in love with him? I'd sing some other meaningless song at the party.

I grabbed Tommy by the hand, catching him off guard and surprising myself with the sparks I felt at that simple touch. I pulled him away from his brother, waving at Taylor over my shoulder distractedly. Tommy looked confused when he noticed that we weren't going back to the party, but instead to a small side-room... Actually, Studio C, just about the most unromantic place ever. It was done up nicely tonight, though, with strange scented candles as the only form of light. Not that it was normally lit much better when the fluorescents were on. I wondered why any idiot would leave burning candles unattended in an empty room. No one ever came to Studio C, so why start a fire?

However, there was my guitar, the fancy customized Gibson I never used. It was beautiful like it had been when I'd received it, all lacquered up and glowing. It was as if someone had planned this all for me, someone who'd anticipated that I would chicken out on the full proclamation of love in front of everyone... only who? Who really knew me that well? But I didn't have time to figure it out. I bade Tommy to sit down in the comfier of the two chairs and assumed the seat across from him comfortably, gleaming guitar and shiny plectrum in hand.

I was feeling really, really nervous around this point, about to bear my heart to Tommy and all. A lot like I felt right before I played my song at Instant Star. Only slightly less... ill. Nonetheless, just as I did then, I summoned up all the courage I had in me, and I let the song come out of me exactly as I'd intended. "_You've always been my hero_," I began softly, unable to look at him. I think I was afraid of what I might've seen in his eyes. In some ways, Tommy was my hero. "_Always there to pick up the shattered pieces_," I continued, smiling slightly at the allusion to his famous song. I thought he'd like that. "_You're my rock, my anchor, and my strength..._" It may sound like I'm completely overstating Tommy's role in my life, but he really is all that and more. Isn't it strange how I've made a rock out of an undependable man? And I was surprised when all my rocks were turning to sand. I took a deep, halting breath, plucking the strings solemnly, like I was playing a harp, before continuing.

I could feel Tommy's gaze on me, but still, I refused to look up. "_When I talk, you always listen to what I say... And I couldn't do anything without you..._" Few people really listened to anything I ever had to say like Tommy. He has this way of listening that makes you feel like you're the only person in the whole world. How lovelorn was I? Honestly, what was I thinking when I wrote that? Was I high or something? On sugar? I don't ever quite recall being so desperately enamored with the man.

As if the song couldn't be any more pathetical... It got more pathetic. "_Without you, I would be nothing... No one would even know my name. But ever since I met you, nothing has been the same_," I warbled intently, concentrating on my task. Tommy had really changed my life. And my music would... suck without him. Well, it'd still be okay, I guess, but... He makes it better.

"_You are a glittering star in the sky... And you _**_fall_**_ and fade like all the others do_," I sang softly. I never knew I could play like this... all soft-like. Then I paused and looked up for the first time. I wound up looking directly into his eyes. Apparently, I had good reason to fear his stare. I never expected to see that sort of emotion reflected there. I kept singing my idealistic song, "_You are a glowing angel in my eyes..._" I smiled involuntarily, feeling myself blush. "_And all I can see is the good you do_."

Yes, I do realize that Tommy is about as far from an angel as you can get. And he doesn't do that much good. But it's all about perception, isn't it? And Tommy's ironical grin was completely worth it. The fear just evaporated in me right then. "_I know I would be so lost without you...We all would be, oh, isn't that true?_" I asked. Clearly this song was meant for an audience, but it was nonetheless true. Of me anyways.

"_Your brilliance has blinded me to your flaws..._" I looked down; he really was that blinding. "_I have managed to forget and forgive them all..._" I sang, whispering it as a benediction. I must've been starry-eyed, pun not intended. My voice was even and clear, pure in expressing my love for him. "_When I look at you now, I see no sin..._" Here I smiled at Tommy as a saint would before continuing to sing. Indeed, I saw none of his flaws. I saw him in pretty rosy glasses, blinded by love. "_I see only the great love that lies within._" To me, Tommy was just bursting with a capacity for love, and a desperate need for it that he didn't even know he possessed.

Once again, my fingers resumed the chorus. It sounded beautiful, if I do say so myself. "_You are a glittering star in the sky... And you fall and fade like all the others do_," I crooned with a sly, goofy smile on my lips. I gave him one last lingering look, feeling my courage failing. I stared instead at my fingers, focusing on getting my chords just right. The guitar pick resembled mother-of-pearl. I fidgeted nervously with my hair before resuming my playing. For some reason, I was sweating bullets. I had never before worried so much over what Tommy would think of one of my songs. "_You are a glowing angel in my eyes... And all I can see is the good you _**_do_**," I continued anxiously, hoping that my vocals weren't all over the place.

It was all I could do to keep in key. I swear to you, I practically forgot how to sing. It was as natural to me as breathing, and I'd been doing it for as long as I could remember, but a bundle of nerves just completely blew it from my memory. I was on needles and pins... Something about the way Tommy looked at me, I guess. Or maybe the truth of what I was singing had finally hit me. "_I know I would be so lost without you... We all would be, oh, isn't that true?_"

"_You're so shining and radiant... Sometimes it hurts my eyes to look_," I sang melodiously, in a voice that came out like honey. Okay, scratch that last part. I wondered briefly if Tommy would like the star metaphor. They don't call celebrities stars for nothing, you know. "_You're bright and brimming with light..._" I allowed myself a small smile at the next line, letting out a tiny giggle involuntarily. "_And, ohh ooh, you kiss by the book._" By that I mean that he kisses so well he could write the book on it, not that he kisses, quite boringly, according to convention. As if Tommy's ever been conventional. If he was conventional, I wouldn't be having this problem, now would I?

The next line sobered me up. I changed chords, and the song was less melodious and happy... deep and serious. I had to look on the napkin for the lyrics. "_You're everything, you are the only _**_one_**" I drew out the notes with every rush of air in me. The notes came slower. "_You're my _**_star_**_ and my all... And I never want to see you _**_fall_**" Here the tempo nearly stopped completely. It was all true, too... Tommy was always the only one for me, no matter how hard I tried to deny it (which inevitably manifests itself in my inability to stick with any guy... Shay cheated on me with my worst enemy; Travis tried to rape me, and Taylor wound up being a lying, conniving, scheming brother of Tommy). Just like that, I had him up on a pedestal, so above it all.

The rhythm and melody sped back up again. "_That's why I'm singing this simple song for you._" I knew it was over, so I felt my enthusiasm growing as the words spilled out of my mouth gleefully. I felt a smirk form on hard lips, my lips. "_Because I want the whole world to know... That I'm in love with you, Tommy Q._" I finished brightly, feeling like a million bucks. Okay, so sue me, I had to throw in a Tommy Q. reference. A little touch of personalization. I wouldn't be me if I didn't! When the time for explanations was nigh, I was well-prepared to explain that I just couldn't resist the rhyme, and that it was really a perfect number of syllables.

Then the chords died out, and the song was done. I was forced once again to look at Tommy. The ending was too cheesy for words. Plus I had the annoying worry of whether or not he'd taken my declaration at face value. "I'm... uh, sorry about the ending. I just couldn't resist. But I kept the Little out. That would've been too many syllables," I babbled anxiously, almost at the point of wringing my hands. Apparently I did explain. Huh. Oddly enough, Tommy was beaming like a madman. He wasn't even pissed about the Tommy Q. thing. He started clapping immediately.

I guess he really liked it, then? It wasn't really anything special. "Are you kidding me?! No one's ever done something so nice for me in my life. I... **wow**... I don't even know what to say," Tommy breathed incredulously. His eyes were wide, and I couldn't believe it. He was acting like I'd never written a song about him before. It seemed like such a small gift in comparison to all his other presents... But I guess it came from the heart, not the pocketbook, and that's what really matters, isn't it? To the man who has everything, something little and real like this must be... priceless. He was _so_ moved.

I shrugged, feeling a blush creep up on my cheeks. I felt pretty good about the present, now that he had me thinking about it. His smile, not the candles, was lighting up the whole room. Then again, he normally had that affect on me. Tommy smiled at me dreamily, placing his hands on either side of my swivel chair. His hands skimmed the sides of my outer thighs as he leaned forward and pulled me towards him suddenly. I was startled into silence by a combination of the bold gesture and the intense look in his eyes. He pulled me even closer, so near to him that I could feel his breath on my collarbone. I hated how the mere feeling of air he'd expelled from his body made my breath hitch. "Hey Jude, marry me," Tommy murmured urgently, eyes sparkling brighter than the Hope Diamond.

I choked at that, gaping at him in sheer disbelief. I wondered vaguely if Tommy was trying to play some sort of joke on me. But the look in Tommy's eyes was downright sincere, not to mention downright unnerving. He was clearly waiting for an answer. Tommy leaned forward, grabbing my hands. He looked rapturous. And I couldn't think of one damn thing to say. I couldn't even think, to tell the truth. So I started to say the first thing that came to mind. "Y-" Then I stopped short of finishing the word because suddenly I couldn't say it.

I hated that I still wanted to say yes so badly that I had to bite back the words...

Tommy grinned like a kid then started to laugh. His eyes flickered with amusement and energy. "You were going to say yes, weren't you, Harrison?" He proclaimed victoriously, knowingly. I glowered at him and shook my head but said nothing. I couldn't really say anything; he was right. He called it. Damn him. I would've said yes in a heartbeat. Tommy wasn't serious after all. I hated that I felt let down. Then the smirk fell right off Tom's lips, and he was suddenly very serious... not at all childish. "But I've got a ring, in case you ever change your mind," He offered slightly flirtatiously, almost as an afterthought. His eyes were focused on me, dark and intense. In case I ever want to change my _name_, I added mentally, swallowing hard.

Just how serious was he, I couldn't help but wonder. If it was all one big joke, I didn't find it funny. Marrying Tommy was no laughing matter. In fact, it was one I contemplated frequently, much more than I was willing to admit. Mrs. Jude Quincy did have an awful nice ring to it... and I was sure an equally nice ring would accompany it. One with a big, fat diamond.

Tommy looked impossibly deep into my eyes then, so deep I thought he was seeing down to the core of my being. He looked so... grateful. "I know that you did all this. E.J. told me," Tommy blurted, words bubbling out of him like a fountain. He couldn't stop the words from coming out. "She said you even talked to my mom about it... And I can't say how much this means to me. You didn't have to do any of this, Jude. I haven't given you any reason to even want to do something so nice and unselfish for me," He exclaimed breathlessly, pausing to catch his breath. "In fact," He went on, forcing a smile, "I've given you a million reasons to hate me... yet here you are."

And that was it. Here I was, despite everything. I told Tommy once that he couldn't get rid of me that easily. And it seemed that way. No matter what he did to push me away, there I was, still. Even though I knew better, I still chased him. Actually, every time he does something that would make any girl give up and swear him off for good, I fall in love with him a little bit more. And I'm not even sure that's humanly possible. No matter how many times I try, I just can't make it stick. I can't stay away.

And I don't want to. This distance between us has been driving me completely crazy for the past two months. His distance was just about as detrimental to my mental and physical health as Travis'... as what Travis did. I can't be without him. He wouldn't be the Tommy I know and love if he didn't get too close, if he didn't lead me on a little... He wouldn't be my Tommy if he followed the rules. And he wouldn't be Tommy Quincy at all if he didn't break my heart over and over again.

Because I'm stupid enough to accept his apologies and believe it won't happen again... dumb enough to believe in him, trust him, and then fall head-over-heels in love with him all over again.

I've even come to expect it from him. And I'd rather have the real thing, to take a little pain every now and then, than some polite stranger who treated me like he was supposed to. Because the pain means I'm alive, and I'd rather be in pain and alive than comfortably numb any day.

So I just smiled back at him, mussing his hair a little. "Quincy, I couldn't hate you if I tried," I replied back with a short laugh. And I had tried. But you just can't fight those irresistible forces. I'm like a boomerang when it comes to him. He's my gravity. "And you should know by now that you can't get rid of me _that_ easily," I responded, leaning my forehead against his as I had done the first time I'd made him that promise. I wasn't going anywhere. His nose brushed deliberately against mine. I involuntarily licked my lips.

I knew we were going to kiss, so I said what needed to be said right before it happened. If I didn't, I knew I would've chickened out. "And, Tommy... I don't need a reason. Not when I..." I whispered just as Tommy cut me off with a kiss. I didn't need a reason because I was in love with him. That was reason enough.

That's what I was going to tell him. That I was in love with him. I just... I needed to get it out, for my own good. I don't even think I thought for one second of how Tommy would reply. But I can never seem to get the words out, for some strange reason. Something always interrupts. Call it fate or whatever you like, but it made me wonder if some cosmic being was trying to send me a message... Black dogs, ill omens, and all that. I just... wanted him to know, in case I never found the right opportunity to tell him.

Because there might be shiny, mysterious, beautifully brilliant distractions along the way... like Taylor or Travis or Tim... Stars of similar or greater quality, size, brilliance, or light. But they were just shooting stars, comets... just passing attractions, mere distractions. Taylor was Sirius. Tim was Halley's Comet. Travis was Betelgeuse. And I knew that I would always come back to Tommy. Because, in the end, he was my True North, my personal Polaris. And, although even the stars may change... move, dim, grow, and change color... my love for Tommy was constant, forever, eternal, and immortal.

"Hey, Tommy?" I asked breathlessly, pulling away from his lips to speak. The cake really did taste good. It was a pity I didn't get to eat more, but I had to satisfy myself with the sugary remnants on Tommy's lips. There was no settling about that. I scarcely wanted to pull away. It was the most perfect kiss of my tender young life, quite possibly. I wanted to remember it always. His arms were still wrapped around my waist, holding me close to him. I could still feel his breath on my face, coming in soft, warm pants; my eyes remained closed. I was afraid if I opened them that this whole thing would be just another dream, the same one I dreamed every night to no avail. Tommy must've made some sign of assention, but whatever it was failed to reach my ears. "What happens if I change my mind?" I sighed in a voice so quiet that it made a whisper seem like a scream.

I opened my eyes then, finally. The silence seemed an eternity. I was staring right back into Tommy's luminously blue eyes. If there were words for the look he was giving me, I couldn't describe it with a thesaurus and a dictionary in hand... and all the words in the universe at my command. I still can't describe it, and I know I have no chance of ever possibly doing it justice, but I have to try. For you, for myself... For the history books. It was some incredibly intense, overwhelmingly powerful emotion that seemed familiar yet totally alien at the same time. It blew me away. "Dare you to find out." And then Tommy kissed me once more, wholly possessed by that emotion and some bizarre form of inhibition-lowering temporary insanity.

It was the real-est thing. I know that isn't a proper word, but the magnitude of the moment hit me, and it felt like one hell of a kiss. I was reeling. And it occurred to me that saying that one simple word... _Y-E-S_... could result in this... every day... for the rest of my life... Forever.

If and _only_ if, of course, Tommy meant it. I still didn't know that, and assuming makes an ass out of you and me faster than anything. And, you know what? I still don't know if he meant it. Who knows; maybe I never will. I eventually had to tear myself away, gasping for air like a drowning woman. Somehow I managed to find my sanity, regaining enough sense to answer him. "Keep askin', Handsome. You might get a _maybe_," I drawled flirtatiously, shooting him a smirk. Tommy rolled his eyes at me, giving me an overly confident glance. He knew I was going to give in anyways, but he'd decided, apparently, to humor me.

I leaned in real close to whisper in his ear. "I'm wearing that bra you like." By which, of course, I meant the peacock blue bejeweled one he'd been ogling when the box arrived. I leaned in still closer, grabbing Tommy by the collar, a roguish grin on my swollen lips. "If you're a real good boy, I just _might_ let you see it." To my delight, his Adam's apple bobbed. Then I pulled away abruptly, letting go of his collar, letting him fall back, and feeling very much the femme fatale. To say he was dazed and confused was an understatement.

It was quite an accomplishment, beguiling the Great Little Tommy Q. I grabbed his hand roughly, while he was still surprised, and started dragging him back to the party. As fun as making out with him was, I couldn't exactly stand there and do it all day. That would be unseemly, and someone would definitely walk in. Plus, hello, he had a girlfriend. And I had a date with his brother that was possibly still standing.

Tommy suddenly stopped following me, and I turned to face him, feeling vaguely annoyed. Dragging him like this was like dragging a stick in the mud. I fixed him with a vexed look, only to notice that he had quirked a smile. "I thought you said you liked bad boys," He said in an utterly assured voice, knowing he had my own words to use against me. I could've kicked myself for having fallen into the trap. Now he'd thrown it all back at me. But that didn't mean I didn't have a reply.

At first, I forced a smile, masking my greater irritation as I grit my teeth. Then I nodded very, very slowly so he would think he won. "I do," I conceded, surprising him with how easily I gave into him. Silly rabbit. He should've known I wouldn't just let him win like that. I love the guy, but I won't make it easy on him. Here I smirked smugly. "But I like them in _green_, Tommy," I replied with a twinkle in my eye, feeling laughter bubbling up under the surface, "White doesn't suit you." Indeed, it doesn't. Too damn virginal and incorruptible.

True to form, Tommy's eyes flashed a brilliant green. This made the Travis allusion and comparison all the more pronounced. But, unlike Travis' eyes, his were green with anger and envy... not evil. I smiled victoriously, loving the way I got under his skin. I rolled my eyes, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him towards the door before he could protest. "Come on, Quincy. You only turn 23 once," I pleaded, exerting all of the force I could muster to tear him away from the ground.

Tommy shot me a pitiful look. "Can't I just stay here?" He whined convincingly, giving me puppy-dog eyes. He coupled this with a pout that made his proposition too hard to resist. Especially since the suggestive glance that had accompanied the phrase reminded me of exactly what we had been doing before. The thoughts of continuing it were... tempting, to say the least. I miraculously managed to remain stoic, which is strange considering that everybody knows I don't have a stoic bone in my body. Eyes darting about nervously, Tommy finally relented and confessed, "I've slept with and/or dated over half of the party. I don't _care_ about all those people."

Truer words were never spoken. I admired his honesty. Didn't admire the fact that he'd banged over half of the party (were there enough women there for that to be possible? Or has Tom resorted to men like a convict in times of crisis and unavailability?). He gave me a searching look, begging me with his convincing eyes. He slid his warm hands over mine, holding my gaze, not taking his eyes off me, not even once. I felt short of breath. "Can't I just celebrate with _you_?" Tommy pleaded desperately, clutching my hands with a passion, drawing them up to his face to fervently kiss my fingers one by one. I immediately knew what kind of _celebrating_ he meant. A private party. The idea was too good to be true, which meant that it was, and that it would obviously never come to fruition. "I'll still be 23 tomorrow!" Tommy groaned, knowing by my face that he was losing the war.

I shook my head. It wouldn't be his birthday tomorrow. Plus Sadie would be back tomorrow afternoon. And technically, since I was compelled to grant all of his birthday wishes like some demented genie/leprechaun, I should've let him have what he wanted. Heaven knows I wanted to. But then he'd be spoiled. I don't think I can say it enough times; in life, you really can't always get what you want. I've realized that more painfully than most. And sometimes what you want is the exact opposite of what you need.

Like me. No matter what Tommy says, I know he doesn't really need me. I spell trouble for that man (S-T-A-T-U... Need I go on?). And I shouldn't need him this much either; it's not at all healthy, but I do. And I can't help that. But like I said, I equal trouble and that starts with T and that rhymes with C and that stands for **child**.

Which is what the law of the land says I am.

"And I'll still be _sixteen_ tomorrow, Tommy."

- Loren ;

Reviews are highly appreciated! They really do mean a lot to me, especially at such a hectic time of my life. I love you guys!


	35. It Ain't Me, Babe

Okay, so I should've been working on my other fic... But I just wrote this chapter instead, and I vowed to get it up this weekend, so here I am. Despite a lot. Sorry it took so long, but like I said... I have to type my chapters in drafts on Yahoo. And the computer isn't mine, so yeah. Eh, no long author's notes this time. 'Cause I'm tired. And yes, you'll be thinking I'm probably insane later on and want an explanation, but whatever. You know what bugs me? People saying Jude's dad is her manager. He's not. That's Darius. She signed a contract with him for it first season. Her dad manages her finances. So yes, let's say he's her accountant and financial/career advisor.

Oh, not gonna include all the Hunter crap and that backstory. Because he already has Travis. What's he need Hunter for?

Let's see: I don't own IS or any of its characters. I also don't own any famous people, movies, etc. mentioned as well as Tyler Kyte, the club, and Sweet Thing. Nor do I own "Do You Want to Know a Secret?", "It Ain't Me, Babe", "You'll Go Your Way and I'll Go Mine", and "What You Need". They belong to The Beatles, Bob Dylan, and Tyler Kyte, in that order. I do, however, own Travis. And Joan. That is all probably not grammatically correct, but I am getting a headache, so screw it.

As for Sarah's question: Tommy didn't notice Jude's tattoo in Chapter 31 because A. Her underwear was covering it. It's kind of about midway down her hipbone and rather small, so her (nonskimpy) underwear covers it unless she decides to show it. Simple as that. And B, her tattoo is red, as was the underwear.

Enjoy!

* * *

I didn't realize you could come back to school when you were suspended. Actually, I don't quite get how being suspended is supposed to be a punishment. Wow. You get to sleep in and watch soap operas and do absolutely nothing all day. It's not like I'm nine. My parents can't always watch over me anymore. Yet here I am, back at school. And here's the clincher- they actually WANT me here. In fact, I was "compelled" (read: forced) to come back just for this one very special day. Seriously, they sent a truant officer and everything. 

Just so I could come hear that hypocrite give the annual Sex Ed lecture. Since I've already seen two, I'm fairly certain of what to expect. Use a condom, but don't have sex. It's okay, but don't have sex. Be safe, but don't have sex. I don't think they've yet realized that telling teens not to have sex is enough of a reason to actually make them do it. For real. If they haven't already. I really don't know why they want me here, unless they believe everything that's been said about me in the tabloids. Then again, if they believed that… Why, just yesterday I read that I'm pregnant with Tom Cruise's baby. He was at Tommy's party with Katie and the kid. Although that must've been mega-awkward, being there to celebrate her ex. Seriously, I saw him for like, five seconds.

You would at least think they would have the courtesy to pick a guy I've actually touched, let alone made out with. Like, I don't know... Tommy again or even his kid brother. Or maybe they could stalk me and say Tim's the daddy. Hell, at this point, I hate to say it, but if I was knocked up... Travis would be the leading contender. Other than that one time, I'm pretty certain about my sexscapades. Or in this case, lack thereof.

We (Cruise and I) had, like, a millisecond conversation, because Tommy (Q) and Katie were talking like old friends. Which they were. Duh. And Tom (Cruise) was stewing in irritation, jealous that someone was stealing his wife's attention while vigilantly watching the kid. He was kind of short with me, actually, so I stopped trying to talk to him and ran into several Spice Girls. That was fun. Ahem.

So I'm just chillaxing here in the back of the auditorium 'cause I don't want anyone to see me. I've got the dark sunglasses, the trenchcoat, the fedora. No, I'm kidding. Except for the sunglasses. It looks like I'm totally hungover or tweaked out, though, the way I'm dressed… Stringy hair, guitar pick necklace, ugly-ass Unabomber coat, dingy gray sweatpants, tight, faded ACDC t-shirt, flip-flops Actually, I kind of resemble Patsy, only slightly more slovenly and not wearing all black. They literally dragged me out of bed. I thought I was being abducted.

Not like it's the first time...

Speak of the devil, _heeeeeere's_ Patsy! She walked up to me and plopped down right next to me with the force of a nuclear bomb. Patsy favors big, flamboyant gestures. Some of us are more suited to drama than others. I'll leave it to you to figure out which type I am, but Patsy has a definite thespian flair. "Cherry! What are you doing here? Aren't you… **banned**?" She exclaimed enthusiastically, flashing me a smirk. I nodded unhappily. But at least I wasn't permanently in school.

A part of me doesn't know whether I could face seeing Travis every day all over again. I suffered in that hell for two long months, and punching the asshole was my way out. Violence, for me, was the answer, and I don't regret it. Hell, I'd do it all over again. For the past week or so, I had been free. I felt safe again, secure. And I wasn't afraid of Travis.

Not anymore.

But now that I was back in the school where it had all happened, I was beginning to feel anxious. I sensed that Travis was near by... It was like we'd drawn lines over my absence, and the school, the whole of it, was his domain. I shuddered involuntarily. "They sent a truant officer out to my house. He literally dragged me out of bed," I replied gloomily. I rubbed my wrists, which still twinged. He'd handcuffed me. He wasn't exactly gentle, either. I think I'm going to have bruises on my arms. Wonder if I could sue? There were red marks from where the handcuffs had cut into my skin.

Patsy leaned over to examine my arms, grinning bemusedly. "I guess he liked it rough, then, huh?" Patsy said nonchalantly. Of course Patsy would make a bondage joke. Then she frowned, looking at me. "I never would've pegged you for that type, Cherry." Patsy then glanced away and began to stare at something off in the distance, a mischievous grin on her lips. She was obviously thinking of her own adventures in bondage. I made a face at the thought as an image of Patsy and Travis… together… flashed through my head. That was just ungodly. My skin still crawls just thinking about those two nymphos shacking up. Why, oh why did Pats make me watch that awful video? I hate porn.

But better **her** than me, right?

At least she got a choice, huh? It would've been nice if he'd let _me_ have a choice. Hell, I thought he was so **great** I might've even said yes (although when you factor in the specter of Tommy... it becomes a far more unlikely possibility). But no, that... that asshole bastard sonuvabitch didn't. He tried to take that away from me. He took advantage. And I hate every inch of him. I do.

"I'm not," I replied quietly, finally turning my head to see just what had Patsy so enraptured. I'll give you three guesses as to what that was. It was not the beautiful architecture of the theatre. Nor was it the bright lights or various shiny things about the room (although good guess... Patsy's all about shiny).

It was, of course, Travis. The freakin' keynote speaker. Joy.

Travis, of all people, was speaking on abstinence. It was downright laughable. I would've laughed at the irony if he hadn't tried to play his sick games with me. Ever since he's been here, all he's done is teach badly and have sex. It's who he is. He's gonna be even more hypocritical than the others. I might just have to break his nose again.

By the way, he was wearing the gauze around his nose. Or whatever you call it. I felt a thrill of satisfaction at the sight of that. I had done that. I had broken it. Ha! But I knew that if I punched him again, I'd get expelled and look entirely insane. Because no one believes me, the student.

I filed charges against him, and what? The guy explains it all away and laughs it off. The sick bastard probably told them I was into him, but he rejected me, and so now I'd decided to ruin his life. Wow. Reduce me to some cardboard cut-out stalker girl, why don't you, when you're the one that follows me around, jumps me in dark corners, and tried to **rape** me!

But of course no one believes me. Because Travis is _such_ a great teacher! Even my parents think so. The admin think he's ridiculously brilliant but terribly antisocial, but he can turn on the charm to the suffocating point when he wants to. They want him to teach five classes... They're practically insisting on English. He's supposed to be the next Jaime Escalante or something because he student-taught at this inner-city school in like, East St. Louis or New Orleans or something. For some reason, those kids absolutely loved him. He stayed for a year, helped set up and fund this huge music program (since he is, after all, independently wealthy), and came out of the whole thing with glowing recommendations. Colleges don't look well on that, hitting a heroic, underappreciated teacher, regardless of whether or not that teacher was twenty-five, incompetent (he may have been good in the 'hood, but in our fair suburban city, he's, well, sh...), and an utter asshole.

Not that I'm necessarily or probably going to college, given my royalties and fabulous career as Canada's newest star, but still… It's always good to have options, right? At the very least, I could be a music teacher… in case none of this works out, you know. It will, I think, since I've gone platinum. I'm thinking about doing a two-album release, since I've written so many different kinds of songs, you know? I've been writing like a fiend lately. I'm pretty good with kids. As was demonstrated by the songwriting workshop for charity that I did at that one elementary school (we wrote this song called "How I Feel"). Those kids loved me. And not just because I gave them musical instruments. Especially that one… Helen, a songwriter herself. I liked her. I wish she were my sister. You know, I did promise to take her to the Music Garden sometime to write a song. It was the only way I could make up for the whole getting suspended thing. Because that's bad PR and all.

I mean, I can confidently say that I would at least be a better music teacher than Travis.

Bringing me back to my original point, I really didn't want to be there. Forgive me, really, but I didn't want to see the asshole who'd almost raped me going on about not having sex when, as I said, THE ASSHOLE FREAKING TRIED TO RAPE ME IN THE FREAKING SCHOOL!!!!!

So I immediately stood and bolted for the door. Unfortunately, there was a teacher guard in front of it. I couldn't get through, damn. I could face Travis, really, I could. But that didn't mean I wanted to, even if it was just being in the same room as him with a bunch of other people. Once again, continuing the oppressive theme, Travis refused to give me a choice. As if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

He cleared his throat, muttered a "check", and began to speak. His voice was cool like ice water, and the mellifluous sonorous quality of it easily cut through all of our noise. He was absolutely arresting, and he ought to have been arrested for it. He smiled pleasantly, glancing out at the crowd. I scowled and slouched back in my seat for the sole purpose of avoiding his inevitable gaze.

"Hello, students. In case you don't already know me, I'm Mr. Travis Quinn." He inserted the first name for that deliberate informality he seemed so fond of. It made him seem all the more young, hip, and close to our age... I'd say even trustworthy if I didn't know him. I snickered at the introduction. Did I know Travis? Oh, hell yes I did. If it were up to him, I'd know him biblically (as if it already isn't bad enough that I know he has a heart-shaped birthmark on his inner thigh? Damn you, Patsy, for filming with such great detail).

He smiled that stupid fake smarmy smile of his, the one I always wanted to smack right off of his face, like he'd made some kind of inside joke. I have never wanted anything more in my life than the pleasure of making that smile disappear and knowing that I was the reason, the sole reason, for its disappearance. Travis was really playing up his gregarious, talkative, charming side today. It made me sick to my stomach. He pulled a face. "And, since I drew the short straw, it looks like I get to tell you why sex is bad and you should never do it, save for reproductive purposes, because our population really is that small," Travis explained cheerily, garnering quite a few laughs. Seriously, the province mandates that he say that. No joke. The population of Canada is dwindling faster than it can reproduce. Guess no one wants to live in the Great White North. So damn cold and what not.

See, if Tommy and I ever get it together... Which probably won't ever happen, but I like to keep hope alive... Or, you know, I want kids and ask him to be my sperm donor, which is the more likely option (can I really insist on natural insemination, you know, for the baby's safety and the mommy's pleasure?)... I officially promise to have a passel of them. Hello fertility drugs. There will be a whole herd of rampaging, heartbreaking Little Tommy Q offspring, I tell you. I want to make my own little choir. They'd probably all sooner be like their father, devils instead of angels, but good is overrated. Imagine if I took all the little darlings on the road with me. I bet they'd just raise hell, just like their parents.

And wow, obsessed much? When did I become Tammy? I mean, yeesh, I'm practically naming them already (oh, wait, did that, didn't I? In that dream). Kurt Joseph, Julia, Georgia Victoria, Jonathan Stuart, George Vincent, Richard Kyle, Paul Wallace, Thomas Jr., Theodore Victoria, Sid Michael, James Robert, Patricia Dylan, Selena, Deborah Christine, Joan, Mia, Jeffry Douglas... Gee, why do I have so many more sons than daughters? I know it's statistically more likely that I will bear sons (although girls survive better), especially if my would-be mate has a vigorous Y-chromosome, but still... I need more girls. I want to dress them up all cute and girly stuff. But that's just a pipe dream, I guess, for now.

Besides, Travis was speaking again, that stupid congenial grin spread wide across his annoying face. "Sex," He began solemnly, "is quite a delicate subject. There are some who say that even teaching you how to do it safely will make you want to have sex." He actually sounds serious. Creepy. Then Travis shook his head, itching to move around. He was the kind of guy that paced when he spoke. "But I don't think you're that easily led, so I'm going to be frank with you," Travis declared boldly. I knew then that the other teachers were beginning to worry; they were beginning to whisper and shoot him disapproving looks. He leaned on the podium, narrowing his eyes and staring out at the crowd. "I'm not going to pretend that it doesn't happen like some would want. Because it does happen, and we all know that here, don't we? Sex does happen outside of marriage and even outside of serious relationships. The consent age in Canada is 14. It's not like we're hiding that," Travis admitted with an admirable honesty. That is, if I didn't loathe him.

"But just because you can have sex doesn't always mean you should," He warned in a lilting tone, and, I swear to God, he shot me a dirty look. I seethed inwardly. The Absentminded Professor continued on with the sex talk.

"I'm not saying it's wrong to have sex outside of marriage or with someone you don't love, but it's not right, either. Having sex at this age means that you'll grow up too fast... and do you really want to become an adult even sooner? Is the "fun" worth worrying about whether or not she took her pill or if the condom worked? No, it's not. It's also not worth the STD tests, antibiotics, or disease you could wind up stuck with for the rest of your life," Travis stated plainly. It was a wonder he didn't choke on his own hypocrisy. Travis had a one-night stand with Patsy and Kate when he was in relationships with neither of them.

To be fair (not that Travis deserves it), however, he was engaged to Kate at one point, but not now. He's never been married. People other than me have to know that he's lying. I mean, come on, like a guy as good-looking as him is a virgin at practically twenty-six? Please. Where's the credibility? And no, I wasn't talking about his (I'm sure) vast knowledge on STDs. I'm _sure_ he knows what he's talking about there.

Someday, mark my words, that sex habit of his is gonna get him in trouble. Seriously, is it just a coincidence that he shares the same last name with Roseann Quinn, a teacher who got killed by a strange man she brought home? Then again, she was pleasant to people and not a perv. What she did on her own time was her business. Alas, such is not the case with Travis, who attempts to do his students on their school time, not to mention his personal time. Patsy glanced over at me and shot me a curious look, noticing my grimace. She quirked an eyebrow questioningly. I sighed, rubbing my temples, feeling a headache coming on fast. "I just wish Letourneau over there would shut his child-molesting mouth," I muttered venomously.

Just in case you're wondering, Travis is almost twenty-six. Old-timer, isn't he? His birthday's in January or something, I think. Funny how that works out, isn't it? First Tommy, then Joan (also in November), then me, and then Travis. It's like a birthday sandwich. And Kat's birthday's in October while Jamie's in September. Then again, there are only twelve months, so I suppose it's not that strange.

In case it's not obvious, Travis didn't shut his stupid bouche. The guy just looooves to hear himself talk. And, how funny, I hate to listen. He'd started a question and answer session to clarify some of the misconceptions. "Yes, you can get pregnant the first time." "There are many different forms of contraception... condoms, birth control pills/patches, the ring, diaphragms, sponges, spermicides, among others. Some of these you can get from your doctor or a local clinic, while others you can buy in drug and grocery stores. Coitus interruptus is not very effective. It puts an extreme amount of responsibility on one partner, and in the heat of the moment, people tend to forget these things. The key here is being as safe as possible if and when you do have sex. Also, even contraception fails sometimes; so if you really don't want to get pregnant... don't have sex. Unless you're the Virgin Mary, abstinence is still the only method that is 100 effective."

"This is all about informing you. That's what I'm doing. We're telling you this so that you'll know, and that you won't wind up a victim. You can either be lax about it and sit around and let stuff happen to you, or you can take charge of your body and your health. But why would you even want to risk that?" Travis went on convincingly, in a hopeful voice filled with conviction. I felt like puking. Don't get me wrong; for once the guy actually had a point. At least he was telling us up from down. But he didn't have to act so high and mighty about it when he was really the world's biggest hypocrite.

I sort of zoned out listening to his voice like I usually do. His voice tends to have that affect on me, despite the inflection. See, annoying as it is, Travis' voice, although silky, slimy, and otherwise smarmy, is actually really nice. It has a very relaxing calm quality to it, and it's like he doesn't even try to have the perfect amount of huskiness and softness in his tone. His voice is melodic, almost, and it sorta sucks you in even though you'd otherwise dislike it immensely. Or know you should. Kinda like the Jackson 5 (only 'cause of Michael, though. I have no problems with any of the others, but pervs just piss me off. I want to string 'em all up and shoot 'em. Call it overexposure).

There was a particularly memorable instance where he demonstrated how to put on a condom (not on himself, on a banana, of course). I think I was laughing hysterically. And then there was a long, detailed, absolutely disgusting chat on all the world's STDs. Luckily, this proved to be my way out, as I half-feigned illness. They let me dash to the bathroom.

To be clear, I did actually throw up. It wasn't that much of a lie. Then, after I washed my mouth out, I opened the window and climbed out. And then I ran like hell away from that wretched place. But, jeez, did I get the message!

Okay, _okay_, I won't have sex! Yeesh. It's not my fault they're all over me! Like Tommy, for instance; I had to make out with him for like a whole hour after the party just to get him to go back. It was ridiculous. Fantastic, but ridiculous. And making-out on a piano bench? Can we say awkward? There was so much head-turning action I almost got whiplash (he was sitting next to me, so I had to turn). I wound up falling off the bench too, right at the good part. Damn shame, that. Tommy was absolutely horrified and adorably embarrassed. He apologized profusely and practically raced to help me up. Talk about ouch. The head still hurts from that, you know. It's a wonder I didn't have head trauma or anything.

He was supposed to drive me home... Or maybe I was supposed to do that. Either way, I didn't go home. I did call, though. That's progress. Told the 'rents I was crashing with a friend. I think I said it was Wally or something. Whatever. They know he's cool. Plus it's not like they really cared anyways. They're too busy having "fun" on the coach... on the kitchen table... in their marriage bed... etcetera. Disgusts me to think of it, but at least someone's gettin' some.

I don't think they would've been so cool if they knew Tommy was the friend I was talking about, but whatever. They kinda forgot they grounded me. Basically as long as I don't go out and have sex, they're okay with it. I can take care of myself now. Anyways, so we have me at Tommy's place, although Tommy did not **have** me at his place... You get the picture, right? We just kinda hung out (we didn't make out, really, not this time... Okay, so we did. But only a teeny, tiny itty-bitty _little_ bit). You know, did normal stuff... Wrote a song or two. Tommy read to me from a book, some tawdry romance novel that completely sounded like it was written about him. Only in slightly more elevated prose and minus the typical word porn of a romance novel. So sue me, I like listening to the guy's voice.

Then we watched (I swear) every musical known to man that's halfway decent. Tom likes old jazz and bebop like Dad likes classic rock, although Tommy is equally fond of classic rock. But I like it too, now that he does. I don't know. He did that thing where he introduces me to this whole new world I never knew even existed... and it completely blew my mind. And so I fell in love with that little world just because it was his.

So now I kinda have a soft spot for Gene Kelly. Okay, that's a lie. I always had a soft spot for him since I saw "Singin' in the Rain" in Choir in 7th grade. But what can I say? He was a triple threat (four if you count the hotness factor): singer, dancer, and actor. Plus he didn't suck like other "triple threats", a.k.a. Disney's Pop Diva of the Week or J.Lo. Tommy got all cute and jealous, but he failed to realize that when he smiles, he sort of looks like Gene Kelly. Further proof that Tommy's always been my type.

It was... nice. We fell asleep watching movies on the couch, and I woke up with my head on his shoulder, looking straight into his eyes. I was pretty dazed and confused. And he gave me one of those looks and said, and I quote, "Thanks, Jude. This was the best birthday I've ever had." He overwhelmed me with a sleepy bear hug directly after saying that, pulling back a little with a smile playing on his perfect, pouty, endlessly kissable lips to whisper in my ear. "Think we can manage to get away from it all next year?" He asked softly, a flirtatious twinkle in his eye. "If it's okay, I'd rather spend it with you... in that charming little cabin, maybe?" He murmured, lips brushing against my cheek. Then he asked me what I thought.

Honestly, I thought _he_ was charming. And I thought I was in love with him, obviously. Naturally, I just had to kiss him after he said that. I couldn't not. I thought he was so committed to Sadie, but now I don't really know, if he's trying to make plans for next year with me. When he said that, it almost sounded like we were a couple. Gave me goosebumps and everything. So that was pretty much perfect.

Although Sadie came back the next day, so Tommy was gone to get her before I woke up. Always one to avoid those awkward morning-after conversations. And we didn't even have sex... we just slept together, like always, platonically, all curled up around each other and everything... Though it sounds all dirty and wrong when I say it like that. It was really a totally innocent, sweetly adorable, endlessly comfortable occurrence. I slept through the whole night for the first time in I-can't-remember-when.

And I even checked out this therapy-ish type book from the library and it said that the thing with Travis wasn't my fault. I said no **three** times, loudly and clearly, and he was supposed to accept that like a gentleman or a decent person. He didn't, and that's his fault, his moral depravity. Besides, I'm a minor under his (dubious) "care", so the thought of it shouldn't have even crossed his mind. But I still kinda feel like it was my fault.

The rest of what I did that day was pretty lame, pretty boring. I basically went back home and back to sleep, although I woke up three times from the same nightmare. I don't think I have to tell you what the nightmare was of, only that it got increasingly more vivid each time… and Joan came too late, if she came at all. And I could feel his hands on me again and again, and then it got so bad I had to take a shower. I scrubbed my skin almost until it was raw, but the feeling wouldn't go away. I never get as much sleep as I need. Damn nightmares always wake me up. But they were worse today, for some reason. Maybe my subconscious, psychic and all knowing, was trying to tell me something. Only it was trying to tell me in Greek, and I didn't understand.

So I went to the park but got creeped out all alone by myself, and then I drove to that elementary school and called Helen out. Because, after all, I had promised to take her out to the Music Garden for songwriting, since it's where I go when I can. I got her some lunch (as after the presentation, no matter how hungry I was, I didn't feel like eating) and an ice cream cone. Then we sat down to write a few songs. I was okay, I guess, but kinda lousy since I felt bad. Anyways, by the end of the day, she had three or four pretty rockin' songs, and she declared she was going to perform one at the upcoming school talent show. She's not a half bad singer, you know. I was really touched that she asked me to go.

From what I understand, her parents don't notice her much, and her father thinks it's weird that she writes songs and completely doesn't support her interest in music. And it hit me that I'm really lucky in that respect. My parents have always had my back. Sadie got more attention, especially more positive attention, but my dad always supported and encouraged me. I owe him a lot. I owe him for those voice lessons with the hot teacher, the piano lessons when I was little, driving me to all those choir practices, coming to all of my concerts, teaching me how to play the guitar, buying me my first and second and third guitar, talking about me to all of his friends, forcing me to sing at weddings and funerals, making signs for me at the IS Finals, putting up with all of my weird artistic mood swings (not to mention talk about Tommy)… and, of course, for just being my dad who loves me.

So I figured I ought to repay my debt with Helen. She needs somebody like that, who understands what it's like. I think I'm gonna be the only person she has there, rooting for her, but I'll be there. And, I dunno, maybe I'll bring my dad or Tommy or Jamie or someone, right? Honestly, I had a really good time with her. I was sad to have to take her back home (made her swear it was "our" little secret, with the receptionist, of course… considering I don't think her parents would appreciate a strange, slutty rockstar taking their little girl out of school). She's like the little sister I never had but always wanted, you know?

Anyways, after that I went home to get ready for my date with Taylor. Yep, that's still on. He called me a couple days later to apologize for being so forward. Said he just really liked me and got caught up in the moment. And he was completely jealous of Tommy (who had stolen great girls from him before), so he just jumped to the same conclusions that lately everyone's been jumping to. He was really sorry for not telling me upfront that he was Tom's kid brother. He just really wanted a chance with me, and he knew that Tommy would overshadow the whole thing if he told me. It wasn't right to do that. He was so sincere, you know? He was even stuttering through like, half of the apology. Then he asked me, sorta anxiously, if I was still gonna go out with him… if I forgave him and all.

It was really easy to forgive him, for some reason. Then he made some slightly bitter remark asking whether Tommy still owned me or whatever. I thought that was out of line, but I didn't say that. I just smiled politely, practically gritting my teeth… and I said somewhat flirtatiously, although not without a trace of frost, "Not Friday night. And I own myself." And then, bammo, I hung up. Just like that. So it's still on.

He's to pick me up 'round seven or six. Hehe, and that's where it gets complicated. By my calculations and careful planning, the date will be over at approximately nine. Then I dash on over to The Drake to catch a concert with Speed. This band he's friends with, Sweet Thing, is playing there. If Speed likes them, they must be good. Except for the Pearl Jam thing, he has pretty stellar taste in music. Then, around eleven or midnight, I head to this bar across town to meet up with Tim. And I won't be drinking. Phew, busy night, eh?

Anyways, so Jamie decided to call me. Just randomly, before my triple-booked date, which had definite disaster potential. I mean, hey, it is me, after all! So, like a good girl, I confessed to Jamie all the bad naughty things I was gonna do. "Jude! Did you hit your head listening to Shay's last album or something? 'Cause it sounds like you woke up thinking you were a pimp! Er, pimpette!" Jamie scolded humorously. There is nothing funnier than Jamie trying to speak in hip-hop slang. Nothing. He's so white ghosts laugh. I started laughing hysterically.

Jamie obviously saw that it was pointless trying to talk me out of the harebrained scheme, although he promised me I would wind up regretting it. He was right, too, damn him! Jamie's like Yoda or something. He always sees these things before I do. And yet I never listen. Weird.

We chatted randomly for a few minutes before Jamie interrupted with a serious question. He sounded a little nervous, but he cleared his throat and asked. "Hey, Jude, I was wondering... What's so great about Tommy? I mean, you're in love with him, right? And it seems to me that all he does is send you mixed messages, get jealous when other guys are interested in you, ignore you, and hurt you. So... What's the appeal there?" He asked hesitantly. I could tell he was so biting his lip over the phone. And I have to say... That was a pretty damn good question. I ask myself the same thing all the time. Jamie was worried he'd offended me by insulting Tommy. He hadn't, of course, because those were things I'd thought regularly enough. It was true. But Jamie, for once, hadn't meant it in an insulting way. He just wanted to know, I guess. And I, well, I just needed to tell someone.

I sighed, choosing my words carefully. "Honestly, Jamie, there are times when even I'm not sure," I admitted somewhat reluctantly, wondering where exactly to start. I loved that many things about Tommy. And I didn't want to give Jamie a huge-ass list, you know? I paused in thought. Then I found the words. "He's not the greatest guy, I know, but he tries. He at least tries to be a good guy and to do the right thing. He doesn't hurt me deliberately, but he does it anyways... And I've kind of almost gotten used to it, as sick as that is," I rambled awkwardly, doing Tom absolutely no justice with my words. I sighed and started again.

This was hard, justifying myself. Even if Jamie didn't judge. I still knew he didn't approve, not that I blamed him or anything. He hasn't seen how much Tommy makes me happy. I think he'd understand if Tommy ever... I don't know... got serious with me. Or if we actually went out for real. Because then I know I'd be happy, even when I wasn't, because I'd have him, the man I love. And I would never take that for granted. Because... even if I go the rest of my life without Tommy, I'll always be grateful that I had these times with him.

I'm grateful just to know him. He's done so, so, so much for me. If I ever get a real, fighting chance with him, I'll always appreciate him. Because I waited so long and so hard and I fought and I nearly lost my mind about twelve thousand times and I wished and dreamt and prayed, and I've been without him for so long it's slowly killing me on the inside (my heart breaks and tears down the middle just a little more each day)! And even when I'm married to some guy I love who isn't Tommy (it is possible), someone I'll never love quite as much as Tommy, with kids and grandkids and the white picket fence and dog and the works... I bet a day won't go by where I won't think about Tommy. Not even on my wedding day; Hell, **especially** my wedding day!

I'm a realist, and I know that the heroine doesn't always wind up with the fairytale prince love of her life. That sort of thing happens in stories and fairytales, and quite unfortunately, life is not a fairytale. And that totally blows, but the truth often sucks anyways. After all, does this look like Ella Enchanted (no, not the crappy movie with stupid Anne Hathaway, who always winds up playing a damn princess and getting the guy! The book. It kicked ass)? No, of course not. Nor is it anything off Broadway or a Disney movie. And it's not like I'm kidding myself, saying he's my soul mate or anything (which implies reciprocation of some sort). The possibility's there, sure, but what's possible isn't necessarily probable. And right now it's scads more probable that I wind up without Tommy than with him in the end. I can be okay with that. I mean, I won't like it, but I can live without him. It sucks, but I can. Quite unfortunate, but to quote Celine, "_that's the way it is_".

"It's just... There are times when he makes me feel like I'm the only girl in the whole world. He makes me feel so special. And he might not love me or anything, but he cares, even if he doesn't show it; I know he does... and he always will. There's so much more to it than that that I can't even begin to describe, but once I got past that whole image he puts up for the world... I couldn't help but fall in love with him," I answered breathlessly, getting carried away in the midst of my declaration.

Jamie whistled loudly. "Got that all off your chest, I see," He mumbled, probably stunned from my slightly long-winded declaration of love and what not. "Anything else?" He quipped sarcastically. I rolled my eyes good-naturedly as a catlike smile appeared on my lips.

"Yes... You did want to know what the appeal is... What keeps me coming back for more, right?" I questioned playfully, fighting down a severe case of the giggles. Jamie said yes. Hehe, silly boy. "Three words, James..." I paused deliberately. "Best. Kisser. **Ever**." Period, no question about it. Jamie made a squeamish noise, and I started laughing hysterically. Well, he did ask. That's pretty much the main reason I keep Tommy around. Well, and I love him and he's pretty to look at, but whatever.

"I hope Tommy knows just how lucky he is," Jamie said softly. Me too. I smiled faintly and said something... I don't much remember what. And Tom probably didn't know because he didn't know the extent of my feelings. But I wouldn't expect anything less of him, so... It should be noted that while speaking with Jamie, I managed to get fully dressed for my date with Taylor. While looking through my window, so that I could see Jamie. Now that was funny. Jamie's eyes bugged out HUGE, but it isn't like he hasn't seen me in a bra before. He has. All the time when we were younger. Plus he totally helped me just pick out what to wear. See, having neighbor-boy friends has its benefits.

So anyways, thanks to my fashion consultant Jamie (a hundred times better than Portia, who tends to make me look like the whore everyone thinks I am), I'm wearing a knee-length jean skirt with black leather boots and a conservative yet low-cut light sweater. I've got a skimpy tank top on underneath. My hair's down, done in the typical fashion: straightened and RED!

Now, I've also got a huge bag, since I'll be changing in random places and what not. In there, I've got my temporary hair dye (for Tim), nicer clothes (also for Tim), and random punk-ish jewelry for the concert. Not to mention my cash, my mp3 player, and other random crap. Even a condom, a passing gift from that delightful lecture. Joy. Not that I'll use it. But still, as they say, Be Prepared. And I was. How very Girl Scout of me.

Taylor came ten minutes early. You know, in some cases, that would be a bad thing. A _very_ bad thing. Tommy never has that problem. He knows to show up late. Or he just has problems being on time for anything. Although with me, showing up late is actually pretty valid. I'm usually doing something last-minute anyways. Today, fortunately for Taylor, it wasn't a problem. Let's hope it's also not a problem for him in later life.

He showed up looking all fresh and exuberant, almost like he was literally high from being in my presence. I didn't yet know that Taylor was like that on any date, regardless of whom he was with. He was exhilarated and slightly flushed, and that gave him an aura of glory, of radiance, that made him breathtakingly beautiful, like a Greek god or something. Now, he didn't take my breath away, but he looked pretty damn appealing in the sunlight. He was dressed casually in a light blue long-sleeved shirt and ripped jeans. I nodded appreciatively, and he blinded me with the glare off his smile.

That left me a bit blinded and dazed, swooning like an animal that has been shot. Note: the swooning is not necessarily a positive thing. In fact, quite a lot of what might seem positive or complimentary involving this date is not in fact positive. "Hey… Jude," He breathed, greeting me as if in awe. I blushed and waved. He hadn't even had the decency for an inversion of that hated joke. The smile dropped off my face.

"Hey, Tay-Tay," I replied back frostily. Tommy told me the family nickname, one so childish and so embarrassing to Taylor that it made him mute. Taylor flushed a bright red and looked down. He awkwardly handed me flowers. I smiled, somewhat surprised at his sudden kowtow. Tommy had been right. Usage of the loathed nickname did render him speechless and chagrined. The flowers, I noticed, were yellow roses. Yellow roses mean friendship in the language of flowers. I looked at them with mild disgust, but it could've been worse. At least they weren't carnations…

I went to put them in a vase. He followed me into the kitchen like a lost puppy. Talk about awkward. There was absolute silence as I retrieved the vase, turned on the faucet, and filled the vase precisely. "So, I guess Tommy told you," Taylor finally spoke, breaking the long silence. He was referring to the stupid nickname, I figured, so I nodded. Tommy tells me all sorts of things Taylor wouldn't want me to know. Like only every single embarrassing thing that ever happened to Taylor in his life. Tommy doesn't get embarrassed. Not even when I brought up him being naked at the Strawberry Fields Memorial, right smack square in the middle of NYC (my witty riposte was: "I guess you _really_ like the Beatles, huh?" His response, not half a beat later: "Hey Jude, you're one to talk. What tipped you off? The fact that all my girlfriends are named after them? Especially the ones I **propose** to?" Needless to say, that shut me up. 'Cause he said girlfriend and he'd proposed to me, albeit accidentally. Plus it got me thinking about Sadie and... Your heart flying up into your throat tends to do that to you).

"He told me a few things," I replied casually with a shrug. I tried to play it off like it was no big deal. So Tommy might've told me everything. So what? Okay, so I was being cagey, but it was really strange. Tommy was the only thing we really had in common, you know? "Tells me _everything_, actually," I continued matter-of-factly, rolling my eyes a little. Even when I don't want to hear it. And, of course, he wasn't there. That didn't surprise me; since Tommy had made it very clear he had strong objections to me dating his brother in the first place. I'd be lying if I said that even I didn't have a few objections, but I owed him the date. And damnit, I was going to have fun!

Taylor cleared his throat awkwardly as I set down the vase, turning slowly to face him. He shot me a quick, nervous smile and grabbed my hand abruptly. His palms were sweaty, slightly moist. He dragged me along behind him out to his car, which was a disappointingly sensible Benz. It was a coupe, not even a convertible. To make it even more boring, it was white and flawlessly clean with a gray fabric interior. Honestly, if you've got the money, why not flaunt it and buy a better car? He shames the Quincy name with this thing. I got in the car, clutching my purse, as Taylor climbed behind the wheel. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally let go of my hand and began to drive away from my house. Strangely enough, Tommy must've given him my address... because I sure didn't.

The ride was freakishly silent, so I turned on some music. You should've seen the way I winced when "Minor Liaison" came on. Taylor didn't much notice, but he shot me a curious glance. And I knew what the look meant. It meant that Taylor and I were eventually going to have a serious conversation about Tommy. Obviously, since I had little to no idea what was actually going on with me and Tommy Q., I was dreading such an occurrence. How would I even answer? Pushing the horrid thoughts from my head (like it would get that serious anyways!), I immediately changed the station.

"Walking Contradiction" came on, and ironically, I remembered doing promos for the station. I peered over at Taylor, who soon recognized the voice. I saw his eyes widen, and the momentary flicker of surprise reflected there. He turned to me suddenly, mouth slightly open and gaping. "Is that Tommy?" He asked incredulously, shocked his brother had a song on the radio. I realize it's been a while, but still, girls love him. Radio stations, too. He gets airplay everywhere... Like you wouldn't believe. He's even got some in the States. It's utterly ridiculous. I could only nod while Taylor gaped.

"Yeah, that's him, all right," I decreed authoritatively. I would recognize his voice anywhere. Even if he had a cold. I smiled; Tommy was always an easy subject for me to talk about. I could almost get lost in it. Usually I'd have to watch that a bit more, but in this case, he's Taylor's brother... so Tommy is actually a good thing to discuss, since we've got him in common and all. "Tommy's been working on his solo album lately," I explained a few moments later. "That's his first single."Walking Contradiction"." I peered sideways at Taylor, who had a blank look on his face. "Do you like it?" I asked anxiously.

For whatever reason, nerves were bubbling up inside of me. Probably because the date wasn't heretofore going that well. I licked my lips in a fit of nervous anticipation, shooting a glance at Taylor. His eyes remained focused completely on the road, so unlike those of Tommy, who would tear his eyes off the road and do a full 180 to stare deep into my eyes. I banished the thought, though, because thinking of Tommy was very, very, very bad indeed. Especially when I was out with his brother. But I swear, it was like God was cosmically reminding me of just how wrong it was to be here with Taylor. I felt like I was cheating on Tommy, and I wasn't even _dating_ him!

Taylor nodded slowly. His steely hands gripped the steering wheel forcibly. His knuckles were starting to turn white. He listened, bobbing his head to the beat for a few moments before speaking. I don't think I can possibly say how awkward the silence was. It's so awkward there aren't any words. After a freaking eternity (just where was this place anyways? I didn't recognize any of the buildings passing us by), Taylor's voice penetrated the overbearing silence. "I didn't think he would ever sing again," He stated with a sad, eerie finality. Suddenly, I had no doubt that he was related to Tommy. Brooding, huh? That I could handle like cake. "But, wow... That's good. I haven't heard anything from him in so long... it's really great for him. I hope he gets what he deserves," Taylor babbled.

Still, it bothered me a little that he didn't say what exactly Tommy deserved. I don't know. Perhaps I'm just trying to find flaws in the perfect guy. I'm probably just reading into all this crap that isn't true, imagining things and all. Taylor loves his brother, I'm sure. And, wow. Look at that, another thing we have in common. Although I bet Taylor doesn't want to do his brother like I do. I nodded distractedly, beginning to feel rather bored. I started absentmindedly playing with the necklace I was wearing, fingering its smooth surfaces. My mind wandered. I was so lost in my thoughts that I barely even noticed when Taylor stopped. Mind you, Taylor didn't screech to a halt like Tommy did, but still... I snapped out of my daze slowly, shaking the glaze from my eyes and smiling suddenly.

Taylor came around the car to open the door for me, but I beat him to the punch, ruining a perfectly chivalrous gesture. He looked slightly crestfallen, so I took his hand, barely looking at him. I was still off in that happy dreamland, slowly returning to the sucky reality.

As my mind returned to me, I noticed that we were in front of a grand, antique cinema. It was utterly deserted, which I found odd, considering it was a Friday night. I stole a glance at Taylor, who smiled at me charismatically, gesturing to go in the building. He motioned for me to go ahead, continuing to hold my hand until we reached the door. Then, like a real charmer, he opened the door for me (with keys), guiding me through the doorway with a hand on the small of my back. "You like it?" He questioned casually, fingers still lingering on my back. I gaped at the place with wide, eager eyes. It was so beautiful and so... old-fashioned, but in a good way. It was a majestic place, to be sure. The lights were dimmed, and I had a cute boy on my arm, even if I wasn't dressed properly. And, of course, we were virtually all alone. I hadn't seen another soul here.

I nodded, dazed and awed, craning my neck around to see everything. It was a sight. A beautiful, amazing place for a romantic first date. Apparently Taylor had inherited some of his brother's romantic powers of persuasion after all. Needless to say, I was more than impressed. "A friend of mine owns it. I told him I had a special girl I needed to impress, and he let me rent out the whole theatre," Taylor mumbled a moment later, not wanting to interrupt my obvious fascination. I nodded dumbly and asked the name of the friend. "Richard," He murmured softly, not wanting to ruin the magic of the moment. I admired his friend's generosity. I smiled widely and whispered that he should thank his kind friend for me before resuming my staring. An all too patient Taylor smiled and led me over to the concessions stand. There was, surprisingly, one soul there.

She was a slip of a thing, a little younger than me, and wearing what I supposed must be a uniform. It consisted of a red, neatly pressed suit gold buttons and a white blouse underneath. She grinned widely upon seeing me, obviously having heard of my celebrity. But she didn't say she was a huge fan or anything cheesy. She just gave Taylor a knowing smile. "Hello, Mr. Quincy. It's nice to see you're in town again. What would you and the lucky lady like? Rich says it's on the house," She said politely, greeting Taylor with respect and affection. Taylor grinned back, protectively wrapping an arm around my waist. I pretended it wasn't a huge deal, that I hadn't gotten a little breathless there. He pulled me to his side casually, and I didn't mind much because he was so warm. Taylor calmly ordered one large popcorn (presumably so we could share), a water, an icy Coke for me, and some Junior Mints.

The cheerful employee nodded as if the smile was permanently affixed to her face and handed him everything he required. She bade him goodbye, and the ever so gracious Taylor responded in kind. I supposed with a tiny grin that Taylor had gotten all the manners and breeding of the family. I would've said grace, but something about Taylor was just innately clumsy. Taylor led me to one of the theaters, a small, intimate one. The lights were on but very dimly, and so Taylor and I made our way to the very top row, just below the projector window. The place was so deserted that there wasn't even a person to man the projector, so Taylor excused himself apologetically and went to set up the movie himself. The cinema's owner had shared Taylor's old acting coach, and Taylor had gotten his first job at these very theatres, working the projectors. Clearly, he knew what he was doing. I, on the other hand, merely sat there, waiting for the movie to come on and occasionally tossing comments over my shoulder at him.

It didn't take Taylor very long to get the movie on. The opening credits had just begun as Taylor hopped into the seat next to mine brightly. Ironically enough, the movie was Singin' in the Rain. I felt guilty immediately, since I'd seen it just last week... and with his brother. To make matters even worse, Taylor whispered something to me that made me feel at least twice as bad. It just so happens that our lovely Taylor is a film buff. He loves movies of all sorts and pretty much everything about them. He loves theaters, premieres, acting, dancing, singing (he told me early on that it was his life's goal to make one decent movie-musical), editing film, reels of film, popcorn, celebrities, directing... Basically, you name any thing having even remotely to do with movies, odds are he loves it. He even loves all kinds of movies, yes, even chick flicks. And, unlike Tommy, he actually likes watching them for the movie itself, not just making out. In fact, Taylor gets pretty pissed if you interrupt him and his movies. Even if it's with a kiss.

Go figure. We've all got our own quirks. Plus, it kept those fish lips offa me. Anyways, the movie started, and Taylor smiled at me sort of timidly. "I didn't know what to pick, so I figured I'd go with a musical since you're... a musician and all. I'm sorry... I couldn't find any new musicals out. I didn't really want to weird you out with my love of noir and silent film..." Taylor rambled in a low, wavering voice, fraught with effort to keep whispering. His eyes widened a little. "But it's okay if you don't like it! Just... say so. I-I've got other movies. I can change it like that, really," He interjected slightly louder and with just a hint of panic. And, then, of course, since he'd been so considerate, I couldn't tell him I'd already seen it. Besides, I liked the movie anyways, even though it resulted in one memory after another of Tommy, Tommy, and more Tommy.

I felt my eyes soften, touched at his concern for such a trivial detail. He was so sweet, in an adorably awkward way that was nothing like his brother's wild charm. I slid my hand over his without thinking, and, with a small grin playing on his lips, he entwined his warm fingers with mine. I blushed and started to watch the movie, accidentally grazing his hand in the popcorn tub a couple times. He looked as happy as a clam, but I was more than a little paranoid. We watched the movie in virtual silence, as Taylor doesn't talk much or at all during a movie, even if it's on television. He finds it disrespectful to everyone involved in it: actors, actresses, screenwriters, directors, choreographers, and even extras!

The movie was still good, but it lost a bit of the charm it had before when I'd seen it with Tommy. About every two seconds I'd remember something Tommy said or did during the movie, and I'd start missing him all over again. It was absolutely impossible for me to concentrate. I think I saw like, maybe ten seconds of the movie. In total. Tommy just wouldn't leave my mind. I missed him something horrible, which was utterly ridiculous, as he hadn't gone anywhere. I just happened to be on a date with his brother, and he has a date with my sister tonight anyways. Things are, for the most part, back to the way they used to be. Although what exactly they used to be is questionable.

Taylor kind of pulled me out of there in a blur, asking me all sorts of peppery, bubbly questions about whether or not I liked the movie. I barely heard half of them, but I managed answers. Yes, I liked it. Gene Kelly was hot. That one chick had a really annoying voice. And, Taylor, where _are_ we going for dinner?

It was a little over eight by this point, so Taylor and I dashed to his car to make the reservation he'd gotten us. This time my new beau seemed more at ease; he filled the entire car with chatter from beginning to end. I was slightly less responsive. It had taken me a while to realize quite how hungry I was. Taylor had eaten twice as much as me, and I'd only had half a soda and a few handfuls of popcorn. The mints were somewhere in the bottom of my purse.

Rampaging lions could not have kept me back from that restaurant. I knew it by smell three blocks before we got there. Hell, even the traffic didn't stop me. I just bolted, not caring whether Taylor followed or not. He did, of course, meeting up with me just in time to be shown to the table together. I was starving, so the first thing I did was order about twenty things on the menu. Soup and spaghetti and oysters and about fifty kinds of dessert. I didn't even like half of the foods; I was just that hungry. Taylor ordered a bit more modestly in fluent Italian. He explained that he had to learn it once for a picture in Italy. I just nodded, consuming slices of bread sans butter voraciously, my beady eyes scanning the room for the waiter that would be bearing my food. I'm positively certain there was even a murderous gleam in my eye.

The wait was terrible, like it is at every single Italian restaurant I've ever been to. So, growing bored, I began to play with my necklace again. This time Taylor, who was sitting across from me, noticed. All of a sudden, he snatched the pendant out of my fingers, peering at it for literally seconds before dropping it back into my shirt. The metal was cool against my skin. "What's that? St. Jude medal? I didn't know you were Catholic," Taylor asked curiously. There was a strange tone in his voice, one I wholly disliked. Something was up. I fingered the necklace again, habitually. I didn't even know I was doing it. I nodded slowly, remembering that I was, indeed, wearing that necklace.

"I'm not. Catholic, that is. But yeah, it's my namesake. Hopeless cases and lost causes. That's me," I muttered plainly, a touch of irritation in my voice. Taylor frowned and literally tore the necklace from my fingers, yanking me closer. I did not appreciate the manhandling. It was me, though. I always did cling to lost causes... Tommy being the biggest one of all. Not in the way his mother meant it, but romantically... For me, romantically, Tommy was that lost ideal. He pulled me closer, and I began to feel uncomfortable. Getting so close to someone I barely knew still bothered me a lot.

Taylor traced the side of the medal with his thumb. His fingers brushed against my skin. He'd inadvertently pulled down the sweater. I shivered and not in a good way. "T-O-M-M-Y," Taylor nearly spat, jerking on my chain, spelling the letters that I knew ran down the edge. I bit back the smart-ass remark about how I could spell. I mean, I knew I hadn't given the date my all, but damn it, I tried! He didn't have to be such an asshole. It was bordering on violence, and I'd all but decided that there wouldn't even be a second date. "What is this, Jude? A present from your _lo-ver_?" He hissed mockingly. He dropped the necklace again, and it felt cold against my skin, where the shirt had been pulled down.

I stiffened and abruptly shoved Taylor away from me mere moments before the food finally arrived. When it did, I said nothing to Taylor. I grabbed it and started stuffing my face so I wouldn't have to say anything to him. It had been going so well... but then something had gone horribly wrong and now... this. Tommy always ruins my dates. Even when he isn't physically here.

Or so I thought.

About ten minutes later, when my mouth was full of creamy cheese, He strode into the restaurant like a model and towards our table. _He_ was, of course, one Thomas "Little Tommy Q." Jean-Jacques Quincy. I choked on my cannoli. Taylor saw it as an excuse to touch me, to do the Heimlich or whatever. I think I just about took his head off trying to get him the expletive deleted away from me. Tommy walked up just then, grinning like the Cheshire cat as I shoved Taylor away. Call me sick or whatever, but I was determined to make Tommy jealous. So I had to play nice. I was determined, you know?

I plastered a smile on my face and swallowed the rest of the cannoli. "Tommy... What are _you_ doing here?" I growled, letting the smile fall off my face. I turned abruptly back to Taylor, leaning forward and pretending I was into him, that Tommy had interrupted a very important conversation. "So, Taylor, we were discussing your favorite actor?" I began interestedly, completely ignoring Tommy's presence. I knew that would piss him off. Frankly, I couldn't have cared less about Taylor's favorite actor, but I had to say something, didn't I?

Taylor looked surprised that I'd asked, but he seemed to catch on fast. He smiled beatifically, reminding me a little of the sugar-sweet guy who'd asked me out. "Brando," He supplied amusedly. He had this look on his face like we'd finally gotten off on the right foot. I nodded, urging him to go on. I could feel Tommy's eyes burning a hole into me. "Yeah. I saw him in Streetcar, and I was just... _wow_. I said to myself; I want to do that someday. I want to move people, to take a character, interpret him my way... and make him immortal. And now here I am, an actor," Taylor continued quite engagingly, like he was shocked by it. His eyes sparkled with a passion heretofore unknown and unseen in him. For the first time since he'd asked me out, I could actually see myself with this guy. Passion is my only true prerequisite.

I smiled, putting my hand on top of his hand purposefully. Taylor looked pleased and relaxed some. Tommy cleared his throat, and just by that I could tell he was annoyed. I glanced up at him as did Taylor. And I was just starting to enjoy myself! I glowered at Tommy. He smirked at me and pushed me in the seat, making me scoot over to make room for him. Tommy threw his arms around the back of the booth, and, consequently, my shoulders. He leaned forward, his thigh brushing against mine. "I was in the neighborhood... Thought I'd stop by," He told me. He then turned to Taylor, glancing around as if in disbelief. "Wow, people still take their dates here?" He exclaimed incredulously, whistling loudly. "You really haven't changed much, Kid." He punctuated this statement by punching his brother lightly on the shoulder.

Taylor stiffened a bit, and I frowned. Way to ruin a date. Tommy's grin widened further. He was just eating it up. But I wasn't going to make it easy on him. Especially since the asshole just started forking my cheesecake. And started consuming it, bit by _delicious_ bit. How I loathed him. Stupid rogue. Taylor frowned and rubbed his shoulder, wincing a little. Tommy didn't see, but I kind of smiled at that. Then I thought, hey, get a grip! He's trying to steal your date. Naturally, I had to be proactive. "So, Taylor, you said you're in Toronto filming something? Tell me about that project. I'm dying to know what brings you here," I proclaimed flirtatiously. Directly after this, I squeezed his arm and flashed him a smile and a coquettish look. "And how long you intend to stay..."

Taylor's nearly ever-present smile returned like a sunrise. He began to discuss his film, and I was focusing all my attention on him (although I can neither name the film nor recall any detail about it, including how long he would be staying). But Tommy, of course, being Tommy, didn't like that. He played dirty, which is why he always won in the end. So, completely showing no regard for his brother and making me lose focus, Tommy suddenly leaned over to hold up the necklace, which flashed silver in the light. He smiled softly, almost to himself... as if he seriously couldn't believe it. "That's _my_ necklace," He said disbelievingly.

He stared at the necklace, utterly fascinated. Simple minds... He ran his fingers over the familiar face of the medallion, briefly glancing up at me. "I didn't know you still had this, let alone ever wore it," He murmured, sounding genuinely surprised. There was that stupid knowing smile. He was obviously remembering the circumstances in which he'd given it to me. "I thought you threw it away or something." His eyes once again focused on the necklace. I wanted to tell him that I treasured everything he'd ever given me or done for me in a box in my closet, but I didn't. I didn't dare. I felt a faint smile cross my face. His head was very close to my chest, bent over examining the gift. I could almost feel his breath on my neck, and that thought alone was enough to send the good kind of shivers up my spine.

I shrugged diffidently, flashing him a slight grin and trying to pretend like it was no big deal. Like the necklace, a humble gift, wasn't so damn important to me. "I'm not a lost cause yet, Quincy," I retorted with a smirk. Tommy looked pleased at that, almost like he knew how much better that gift had made me feel. So maybe I still keep hope alive. I guess that's why I still hold on to the idea of Tommy, you know? 'Cause I'm Jude, patron saint of lost causes and hopeless cases... And Tommy's about as hopeless for me as it gets. That's why I can't let go. I'm cursed, drawn to him, and bearing this curse is my burden. "I still keep the faith," I continued in a gentler tone, saying it so quietly that only he could hear it. I said it like he was my religion (as pathetic and A Farewell to Arms as that is). His eyes softened and he gently set the medal down, pressing the cool metal against my skin, just above the neck of my shirt. "I wear it all the time," I breathed in a soft rush of air, wishing I could tell him I never took it off. The chilled chain dropped back down my shirt, sliding across my skin.

"I know," He whispered, understanding, peacefully, like a benediction, right before tousling my hair. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder more tightly. Tommy leaned in, pressed his head against mine, got real close... And I knew he was totally going to kiss me there, in public, right in front of his brother, who I was **actually** on the date with. Can we say in bad taste? I, however, had other plans. I mean, I earned that saintly designation the hard way: by resisting temptation. And it doesn't take Einstein to figure out who the devil is. Just as Tommy finally got close enough to kiss me, I abruptly turned my head and ducked. He wound up kissing air.

Taylor broke out in loud, raucous laughter. I couldn't help but join in. It really was funny to see Romeo incarnate make such a huge romantic blunder. Tommy scowled, but I could tell by the furrow of his brow that he was up to something once again. Always a schemer, that one. I decided to be more engaging with my date, since Tommy had flustered the life out of me. "Tell me more about your character, Taylor. He sounds utterly fascinating. This is your first real lead role, right?" I questioned intelligently, beginning to regain a bit of my sanity. It helped just a bit that Tommy had momentarily backed off.

Taylor nodded brightly. His eyes lit up, looking like dark, sweet honey in the sun. I licked my lips unconsciously, only thinking of the sweetness. I didn't want to do something stupid like kiss Taylor. "It's the first big role I've had in a Hollywood-type movie. I've done a lot of the indie scene stuff, television, and plays... that sort of thing," He declared authoritatively. I smiled and nodded like a mom in a '50s sitcom. Taylor continued, sounding surer of the words he was speaking than he ever had, "The guy I'm playing is this real dark, tormented guy. His name's Hunter. He's haunted everywhere by the ghosts of his past, and he's had to do a lot of things he didn't want to do for the good of his family. And there's this girl he's got, of course, but she's off-limits." I nodded, shooting an involuntary glance at Tommy. It all comes back to this, doesn't it? Of course. That's the way it always is. Tommy smiled sadly, eyes turning a deeper blue. I sighed and turned back to Taylor, empathizing for the girl. Trust me, sister, I know the feeling.

Taylor kept talking, regardless of whether or not I was actually listening. Lucky me, to get such a man! He then jumped in to the love story. Gag me. Okay, so maybe I'm a sucker for a romance, but... "Her name's Angie or something, I think. Rita? I don't know. Kathryn Mansfield is playing her," He said shortly, giving us the short and dirty details, basically all we needed to know. Who knows? Maybe he didn't even know why she was off-limits. Whatever. He should ask Tommy if he wants inspiration. I bet Tommy could give him a whole host of reasons.

By the way, in case you were wondering, the Kathryn he mentioned... She's only like, a huge star right now. She played the craziest bitch ever on one of our really crappy original Canadian TV shows, and it kind of catapulted her to stardom. Brilliant actress supposedly. She's super involved in PETA and jets around the world as an ambassador for the U.N. She's around 19, I think, and her poster is only up on every boy's wall in the country. Her name's up there on the most-searched list on Google, I tell you. So of course it's gonna be Taylor's dream working with a serious, established sex symbol like her. She's not a blonde bombshell type either. Nor is she a femme fatale. She's no Marilyn Monroe or Jayne Mansfield (despite the last name) type. Not even a Rita Hayworth type. She's more of a Katherine Hepburn sort. Complete with fierce independence and freedom, but minus the tomboyishness. Think of her, then, as a younger brunette version of a pin-up girl type, kind of like Angelina Jolie minus the danger and action movies. Kathryn's more mainstream, old Hollywood type. She's pretty picky about her movies. Only does them if the script's written right.

Kathryn's the most eligible bachelorette in the country. Even more so than Pam Anderson. Naturally, we all hate her. No, that's a lie. We wish we did, but we can't. She's too damn nice. You just can't hate someone who runs around feeding orphans and not partying like the other moviestar tramps out there. So, see, in trouble from the start, if she's his love interest. I can't compete with that! I can't even beat my older sister! And suddenly I had to ask... "Why is she off-limits?" I blurted so suddenly I even surprised myself. I could feel Tommy's eyes burning into me when I said it, but I couldn't look at him. I didn't budge one inch.

Taylor frowned for a moment in deep thought before the answer came to him. His eyes gleamed when it came to him; you could practically see the bulb turn on over his head. "She's his **stepsister**! And too young!" He interjected loudly, proud he'd remembered. I flinched at the words, the usualness of the situation. Taylor would be playing the big brother-lover to an older woman. How on Earth were they going to make that sex bomb look a tender fourteen or fifteen compared to Taylor, full of youth and life? It seemed utterly unfathomable. Kathryn was an inch or two taller than me, skinny but with trim muscles I secretly envied. She'd probably had a boob job, too. Girls like that aren't born with breasts that big. So her playing some chick my age or younger was just a little bit unrealistic. Ah, wait, here we go... Imagine Keira Knightley with disproportionately larger boobs. It just looks weird, having a nineteen-year-old play a Lolita-type, that's all I'm saying!

Tommy's eyes were definitely boring a hole into me. And, God, that doesn't sound perverted or anything. I nodded to Taylor, faking yet another smile. Thanks for the reminder, once again, of how very young I am. I stabbed at my dessert, which didn't taste even half as good as the cheesecake Tommy had devoured. Taylor kept yammering on about something, probably about how flippin' _wonderful_ Kathryn was or something (and I thought my Tommy fixation was bad!). I don't know. I wasn't paying attention whatsoever. I was thinking about Tim, actually. I hadn't seen him in a while, but I was going to tonight. The mere thought was thrilling.

And then, all of a sudden, Tommy did something.

Something completely unpredictable. I honestly never saw it coming.

Out of nowhere, his hand just comes down to rest on my upper thigh. Yes, you heard me correctly. UPPER THIGH. I think I just about fainted; my breath hitched that badly. I was... you know, completely floored. What would he do something like that for, much less when I was at dinner with his brother! But I should stop trying to analyze Tommy's actions, 'cause I'm just gonna find out that they don't make any sense at all. He did it so casually, didn't even blink or nothing. He just placed his hand there and that was that. I froze, horrified yet strangely turned on (ugh! That sounds so bad in my head), wondering what the hell was gonna happen next.

Because I honestly didn't know.

After a while, Tommy just sort of assumed that I was okay with where his hand was placed (a far more intimate place than anything Shay's roving fingers had ever attempted to grasp). I don't really even know if I was or not because I wasn't even thinking. It kind of reminded me of Travis, because my thigh, regardless of whether it was clothed or not, was kind of No Man's Land, virgin territory... You don't go there, Tom... But I could feel the heat of his hand seeping through the fabric. And Travis was the last time anyone had ever touched me this intimately. I shuddered at the memory, not at the feeling of Tom's big, calloused fingers tracing circles on the thin denim. That's what I tried to tell myself, anyways.

I swear to you, Taylor didn't notice a thing. He just kept on talking. It was absolutely unbelievable. I actually found myself staring at him- hard, mind you- in disbelief that he was so damn oblivious. Tommy was practically putting the moves on me in front of his eyes, and he couldn't even see it! Some help he was! Yeah, I thought dazedly as Tommy trailed his fingers down and back, there wasn't gonna be a second date. I glanced over at Tommy slowly, allowing him to see the slow smile spreading across my face. I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer to me roughly. I wanted to scream out loud in the restaurant, so badly did I want to feel his touch on my bare skin. Tommy moved those magical fingers down my thigh a little, closer, bringing them down across the skirt until he reached the end of the fringe.

Torturously, he began to push my skirt up, one slow, small millimeter after another. His fingers crept up my leg, gliding across the skin of my inner thigh. I felt myself start to shake from anticipation or excitement or just Tommy, so I put my hands under the table where Taylor couldn't see them. I stopped paying attention to everything but Tommy when his hand was halfway up my bare thigh. I took this big, huge breath of air because I hadn't realized that I hadn't been breathing. He took my breath away like that. The skirt kept bunching up further and further in my lap as Tommy's right hand memorized the way up my thigh. I found myself more than a little short of breath. I giggled too, and Taylor looked really pleased, like he'd said something especially clever.

Sorry, Taylor. It's too bad. I wasn't laughing at what you said. I'm giggling because your brother's molesting me right now, and you don't even notice... And I'm not exactly pushing him off either. Jeez, no wonder Tommy steals his brother's girlfriends. They probably _came_ to him, for crying out loud... Well, obviously, they did. Not that I blame them. I kind of couldn't stop Tommy right now, even if I wanted to. Not that I want to. Whatsoever. Since, _wow_... That feels really good. And this is so wrong on so many levels but I JUST DON'T CARE!

I DON'T CARE ABOUT SADIE. I DON'T CARE ABOUT TAYLOR. I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE OTHER PATRONS. I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE WAITERS. I DON'T CARE THAT WE'RE IN PUBLIC. I DON'T CARE WHAT EVERYONE ELSE HAS TO SAY ABOUT IT... AND I DON'T CARE ABOUT TRAVIS!

All I care about right now is _Tommy_.

And then, of course, just about when the fun's really about to start and Tommy's leaning in to kiss me on the neck, the damn waiter comes and ruins it all. Blown moment, lost chance. Although, we were like, two seconds away from having sex in the restaurant. He came bearing the check. Tommy immediately removed his hand from my thigh, almost as if he'd been burned or caught red-handed. Way to effectively kill all the mood, stupid faux-Italian waiter! Cheeks flaming red, I immediately yanked down my skirt. I was burning up! Taylor smiled and paid. Tommy, the ass, didn't even offer, although, then again, it wasn't his date. Not that you'd know, by the way he was trying to... um, yeah.

I scooted away from Tommy the sinner, still as red as a cherry. And, hopefully, still a cherry. I directed my words towards Taylor a bit too shortly. "Excuse me, Taylor, but Tommy and I need to have a little chat. About work stuff." I threw him an apologetic look. "It's kind of urgent, but we need to clear things up right away. We'll be right back, okay? Thanks!" I explained in a steady yet demanding voice. I did not wait for an answer. I'd already whirled around, grabbing Tommy painfully by the arm, stumbling over him to get out of the booth. I turned around, flashing a million-dollar apologetic smile I copied from Tommy and waved at Taylor cheerfully. Then I pivoted to start pulling Tommy away with me as roughly as possible, meanwhile, my eyes scanned for someplace in the restaurant where we could be properly alone.

I wanted to have it out with him without anyone overhearing. Tommy had this cocky, pleased look on his face. He had another thing coming, that was for sure. Finally, I managed to find some place, which happened to be a janitor's closet. The surroundings could be improved, but it would suffice for what I had to do. I slammed the door shut behind us, and Tommy quirked an eyebrow. Naturally, he had that "I'm-getting-laid" smirk on his face. Like I said, he had another thing coming. And not necessarily me.

"WHAT THE **HELL** WAS THAT!" I shouted furiously, driven to near madness by this man... surprise, surprise. I started physically shaking him with a force I had hitherto not known I'd possessed. Tom stared at me with wide eyes and just shrugged. UGH! That man, I tell you! I let him go immediately and started to pace, shooting him a dirty look. "You know very well what that was, Tom," I continued with an unusual amount of venom directed at him. I stared him down, anything but happy. "You were trying to get in my pants, Tom. Sitting across from your brother while I was on a date with him. In a public restaurant. God, do you have no _shame_?!" I sneered disgustedly, hearing my voice start to rise in spite of itself.

Tommy, ever the cute one, decided to piss me off even further, by pretending to think it over before agreeing with me. "What is **_wrong_** with you!?" I shouted, absolutely scandalized, horrified, and frankly, feeling just a bit guilty for the whole cheating-ish-thing. It was wrong to let him do that to me. Even if we are in love, and we are not in love, since Tom over there obviously doesn't love _me_. It's like a one-way street. He's absolutely unrepentant. Didn't even do anything or try to deny it. He just nodded. AUGH. I have never been this exasperated in my life. Right now, even words are failing me.

He interrupted my thoughts, per always. "Are you more mad that I did it or that you liked it? Because you didn't seem to be having such a great time with old sack-o'-fun back there. Admit it... You kinda liked it, me feelin' you up in a public place with my little brother just across from you. It's forbidden and wrong, but that's what made it hot. You wanted to do me back there, Jude. I could've ravished you in front of the whole restaurant, and you wouldn't have cared," Tom the dick retorted, approaching me sensuously. I backed away. Perhaps I should call him He Who Thinks with His Dick instead. I just hated him for saying that, you know? But I hated him even more for being right.

He was right. I liked it. And I'm ashamed of that. I'm also never gonna tell him that, because then he'll think it's okay. Which, okay, I wouldn't really have any physical objections, but moral ones, yes. And I'm not that kind of girl, damnit! I'm not!!! Really! I wouldn't have cared either. I just wanted him. So badly I could almost taste it. And if I got what I wanted, I wouldn't care what I had to do to get it. And I hadn't been having fun with Taylor, but that didn't mean I could just sit back and let his brother touch me while we were on a date! I hate being so weak when it comes to Tom. I really do. I **hate** it.

All this after that Sex Ed lecture this morning. Damn. I think I actually should've listened to that would-be rapist. And wow. Tommy and I really, really, really need to cool things down. Because that, that was not cool. I can't let him think it was, or he'll do it again and that... that would be bad. It would. Really. I really do mean that, you know. I have _some_ morals, unlike all those other loose groupie rockstar whores. Really. "Tom, you had no right," I growled fiercely. I held my ground.

Tom rolled his eyes. "You didn't say no," He replied nonchalantly, licking his lips. I shuddered in what I hoped was sheer revulsion. He was so outrageously cocky. Okay, true. But I couldn't think. I couldn't move! His eyes narrowed further. "Plus, you actually wanted to have sex with me... or shall I say tried... two months ago. So it's not like you didn't want it, Jude," Tom said levelly, without embellishment, in a low, gravelly voice. I _hated_ him for reminding me of that. It made me feel like one of his girls, some dirty little ho-ho. And I wasn't that kind of girl. I mean, yeah, I was his, his to the core, his girl forever... But not _that_ kind.

I was pissed off beyond belief. I threw my hands in the air. "You know what, Tom? I am not your _plaything_. I am not yours to have whenever you want. You have your own girlfriend. You don't get to ruin my dates," I stated bluntly, feeling my rage grow with each word. I could feel my cheeks start to burn. "Because I might not have liked it and yes, I might have been thinking of you every **last** minute... But it was still _my_ date. All mine, just one thing that was mine... And of course, you had to go ruin any small ounce of happiness I might've ever had with someone else," I lamented, upset that Tom had selfishly stripped me of something that could've been good for me. He'd completely ruined the whole night for me. Completely. "It's not my fault, Tom, that you don't have the BALLS to ask me out! So you can just go fu-" I charged on furiously, ready to slap him and curse him out.

Tommy interrupted me with a kiss. Once again, out of nowhere. And what a kiss it was! His lips crashed against mine like a falling star, and I saw stars. Literally, and plenty of them. He turned me around and pressed me flat up against the wall, completely up against him. He felt _good_. His lips were forceful, his kiss demanding and intricate, his hands firm, and his touch unrelenting. And I wouldn't have had it any other way. At one point, my feet weren't even touching the ground. His grip was near bruising, and he kissed me so hard and so long that I damn near died. Lipstick was smeared all over his face, and my lips turned absolutely numb from the painful pressure. He tasted like cheesecake and heaven. And I didn't want to let him go; I was suddenly clinging on to him for dear, sheer life. He kissed me almost like it meant something, only I couldn't figure out what. I couldn't even think; I was in such a fog. I couldn't see where he ended and I began. Just that, wow... There we were, _together_.

But all good things must come to an end, and Tommy eventually untangled himself from me with that ever-annoying smug grin on his face. And I was so oxygen-deprived that I practically collapsed into his arms. It had been exhilarating, intense, and... everything fit, you know? Perfectly, like I'd always known we would. I smiled dreamily, feeling drunk on love, still heady and reeling from the hell of a kiss he'd given me. I brushed a finger across my bottom lip, and I knew it would never, _ever_ feel the same. Not after that.

I gaped at Tommy in open-mouthed surprise before wiping frantically at my lips, flooding with embarrassment. What the hell was that? Tommy followed suit, but he merely brushed the gloss away, wiping it off nonchalantly on his jeans. However, that didn't hide his swollen, pink lips. Unbelievably my lips (when later I checked) were even more swollen than Tommy's. I had Angelina Jolie's mouth. It was insane. Then I turned around and kind of... ran out, shall we say. I had to go back and get my back, all the while looking down. Taylor was there. He asked me out again, and unbelievably, I said yes. Shocking everyone. I was distracted, though. And how was I supposed to know Tommy was behind me?

Taylor smiled, though, and he gave me his number, asking for next Friday. I just nodded distractedly, lied and said I'd had a lovely time (I had had one for a bit, I suppose... perhaps if we had one-on-one time?), and then I threw the note in my purse. I had to keep him from seeing my huge Tommy-just-made-the-hell-out-with-me lips. Tom was pretty pissed that I said yes, but I was flustered, so I didn't really know what I was saying. Unlike Taylor, he followed me out, which I found strange. And, frankly, rather unwanted. I did have a date with Speed and all.

"Well," Tom began ominously, before dropping the bomb, "I have a date with Sadie across town." I rolled my eyes at him. I already knew that, dumbass. It's not like it's news. I continued walking, since Taylor had been my ride and all. I could still make it there with PATH and the metro. Tommy seemed a bit put off that I was ignoring him, so he saw fit to continue. "And I'm going to go now," He said slowly, being careful to enunciate each and every word. And I care because? If you have to go, then go! I didn't even spare him a glance; in fact, I increased my pace so I wouldn't be late. This all had to work! Let him go!

However, my ignorance irked him further, especially when I took off my sweater while he started saying something. Finally, I could take it no longer, hearing his jabber. I spun around dramatically, in the middle of the sidewalk, and stopped walking. "Then GO! Be with Sadie! I'm not your girlfriend, Tom! You owe me nothing, not even a good-bye," I snapped, fed up with him and the way he had to just rub it in my face like that all the time. I was really being fair to him. It's not like I expected anything. He just kissed me, and sometimes, I'm willing to let a kiss just be a kiss.

But then, if I didn't know better, I'd have sworn that this sad look passed over his face, and that he'd looked almost... hurt. But I _had_ to be seeing things... right? Tom just nodded and then did something very strange. He took my hand and put a ring in it. The cheap-o kind you get from the machines for a quarter or something. And I knew it was phony and all, but it looked kind of convincingly like an engagement ring. It had a doubtlessly fake gold band and a shiny fake stone that was probably plastic but glittery enough. "I was walking to the restaurant when I saw this machine. And so I put a quarter in it, and, well... This came out. I opened it up and thought of you for some reason. I guess I wanted you to have it. So I had to find you and... I really don't know what I'm doing here. I shouldn't have come," Tommy murmured wearily, starting to turn around, closing my hand over the ring. He looked me firmly in the eyes. "Here, you keep it," He insisted with a passion not quite befitting the present. He demanded it, and I didn't challenge him.

I knew Tommy was the kind of guy who could've bought me the real thing. He wouldn't do that, but he could. I guess. If he meant it. Still, what the hell did this all mean? Tommy hadn't lied. He'd given me a ring all right. But what did it mean? Was it some sort of sign like Tommy thought it was? It was why he came here and ruined my date and kissed the death out of me. But what made him stop in the first place and buy a corny vending machine ring? And, more importantly, why did finding it make him totally forget about Sadie? Not to mention the mystery of how he found me in the first place. Tommy just walked after that, looking very confused. He was kind of sad, too, like the gesture should've meant something huge to me. Or like I was missing the obvious meaning behind it.

I was still standing there ten minutes later, staring after him with a slack jaw, in sheer, utter disbelief. I gazed down at the ring, which did sparkle in the light. Perhaps it was glass, I thought. Either way, it was still pretty. So I put it on my left ring finger in spite of myself and stared at it for a minute or so because that was the closest I was _ever_ going to get to marrying Tommy Quincy. Eyes still on the ring, sobering thought still lingering in my mind, I sniffed and dashed into the subway, heading across town. And then I didn't have much time to ponder the bizarre actions of certain males.

When I got to the club, Sweet Thing was already up on stage, setting up. They opened with "Kite Fight", this awesome, punchy, really fun song. I found that I liked them, and so I looked around to congratulate Speed on his taste. Speed, was, however, nowhere to be found. They were sort of mellow and indie, though, not at all what I'd expected of Speed. I expected him to like hard rock, heavy metal, the raw garage band sort of type. Guess it just goes to show you how you can think you know someone, and then something comes along to change your whole image of them. Oh, and the drummer looked a lot like Speed. It was pretty uncanny. They continued on with their set, and I continued looking for Speed. So far, the closest I'd come to the actual guy was well, the drummer of the band up there. He was crazy good, too.

The band continued moving into even more driving numbers, and in a flash of excitement, I ripped off the annoying bottom half of my skirt. It was so much less confining this way. Plus it was really hot in there with all those people... and it wasn't like I was gonna need the extra protection. Speed wouldn't be stupid enough to try and put the moves on me in a public place. Besides, he respected me and actually cared, you know, about more than what's underneath my skirt. Unlike Tommy.

I figured Speed was probably on the other side of the club, so I managed to weave my way through the crowd, scanning for his face. However, being my typically clumsy self, I ran into someone... who was not Speed. In fact, unless I was misjudging things, I'd apparently just run into Tommy. He was wearing what he'd been wearing before, you know, basic stuff... Blue jeans, sneakers, white t-shirt, leather jacket. Typical. And those stupid aviator sunglasses. He looked perfectly at home here in the club, holding his drink and bobbing his head to the music.

I swallowed and wanted to die. Can we say awkward? I turned around slowly to leave, hoping he hadn't seen me. I'd almost gotten away when suddenly, his hand reached out and wrapped around my upper arm. He pulled me around to face him with just enough force. I gulped hard as his face came towards mine, squinting. I don't get why he did that. I was wearing the same thing as before, only my skirt was a little shorter. His eyes, of course, went from my low-cut camisole to the short skirt in a flash and then back up. "_Hey_, Jude," He leered. He didn't quite look me in the eye, and for some reason I felt uncomfortable under that stare. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to smile.

It didn't work, though, because I was pretty pissed. "Are you like stalking me or something?" I hissed irritably, unable to look at him. Okay, and then I looked at him angrily. "I thought we went over this earlier. I have a date. So go away," I stated sharply, motioning for him to leave. He didn't budge. He just shrugged and smirked.

"I didn't know you had a date... I was just in the neighborhood, and I happen to like this band. I'm not going anywhere. Deal with it," He insisted, annoyance creeping into his voice. He tried to look around me, but I knew he could see the band just fine. And I also knew he was lying. The toy ring burned on my finger. Why was he being so harsh? It's not like I was ruining his date. But... I might as well just go and ignore him. I need to find Speed anyways.

So, with that thought in mind, I removed his hand from my arm and attempted to mesh through the crowd. Yet I heard his voice behind me, filled with disdain and disgust. "Just run away like a scared little girl, Jude. You weren't this cowardly before." There are few times when I have ever wanted to punch Tommy more than when I heard him say that. It's like he wanted to make me stay! Naturally, never one to back down from a fight, I whirled around and charged right back to him. I almost trampled some people, but I didn't let that stop me. Tommy was sure one to talk about running away, now wasn't he? Hadn't he spent half of his life doing that very thing?

"I'm not afraid of you," I snarled, shoving him back suddenly. It occurred to me that I meant that. How strange, to trust implicitly a man like Tommy! He looked just a little surprised, but then a different look crossed his face, and he was grinning again as if I'd amused him. Like he knew full well how much power he had over me. He laughed then, and I could tell he was rolling his eyes behind those stupid shades.

"No, you're not," He agreed readily, barking out a laugh. An almost menacing smile crossed his face, and it was like he was a different person. "You're just afraid of what I'd **do** to you," He finished darkly, with all the confidence of one who knows he is right. I was, too. I was afraid of the ways he messed with my head. I was afraid of the power he held over me. I was afraid of the way his actions controlled me unconsciously. I was afraid of how he moved me. I was afraid of what I'd let him do to me. I was afraid of losing control over myself. And I was afraid of him because he was so much of a man, and I was just a girl.

He smiled wanly and came towards me as if to prove that I was absolutely terrified. And I was, of course, because I didn't know what he was going to do. For all I knew, he was gonna bite me. But I couldn't show him how petrified I was, so I put on a poker face and regarded him coolly, but when he came too close, I pushed him back. I didn't like this strange new Tommy. "We went over this before. You have a girlfriend, and I am not that girlfriend. Hell, I went out with your **brother** tonight! So get a grip, man, and stop acting like this... or else!" I shouted furiously, fingers itching to strangle or shake him.

I could almost hear the laughter in his eyes as he came closer. "Or else _what_? You'll go out with my brother again to spite me?!" He retorted triumphantly, full of cockiness since he was winning the argument. Or else what indeed. I didn't know what to say. There weren't any words left. I just... I didn't get why Tommy was doing this. Why did he have to mix me up so much? "Like I couldn't steal you away from him in a **second**. Oh, wait... I already have. And if you ask me, Lover Boy's gonna be pretty pissed off when he finds out you came to _me_ for what he isn't giving you," He sneered mockingly. His voice was like glass, frosty and smooth. A bitter, victorious smirk affixed itself to his lips, and I found myself hating those twisted pink, pouty, full lips.

It's not like Taylor's some great lover or anything. I didn't even kiss him goodnight, if that says anything. Tommy knows how bad a kisser Taylor is. But he was right. He sure would be able to steal me away from Taylor... in a heartbeat. Still, I didn't get why he had to be such an ass about it. I sighed heavily and looked down at my boots. "Why are you doing this, Tommy? You don't _want_ me," I asked so depressingly I could hear the pain in my voice. Ugh. I sound pathetic. I need to leave. But then what the hell do I tell Speed? "I'm sorry, but I saw Tommy, so I had to go?" Yeah, that wouldn't make me sound like a total tool or anything. I owe him more than that. Jeez, why does love have to be so annoying? And stupid.

I saw something flicker in Tommy's eyes, I think, through the glasses obscuring him from my sight (why was he still wearing those sunglasses anyways? It was nighttime and inside, plus he hadn't been wearing them before). I don't know what it was, but it was there... And it was suddenly like something in him had changed. Like he was, I don't know... my Tommy again. He tilted my chin up so that I was forced to look at him. He was uncomfortably close to my face. "Because..." He began, trailing off like he couldn't finish. The words seemed hard for him. He looked down, away, licked his lips, fidgeted, but then he finally mustered up the courage to look me in the eyes... and he whispered softly, "Because... I love you, Jude."

I damn near fainted away on the spot. The only thing that kept me from doing that very thing were his strong, sturdy arms holding me in place. As soon as I regained my senses, I pulled away from that man. I say that man because he couldn't be my Tommy. It defied comprehension. "You don't mean that," I said in disbelief, staring at him hard. He shook his head and attempted to argue with me, but I stopped him with a finger to the lips, shaking my head. I couldn't believe it. For starters, it was too good to be true. And thus, it wasn't true. All that glitters is not gold. Tommy was deceiving himself. Turns out he was just deceiving me...

He nodded, almost eagerly, I'd say, if I didn't know him better. I rolled my eyes, not buying a word of it. Tommy loving me? Impossible. And yet he insisted. "I think I know how I feel, Jude," He rejoined a bit sharply. Like he was almost embarrassed he'd put it on the table. Maybe he was just pissed that I was presuming to know his heart better than he did. Whatever it was, he was most assuredly wrong.

I shook my head. He just didn't understand. Guys like him do not love girls like me. They do not look at or even date girls like me. In fact, guys like him never get married at all. "You can't love me. You just **don't**, Tommy. Whatever you think this is... it's not that," I stated irritably. I didn't like him playing these games with me. He opened his mouth, ready to argue the opposite, but I cut him off with a heavy sigh. "Stop it, Tommy. It's not fair to do this to me, to get my hopes up. I've had enough with your games, and it's not nice of you to mock me like this," I said in a steady voice. He was giving me one of those special looks, I just knew it, and it made me want to cry. Because he didn't feel that way about me, and he never would.

I held firm, though. I wasn't gonna cry over him again. He'll get over this strange phase, and I'll recover from the shock of him saying that eventually. Apparently, however, Tommy was not going to comply with these plans. He took a step forward yet did not lower his sunglasses. His posture spoke of a pending challenge. "You want me to show you just how much I love you, Jude?" He dared, almost taunting me, reaching out slowly and putting a hand on my waist. He pulled me towards him just a bit, but I didn't look up.

I smacked his hand away in disgust. Oh, I knew what kind of "love" he had in mind... and after what had happened earlier? In his dreams. "Sex is not _love_, Tommy," I hissed venomously. Why is he doing this? Why does he think he loves me? What is wrong with him? Did he hit his head on something this morning or what? I mean, seriously, has he finally lost his ever-loving mind (too much lovin' can do that to a man)? I didn't want anything to do with his trainwreck this time. It reminded me of that one song I was starting to write... Natural disaster or something. How befitting.

As if, you know, to prove me wrong, Tommy pulled a move right out of Stanley Kowalski's book. No, he didn't shout my name out in the street drunkenly in the middle of the night. Despite my objections and protestations, the guy grabbed me anyways and planted a big wet one on me. And mind you, it wasn't such a crowded club. It was a brutish, passionate kiss, too, further bruising lips that were already crying out for mercy... his lips, of course, swallowed up the cry. He did it up the big dramatic way, even dipped me down low and everything. Tommy is such a ham, honestly! It sure knocked every single thought out of my head, but for some utterly inexplicable reason, it didn't feel quite like when he kissed me before, when, oddly enough, I had been sure that he meant it... so I wasn't effectively swayed.

Something just seemed wholly wrong about this situation. My dreams were coming true, but it was like it wasn't my dream at all. He was saying everything I wanted to hear, albeit in a meaner way, but still... He got the words out. Wasn't that victory enough? And yet I still felt like a loser. I pulled back from my would-be romancer awkwardly, scanning the crowd to see if anyone (especially Speed) had noticed. I saw nothing. When I looked back at him, he was smiling softly, and he seemed just like my Tommy. For once, I could actually almost see myself believing this... it had to be a scam, hadn't it? But maybe it wasn't. Maybe Tommy was actually... "I love you," He said again. The words finally sunk in, and I suppose some expression of radiant, insane, celestial joy must've crossed my face because his grin widened.

It was like something out of a dream. He came towards me again like something out of a romance novel and grabbed my hand. "I mean it, Jude... You're my girl. I'm your man. That's as complicated as it needs to be," He whispered huskily, drawing me into an embrace. I was reluctant to hug back, but his presence was somewhat reassuring. I wanted to believe him so badly, but it all seemed so unreal. It was like I was watching a Canadian TV show, only I was the actress. Something was off, though, and I couldn't quite shake it. No matter how much Tommy professed his love. After all, unless he assumed I was already in love with him, why wasn't he freaking out that I hadn't said anything back except "you're crazy"? Then again, one can argue, it's not like I've exactly hidden my feelings for Tommy. He'd have to be absolutely obtuse not to see them.

Still, something wouldn't let me revel in the moment. At my core, I still didn't believe him. I never knew I had this many trust issues... but I guess you can blame Dad, Shay, and Tommy for that. I had a vague premonition that something was going to come along and ruin this utopia... that something would shatter this new world, and it would all be proven to be one giant illusion. I drew back but not completely. I opened my mouth to speak, hesitant. "Tommy... I..." I paused for a long period of time, and I felt him squeeze my hands lightly. He was anxious to hear whatever it was I had to say. And I don't know why I said what I said... only that I was scared and in a weird place... and it seemed like the right thing to do. "I... I don't love you, Tommy," I lied, looking up at him nervously.

I glanced down right after that. Tommy almost immediately let go of my hands and pulled back. I shivered, feeling suddenly cold without the reassurance of his warm, live touch. My eyes were fast filling with tears, but I wouldn't look at him... or he'd know I was lying. Besides, I was absolute poison for Tommy. Regardless of whether he claimed he loved me or not. And, as for that, I'd obviously driven him insane! A rational Tommy Quincy does not say he loves Jude. I kept looking for a logical explanation, but it was less than forthcoming, to say the least. "You love me, Jude. I know you do. And I don't know what you think you're saving by denying it, but you're only causing the both of us more pain. I know you want this as much as I do, Jude," He urged. If I could see his eyes, I'm sure I would've seen a crazy look reflected back in them. He grabbed my hands once again. They had curled into fists and I hadn't even noticed.

He came towards me once again, insistent. He was so close that I could see through the aviators just a little. I could almost get a proper glimpse at his eyes. They were certainly filled with some sort of strong emotion. As, apparently, was Tommy. "I fought it, Jude. I fought it with everything in me, but it cannot be denied," He swore vehemently. And then he began to speak of things that smacked of fate. I was beginning to sorry… Not only about Tommy's sanity, but also the fact that I was scared that I might suddenly start believing him. There was something awfully fatalistic about these stolen moments. "We've both suffered long enough. I love you, Jude, and that's not going to change overnight. We were meant to be together. Just say you'll be with me, and I'll make you the happiest woman on earth," He pleaded with such genuine sincerity I almost said yes straightaway.

Then he said it. Those fateful words that spelled out doom. "I promise." Only he didn't really promise, and I couldn't trust him at all. And just like that, I couldn't believe him. A promise from Tommy is... meaningless to me. Because I know he's not gonna keep it. He breaks as many promises as he makes, and I knew it would be only a matter of time before he did. And I'd be waiting for it to happen the whole time.

I shoved him away violently. "**Stop** it, Tom!" I exploded. My voice came out more shrilly than I'd expected. He wasn't supposed to hear the strain. "Stop _tormenting_ me! You're only gonna leave me high and dry in the end... and I can't afford to get my hopes up!" I shouted almost pleadingly, gesturing for him to go away. Damn it if my eyes weren't starting to get misty. I wasn't gonna cry. It's not like he was breaking my heart or anything, only he kind of was. It was like he was making fun of me by throwing my own feelings right back in my face. And that hurt.

I took a deep breath and tried to keep my voice steady. I shook my head hard enough so that I could almost feel the whiplash. "I can't afford to put all my trust in you. Not again. It's not fair to say things like that. Not when you _know_ how I feel about you, and I know you don't mean it like I want you to," I nearly whimpered, hearing my voice waver. I had to be strong. I wiped away a few escaped tears, hoping he hadn't seen them. Luckily, the ever-callous Tommy didn't seem to notice, but I resented him for it. I resented him for a lot of things, mostly for the many times he'd hurt me and gotten my hopes up only to dash them all over again. But I hated him most of all for making me forget just how much I hated him... and for making me fall in love with him again and again and again and again and again and AGAIN!

"Love," I spat as if poisoned, "is just another four letter word." And, as I was just beginning to realize... Love is really the dirtiest word of them all. It's the worst swear out there because it's a lie. Screw the f-bomb. Love has it beat. People always go on about how beautiful and _wonderful_ it is and how it makes a body sublimely happy. That's the kicker, isn't it? That's what makes it so horrible; this flawed perception of love as a perfect, lovely thing. But they fail to mention how miserable it is sometimes, especially if it's unrequited. And how absolutely low and lousy and guilty and obsessed and pathetic it can make you feel... And how bitter it leaves you when it's all gone away.

He held up my hand to the light, staring at the cheap ring he'd given me less than an hour ago. For some reason, there was a look of intense concentration on his face. He seemed to be contemplating something for a bit, as his lips were set in a firm line... but whatever it was, he had his answer soon enough. He stroked the back of my hand warmly with his fingers, carefully lifting it to his lips so he could kiss my (still bruised) knuckles. I smiled like a dope. Something about Tommy's countenance had completely changed on me. There was this odd fervor about him, this repressed passion underneath the icy marble. He seemed so intently focused on the moment... and yet there was a strange pallor in his cheeks, like he was almost ill... but his eyes burned brightly as coals through the tinted glass. He was almost shaking with something, be it anticipation or excitement.

But for what, I asked myself?

I found out soon enough. The look on his face said volumes. He looked the soberest I'd ever seen him, and it wasn't ever like Tommy to be so completely serious. I started to worry, too, like he'd tell me something outlandish... that he had a kid or killed someone or was dying of cancer or... I dunno... that he was married to an insane woman he kept up in the attic. Well, I was half-right. He sure as hell told me something outlandish. "I'm serious, Jude," He said gravely, grasping my hands still tighter. He looked positively green after that, but he took a deep, gasping breath, and I guess that was enough. He exhaled all the breath like a storm and launched promptly into words. "Marry me, Jude. I want you to be my wife... mine _forever_. The real deal," Tommy breathed in a shaky, timid sort of voice. I could hear the strain.

He was terribly nervous, too. I could tell that by the look on his face. Such vulnerability I had never seen before, much less from Tommy, who was as good as a statue half the time. Not that it surprised me so much; he'd done it before. Only this time, I knew he was serious, and it absolutely terrified me. He kissed my ring finger sloppily, again and again, and I remained frozen with shock. Don't doubt that I wouldn't have said yes in a heartbeat... if only I could just believe it all! I couldn't even speak.

I guess he took my speechlessness for hesitance. I hadn't really given him much of a reason to take it as a yes... what with saying I didn't love him and pushing him away so much. He leaned in closer, so that his scent washed all over me... leather and cigarettes and salt... His lips brushed against my ear as he murmured to me. "Let's elope," He requested in a low, husky voice that made me weak in the knees and liable to faint. I could almost feel him lick his lips as he drew back to give me some distance. I didn't think I could stand without him, so I held fast to his lapels, if only so I wouldn't fall to the ground. This brought our faces almost awkwardly close, but he did not kiss me. No matter how badly I wished he would.

"Here," He sighed, taking the cheap ring off my finger. He took a finger off his own hand and put it on my ring finger. I put the sentimental ring in my pocket and stared down at the one that newly adorned my finger. It was silver, I suppose, and it didn't have a diamond. It was a little loose on my finger, but there was something about it, the loose loops and clean lines, or perhaps even its perfectly round shape that suggested utter oneness with Tommy. Unity. The idea was wildly appealing. That was what did it for me.

I forget what I did then, but I must've done something... a slight tilt of my head, perhaps... that he perceived as a nod. He came closer to kiss me, but I pulled back just as his eyes started to close. I knew that if I really wanted to go down this path with Tommy... well, I had to know for sure. If I was going to say screw Sadie, damn the world, renounce my family, and risk the both of our careers... I wanted to be sure that I was doing the right thing. I had to know that it was real and that it was gonna last. Because if it wasn't, then it really wasn't worth ruining the both of our lives, now was it? I didn't really even know what I was getting into, only that I loved Tommy... and, well, what he said he felt, and I doubted. If we were really gonna do this, I didn't want to have any doubts.

So I devised my own little test. We were so close that only sheer willpower alone was keeping me from kissing him. My lips nearly brushed his when I spoke, but I had to. "Kiss me like you did before," I demanded slightly breathlessly as my eyes fluttered shut. I meant like he'd kissed me earlier in the janitor's closet... when it had meant something, so much that I'd forgotten my name and everything except him. And Tommy and I had been at one, like that. That's what I wanted it to be like. If he really meant it, then he would kiss me like that again. He had it in him already... all he had to do was remember.

He kissed me then and kissed me again and again and again, until I swore my lips were bruised black and blue. And I let him because I really did want to say yes. I wanted to marry him. I needed an excuse to say yes, you see, because I couldn't do it on my own in good conscience. I wanted so badly for him to pass that test that he almost did. But he failed miserably, and he failed in the worst way... Because he almost did it exactly right. But almost wasn't good enough, especially in matters as serious as this. So I couldn't accept anything less than the response I wanted. And he just didn't give me that, and it damn near broke my heart to think of how very perilously close he came.

I knew the passion was there. I could feel it there, and I'm sure he could feel it deep inside of him. At first I thought maybe he just couldn't get it out, but that wasn't it at all. It was me, I think. I couldn't bring that out in him. And it hurt badly, but... maybe it had all been nothing more than a fluke (although a visceral instinct told me that it wasn't), and I wasn't really his girl after all.

Maybe I just wasn't the girl for Tommy, though. I wanted to be, and I tried to be that girl... But I wind up looking like an ugly little caterpillar trying to be a mean, growly wolf. It just doesn't work 'cause they're not only completely different species... but they're from different classes and orders and everything. They don't even have the same organs or reproduce the same way. They're just... not compatible. I can't be a dog. I can't even be a cat! I can just be a caterpillar, and if I grow up, I might wind up as a butterfly... if I get to live that long and the pesticides and bitchy spiders don't get me. And then, even as a butterfly, I'd just be lucky if the wolf didn't eat me. The wolf might chase after the butterfly like Scruffy chases after his tail, but that doesn't mean he's ever going to catch his quarry.

I waited a while before breaking the kiss. I guess I was still hoping that I would feel that... whatever it was... I'd felt the first time around. But it was a fool's dream, and I was clinging to a hope that would never come true. Still, my eyes stayed closed, and I let his lips linger a little longer against mine. It was a fleeting moment, half gone already. And I tried to hold on to that moment, to imprint it in my memory forever... because something told me we wouldn't kiss like this or at all for a long time... but I couldn't do it. It refused to stick in my mind, which was cluttered with thoughts, snippets of other memories, and above all, the specter of that kiss before (which I would doubtlessly measure all other kisses of my life by).

And then, in what seemed like a blink, I knew it was really over. So I pulled away from him, lips still stinging. My lips hurt... They were bruised and almost completely numb. But I had to tell him, no matter how much I didn't want to. And I hated it because it felt like I was being torn apart. I wanted Tommy to win. I wanted myself to win. But I guess it just wasn't meant to be, and I'd best accept that. I knew without him telling me so, without forcing him to meet my gaze. Still, it felt like my heart was breaking... which was utterly ridiculous, as everything was supposed to be right with the word. He said he loved me. Haven't I been waiting for that my whole life? And yet, I felt absolutely horrible... because what you want isn't always all it's cracked up to be. And maybe Tommy wasn't all I'd made him out to be. Maybe I was more in love with the idea of someone like him or the chase or how unattainable he was than him... or some crap like that. Maybe I didn't even want him at all, and this was all done in vain.

But somewhere, deep down, I knew that wasn't true. I just knew it wasn't. Because it wouldn't hurt this bad if it was. I took a deep breath, knowing exactly what I had to tell him. I had to tell him that I couldn't do it. So I shook my head very, very slowly. And I drew further away from him, feeling those damned tears start to reform themselves in my eyes, like I had never blinked them away. I held back the deluge, though, damming up my eyes. I clutched the necklace Tommy had given me with one hand, rubbing the face of the saint of impossibilities between my thumb and forefinger all the while touching the ring he'd given me with the other hand... as if I needed to be reassured that it was real. I sighed heavily and drew from those two objects the potent strength I needed to deny him. "_It ain't me you're looking for, Babe_," I murmured in a hesitant, breaking voice. I shook my head harder, unable to look at him. I saw the look beginning to form on his face, and I couldn't face that face. I swallowed hard, gulping down the bitter taste of tears, fingertips lightly brushing away the droplets that had escaped my eyes and clung heavily to my eyelashes.

But I couldn't run like my legs were telling me to. Not yet. They stubbornly refused to budge. He grabbed my arm softly, leading me to a more secluded, dark corner where we could be properly alone and have a little privacy. I flattened myself against the wall as he approached me, cornered and trembling like a trapped rabbit. Here was the Big Bad Wolf, come to eat me; I was right to be afraid. He leaned in so that our bodies were pressed up against each other, unashamedly invading my precious personal space. "_You say my kisses are not like his... but I'm not gonna tell you why that is_," Tommy half-sung and half-drawled as he pressed soft kisses down my jaw line and across my cheeks. It was like he read my mind, and he knew that neither of us were ourselves. I was not some terrified maiden, and he was not a hunter. A cold, icy shudder ran down my spine and washed over me.

I drew back away from him as much as I could, twisting my neck painfully so he could not reach me. I buried my fingers in his hair, grabbing the ends and pull-pushing him away from me. I wasn't being coy. I recognized the lyrics all too well (such is the price of having a Dylanoholic for a father), and I was going to respond accordingly. "_You say you _love_ me, and you're thinking of me... but you know you could be _**_wrong_**_. You say you told me that you wanna hold me, but you know you're not that _**_strong_**," I hissed viciously, taunting him before shoving him back fiercely. He flinched at that, the words more so than the force, and I pushed him back further, tearing his arms away from me. Tommy was so _weak_. And wrong. He doesn't even know what love is, let alone how to feel it!

I ducked away from him, managing to slip past him just a bit, although I brushed against him doing it. He seized me before I could go very far and spun me around to face him. It was slightly disorienting, changing direction so fast and nearly tumbling into Tommy himself. His eyes, still covered by those ridiculous aviator glasses, loomed large in my vision. I got half a glimpse at his eyes, but I couldn't discern much. It was beginning to bother me that I couldn't look him in the eyes and know for sure. But I hadn't needed to, not to know what I shouldn't do. He wrapped his arms around me, and I looked up helplessly. He swayed me back and forth, almost like we were dancing.

He hummed softly, continuing our little Bobby Zimmerman sing-along. "_Stay, lady, stay, stay with your man awhile_," He crooned in a husky voice. I felt a tiny thrill... Was he calling himself my man? I really liked the sound of that. Maybe I'd have to get used to it. Maybe my expectations were irrational. You know, he sounded better than the original singer. I'd forgotten just how lovely it was to be serenaded. When a guy's singing a love song to you and you alone, you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world, especially if he can sing well. He leaned in closer and his grip tightened around me just a little. "_Until the break of day, let me see you make him smile_," He coaxed flirtatiously, flashing me a wide, white smile. He touched my lips, which twitched into a smile despite themselves.

I was beginning to think that I would grant his wish and blow off Tim. There was something so appealing about him then. "_Why wait any longer for the world to begin? You can have your cake and eat it too. Why wait any longer for the one you love when he's standing right in front of you?_" He sang somewhat hoarsely, asking and persuading. He was obviously speaking of his offer to... I can't even say it! To **marry** me. I couldn't believe he was still serious about that. It seemed so... out of left field. And, apparently, my many attempts to persuade Tom that I did not, in fact, love him, had served the opposite purpose. Of course, that was Tom for you. He never accepts an answer he doesn't quite like.

I smiled at him, and he took that as some greater sign, of what I do not know. "Come with me, Jude," He requested in a voice so humble and polite I couldn't say no. He started to lead me to the door, lacing his fingers with mine. We'd made it halfway there when I found my wits again.

Obviously I couldn't just marry him! For starters, I'd already determine that it was, without a doubt, not the thing to do. I'd already decided not to do it. Then there was the fact that Tommy was a philandering playboy, despite that silver tongue and roguish smile. I could never trust him to stay faithful, especially when I didn't believe he loved me. And I wasn't even sure that I completely wanted him. In addition, the man was dating my sister, whom I did love. And finally and most glaringly obvious... Tommy and I legally could not just get married. I'm sixteen, obviously, so parental consent would be needed. And unless we talked to them, and I swore up and down to my FATHER (because I believe Dad would give in if he knew Tommy would take care of me and make me happy. He respects Tom, and I think he has some idea of how strongly I feel for him) and, perhaps, a judge that I loved him and vice-versa, blah-blah, that he would make me happy... It wasn't going to happen, definitely not overnight.

I dropped his hand as if on fire. Like he'd burned me. I stopped walking, dead still in the middle of all the action. Then I shook my head again. "No!" I proclaimed loudly so that he'd understand. No amount of persuasion would deter me now. He must go his way, and I must go mine. Those damnable tears reappeared in my eyes, threatening to burst forth in fatuous drops down my face. I blinked them back stubbornly. I could cry for real when all of this was over, while I was dying my hair in the bathroom. It isn't the hardest thing I've ever had to do. My way was far, far, far away from him. I needed so badly to get away, to go, to leave and not look back. Yet my feet were frozen in place, and they disobeyed me, refusing to move away from his intoxicating presence.

He reached out for me slowly, as if swimming in molasses. I opened my still blurry eyes a crack to see his hand coming towards me, and I backed away. I swallowed over the lump in my throat that wouldn't go away. "I-I have to go," I squeaked anxiously, whirling around and turning my back on him. I tried to dash away from him, but I should've known that he would chase after me. He was acting like a Heathcliff-type, demented and obsessed and not himself. It didn't matter how easily I slipped through the crowd like a cat burglar; he clung to my heels like the rabid dog he was. I missed _my_ Tommy all the more because he knew when I needed space, and he always gave it to me without complaint.

I tried to get away, really, I did. But he was so damn persistent I couldn't escape! He pinned me against the wall so I could neither fight nor even move. I was ever more aware of him, could feel him with every breath that passed over my lips. Yet I was not afraid. I trusted Tommy implicitly, no matter what, even when he seemed like an imposter. My faith was simply unshakable, and it utterly sickened me. I didn't flinch or swallow, nor did my resolve waver in the slightest. He kissed me hard, passionately, as if it would do me any good. It was a minor, if not pleasant distraction. But even more so, it was an all-too painful reminder of what I could not have. "Tommy," I sighed dreamily, breaking the kiss. I stole the words from his own lips, soft and weak, "I _can't_."

I kissed him softly, just one more time, because I needed to remember the way his smooth lips felt on mine. He did not taste of cheesecake, though. He tasted of cigarette smoke, and some taste that was quite familiar to me yet eluded me. It was not liquor, whiskey, rum, or otherwise, unless he'd had vodka, which was tasteless. The lingering taste clung to my lips and my tongue, but the mystery of it drove me half mad wondering. Then I pulled back, his grip loosened, and attempted to step past him. He grabbed my wrist as I tried to pass and probably would've kissed me senseless had we not been intercepted.

We were intercepted, of course, only seconds before his lips would've been upon mine. He groaned in frustration, turning to look at the person who had dared to intrude on our moment. The person seemed very familiar to me also, but I couldn't place him right away. The man was good-looking (okay, smokin'!), easily on par with the man I was with. He was handsome in the same way, tall and dark. However, he appeared slightly older than my Tommy, probably around Travis' age or a little older. I stared at him nonetheless, curious as to why he'd suddenly stopped in our presence. Damn, I might have just been recognized, I thought as his face lit up in a blinding grin. I tried to wiggle away from my buddy, but it was no use.

Surprisingly, he seemed more interested in my companion than me. Oh, I thought. Definitely a Little Tommy Q. fan. Damn. The cute ones were always... To my further surprise, however, the stranger was not gay. To my abject horror, he seemed to know my _friend _as he greeted him intimately "Travis? Is that you? Man, I haven't seen you in ages!" He exclaimed happily, clearly surprised at his good fortune to run into an old friend. Then came the real horror. I immediately turned to "Tommy", gaping open-mouthed. _Travis_? Could it really be?

With shaking hands, I finally removed the shades that had been bugging me all night. And I revealed, unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?), a pair of vivid, liquid green eyes. I dropped the glasses in sheer mortification. How hadn't I known? I gasped and backed away from Travis. It was Charles Travis Quinn, after all, there in all his glory, as I live and breathe. Unable to look at Travis, knowing how I'd behaved around him, knowing that I'd somehow mistook that phony for the real thing... I felt even sicker to my stomach than before. Though I was sober as the day was long, I craved a drink like nothing else. But drinking, after all, only seemed to get me in conundrums where Travis was involved, so it was best not to touch a drop. Still, the desire for drink burned in my veins.

Suddenly, it occurred to me to really take a look at my awfully familiar savior. To think, I could've almost... I can't think of that! I turned to look at the man, and it clicked. I recognized him. He was a teacher at my school... something physical, hands on, but not gym... He noticed me too, for the first time and did a double-take. His eyes quickly returned to Travis, whom he gaped at in sheer disbelief. Someone else knew, then? I stood up straighter and felt a whole hell of a lot safer. Travis didn't look too happy about seeing his friend. "Travis... what are you doing with your student? I could've sworn I saw you kissing her, man," He stated suspiciously, taking in my flushed appearance.

Travis' eyes narrowed at the (_correct_) assumption. He shook his head stiffly. "Hello, Anthony. Nice to see you too," He responded in a cool, clipped tone that barely bordered on civility. I thought it rather stupid of him to be such a pompous ass to one of the few people in the faculty who would associate with him, but Travis didn't care. Anthony, in his mind, had ruined this... whatever chance he thought he had. I, however, was eternally grateful. Not only did this man save me from doing something completely horrible, making a Jacobean-level mistake by actually marrying Travis (I hyperventilate thinking how close I came to such a fate), but he knew my secret now. He could back me up. Travis scoffed at Anthony's accusation and shot him this look, like he was one to talk.

Anthony flushed a bit, but he held his ground. I smiled cheerily, jerking my wrist out of Travis' grip. I took a few steps towards Anthony. I personally didn't care what the deal was or why he'd merited that look (although I assumed that Travis also had blackmail-worthy info on Anthony. "Well, I, for one, thank you, sir," I decreed proudly and respectfully. I shot Travis a disgusted glance before turning back to Anthony with that carefully affixed smile. "In fact, good sir, he _did_ kiss me before. Your eyes were not lying to you. In fact, he has kissed and touched me a great many times during the past few months... not all of them reciprocated. I know that's not appropriate, but I have done all I could to dissuade him; I have even filed charges. But no one seems to listen," I explained helpfully, distancing myself from Travis rapidly. I was half afraid he was going to flip out and kill me for what I was saying.

Anthony, I believe, looked absolutely horrified at his friend's ungentlemanly conduct. If only he knew, right? I kept up that fake smile. "I know well enough to stay away from him..." I assured him. A dark look crossed my face as I continued somewhat bitterly, "I learned that the _hard_ way... but tonight, he tricked me. I thought he was someone else, and I was trying to get away." I shot Travis a withering look, wishing he could just drop dead. I hated being so easily misled. It was absolutely humiliating. Especially since I, of all people, should've known. I felt like I'd betrayed Tommy and beyond low.

It was so obvious, too. It all made sense. Why I had never truly felt at ease in his presence. Why it had never felt right or real. The little details all matched up. Because it wasn't real, and he obviously wasn't Tommy. The reaction he'd had every time I said Tommy's name, the way he'd stiffened just a little. The persistence and chase, how he wouldn't let me have my space... the way he had to invade everything. Even his gift with words, managing to nearly persuade me again and again. The Dylan lyrics he'd quoted, as Tommy never had. I had quoted the very same song as he had earlier! The shades Tommy hadn't worn earlier, tinted a dark greenish-black, a color my Tommy didn't even wear.

The way he'd replaced the ring the real Tommy had given me so easily and hadn't understood, how he didn't have a black tattoo on his finger. He hadn't recognized his necklace, not even when I'd taken it out. Even his shirt. I hadn't realized it, but Tommy had been wearing a black t-shirt back at the restaurant. How he was taller and a little leaner and his voice was deeper and his lips weren't red and swollen. And the insane, unpredictable way he'd acted. And finally, the way he tasted... raspberries. I should've known. But most of all, the way he'd kissed me and hadn't meant it... how it had felt so similar, but not the same and not right. It all made sense, and I should've seen him for what he was. An imposter, a sheep in wolf's clothing. I was steaming with fury and shame. I didn't even know my Tommy well enough, and DAMN IT; he wasn't _mine_ at all!

Then I turned back to Anthony, smiling affably. It wasn't so hard now. "Thank you _ever_ so much for intervening at this juncture," I said graciously, reaching out to shake his hand. I tried not to notice how he winced before accepting my hand.

I kept shooting pointed glares at Travis. "And... Anthony... you have my _eternal_ gratitude for preventing me from making the **biggest** mistake of my life and marrying this fool who does not love me and wishes to _possess_ me as some sick sort of revenge on a man who does not even **love** me!" I continued dramatically, still holding his hand. It all came out in one huge breath. It was true, too... Marrying Travis thinking he was Tommy, under false pretenses, would've been the stupidest thing ever to do. Tommy would doubtless never forgive me, and his mere friendship wasn't something I was about to jeopardize. And the rest, too. All Travis wanted to do was possess me, own me mind, body, and soul like Tommy did. He'd tried for mind and had mild success... He would have almost mastered my body, too, had Joan not intervened. But Travis would _never_ get my soul, not even as Tommy.

I don't think Anthony understood any of it. And why would he, right? It wasn't like he knew about Tommy or anything. He wasn't there. However, there was an utterly stricken, sickly look on his face once the marriage part registered. Guess he realized the implications and how it really didn't look good. He gave Travis this look asking how he could justify that. Travis couldn't, not well. Sure, if he gave him time, I'm sure he'd come out, sounding like a lawyer... but he couldn't make it okay. For his part, Travis shrugged apathetically. I kept talking so that Anthony couldn't upbraid Travis.

I smiled at Anthony widely, putting my hand on his arm just a bit too flirtatiously, I think. I leaned in towards him, watching him squirm. I hadn't realized students were that scary. "I could kiss you right now, really!" I exclaimed excitedly. He jerked his arm away from me. I was briefly amused at the horrified look that flashed across his face. I wasn't really gonna do it, but it was hella amusing to make him think I was. I mean, seriously... I've learned by now not to kiss my teachers. It never works out, not even if you just wanna send 'em to jail.

Travis, who had been watching us from a small distance, snorted. "Jude, he has a _girlfriend_ already," Travis said before Anthony could say anything. Travis shot his friend a reproachful look, as if he didn't approve. Anthony paled drastically, even more so than when I threatened to kiss him. Travis, meanwhile, crossed his arms over his chest cruelly, glowering at me. "Really, Jude, there are **other** ways to get an A. You don't have to offer to service every teacher that comes your way. Especially since I've had better," Travis sneered mockingly. Anthony's eyes widened; this time he gaped at me. He looked like a fish out of water. Isn't that rich? Travis turns this into me being a slut. Isn't that ridiculous?! It's not like I threw myself at him. He was all over me!

Besides, I don't even take Anthony's class. He teaches shop, industrial technology, whatever the hell you want to call it. Though I do see why he and Travis are friends. He's a maverick too. I wasn't gonna have this stranger thinking I'm the school slut. I smiled bitterly, gesturing to Travis. "He's just pissed because I told him no," I retorted. I glared daggers at Travis, smirking at him. "And he's in love with my friend, yet _another_ student, but she won't let him lay one finger on her," I continued sharply, evil grin widening at Travis' discomfort. A brief look of pain flitted across his face, and I relished in it. Anthony still looked awfully pale and rather wary of both of us, so I had to pacify him. "Don't worry... I'll refrain from kissing you. Because you're a good teacher... and _you_ wouldn't do that," I said politely, pointedly making a dig at Travis. I smiled, shaking his hand again. "Once again, thank you. It was **lovely** meeting you," I said gratefully, only seconds before leaving.

I wasn't going to leave the club, not yet. I still had to find Speed and eventually dye my hair. Sweet Thing was almost through their set. Where was he? I hurried away from Travis, but his buddy decided to follow me. I just kinda looked over, and there he was. It scared the living daylights out of me and made him smirk. Have I mentioned that I hate smirkers? I think they're all bastards and assholes. I kinda waved and said hi because I didn't really know what to say. Plus my mom told me never to talk to strangers. "So, you said you thought Travis was someone else. Who'd you think he was?" Anthony asked curiously. I stared at him like he was a complete alien. He followed me just to ask that?

Whatever. I could at least answer him. If it wasn't for him, I'd still think Travis was Tommy. And that extra syllable means a lot more to me than I let on. I frowned, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Jeez, where the hell is Speed? And why isn't Travis following? "I thought he was a friend of mine," I replied distractedly. Anthony gave me a look. The kind of look that asks what I was doing making out with my "friend". I was beginning to get irked by his presence, but I humored him anyways. "Tom Quincy." And then, of course, Anthony nodded like he understood because that really says it all, doesn't it? I had to bite back the frustrated groan welling up inside me.

"So you're not in love with Travis or anything?" He asked somewhat suspiciously, shooting me a look. I rolled my eyes at him. He thinks I love that idiot? My, my, my, what is the world coming to?! I shook my head stubbornly. Of course not! Do I look out of my mind? Does this look like The Sheik? Fierce, independent women do not fall in love with would-be rapists! Every positive feeling I had for Travis died the day he tried to force himself on me. That overshadows everything, and I think it'll haunt me forever.

Okay, so maybe I was more than a little pissed off by this point. When he said that, it made me think of the brief time when I thought the world of Travis and how much I'd wound up regretting it. I didn't understand. If he wanted to get revenge on Tommy, why not make me fall in love with him? Why did he have to try to...? Men and I were just not having a good night together. I don't think I've ever been so tired and confused all at once. "What's up with all the questions? You want me to service you or something?" I barked harshly, not even shooting a glance back at him. Anthony blanched and, I swear, damn near fainted away. I turned to look at him and found I really disliked the look he was giving me. "You **do** realize that Travis was lying, right? I know better than to fool around with a teacher," I hissed irritably, annoyed that someone I didn't even know would think so little of me.

Damn Travis. Damn him. "Besides," I remarked with a smirk, shooting him a dismissive glance, "_you're_ not my type." I then continued looking for Speed, but Anthony was just so distracting. I could feel him wondering since I hadn't exactly given him an answer on the am-I-in-love-with-Travis-question. And I'm not, of course, since I find him utterly repulsive. I rolled my eyes and turned around to stare at him. "I broke Travis' nose. What do you think that means?" I growled frustratedly, really wanting to punch someone. Idiot.

Did Speed stand me up? I mean, not that I blame him or anything... but still. You know, this Anthony guy is not a very talkative fellow. He just looks terrified of me half the time. Yeesh. My skirt isn't _that_ short, is it? Yet he just keeps on walking with me, and he won't just go. A thought suddenly occurred to me, though. For one thing, "Tony" was probably trying to figure out more about what Travis was up to, and he was sucking at pumping information from me. I also knew I had to put a stop to it. I turned around and stopped dead in the middle of the dance floor, so suddenly that Anthony almost ran into me.

"Look," I ordered urgently, "don't tell anyone about what you saw." I know what you're thinking. You're wondering if I've lost my mind. But there is a method to my madness. I gave him a tight, barely convincing smile. "That was just Travis rearing his ugly head again, being a perv of the highest order... I can take care of him," I assured him, rolling my eyes in disgust. I could, too. I could hold my own against him nine times out of ten. After all, I've got a helluva right hook, thanks to Tommy. Not to mention that I have the right kind of friends to help me. I've got a posse, really.

"My friend, the one he's in **love** with," I continued casually with mildly contained glee, "she said she'd castrate him if he ever touched me again." Anthony's face turned positively green at the prospect. He looked just a little bit nervous. "So he knows that if he oversteps his boundaries, I'm gonna tell her on his ass. Plus, my _friend_... Tommy... is just looking for an excuse to beat Travis to a bloody pulp," I explained, faltering a little bit while talking of Tommy. It's hard not to get all dreamy-eyed talking about him. Anthony gave me one of those smartass looks too, like he knew.

I approached Anthony, grabbing his collar and shaking the smirk off his face. He looked uncomfortable to say the least, but I didn't care. We needed to get a little something straight. Because I can't have some guy going around blabbing about how Travis and I were making out. It's utterly embarrassing, and Tommy and Joan and Kate and Speed and Taylor (who, might I say, gets freakishly jealous for someone I barely know) and my parents would all kill me. 'Cause I'd get pretty much all of the blame, and then I'd look like a whore all over again. And I don't like feeling as low as dirt so regularly. "Now, remember, don't tell **anyone** about what you'd saw," I snarled, throwing him backwards. I smoothed his collar a little. "I don't really want it to get out, and I'm sure that you don't want everyone to find out about whatever Travis has got on you and your _girlfriend_," I said menacingly, giving him a look that showed I meant business. I brushed off his collar and smiled fakely. "You can go now. I can take care of myself," I declared finally, pushing him towards the exit. He gave me a hesitant look, but after a reproachful glare, he did as was told and left. Good boy.

Feeling every inch of my irritation, I continued to survey the place for Speed. The band was done, what a pity. I'd scarcely heard a note they played all night, it seemed. However, the drummer who resembled Speed so uncannily I half-thought he was Speed stepped up to the mike, guitar in hand. He began to play a slow, almost folkish melody. "_Why do I _**_need_**_... Why do I need someone else?_" He began, looking completely adorable. See, now if Speed wrote me songs like that... I'd maybe possibly have a chance at falling in love with him. Entranced and attracted to the soft music, I wandered towards the stage. "'_Cause you comfort me... You show me how to be myself_," The mysterious singer continued, flashing a brief smile. I vowed silently to make him smile at me, weaving through the crowd. As if on cue, an ass had to show up to ruin the beautiful moment. Travis, not Speed.

I felt his hand on my arm and brushed it away annoyedly, like he was a little gnat in my way. Unfortunately, he kept up at it. "_Another late night and the radio..._" All I wanted to do was look up at the pretty boy on stage, who looked so very sad and solemn. I could help him! "_Turn the dial to another sad song, oh..._" Travis, however, fully whirled me around to face him. I cast a furtive glance over my shoulder at the mysterious stranger who was starting to kick it in gear. Travis jerked roughly on my arm, forcing me to face him. "_And all I need is a day inside... Inside your mind to see what it's like!_" The cute man sang, picking up the tempo. I glared so hard at Travis that I nearly went cross-eyed.

Travis, however, decided that now was the time to trick me into liking him with kindness. He loosened his grip, but not enough so that I could get away. He stroked my arm gently, giving me a submissive, pleading look. "_And all I'm missing in _**_you_**_ I see... Am I _**_who_**_ you want? Am I what you need?_" Looking at Travis, I couldn't help but sympathize with the singer. Those very questions were some I'd faced an awful lot lately... and the answer was always a resounding no. Travis started to kiss up my arm, but I jerked away. His lips felt like slimy worms on my skin now. He managed somehow to look like a cross between a kicked puppy and a scorned lover, neither of which he was, and that made me feel terribly guilty. "Please, Jude, marry me. I promise I'll be good to you," Travis begged hopelessly. Had we not been in public, I have no doubts that he would've been down on his knees, throwing himself at my feet.

One thing about Travis: he generally kept his promises. But I trusted him even less than Tommy, if that makes any sense. Though he wore an earnest, apologetic, pleading look on his face, I knew that the interior hid a black-hearted, vicious, selfish man. And he hadn't ever said sorry, not even as a lie. I shook my head, but that didn't stop his whining. "_Why do you see... why do you see... someone _**_else_**" The singer questioned in a voice filled with yearning. I wanted to run to his side. It struck me then how ironic the situation was. I needed to end it now. "Travis, you don't love me. You have a fiancée already. And I sure as hell don't love you," I snapped irritably, wanting to cut away the charade. I laughed a little, bitterly, but Travis didn't move or even seem to care about anything I'd said.

He clutched my hand in an odd, desperate, feverish way that didn't suit him at all. "Please... Jude. **Please**! I'll take care of you. I'll let you have whatever you want. I'm sorry! _Please_, just say yes!" Travis implored passionately, dramatically. Isn't he a great actor? Better than Taylor, I bet. As if he actually loved me and cared about my answer. It was just a revenge thing, no emotions attached. I shook my head hard. I'd told him so many times. I didn't _want_ to marry Travis. No matter how sorry he was, now that he'd finally said it... No matter how much money he had. Or how much he looked like Tommy because he was probably the closest I was ever going to get to the real thing- Because HE WASN'T TOMMY! He wasn't what I wanted. "_'Cause I'm losing sleep... I feel like _**_time_**_ is running out_," The singer implored similarly, sounding so lonely and pain-stricken I felt for him.

I had no such sympathy for Travis, so I was going to have to make it even clearer. "You love Joan, Travis," I stated tactlessly. You would think mentioning his love's name would do it. But Travis actually shook his head and tried to deny it. Idiot! Has he finally had that big psychotic break or something? Has he forgotten to take his pills? Is he really bipolar?! "_If you had called just an _**_hour_**_ ago... This basement might not be so _**_cold_**," The singer continued as if trying to guilt his listener. I turned to look at him as he launched into the chorus again, eyes closed. His face was a picture of absolute concentration and bliss. I envied him for that, wishing I could lose myself in the music, sing these conflicting feelings all out of me.

Travis shook his head furiously. I began to wonder if he was drunk. "She doesn't even look at me, Jude. She's disgusted with me. She's too good for me. And I can't love anyone like that. But you... I have feelings for you. I could learn to love you. We could be happy together. This can work, Jude," Travis guaranteed me assuringly; although it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than me. Why did he even want so badly to marry me anyways? He sounded so hopelessly idealistic that I almost wished he meant it. But fundamentally, Travis didn't love me anymore than I loved him, and I couldn't forget or forgive what he'd done to me. Not yet. Not now when he seemed so insane. It was too soon. And I didn't want someone who would have to _learn_ to love me. I wanted someone who just **did**. I wanted someone I loved back. If I was going to settle for anyone, it would be someone like Jamie or Speed... Someone I knew loved me and wasn't that bad of a guy.

I shook my head vigorously, feeling fiery tears come to my eyes. Accepting such a proposal would be insulting. I wasn't prepared to give myself to some man who wasn't the right guy. Travis was five wrong turns away from being the right guy. He wasn't even the right guy's second-cousin twice removed. Travis was the textbook definition of the Wrong Guy. What world was this? It was like I had awakened screaming in a nightmare of that ironic Julie Doiron song. _It was the wrong guy... He was the _**_wrong_**_ guy._ I wasn't going to give any little part of myself to some guy that didn't deserve it... wasn't worth it.

I could feel the words I wanted, needed to say, churning inside of me like acid reflux. Heartburn of the worst kind. I had to say them, to rip off the Band-aid, just vomit them out! I had to do it fast. They were the truest, most sincere words I knew... Not to mention my biggest reason to say no, and alternatively, my biggest reason to say yes. Not that I would. Because these words- this fundamental truth was branded on my skin, cut into my heart, bound to be carried in my blood, and written into every twisted little nucleotide of my DNA. It could not be denied or rejected. If I tried, it was like I was rejecting myself, killing myself a little on the inside. Many times the simple three word phrase had threatened to burst forth and overcome me, but now more than ever. I no longer forced the words back down my throat like a coward. I was not ashamed of them.

"I love Tommy!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, not caring who heard my declaration. I wanted the whole world to know! I meant it with every fiber of my soul, my aching being. There was no mistaking it. No denying it. It was all out in the open now, for better or for worse. This time I couldn't mistake Travis for Tommy, pyrite for real gold. I had been a fool, but my eyes were wide open now, and I wasn't cowering in fear. I'd said it out loud and proud, and the world hadn't imploded. It wasn't a surprise, most likely to either of us, but it had its effect nonetheless. The proclamation achieved its purpose; they were the only words that I knew would stop him dead in his tracks, silence the seducer.

Not for long, of course, but Travis reacted. He flinched as if stricken the second those words came out of my mouth, like a bucket of ice cold water, half frozen, colder even than the blue blood in his veins, had been upturned over his head... and he'd been instantly submerged in the chill. His eyes squinted tightly shut reflexively as if he could not bare the light, twitching occasionally. A visible, even pugilistic change came over him. His spine straightened painfully; his whole body stiffened as if suspended in spasm. Every sinewy muscle he had flexed and firmed like a coat of armor, as if to protect him from the shock. Constant vigilance.

It took a while, but the tension went out of Travis' muscles. He eased into a state of relaxation slowly. And then his eyes began to open. He looked down at me with those dark, smoldering eyes, trying to impart some meaning in a glance I didn't know existed. The force of his stare, the varying, exquisitely beautiful shades of green, emerald, olive, and lime, all held me in place. His eyes were the colors of thick, frost-coated forests of Christmas trees, verdant, vibrant fields of long, intensely viridian prairies just after a heavy rain, foam-capped, tempestuous seas changing from almost aquamarine glass-green to the bold color of the thrashing oceans, blue-green and deep. His stare was hypnotizing and mystical, yes, but it didn't make me forget. It wasn't so eclipsing. Still, the power behind that gaze sent a cold shudder down my spine and rendered me speechless.

But my memories were still mine and still on the forefront of my mind. In my utter paralyzation, I could think of little else. I was uncharacteristically silent, but so help me, I _remembered_. Travis licked his lips, which melted into a lazy, hazy smile. He leaned forward, trailing his fingers down my all too bare arm. My skin broke out in goosebumps. "I can be who you want, Jude," Travis murmured persuasively in a low, husky voice. He came closer still, and I found myself drowning in his scent, the monsoon of his musky, mysterious, and utterly masculine cologne. His touch was surprisingly warm against my frigid skin. His eyes flashed like green lightning, and a flicker of anger ran through them like a wispy current. "I can be Tommy," He declared, disdain and determination coloring his envious voice. It was a wonder he managed to choke out the words amidst his extreme disgust.

No, Travis never could be Tommy. He was so colossally wrong about that. He could put in contacts and hunch just a little and go to the gym more often, but he could never be Tommy. He could only mimic, not _be_. He could pretend to be Tommy, but he lacked the essence, the DNA, that je ne sais quoi that makes Tommy uniquely himself. At best, Travis could be only a poor imitation, poor because everything paled in comparison to the original- the real thing. The real thing could not be threatened or challenged by an imposter; a wannabe imposter would always be second-best. And somewhere deep down, I would always know something was amiss, no matter how hard Travis strove to be Tommy.

Making such claims, for once a promise even the ever-industrious Travis couldn't keep, was insulting to everyone involved. Most of all himself. He shamed himself by saying he would pretend to be something he isn't, something he could never be. The prideful, vengeful Travis I knew would not condescend to live as Tommy, to _be_ Tommy, not consciously. That Travis was disgusted by Tommy, so hateful of him that comparisons to his almost-twin brought on the full fury of his wrath. Nothing made him angrier. Nor would he stoop to stand in for Tommy, knowing he would never measure up. By saying such a ridiculous thing, he made himself no better than a homeless streetwalker desperate for a few bucks. Something then, was really wrong... even worse than I'd expected. What could've prompted such insanity and instability from an already afflicted man?

Certainly not Tommy, who was on a date with Sadie right now. It had to be me, then. But why? However, I had little time to ponder this, as Travis was angrily awaiting an answer with bated breath. So I played a role, just as he had earlier. What goes around comes around. I laughed loudly, bitterly, as if it was all just one big joke, and I didn't believe him at all. "Funny, Travis. Never thought you'd degrade yourself by proposing to Little Tommy Q's girl, much less by pretending to be him," I snapped harshly, even cruelly. It was downright insulting. I applauded, a sick grimace on my face. I shook my head, eyes defiant. "You can never be Tommy to _me_, Travis," I said a beat later, traces of rage simmering in my voice. I pitied him with every word- almost. It was hard to pity someone so cold-blooded.

Travis didn't react at all to this statement. His face was utterly impassive, not ashamed, stricken, or even furious. He merely shook his head slowly, indicating his dissention. Then he leaned into me sinuously, so slowly and gradually that his mastery was immediately clear. His eyes burned nearly obsidian, dark like a forest at night. He allowed a slow smile to spread across his face like warm marmalade. And then he seized me.

His hands closed around my wrists suddenly, grip soft enough not to hurt me, but firm enough to ensure that I couldn't run away... like handcuffs. It was only then that I began to panic. Truly, I'd been afraid of Travis all night in varying ways. I'd always felt the sensation that something wasn't right, and I was the one who'd done all the running. But eventually you have to stop running, because you can't run forever. I was beginning to fear for my life, as melodramatic as that sounds. His hands suddenly clamping down on my wrists like that alarmed me, made me panic. I was afraid he was gonna try and do it again, only this time he'd actually get it done! I was shaking as I struggled with him.

Why would he bother proposing in the first place... if all he wanted was to get in my pants? If I still thought he was Tommy, he could've willingly had his way with me somehow. It wouldn't be particularly hard. A declaration of love, announcing that he broke up with Sadie... and the proposal to boot? Of course I'd have eventually gone over the edge. But, most importantly, he was really Travis; he had a silver tongue. He could say all the right words. He could talk his way into anything, convince me of anything. That wouldn't have necessitated marriage. All he would've had to do was talk and tell me to close my eyes the whole time so I wouldn't see that his eyes were _green_ instead of blue.

Almost out of the blue, then, he kissed me **hard**, making my numb, bruised lips ache further. The gesture surprised me, but it didn't sweep me off my feet or stop and clear every clustered thought from my cluttered brain. It also wasn't remarkably pleasurable. It hurt like a punch to the kisser. His lips were unrelenting, like a jackhammer. But that brutal stolen kiss was sufficient to distract me, and, like always, Travis took advantage. He picked me up effortlessly, containing me within the prison of his arms though I struggled and struck him. "I guess I'll just have to steal you," Travis remarked airily, still a little breathless from the kiss. I shuddered in revulsion. Since when is he Cillian Murphy anyways? True to his word, he started to carry me towards the exit easily, and, oddly enough, no one cared or noticed. I felt like a sack of potatoes.

It was a lot like those ancient silent films. Taylor's a huge silent film buff, as he said earlier. He loves them. He collects them; he tapes them; he even helps restore them. He has specific favorites. Now, back to what I was saying... The situation was exactly like one of Taylor's silent films. I felt exactly like one of the girls in the films. You know, where the mustachioed villain traps or corners the girl, and then he kidnaps her and ties her to the railroad tracks to lure the hero? Yeah, now substitute Travis sans mustache for the villain and me for the writhing damsel in distress. Travis was determined to marry me, and he's impossible to deny when he's determined. He was even determined to marry me (I assume that's what he wanted, anyways), legal or not... and even willing or not. It's like I was nothing more than a possession to him. An object that he had to have so Tommy couldn't. Marriage, legally binding and forever, _'til death do us part_, was his great final solution.

And the best way to thwart Tommy's interests, whatever they were, and enrage him beyond anything ever attempted. Tommy was selfish (and, I suppose, to a lesser degree, possessive) above all, and he hated it when other people took his belongings. Especially if it was something he personally wanted and valued greatly. Now, the jury's still out on how "greatly" Tommy values me and all, but I think we can definitely agree that he at least wants some part of me.

Marrying me was then the greatest form of revenge against Tommy, and Travis was willing to take that chance. Especially since Travis, the giant dolt that he is, thinks that Tommy's in love with me. Like I'm the last dream of his soul or something. He was even willing to compromise with me to achieve what he wanted. Since Tommy was supposedly in love with me and all. Honestly, that should've been my first sign that he was nuts. Tommy, love **_me_**?! How insane can you get?! Tommy and _love_ do not even belong in the same sentence. I'm convinced that they don't coexist.

Just as I had resigned myself to my fate... realizing that I was completely and utterly screwed, **doomed** to a loveless marriage of contrivance to a cold man, my hero emerged from the darkness. And Lord, was he a vision! It might've been the light, but I could've sworn there was a halo around that familiar face. He looked unreal yet completely solid, completely there... standing in Travis' way.

Now, mind you, my hero was not the man I had wanted, expected, or even thought would save me/come to my aid. However, it's like that Stones' song. And in times of crisis such as this attempted marriage (honestly! He didn't even attempt to ask my parents' permission. Chivalry is not only dead; it is a-moldering in the grave! I mean, sheesh, if I was going to be a bride against my will, my parents had to at least give there consent. In fact, parents usually arranged marriages themselves. In the developing and pre-pre-pre-pre-industrial countries where they still do that barbaric custom. I mean, what, is he gonna go to Yemen or some other country that sees brides married off around puberty (how very Michael Jackson of him) and try to marry me there? Hell, in such a place, I'd be a downright old maid! Then again, in such a place, my would-be husband would be quite young indeed, and our nine-year age difference would seem tiny. That's the only way I could see him accomplishing it without getting my parents' approval, anyways), I've learned it's best not to be picky.

Not to say that my hero wasn't charming in his own weird way, or that he wasn't good-looking. My hero was Speed, actually, which surprised me almost as much as Travis trying to take me as _his_. Speed scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, and looking as angry (if not more) as I had ever seen him. "Hey, Jerk-**Off**! Get your dirty paws off my girlfriend!" Speed shouted aggressively, like he was no stranger to violence. He had this steely glint in his eyes, probably the kind that comes from watching movies with Clint, Bruce, Mel, Arnold, or Stallone. I would've rolled my eyes had he not been my only hope. Speed was some kid, just an average guy, not a gangster. He was a latch-key kid, but there isn't really very far you can go out in the 'burbs. It's a very long walk to Toronto Proper.

Despite the fact that I'm rather certain all parties involved knew he was most definitely not my boyfriend, it worked for him to say that. It was a sweet thing to do. Travis didn't listen, but what else is new? Honestly, given the fact that Travis is a black belt in Karate and several other notable martial arts, the outcome of the following altercation was a bit surprising. Let me tell you, I never thought Speed had it in him. Guess we don't call him "Speed" for nothing. Some van Gogh he makes.

Travis blatantly ignored Speed's violent "suggestion" and continued towards the door with me in tow. Unfortunately, Travis failed to realize just how much such a maneuver would piss Speed off. He tromped after Travis, lunging at him. In a flash, he socked Travis in the jaw, using his distraction to tear me from his now lax grip (my arm sure felt the force of that pull for days afterwards). Scowling and growling, Speed grabbed Travis by the shirt, twisting him around before hurling Travis out into the crowd. Apparently he's Jackie Chan. Travis landed flat on his ass, back on the floor, pressed to the ground. I think he was damn near trampled to death. The faster man always wins in a draw... Literally, 'cause the guy who draws his gun faster shoots the other and wins the duel. Not true in the sack, though. Just saying.

Speed kicked Travis in the ribs once or twice to ensure he stayed down or perhaps just vindictively. Either way, he didn't break anything, and Speed and I were soon halfway across the club, listening to the wonderful singer. Speed claimed he had to check me out to make sure Travis hadn't injured me, that I was A-okay, but Travis hadn't really hurt me at all this time (a rarity- I tend to get injured around Travis, who shows little concern for my body's wholeness). And I think Speed felt me up far more than was necessary for _investigation_ purposes.

Listening to the singer, whom Speed informed me went by the name of Tyler Kyte (as in the cute guy on Popular Science for Kids! I knew he looked familiar!), was nice. Relaxing, even. Tyler Kyte... what a heavenly, beautiful, exotic name. I sighed dreamily but stopped when I noticed Speed's glare. He pouted and looked, well, kinda adorable. Tyler was playing a beautiful song called "Soft Spoken". Unbelievably, the time had just flown past while we stood there; it was the last song of his set. Vincent asked me to slow dance with him. I said yes. Truthfully, this was the best date I'd been on in ages. I didn't want it to end, especially the music. It was rare to hear such great, perfect music on a date.

My eyes fluttered a little in his arms. His embrace was warm and comfortable. I smiled, not wanting to interrupt, but needing to say something to express my gratitude. Speed and I hadn't spoken much since he'd saved me, and then only about trivial things... like music, even though it wasn't trivial at all. "Thanks for rescuing me back there, Vince," I murmured contentedly. I exhaled heavily, leaning against his neck. "I owe you one," I continued softly, almost promising to repay the favor. Speed made a small sound of agreement, not even saying anything about my use of his first name. He almost seemed to like it.

I smiled softly and opened my eyes. I had to tilt my head, still resting on his shoulder, so I could look up at him. He had a blissful, benevolent grin stretched wide across his face. For some reason, in that moment, the light shone behind him and made him look like an exaggerated angel. I smiled dreamily, tracing his face. "You're an angel, Speed," I whispered, meaning it. I suddenly noticed just how close our faces were.

The smile dropped a little on Speed's face. "Call me Vincent." His voice was low, a little raspy. I couldn't help but smirk at that, but I nodded and repeated myself, substituting one name for another. He really did hate being called Vincent, after all. To quote the man himself, "Neither painter nor trophy I be." His eyes darted down to my lips almost hungrily. I locked eyes with him, moistening my lips with my tongue. It was a cruel game I was playing. I mean, what would my kiss taste like? Cheesecake, raspberries, stale cigarette, and cannoli? Something tells me it was a nasty mix.

He once again stared at my lips, only he didn't really move. I pouted enticingly; his eyes went slightly wide. Honestly, I was waiting to see how soon he'd break. He sure had no trouble planting one on me in the past, so I found it odd that now, when I actually wanted to kiss him, he held back. Or maybe it was kind of like how Tommy didn't have sex with me when I practically threw myself at him, only I didn't feel really violated or distraught this time.

So, since he wasn't doing anything, despite every cue in the book... I had to make the first move. I closed the gap between us and gently pressed my lips against his. It was nice, really. Not too forceful or too soft. Just right. It didn't even hurt my lips that much. It was the only nice kiss I had that night. And then the song ended, and we had to part ways. I told him we should hang again, once again complimented him on his taste in music, and then thanked him profusely and effusively one last time. I watched him go and then dashed off to the bathroom to get ready for the final date of the night.

It was almost eleven, according to my watch. That meant I had to haul ass. I was definitely going to be late.

I pulled out the equipment and turned on the faucet. Luckily the bathroom didn't look like a jungle of bacteria. I applied the dye, waited for it to set, and then washed it all out. Then I dried my hair as best I could (with paper towels), knowing it would be curly enough. I stripped in one of the stalls, changing into a black pencil skirt, a long-sleeved red v-neck (very low cut), and stiletto boots. I then placed my old clothes in my bag, redid my make-up, crammed in my green contacts, and added the carefully tinted sunglasses and black beret to disguise myself a bit more. I had to be really cautious in order to keep my secret, and even then, I wondered if, at times, Tim didn't see straight through me.

Then, remembering how Tommy's necklace had troubled me, I took it off reverently and put it in my pocket. I hated to take it off, to be unable to feel his medal against my skin, because I felt close to Tommy. And, after taking the necklace off, I felt further away from him than ever. I was no longer his Jude. I was Tim's Julia, playing a part so I could be myself at heart. If that makes an ounce of sense. I always wore that necklace nowadays, usually with the guitar pick Jamie had given me, yet every time I removed both of them for Tim. And I was not myself. I felt almost naked without that necklace. I missed its reassuring weight underneath my shirt, between my breasts. Strangely, however, I kept the substitute engagement ring Travis had given me. I merely turned it around so the seal was facing down. It was a seal, I think, the strange thing carved or etched into it. I honestly don't know why I chose to get rid of the bit of Tommy and keep that piece of Travis, when I should've chucked it away.

Apparently, it meant something to me. He had sure meant that proposal, only with the wrong intentions. The same couldn't be said for Tommy. After all of that was done, and I could barely recognize myself in the mirror, I dashed out of the club, scurried underground, and wound up where I was supposed to meet Tim. I was at least thirty minutes late (is that fashionable?), but I figured he was the kind of guy who would wait. Tim was never on time himself. And I'd never stand him up. I really, really, really like the guy, which makes this whole sneaking-around-and-being-someone-else-thing a terribly dangerous. 'Cause I have to keep reminding myself that I don't really know the guy at all.

I don't know what he does for a living. I don't know his last name. I don't know his birthday (another part of our agreement). It's kind of like You've Got Mail. We have these great talks, and I really feel this connection with him... but we don't get too personal. And when I'm around him, it's almost like I have to hide that part of myself. We almost never talk about music, you know. It's so casual when we go out, so much so that I almost wonder if we're just good friends who kiss sometimes. I do know one thing about Tim, however... I really like him, and that absolutely terrifies me.

Bad things happen when I start to like guys. Because liking turns to loving, which always ends in heartbreak. It's really just a slippery slope after that initial fondness. Once upon a time, for instance, I liked Jamie. Unfortunately, at the time, Jamie liked Kat. Kat loathed him. So that went nowhere. And then I liked Speed, but he was so oblivious, and he treated me like one of the guys. Which sucked ass. And then I liked Wally, who liked me and was actually a good first boyfriend (perfect, really. He picked bouquets of flowers for me, wrote me poetry, and always paid on dates. He even cleaned up)... but Speed's insane jealousy killed that relationship.

And then we come to the Infamous He Who Will Not Be Named. Not Travis. The guy I liked around the time I met Tommy, the one who went for my sister. I try continually to forget that scarring experience. And after him there's Shay the cheater, Tommy the liar, denier, and ball of confusion... And Travis. I liked him and it almost got me date-raped. Not to mention Taylor, who also lied about his identity and kisses like a wet fish. So I was pretty much just waiting for something to happen, because it tends to get worse the more I like the guy. Case in point: Tommy.

When I walked in the bar, I assumed Julia's walk. She stood upright, sashaying proudly through the crowd. Julia was tall, a graceful creature. Surprisingly, Tim was already seated at a table, polishing off his second drink. He looked a little anxious. Wow, was he actually thinking I'd stood him up? Maybe Tim liked me as much as I liked him. I smiled and hurried over to him, sliding into the seat across from him. A smile spread widely across his face. He set his empty drink down, immediately placing his hand over mine. I smiled apologetically. "Sorry I'm late. I had a previous... engagement. It ran a little longer than I expected," I explained breathlessly. The irony of my words hit me, and I had to force down a laugh. Engagement, indeed! "Life's been crazy lately," I continued with a nervous laugh. _Reeally_ crazy.

Tim just nodded calmly and seemed to accept this answer. He didn't say a word, though. Honestly, he just looked happy to be there with me. I hate simplicity, but that was really nice. Tim didn't look so hot, I guess. He was wearing all black, mostly tight clothing, which made his skin look pale. He looked a little ill or depressed or something. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about him was distinctly under the weather. I probably shouldn't have asked the question I did, but an inner force compelled me. "So, how's the girlfriend?" I asked casually, though the words had been forced off my tongue. I needed to know.

Tim grimaced as if he didn't even want to be reminded of her. He waved off my question. "Let's not talk about her," He said. So not good, then. Their relationship is on the rocks. Interesting. And, wow, when did I become such a scheming bitch? I nodded slowly, not quite satisfied with his answer. Okay, wish granted. He seemed to force a smile. "So, how about Mister Unavailable? Any hope there?" Tim inquired curiously. I flinched. Ow. Harsh. I forced a smile, though, and shook my head. Maybe that wasn't as much of a lie as I thought it was. This caused Tim to scowl. "**Asshole**!" He declared loudly, ordering another stiff drink. He turned to look at me. "To hell with him!" He proclaimed, holding up his drink for a toast. He leaned forward. "Really, Jules, you're too good for him. You deserve someone who wants you and only you."

That statement angered me. Firstly, Tim was obviously drunk, and well on his way to being wasted. Ten bucks says he's had at least four drinks. Not to mention that he'd said "To hell with Tommy!" That was something I was never quite willing enough to do. It seemed mean to me, and I took offense because I still loved the asshole. Plus, who the hell was Tim to talk? He had a girlfriend himself! He's no better than Tommy, so who is he to condemn him? "Even _you_ don't fit such limited requirements, Tim. So get off your moral high-horse. You've got a girlfriend just like he does," I snapped irritably. I was beginning to think I should've stood him up. I can't believe I overlooked his girlfriend to go out with him. I mean, Tommy says he and Sadie aren't doing good, and I reject him. I waver, but I still reject him in the end. What made Tim so different? We made out less? I didn't know his girlfriend? It made me feel low.

Tim looked ill at that remark. His frown deepened, and he took a large swig of his drink. He muttered nastily into his drink, clearly unhappy with me, but I couldn't hear what he said. No doubt it was profanity-laden, though. I sighed dully, ordered a water, and looked out at the crowd of dancing people. I was exhausted. After all, it's not every day that you get proposed to twice, almost kidnapped, and then rescued. It had been a long, long day. Tim was silent.

I swear, he was silent for the longest time. Like he was afraid to say something or just pissed and didn't feel like talking. I didn't exactly mind. I guess it was inevitable. Being "the other woman" bothered me a lot more than I ever let on. See, I told you bad stuff happens when I really like a guy. I got up and decided to leave. I wasn't having fun, and Tim was getting so wasted he couldn't possibly be fun to be around. Tim noticed, though, and he had surprisingly fast reflexes for someone so utterly drunk. He grabbed my wrist (reminding me of Travis, annoyingly enough). The look on his face was repentant. "I'm sorry, Jules! Just... Please stay. I haven't seen you in forever, and no one gets me like you do," He begged. He even pouted, which made him look like a complete idiot. Pathetic.

I jerked out of his grip, feeling incredibly turned off and sorry I'd had the misfortune of coming. What was I thinking? It was late; I didn't know him that well, and he had a girlfriend. Stupid me. How corny was that line? How could I have even bought that excuse before? It disgusts me. However, Tim lucked out, because at that very minute, "Twist and Shout" came on. And Tim asked me to dance. I didn't say no. I figured one dance wouldn't hurt anything, and besides, I liked the song. I wasn't going to let Tim spoil the one moment of enjoyment I might possibly have had there. Of course, I didn't know then that Tim was a phenomenal dancer. He took the words of the song very seriously. I have never been so twisted and shaken in my life. He did things with my body that I had hitherto thought were impossible (not in a good way, though). I wish I could've seen what it looked like.

Probably like he was dancing with a Raggedy Anne doll. He threw me all about. So great was his mastery of dancing that we won a prize. I got a crown. It was very cool. I felt kind of like Jenny Grey in Dirty Dancing. Only Tim was so much hotter than Danny Castle. Not to mention freakishly coordinated for a drunk. The sad thing is that Tim made it really fun for me, so I didn't mind being thrown around and forgot all about being mad at him. And after it was done, I was completely high off adrenaline and endorphins. I was breathless and sweaty, and I wanted to do it all over again, because I didn't really have to do anything. Tim did all the real work. So I kept dragging Tim out there, and he'd show off and... He even got them to play our song, although he seemed like he was gonna puke when he heard it. My, how the tables have turned.

Finally, about thirty minutes later, we both collapsed at the table. Tim was literally green, and I was red in the face. Tim swallowed hard and looked like he was going to throw up. Let me tell you, I almost jumped out of his way! But Tim didn't vomit, luckily for me. In fact, he leaned across the table and kissed me hard. I almost screeched in protest. His breath reeked of alcohol, and his mouth was bitter with the burn of it. He placed his hand on my knee after I pushed him away and started singing. He was off-key, and he was singing "Please, Please Me". I damn near smacked him silly for that.

Do I look like some chippy tart who would **please** him in that way? We didn't know each other _that_ well! He was drunk, and pathetically so. I knew he was going to regret it in the morning. Plus, since when had Tim ever _pleased_ me in that way? Never. So why was I supposed to reciprocate? "Can we go back to my place, Ju-Julia?" Tim inquired drunkenly, hiccupping in the middle of his sentence. I giggled, bemused. I couldn't refuse. Besides, what would he do? He was so incapacitated that I doubted he could even take off his clothes, let alone get down to the act itself. I knew that saying yes to such a proposition, at least this time, did not guarantee any sexual contact whatsoever. Strangely, I trusted him and knew that he would do me no harm.

Earlier, perhaps, when he was sober, I would have been afraid to say yes. Because that was the Tim I got dizzy kissing, the dead sexy one with the hoarse, wheedling voice whom it was nearly impossible to say no to. But now he was drunk, and I knew that I could best him. If it came down to a fight; I had the advantage. I was sober, and he was not. So what could it harm, I figured? No one. And it would be doing more harm to leave him to his own devices, such as driving drunk or choking on his own vomit. It was better that someone, that someone being me, be around to take care of him. So I nodded, and Tim's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

I actually think the drunken idiot thought he was getting lucky. Shall we say MO-ron? Anyways, then I gave my verbal consent. "How 'bout you tell me the address... and I'll drive. I can't wait to see it!" I chirped excitedly, managing to procure both keys and address from the man. I then aided him in paying for his drinks. We went outside together; he was leaning against me heavily. I slipped into the driver's seat while he stumbled into the passenger's side. His car was a nondescript black Cadillac, generally boring. I'd memorized the address, but he helped me by giving me directions along the way. We wound up in front of a small, rather decrepit-looking building in the University area. That's hilarious, too, because the University area is supposed to be this prosperous expensive area, but this part really wasn't. It was kind of ghetto-esque.

There was a small parking area in front of the place, but I was nonetheless worried that his nondescript car would get broken into. So I snatched my purse and helped Tim out of the car. I made sure to lock it. I even pressed the lock button twice. Tim was heavier than I was, so maneuvering the two of us inside that tiny building was far more difficult than it looked. Tim wasn't completely sauced, but he was sufficiently inebriated, which made it drastically harder for him to walk straight. He'd told me he lived on the third floor. It wasn't exactly a nice place. Okay, it was a few steps above a tenement or a housing project, but it was barely adequate.

I wouldn't call it especially nice or anything. Surprisingly, though, his apartment had several rooms. It had a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom that wasn't quite a bedroom but rather an extended living room. The kitchen was tiny, but it had a breakfast table big enough for two, a counter, a fridge, cabinets, and a stove. The bathroom, I was later to find out, was extremely cramped, barely big enough for one person, let alone two. There were slightly less than two feet between bath-shower, toilet, and sink. The living room was easily the biggest room. There was a desk in one corner next to the window, while a small dresser and a couch leaned against the wall connected to the kitchen. The bed took up most of the space, probably because it was the nicest thing in the apartment.

Okay, so his furniture was okay. And a laptop rested on top of the desk. Weirdly enough, the whole room was filled with loads of books. He didn't bother with bookshelves, either. He didn't even own a TV, just those books, hundreds of them, piled on most of the floor, half up to the ceiling, on the desk, next to the end table next to the bed... and an old radio. All sorts of books, too. Like he was studying or something. The apartment was pretty dusty too, as if it hadn't been used in a while or it wasn't cleaned often. Even stranger, there were no personal effects anywhere in the place, at least not that I could see. There was something strangely inhuman about that utter lack of sentimentality.

Nervously, I walked into his bedroom. Tim wasn't a good housekeeper. It surprised me, though, since he looked like a wealthy sort of guy. After all, he buys me drinks, has a motorcycle and a Cadillac. Tim seemed to perk up in familiar surroundings. He seemed much less drunk here, especially when he suddenly straightened up, grabbed me, and threw me on his bed. BAM! He was on top of me, crashing down like a waterfall, in two seconds flat. Was I afraid? Mildly. He started kissing me sloppily, not always hitting his target, and that was all right. That was all right, but I could taste the whiskey on his breath, feel the burn of it on my tongue. That repulsed me. It made me think of Travis drunkenly forcing his tongue in my mouth, even though Tim was a way better kisser, despite his drunken lack of coordination. I pushed Tim away; I didn't even like the feeling of his saliva on my skin.

Tim didn't fight back, and I got up, racing to the bathroom before he could. I cleaned up as best as I could because I felt so dirty from the long day and the long dates. I felt completely covered in grime and sleazy guys and cigarette smoke. One miserable T-name after another, I'm afraid. Excepting Speed. I had a good date with him if you cut out all the Travis crap. And the Tommy bit was rather pleasant, even if he's absolutely insufferable. When I emerged from the bathroom, feeling quite a bit less slimy, Tim was fast asleep and snoring. I thought it rather endearing, not obnoxious.

Something I have failed to mention: the lighting in Tim's flat left a lot to be desired. As in every light in the place was either burnt out, on the verge of burning out (sparking!), and/or dim. This left little available light beyond the moonlight, and absolutely no overhead lighting. Luckily, there were several windows in his bedroom. The area by the bed, in particular, was nearly black. No light emerged from it. Just as I started to creep towards the bed, the nearest light went out, the only one that functioned satisfactorily. The room plunged into darkness, and I was left to grope my way over to the bed.

I made my way there with little incident. Luckily my eyes adjusted quickly to the absence of light. I found Tim easily with the use of my hands. He neither woke nor stirred. In the darkness, I untied and removed his shoes. Carefully, I adeptly slipped his heavy limbs out of the leather jacket I later covered him with. Finally, I removed his sunglasses with trembling fingers that brushed against the smooth skin of his eyelids, the sharpness of his cheekbones, his fragile temples, and the fine fringe of his eyelashes. But I couldn't linger too long. I had to find my way in the darkness. I ought to go home. What if Mom and Dad are worried?

Upon stumbling over some books, I realized the necessity of procuring some form of light. Luckily, I found several candles in the kitchen. There were no matches, but I had my- er, Tommy's- lighter. I brought the candles in the bedroom and had placed them on his bedside table when Tim suddenly awoke. I caught a glimpse of him in the moonlight, and it wasn't a pretty picture. He looked crazed and horribly pale. "Julia!" He cried urgently, reaching out blindly for me. I quickly supplied him with my hand and stepped into his line of vision. Tim relaxed a little, but his eyes were still dark and wild. I felt his forehead like a mother would; it was warm, and he was beginning to sweat. "I don't feel so good," Tim groaned, clutching his stomach.

I didn't want to get thrown up on, so I pulled him up and dragged him to the bathroom, flicking on the light abruptly. The light burned his hungover eyes, but at least he could see. He barely made it to the bathroom in time. One would assume that I would get a glimpse of his face, bare without the glasses, but I didn't. I was too busy taking care of Tim and worrying about him. I had to be the strong one, the one that took care of him. I flushed the toilet after he'd thrown up. I held his head up after he'd been ill so that he didn't hover over the toilet. I ran my fingers through his hair soothingly, rubbing his back, attempting to comfort him. I helped him stand, poured him glasses of water to gargle with, handed him Listerine and his toothbrush to clean his mouth. I helped him clean his face with a hot washcloth. Honestly, I was too focused on being sure that he was okay to care about what he looked like. Oddly enough, I found that I wasn't even curious. It didn't matter to me. Because I'd still like him just as much, even if he got drunk and puked repeatedly.

At least, I wasn't curious then.

He kept me up half the night vomiting and then dry-heaving. He was so fragile then, completely dependent on my care to ensure his survival. I felt so powerful. It was good to be needed, it really was. But eventually he stopped ralphing, and I helped Tim, who was half-asleep, back to the bed. Lazily he threw off his shirt and unbuttoned his jeans. I had to help him out of them and under the covers, but he went to sleep almost immediately. The poor fella was just exhausted, and he deserved his rest. I went back to the bathroom, did a bit of cleaning, and washed my hands and face. The icy cold water felt good against my hot skin.

I came back into his room and walked over to the nightstand. I lit one of the candles, carrying it with me. I only did it so that I could see the floor. The last thing I needed to do was twist my ankle again. Like I said, when I was in the bathroom with him, practically pressed up against him the entire time, my legs in between his, I wasn't at all curious. And now, suddenly I was. The moonlight illuminated precious few of his features, shedding light on the tip of his nose, his tousled curls, his full bottom lip. Tim was lying on his stomach, face half-buried in the pillow. One of his arms was crushed beneath him while the other skimmed the floor. I could hear his deep, heavy breathing.

He was in a blissful state of repose, and he looked so at peace that I envied him. Peace and bliss are two feelings I don't think I ever experience quite enough of, especially the former. What can I say? I'm a redhead, quick to anger and hot-blooded. I don't have time to slow down or rest or relax or relent for one moment. I have to be strong and fierce and stand up for myself. I didn't sleep much, and if I did, I'd just wake up again or have one of those awful nightmares.

Looking at him, I wanted to expose his every secret, but most of all... I burned to see his face, to uncover his true features. This is why Jude is the patron saint of hope, not faith. I wasn't willing to take Tim without seeing him, not on faith alone. I put my trust in what my gut tells me and what my eyes can see. And my eyes couldn't really see him that clearly, my brain told me I didn't know him, and there was something horribly wrong with him according to my gut. It was just this feeling I have, although I guess he could be deformed or something. But that wasn't it, you know? 'Cause I could care less about that kind of secret. If there's one thing I've learned from Travis, it's that appearances are deceiving, and they often betray you. Never assume what you're seeing is actually the real thing. And this niggling voice in the back of my head kept saying that maybe there was a reason neither of us had really had a good look at each other, that maybe Tim was hiding something just like I was... maybe even his real identity. The pieces didn't exactly add up right. That's something I learned from Tommy. Never trust anyone.

I held the candle up, or rather down, close to his face. And just as Tim turned and I was about to see him in all his glory... I realized what I was doing. It was so wrong, violating his privacy like that. If he wanted me to see him for who he really is, he would. Plus, don't I know his mind, his heart, even a little? Why do I need to know his exterior when I feel like I know his soul? It shouldn't matter... but it does nonetheless, doesn't it? Still, I wasn't willing to risk it. And who knows? Maybe I just didn't want to confirm that he was hiding the biggest secret of all from me. Maybe I didn't want to know and ruin this image of him. Maybe, just this once, I wanted to have faith in someone again, to trust a stranger.

So I pulled the candle away from his face. I leaned down, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then I walked around to the other side of the bed. I set the candle down, blew it out, and kicked off my shoes. And then I removed my shades, collapsing on the bed next to him, burying my face in the pillow. I tried not to fall asleep, really I did, but I fell unconscious anyways. I woke up several hours later when Tim (I presume) smoothed my hair and kissed my forehead. He had wrapped the comforter around me. "Here's hoping you let me see you again," He murmured wistfully before leaving. I was half-asleep then, but I awoke when the door slammed shut. Tim's apartment was much brighter in the daytime.

I blinked to adjust my eyes to the light. For a moment I contemplated going after him, but I decided it wasn't worth it to run after him for... what? A good morning kiss? I glanced at the clock: it was a little before 7:00. School normally started in about thirty minutes. Normally, this would've sent me racing into a frenzy to get dressed and leave, but I didn't have school because of the suspension. Not that I would've wanted to go anyways, what with the weirdness with Travis last night. I tried and failed to go back to sleep, and finally I just got out of bed. I headed to the bathroom for a quick shower, carting my bag with me.

Firstly, I removed the contacts. My eyes were aching and completely bloodshot. I put in a lot of eyedrops to try and alleviate the pain. Then I got in the shower and washed the dye out of my hair. After that, I took a regular shower; it felt really good to wash all the filth off me. I put on the camisole and skirt from my date with Speed and padded back into Tim's bedroom. Sitting down on his bed to put on the more comfortable pair of boots, I noticed something I hadn't before. There was a letter on the nightstand next to me. Zipping up my boots, I grabbed the letter, proceeding to read it aloud as I snooped around Tim's place.

Tim's clothes smelled just like him, and they were all t-shirts, jeans, nondescript sort of stuff. The kind of clothes every guy owns. He had very little in the way of food: a half-empty bottle of wine, a couple apples, a box of Poptarts, some leftover Chinese. It was pretty disappointing. I checked everywhere and found absolutely nothing even mildly personal. The letter, on the other hand, was a far bigger success. It read as follows:

_Dear Julia,_

_I'm sorry that I got so drunk last night. I had a pretty rough day. I know that's no excuse, but there was all this drama with my girlfriend... I think I'm lucky to be alive, actually. I was really confused and thinking about things, and I foolishly thought that getting terrifically drunk would get my mind off of them. It didn't even really work._

_It was a really stupid thing to do, and I'm sorry. I look forward to these dates with you so much, and now, because of my stupidity, I might never get another one. Honestly, I don't blame you if you never want to see me again. You didn't deserve that: me drunk and acting like the idiot I really am. I cannot thank you enough for taking care of me and looking after me last night in my inebriated stupor. You really didn't have to do that, but it means a lot to me that you did. I'm sorry I was so much trouble._

_See, that's my big secret, Jules. I'm trouble, more of it than I'm worth. I'm surprised you're even still talking to me after you found out about my girlfriend. When you think about it, everything's kind of a mystery about you and me. We barely know each other, it seems, but then there's that connection... You feel it too, right? It's not just me? We don't even know each other's last names, but you just... get me, you know?_

_Do you want to know a secret?_

_Do you promise not to tell?_

_I'm seriously thinking about breaking it off with my girlfriend. Going out with her isn't really fair to any of us, especially since I... I don't feel much of anything for her, and I don't even know why I'm with her. I can't stop thinking about you. I like everything about you: your smile, your hair, your eyes. When I'm not around you, it's like thoughts of you follow me everywhere. You're like a song stuck inside of my head. I keep repeating the words to the chorus to myself and smiling, and the melody's always playing in my mind, slow and sweet. And when I see you, the melody skips and slows down and speeds up all at the same time, and I'm horribly confused and overwhelmed._

_So I guess this is it, then. I just have to say it and stop hiding behind all these words._

_I think I'm falling in love with you, Julia._

_There's nothing really left to say after that except that I hope I'll get to see you again, even if it is only as a friend. You've got my number if you want me._

_- Tim xoxo_

And, aww, lookie! He even quoted the first Beatles original song George Harrison sang. Although, the fact that it was written about John discovering that he really did love his wife kind of cheapens it. Still, wow. Tim thinks he's falling for me. Wow. I just couldn't believe it! I could barely even say I liked him. It suddenly seemed like Tim was over the moon for me or something, ridiculous as that sounds. Still, there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to call him up right away and ask him out again. Strange as it was, I actually kind of liked taking care of him.

You know, I've just realized that my life is like some crazy mash of Sixteen Candles, Pretty in Pink, Music and Lyrics, The Fabulous Stains, Rock 'n' Roll High School, Once More with Feeling, The Little Mermaid, American Dreamz, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (just from the title, Sadie), Red-Headed Woman, Gigi, Jerry Springer, and with a touch of SLC Punk and a dash of Sid and Nancy. That does explain why it's so crazy, doesn't it? 'Cause I don't think that even makes sense.

It suddenly occurred to me as I was chomping down on one very dry strawberry Poptart a few moments later that I needed to check my phone. People could've been actually worried about me. Shocking, I know. But I checked anyways, rolling my eyes upon noticing that my parents hadn't called. Speed had, weirdly enough; he sounded worried. Jamie had too. And then, of course, Tommy. I find it a little sad that only men care to leave me messages. Does that make me a whore or something? I mean, I expect Jamie to worry when I don't show up. And I'll bet Jamie, knowing about my date with Speed, called up his buddy and asked him why the hell I wasn't home yet. It's the Tommy bit I'm wondering about. What could his motives possibly be?

Nevertheless, my natural curiosity overcame me, and, deleting the first two messages, I pressed play and listened to the third. Tommy's familiar voice came over the line, and I immediately felt at ease, though I was in a strange place. His voice was scratchy and extremely hoarse. Perhaps he'd caught my old cold. "Hey, Jude," He began anxiously. I winced. Not a good start. "I'm really sorry about ruining your date with Taylor. It was completely tactless, thoughtless, and idiotic of me. But you have to realize... He's my kid brother. I don't feel comfortable with you two dating, and I never will, but he really likes you, Jude. He can't wait to see you, and he sure can't stop talking about you. So I guess I'll just have to get used to it and learn to accept it. Just... don't hurt him, okay? It's a two-way street, though; Taylor knows I'll kick his ass if he breaks your heart..." Tommy explained, trying to be diplomatic.

I was kind of proud. It was awfully mature of him. But I felt a small pang thinking about how mostly unbothered he'd sounded. Almost like he didn't care if I dated his brother. I was used to Tommy's unfounded jealousy, damn it! I thought the message was over, because there was a very long pause. It wasn't over though; I heard Tommy chuckle softly before he continued to speak. "We had a good time, though, didn't we?" He asked rhetorically. I could hear the smile in his voice, and I couldn't help but nod along with his voice. Yes, yes we did. He exhaled heavily. "Sometimes, girl, you even take my breath away," Tommy mused thoughtfully, in an even lower voice. He sighed in remembrance, a happy sigh, and then continued. "Goodnight, then. I'm sorry... I have no hope to give," Tommy whispered in a voice that was laden with regret. The words stung bitterly. Yet I have the faith to expect it, that hope he cannot give. That assurance he cannot give. "Goodbye."

And then, with a beep, the message had ended. I pressed the number I'd memorized and waited for an answer. Three or more rings, it seemed an eternity- and I received none. I am by no means a patient woman, so I pressed another button to leave him a message. "My lips are swollen, Tommy." Enigmatic, isn't it? So enigmatic that even I have no idea what that means. And with a click, I turned my phone off, severing the line of communication.

I polished off the rest of the dry Poptart and threw the wrapper in the trash. Then I gathered up my bag and left, slamming and locking the door behind me. I dashed to the subway, not wanting to be seen. I was, after all, still famous... and now I was Jude, not Julia. I didn't want Tim asking questions. I got on the train, and while hugging a pole, I called Tim to leave the message. Then I went to G. Major, grabbed my car, and sped home to rest properly. It had, after all, been one very long, very eventful (inSaNe!) day and night... and didn't I deserve a very long, very blissful rest in my own bed?

Plus, it was kind of nice to be dead to the world, especially its men... If only for a little while.

- Loren ;

Please review! I've really been dying for some companionship. Lol. Nah, really, your reviews would be... so incredibly appreciated.

Recommendations: (I actually reposted this whole section just because I remembered to do this)

You Will Be Mine, Adored, and Sweet Surrender by Sixte3n Candl3s. I might be biased, since Six is completely one of my best friends on here, but she rocks. She really, really does. She has this way of looking at things in a completely different light and twisting it upside down, making it wholly her own. Her stories all phenomenal, especially if you like dark and twisty and AU. I like dark and twisty. Lol, actually, I'm rather partial to You Will Be Mine, as it was written as a birthday present for me. ;) She's working on the next chapter now and hopes to get it up this week... though Sweet Surrender is amazing. My fave. It's very well written.You Will Be Mine is the darkest of them all. Tommy's a beast in it. Sweet Surrender, basically forbidden love, but, gasp age is the least of their worries. And Adored is basically... Jude has an affair with her sister's betrothed.

Very Bad Things, GigliWasCool's new fic. So freaking awesome. Seriously. Tommy's a "bad" man. It's really great: funny, but deep. Tommy even has an angel and a devil that sit on his shoulders and nearly drive him insane. I pronounce it absolutely fantastic! It's better than drugs and sugar. Seriously, you'll want more. You will beg for it. It's rated M, though, but just for language right now. Tit For Tat, which is unfortunately on hiatus is also awesome, as is its prequel, Bang Theory. I swear, those two stories had me in stitches. I was trying unsuccessfully to stifle my laughter in the middle of the night. You will never laugh so hard. They're also peppered with all sorts of fun pop culture references. It's like Instant Star and Best Week Ever all mashed together. Love them to pieces.

Unexpected by CayenneIsAmazing (seriously, Ruby, you really need to change your penname, silly). It's a veritable rollercoaster. She doesn't update near enough, but maybe if you stalk her and review... Who knows? Seriously. There's drama galore. It really does live up to its title... You never have any idea what's going to happen next. I wish I could say more, but there's that obnoxious headache. Anyways, go read it! It's getting awful lonely collecting dust in the middle pages.

Anything by Shakabuku. Seriously, she's a HUGE inspiration of mine. She's hilarious, and she writes Jude/Tommy banter like nobody's business. Always makes for an amusing fic. She has several one-shots that are absolutely lovely (99 Bimbos is really cute), and then Slut vs. Virgin, which should be required reading, I think, for any aspiring IS writer. It's like... the perfect Instant Star fic. Aside from that, she's got A Bittersweet Homecoming on the official Canadian site. Just check the messageboards and it's there. If you like this story, you will definitely love that one. They're actually a lot alike, set in the same time period, and Jude decided to tour with Shay in both. Trust me, it is worth sorting through all the pages to read her updates.

Pick of the Week: So Damn Clever by bubblebuttsbabe. This fic, I tell you, is a breath of fresh air. She updates frequently. Her updates are consistently amusing and of a decent length. Plus, it's her first fic, and it's great. Not to mention grammatically correct. After you read it, you want to find out what's going to happen next. I mean, in what other fic do Jude and Tommy go to Chuck E. Cheese's? That's just comic gold right there.

Other Pick of the Week: Enchanted Hunters by le brixz. You can't really say too much about it. Other than that it's kind of Lolita-ish. It's really excellent. Very well written. Guess you'll just have to read to find out.

Third and Final Pick of the Week: I Choose by LovesMeSomeJommy. I really like it. It's a very unique, humorous spin on what could be Season Four. And, at the time of this posting, it is also newly updated. And very funny. Speed and Karma have a reality show. Enough said, really... I don't want to spoil it for ya. Now go out and read it! Fourteen chapters already, and it hasn't even been up for a week! Great stuff!

Oh, and one final recommendation, just 'cause I'm biased like that... My other fic, Wilted. ;) I think some of you have read it. It's radically different from this one (and, okay, depressing)... but I'm the common denominator. It sounds completely different than this fic in about every single way, and you actually get to see inside of Tommy's mind. I'm only kind of in love with it. It's dark and twisty and serious, so if you like Six' stuff... or, frankly, if you'd like to see me write anything other than carefree or a rollercoaster of emotions... You'd like it. Hopefully. Anyways, basically, the plot is like this: AU Un-Sweet Sixteen. Tommy decides to go after Jude after she runs out at the end. Who would think that that one decision would forever alter the rest of their lives? And, okay, so maybe he takes her back to his place and deflowers her... It's a slippery slope into sin. Full of Tommy guilt and torment and issues and heartbreak.

Now that the shameless self-plugging is over...

Next chapter: Tommy gets caught in the buff, Jude helps Tommy escape her house, and... she finds something unsettling in Tommy's jacket.

Seriously, review. You know you wanna. Go ahead, make my day. ;)


	36. Liar, Liar

Okay, so I completely hate to whine about a lack of reviews like one of those annoying authors who requests a certain number of reviews before posting another chapter. Seriously, one time a chick flamed me for begging for more reviews. I wonder if it occurred to her that I was like 13 or 14 then? Wench. Anyways, back to what I was saying... Given how much time and words I put into this story, and even the frequency of updates (One to two a month really isn't that bad), I really would like more reviews. It's summer, so I know that you guys have the time. And, while I myself am a completely lazy person, even I review stories I like, especially ones with interesting plot twists. And I like to think that I've at least given you interesting plot twists. I mean, let's see... Jude almost getting raped, Travis proposing to Jude? I really pull out all the stops for this story. Now, I realize that very few people actually read author's notes, but some people do, which is why I'm doing this. And those people who don't, just, well, won't. I promise I won't bother you with any whiny review notes after this. Now, remember, I'm not saying you have to review... I don't want to infringe upon your liberties or whatever. I just really, really, really wish a few more of you would.

According to Word, this story is 563 and ½ pages, not counting this chapter. According to the site, it has over half a million words. It has 42,000-something hits. And it only has 485 reviews. Now, Chapter 33 got 24. Chapter 34 got 17. And now Chapter 35 has only 11. They're seriously going down, and that makes me a little sad because I put so much time into this story, and I love it more than words can describe. Now, my other story, which has been on the site for a little less than this one and has less than half of the words this one does, only taking up a little more than a hundred pages in comparison... And, mind you, it has exactly HALF as many chapters as this one, and I take long gaps in between updates for it... That story not only has over 10,000 more hits than this one, but it is on more favorites lists and story alerts (although, on the bright side, this story is on more favorite lists than story alerts, which means that people like it enough that they don't necessarily need story alerts. Of course, I also update this one more regularly), not to mention its presence in 6 different C2s... And now that story has more reviews than this one. Which I think is really really sad, but when you consider that I got 55 reviews for one chapter of that thing... Heck, I posted an update to it this morning (I wrote this note very long ago) and got 8 reviews during the day. And 882 people have viewed that chapter, as opposed to the 529 people who viewed the Chapter 35. I don't exactly think that's fair. So, please, please, please... won't you guys just review a little bit more? I'm not going to say that I won't post until I get x number of reviews because a lot of the reason I write this story is for myself, and I don't want to be one of THOSE authors... but more reviews on this story would really make me _happy, _and I really do want more people to read it. And remember, if you add this story to story alert or your favorites list, the site has this nifty feature where I can see it and check it, and it now even alerts me when someone does that. So I **will **know if you put me on either of those things and have never reviewed, not even one time.

I'm also sorry it took me so long to get the chapter up. I wanted to get it up before I left, but, well... It was way short. And not dramatic enough. And I got back on the third, and then an exchange student came and is staying at our house, so my dad had us all running around... So if I wanted alone time with my computer, I had to stay up 'til six in the morning to get it, y'know what I mean? Anyways, it's here now, before school. So, I hope this chapter was worth waiting for. Although I'm not sure it was, but whatever... Hope you like it.

* * *

It all began seemingly innocently enough. Frankly, it had been quite a boring day. I was almost beginning to miss school, only every time I thought that, I reminded myself of Travis' awkward proposal. Given the rest of that week, though, I should've known it couldn't be so dull. I'd done basically nothing all day. I slept in, although I kept waking up, woke up around lunchtime (even though I didn't eat it), ran some errands, hung out at the studio a while. But even that was dull. Yawn and a half. Kwest was making out with Portia, and Tommy wasn't there. Oh, wait, I forgot about the fashion shoot they had me do. Wedding dresses. I stopped for an ice cream on the way home and polished it off in my car. That was, thus far, the highlight of my day. Posing in wedding dresses was more depressing than fun. It reminded me of how I wasn't going to get married anytime soon.

I was just returning from a trip to the mailbox, and I was currently sorting through the mail. Bill, bill, bill... Thing for Sadie, junk, junk... And then, there it was! My monthly royalty check! Clutching the letter, I dashed to my house, setting the other mail aside as I planted my ass firmly on the steps in front of my house. I had to restrain myself from tearing the letter open, but I noted with glee that my royalty check was particularly higher this month. Guess they must be playing my songs more. Sure, I was going to have to deposit it later, but still, it was nice to get so much money. Smiling, I got up, picking up the rest of the mail, and skipped inside. "_We're in the money... We're in the money_," I hummed cheerfully, carefully setting the rest of the mail on a strategically placed end-table. Royalty check in hand, I headed upstairs.

I set the letter, check, and envelope down on my dresser, and grabbed clean underwear. I hadn't showered this morning. I continued humming, walking into the bathroom I shared with Sadie, depositing the garment, and starting the water. Then I left, still humming, to look for something to wear to the gig I had in a couple hours. It was the first true concert I'd done since the Shay Tour, and the first concert with new material off what would become my next CD. Understandably, I was more than a little bit nervous, which is ridiculous since I've performed in stadiums. After ten or fifteen very long, very excruciating minutes, I'd found the clothes. I took the clothes to the bathroom, locking the door behind me superstitiously.

I was home alone, yes, but you never know. What if Dad came home early or a robber broke in or something? There was no curtain on the window, but for some reason, I was okay with that. If anyone saw me, then, it'd be either Jamie or his Nana, and both of them have seen me naked before (although Jamie hasn't seen me naked since I was six). I started to strip, beginning with my shoes, then my socks, then my belt. I started to unzip my jeans, which felt good. I figured the shower water was hot enough, but I decided to go over and check so I could adjust it properly. I pulled the shower curtain back and stuck my hand in the water.

I pulled my hand back almost immediately. The water was ice cold. Damn shower's acting up again. I'm gonna have to call Paul the Plumber again. I decided I might as well check the setting. Maybe I twisted it the wrong way. I walked to the other end of the shower and pulled back the curtain. Sure enough, it was twisted to the cold setting. Strange. I could've sworn I twisted it the other way. Whatever. I shook my head and twisted it back to hot. While withdrawing my hand, it came into contact with something that felt suspiciously like skin. I drew my hand back sharply. I must be losing my mind. Clearly there was no one in my shower.

Then there was a sharp hiss from the shower. Startled, I pulled back the curtain... And there was Tommy. In my shower. Naked. And wet. Tommy whirled around to face me. And, bam, there's Tommy in all his naked glory! Let me tell you, he looked waaaay better in person than on some tiny TV screen. I jumped back, terribly and wonderfully surprised all at the same time. "_Hello, _Tommy," I said appreciatively, checking him out unashamedly. "I'm seeing a _lot _more of you than I usually do." Tommy glowered at me, placing his hands on his hips. It was like I couldn't tear my eyes off of him, not that I wanted to. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The way the water dripped down the plane of his chest, those amazingly chiseled muscles. A huge, crazy smile spread across my face as my eyes roamed over Tommy. He really was a handsome sight, wasn't he?

Tommy leaned over and grabbed a towel off the towel rack. I watched the way his muscles stretched with admiration. Distractedly, I bent over to turn off the water, since Tommy had apparently decided his shower was over. How unfortunate. I bet you're wondering why I didn't ask what the hell he was doing in my shower. Truthfully, I didn't ask because I didn't care. _Then, _anyways. One of Canada's Sexiest was using my shower. I was a very, very lucky girl, and I'm not going to question my good luck. That's bad luck. Tommy began to towel off; I watched him with rapt attention. It was utterly fascinating really, and I wasn't even ashamed or anything. Having Tommy naked less than a foot away from me was immensely distracting, you see.

Tommy wrapped the towel around his waist, and I was jealous of the towel. In fact, I wished it would just go away. It was obscuring my view, not that I hadn't seen everything. I just liked looking at him. Tommy looked up just then and caught me looking at him. I didn't even attempt to look away. Yeah, I'd been staring at him. What of it? It's not my fault he's a total babe. Besides, it was my house, after all, and my shower. He was trespassing. "It's rude to stare, Jude," Tommy drawled in a low voice, clearly full of amusement. He was loving it. He's an attention whore, really. He loves every little bit he gets. I somehow snapped out of my daze enough to roll my eyes at him.

I shrugged, gesturing towards him. "Well, you're kinda right there. It's hard to look away," I exclaimed in a no-nonsense voice, once again gesticulating towards the towel. Really, my eyes were drawn there, especially now that I knew exactly what he looked like under it. Hey, I'm a teenage girl! I'm allowed to be hormonal. Tommy smirked at me, crossing his arms over his chest. He's so cocky, you know? Not that he doesn't completely have reason to be, but being cocky with me? Is he stupid? He knows I'm into him. "Oh, come on, Tommy... You know I'm attracted to you. I've always been attracted to you," I pointed out bluntly. Tommy actually looked somewhat surprised, which I didn't understand. Since it was only obvious and all.

A relatively awkward silence ensued, so I decided to break it. The longer Tommy was in my bathroom, the more accustomed I became to his nakedness. It was beginning to have less of an effect on me. I glanced down at my watch. 2:30. "So, Tom, care to tell me what you're doing in my shower at 2:30 in the afternoon?" I asked casually, shooting him a curious look. He didn't answer. "Not that I don't love having you here, Thomas... It's just a little strange. You being here... _trespassing _and all," I continued somewhat awkwardly. I really do love entertaining Tommy, but it's a little strange of him to drop in on me in the middle of the day. Not to mention how even more strange it is to find him showering. Was he dirty or something? I looked around the bathroom and noticed his clothes in a pile on the floor nearby, underneath the towel rack. How had I missed that?

Tommy smiled easily at me, and I kind of forgot to care about why he was there. That smile _does _things to me. He was just there, and for the moment, that was all that mattered. I blinked as Tommy stepped out of the shower. Predictably, he slipped and grabbed me to brace himself. His grip was almost bruising, and I was surprised his weight hadn't sent me tumbling to the floor. What had really happened was that he'd pulled me up close against him. I could feel his moisture seeping in through my clothes... a drop or two here and there. He moved to get away from me, but my fingers latched around the knot in the towel. My fingers flicked briefly across Tommy's skin, making him draw in a shallow breath. While he was effectively distracted, I undid the knot and let the towel fall to the ground. I faked an apologetic smile, pretending it was an accident, and then I bent down and picked the towel up. Smiling wickedly, I rose to my feet, holding the towel outstretched.

"You seem to be more than a little wet, Tommy..." I remarked amusedly. I grinned at him, jerking the towel away just as he tried to grab it. "No, allow me," I insisted, stepping a bit closer to him. I dragged the towel down his arm first, making sure to wipe off every last drop of water. Then I circled around him, bringing the towel down across his taut back. I swept the towel down lower and lower, over his ass (I couldn't resist giving it a squeeze). The towel continued down and around each leg, one leg at a time, going so low I had to bend to dry him off properly. I worked my way back up, of course, from the foot to well up his thigh. I wrapped the towel around the leg, wiping away every drop at a time. I stretched further and further, sliding the towel up, up, up, and closer... Tommy shook a little and started to pant the farther up I got. I knew he was getting turned on by the whole thing, so I stood up, leaning the whole of me against his back.

Tommy's knees buckled and damn near gave way. My lips curled into a smirk, and I mischievously moved the towel up to his other arm, slowly drying it, even his fingers... one by one. It gave me an excuse to hold his hand. Then I got up on my tiptoes, drying off his neck and then making as much of an effort as I could on his hair. Then I dragged my nails down his back. Tommy tensed and almost writhed against me. I let the smile linger on my face; I enjoyed having such absolute power over him. Then I leaned into him a little more; his skin wasn't wet, but it was still flushed and moist from the shower. Tommy rocked unintentionally on his heels. I wrapped my arms around him, blindly exploring his chest for a few sweet moments. Tommy shook when I did that, a full on body shake that rocked me. So I took the towel and ran it up and down his chest, copping an occasional feel. I could feel the hard muscles through the thin fabric.

I moved the fabric all the way up to his Adam's apple, felt it bobbing beneath my hands. My smirk widened, and I let my hands drop, let the towel fall to the ground. And then I stepped around Tommy, retrieved the towel yet again, stood back up, and looked pointedly at the area I was going to dry. I licked my lips. He was still wet there, but just a little. I leaned forward, towel in hand, approaching the area, but at the last moment, Tommy snatched the towel out of my hand and wiped it off himself. I smirked at him, checking him out... Okay, so maybe I had thoughts of sex in my mind. What else is new? He swallowed hard, and I placed a finger on his chest. "What, Tommy, am I making you nervous?" I asked, already knowing the answer. His Adam's apple bobbed. Too easy. I smirked and ran my hand down his chest. I left the hand there on his lower chest, just above the place on Tommy's stomach that the towel had rested. I liked to watch the way Tommy squirmed, writhing beneath my hand.

Parts of his face were still damp. I licked a bead of water off his chin. Tommy gulped. "I know of an excellent way of relieving all the _tension _between us," I continued with a pointed look downward. Tommy blushed in embarrassment, but I kept that smirk plastered to my face. I leaned forward just a bit more, poking him in the chest to punctuate my statement. "And it involves you, me, and a shower," I hinted flirtatiously. Tommy swallowed hard this time (though he looked sorely tempted) and pulled back.

Tommy flashed an awkward smile and managed to step around me. My eyes followed him, though; I turned around and checked out his ass. Okay, so perhaps I have a one-track mind, but he was just _there, _practically begging for my slightest attentions! "Jude, stop checking out my ass," Tommy said quietly, doing something in the mirror. Aww, but it's a very nice ass. That's like taking candy away from a baby. Tommy's my candy... my _eye_-candy.

Tommy being cocky and saying things like that is kind of a turn-off. I'm kind of lucky his attitude doesn't turn me on, or else I'd be completely, hopelessly obsessed with Tommy... and probably in love with Travis or something God-awful like that. So that was like a cold shower, which reminded me that Tommy had been taking a cold shower. Why had he been taking a cold shower? Neither Sadie nor I had seen him that day unless... someone else? I suddenly had to ask, of course, because I'm so damn curious about everything... even things I probably don't wanna know. "You'd check out your own ass if you weren't too busy making goo-goo eyes at yourself in the mirror," I retorted sarcastically, poking fun at his vanity. I was hoping it would maybe puncture his ego a bit. I frowned and walked towards him. Unbelievably, he was still looking at himself in the mirror. "Why were you taking a cold shower, Tommy?" I questioned forcefully.

I figured that was the only way I could get him to listen to me. Using some kind of force. He didn't answer that either, so I made an executive decision. I decided it was time for him to stop preening and whirled him around to face me. I'm kinda like a tornado that way. Before my authority is questioned, remember that it was my house, and since all of my elders had currently vacated it... I was its mistress. Tommy was nothing but an intruder, and I had the right to interrogate an intruder. "_Tommy..." _I said warningly, exasperatedly, clutching his shoulder. Tommy played strong and silent and pleaded Section 13. That sounds weird. Would it sound better if I said he pleaded the Fifth? I mean, it's the same principle, just a different country and a different document. Point is that Tommy didn't answer. Self-incrimination and all that. "Tommy, you are an intruder in my home. If you don't answer my questions, I will not hesitate to kick you outside and let the paparazzi figure out what you're doing here," I declared boldly, grabbing his wrist and moving towards the door.

Truthfully, I probably couldn't have even dragged him down the stairs, but there was always the police to call. A man in a towel would be quite suspicious, regardless of what our relationship appears to be in the media. Needless to say, that comment was subsequently enough to get Tommy to pay attention to me. I began again, "Tommy, what are you doing in my bathroom in the middle of the day, much less taking a cold shower?" I kept my hand on Tommy's wrist, tight, crossed an arm over my chest, and waited for an answer.

Tommy pouted, but I was not deterred. I glared at him, and he sighed and gave in. "Okay, fine. I was thinking of _you..." _Tommy replied, trailing off. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. There was a mischievous look in his eyes, so I wasn't fooled for a minute. I was, however, rather flattered at the joke. I gave Tommy a stern look; he frowned at me. Then he took a deep breath and answered. "I had to get away," He muttered evasively. Obviously, Tommy wasn't going to be forthcoming with the details, so I had to get them out of him somehow. I wasn't going to ask why.

I moved close to Tommy, smiling at him sweetly. At first, Tommy didn't look even remotely nervous. But that would soon change... if I had anything to say about it. I stepped closer and closer to him; Tommy remained unfazed. I smiled slyly and placed my fingers on his chest. Tommy tensed. I ran my fingers down his chest, up and down, again and again. When my hand was over his heart, I felt that it was beating faster. I smiled in satisfaction. It was just beginning. I leaned forward, pressing myself against Tommy- but just a little. I didn't want to get him _too _excited. I leaned in even more, dragging my hands up the plane of his chest and across his broad shoulders. But I didn't get too caught up in the moment. It was a pleasurable moment, though. I licked my lips and stared, pointedly, at his. I pushed Tommy back towards the wall. He didn't seem to mind. My bottom lip just barely grazed his; he started to close his eyes. Then I smiled wickedly and shoved him.

He landed painfully on the toilet. Fortunately for Tommy, the seat and lid were down. Tommy scowled at me, trying to avoid rubbing his ass. I smirked, leaning forward. My ruby-red hair fell in his face. "Spill, Tom," I demanded.

Tommy made a face, but he started to talk. Really, the guy just makes it too easy for me. I'm getting good at this whole seduction thing. "Fine. Ruby's staying at my place. Obviously I can't be there. It's... weird," Tommy replied reluctantly. She's _what_? She wasn't staying there earlier. And, wow, that must be awkward. But why is he letting her stay there? And since when does Tommy care about things being weird? This is the guy who called Britney Spears to bail him out when he and Christina Aguilera got arrested. He's the guy that called up another girl while the first one was still there and the second one had just arrived. He does not care about awkward situations like this. I began to feel a vague feeling of apprehension. Tommy closed his eyes with an almost wistful look on his face. "She looked just like... She looked hot." She looked just like **who, **I wondered. I was disgusted. It's like he forgets that she's only a year older than me. I took a step back, feeling sickened with Tommy.

Then it hit me. Ew. "You slept with her again, didn't you?" I gasped, unbelieving. I never thought Tommy was really that stupid. She's Chaz' girl, not to mention that she's only a year older than me. That's wrong. Tommy looked down and didn't say anything, which was a better answer than what he'd said before. Doesn't he learn from his mistakes? Or does he just repeat them? Shame on him. I wanted to slap him, but what right had I? I wasn't the one dating him, and I wasn't the one in love with Ruby. I had no claim to be pissed save for the fact that she was a year older... and I was hopelessly in love with the dumbass. "You are _sick, _Tommy. There is something seriously wrong with you, you know that?" I snapped. Admittedly, my voice was tainted with some jealousy, but a lot of it was genuine disgust. If I had a weaker stomach, I would worshipping the porcelain god right now. I slapped him hard across the face, but it wasn't hard enough for me, so I slapped him again.

Tommy flinched, but he knew I was right. I shook my head at him and backed away, still in disbelief. I could only gape. What's his excuse this time, huh? Then Tommy surprised me yet again. Ha, and I thought my day was dull! He got up abruptly and came towards me with such a dark look on my face that I was... I was almost afraid of him. He grabbed me by the forearms hard, pulling me towards him. "You're **damn **right, Jude," Tommy hissed in a voice so low it sent shivers up my spine. He was so close that his nose almost brushed mine. "There _is _something seriously wrong with me," He conceded bitterly, scowling nastily at me. If it was possible, he came even closer. His eyes were so dark, a very pretty indigo, midnight blue. "Because I only had sex with her because she looked like _**you**_,"Tommy snarled viciously, lips brushing against mine as he spoke.

I realize now that that was pretty damn obvious, especially after I met Ruby... but then, I couldn't believe it. It was absolutely incredible to me. I was the girl Tommy was thinking of. I was what he wanted and couldn't have. Tommy wanted to be having sex with me. I was the one he was picturing. I was the one he imagined. I was the one he fantasized about. I frustrated him; he _craved _me. Ruby doesn't even compare to me. I was the original. I was the real thing. And, honestly, in a sick sort of way, it was sort of flattering to know that Ruby was just a substitute for me.

But Tommy could've had me any time he wanted, just about. We always seem to want different things at the same time, though. We have a chronic sense of bad timing. It's like something out of a movie, I swear. The Lake House. Yeah, it's like that. Tommy wants me, but he's drunk, so I don't want to take advantage of him. I want Tommy, but Travis just tried to rape me, and Tommy doesn't want to take advantage of me. And then there was Tommy's party, when he wanted to celebrate with only me, but I couldn't do that. I had to host the party. If it's not one thing, it's another. And if it's not me and not Tommy, then it's Sadie, or someone else, or, well... fate.

This time around, it was fate _and _my dad.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Tommy and I were standing there in complete silence. I had no idea what the hell to do or say. I still couldn't even believe him, you know? I was leaning in to kiss him because it only seemed natural when it happened. I heard the front door open.

Now, why did I hear the front door open? Because I left the bathroom door slightly ajar. From the humming, I understood the person to be my father.

If it were just about anyone else, I might be able to explain it. I could tell Sadie the truth, for instance. Would she believe me? Perhaps not, but I was fully dressed and dry. Jamie, Speed, any random male, really, well, they would assume, but why did I care? I mean, it really does piss me off when I'm accused of something I haven't actually been doing, but everyone and his mama think I'm having sex with Tommy. Now, if it was my mom... I'd probably jump out the window and climb over to Jamie's. But Dad had to know I was there; my car was out front. He knew I had a gig, too, and he was probably trying to do one of those really sweet fatherly things that broke my heart. And, I'm gonna be straight-up honest with you here, I love my dad more than my mom. So what my dad thinks of me matters a helluva lot more than what my mother thinks of me. In addition, generally, my mother doesn't think very good things of me.

In fact, I love my dad so much that if I had to choose between him and Tommy (two very different types of love, mind you)... There's a decent chance that I might actually pick him over Tommy. It's 60/40, actually. "Jude!" I heard my father call in his soft accountant's voice. He wasn't yet upstairs, but I knew I had to act fast. Immediately, I dashed away from Tommy to lock the bathroom door. I needed to buy us some time.

Tommy looked a bit put out by this, but I pretended not to notice, in favor of ensuring his survival. After all, he **had **to live if I was maybe, hopefully, pretty-pretty-please gonna marry him someday. I raced across the bathroom, picking up Tommy's clothes and chucking them at him. Whoosh! His jeans... Thwap! His shirt... Fwoop! His shoes... Clunk, Clunk! Tommy stared at me blankly, towel still knotted firmly around his waist. I didn't have time to argue with him much, as I could hear Dad walking upstairs. "Tommy! Put some clothes on! My dad's coming up the stairs, and if he finds you here, much less naked, you're toast!" I hissed, once again shoving the clothes at him. I grabbed the towel and yanked it down so he had no choice.

It was either get dressed now or die naked. Not much of a choice, really.

Apparently now my beloved sensed the urgency of the moment. I respectfully glanced away while Tommy jerked his pants on. I could hear my dad coming down the hallway. "Jude!" Tommy whispered pleading, putting on his shirt, which was, unfortunately, a button-up, "Help me!" I glanced over briefly to check to be sure that he was decent. He was. He was wearing jeans, but they were only half-way zipped. So I got down on my knees in front of him (since he was now seated on the toilet) and quickly shoved his feet in his sneakers. They were a little loose but still tied decently. I placed a delicate hand on his thigh, and leaned across between his legs to carefully zip up his jeans. My fingers also scrambled to do the button on his jeans. It was uncomfortably close to Tommy for me, especially since his eyes and blood were still burning with lust for me, but I did it. I placed both hands on his thighs to help push myself up. Suddenly Tommy leaned over, surprising me and very nearly knocking me over. He reached down and swiftly zipped and buttoned my jeans with a flirtatious smile. I couldn't help but notice that his fingers had lingered a few moments longer than was necessary or appropriate.

I didn't say I minded, though. Dad knocked on the door loudly, which was enough to send me upright and into the air. He banged on the door repeatedly. Tommy's shirt wasn't even half-buttoned. "Jude? Are you in there? I really need to talk to you," Dad said urgently, knowing full well I was in there. He merely wanted to give me the illusion of having privacy. I hollered out a yes, damn near threw Tommy in the shower and forced my head under the sink, getting about half of my hair wet. I must've been a sight. I washed my hands as my dad continued speaking. "Jude, honey, I really do need to talk to you about something. Could I come in?" Dad asked so politely I had to say yes.

But not before I turned sternly to the shower curtain where Tommy was concealed and hissed at him to stay. Then I pivoted and unlocked the door, revealing my father. Dad immediately came in the room and seated himself upon the toilet. Hard to believe Tommy had been sitting right there only moments earlier. I cast a quick nervous glance around the room to see if there was anything that would betray Tommy. There was, of course. The wet towel on the floor, dripping with his DNA. Tommy's rings were spread all around the sink, while his jacket was on that same counter. My dad didn't notice. Luckily he was too distraught and worried for that. Just what Dad was actually worried about I was yet to find out.

Dad cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced down. "Jude, you know I love you very much," He began softly, grabbing my hands tenderly. I smiled at him reassuringly, beginning to worry. I was sensing a but. I was waiting for it, actually. "And I will always love you, no matter what choices you make," He continued with a slight smile. I flashed a bright smile back, but I couldn't get rid of the slightly unsettled feeling in my stomach. Then a grave look crossed Dad's face. He looked a little sad, and I felt bad for him. "I'm sorry I haven't been around for you as much as I should've been. I'm sorry for being so selfish lately-"

I just had to interrupt. "No! You haven't been selfish at all, Dad! I understand that you and Mom need to get back on track a lot more than I need you guys right now," I tried to explain, meaning every word. In some ways, I kind of liked being on my own. Then again, it got me almost raped, kidnapped, and married... so what good was it, really? My daddy could protect me better than anyone, even Tommy. I smiled at my dad, hugging him. "I'm lucky just to have a father, much less one as great as you! I love you so much, Dad," I exclaimed, feeling tears rise up in my eyes. I was fast becoming an emotion wreck, but Dad meant a lot to me. I hugged him tighter. "You've always supported me, even when no one else would... You encouraged my dreams when they seemed so impossible. You've always had my back. I owe you, Dad. You've been so good to me, even when I was just an ungrateful teenager, and I love you for it," I managed to utter, only wiping away a tear or two.

Dad's a softy at heart, so I could see his eyes shining. He frowned at me a little. "So I wasn't pushing you into living out my dreams?" He asked in a quiet voice. It was like he'd been feeling guilty about that for a while. I blame Mom; I think she brings that up in arguments to make him feel bad. He hadn't forced it on me. I shook my head no. Dad might've planted the seed, but a career in music was my desire. And not just because I wanted to please him. I love music, and I owe that love to my dad. And, while Kat and Jamie were the ones who pushed me into entering the Instant Star Competition, I was really doing it because of my dad. But not just for my dad, for me too. So, if you really think about it, I wouldn't have even met Tommy if it wasn't for my dad.

But Dad continued to frown. "I feel like I've failed you as a father. I haven't protected you like I should from guys. I as good as let them hurt you, Jude," He confessed shamefully. Honestly, though, I wasn't expecting Dad to save me from them. You've got to make your own mistakes sometimes, and I can save myself. And it's good that I can. I shook my head and hugged Dad. I'd gotten myself into those messes. It wasn't his responsibility to drag me out of them. He wasn't a failure; he was just loosening the reins a little so I could assume control. Didn't he see that I needed that? What's happened to me lately isn't his fault. It's mine, solely mine, and to say otherwise would be a lie.

"No, Dad, you haven't. I get myself into these situations. I learn from my mistakes. You can't always be there," I swore, looking Dad straight in the eye. Dad and I communicated a lot with that look, and that's when I understood to what, or rather, whom, he was really referring to. It was, of course, Tommy. Dad couldn't protect me from Tommy. I don't even think Tommy can protect me from Tommy. I shook my head, trying to think of a way to explain it. Tommy was a pain that I brought wholly on myself. It was like I was addicted to the pain and the heartbreak, almost like I chose it.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Dad cut me off. "What are Tommy's intentions, Jude?" He interrupted sternly, sounding exactly like the strict father he really wasn't. I smirked, amused. How the hell was I to know his intentions? I hadn't even figured out what, exactly, the nature of our relationship was. I shrugged. Why doesn't he ask Sadie that? Dad scowled. "Then, what exactly, is your relationship with Tommy?" He questioned abruptly. It was beginning to sound like an interrogation. Spanish Inquisition much, Dad? I believe I rolled my eyes.

Dad was beginning to get slightly irritated with me, so he gave me one of those looks that says, "I'm your parent, and you better damn well tell me what's going on there." So I shrugged noncommittally and told him the truth. "He's my producer, Dad. You know how close and important artist-producer relations are," I said innocently, all the while knowing it was a completely crappy excuse. Plus Tommy had to be hearing this whole conversation, so I couldn't say anything to really reassure my dad. Or Tommy might faint or something. And then I'd have to be bothered with explaining what the hell he was doing in my shower... given that I still wasn't sure why he was in there (was he washing Ruby off his skin or something?), that would be a fun conversation.

Dad gave me one of those looks, completely saying that he didn't believe me. Not that I blame him or anything. But he'd used that excuse too at some point, with Sadie or Mom, so it wasn't total crap. I didn't know anyways, and that was really the only answer I could give. He's my producer, my mentor, my friend, my inspiration, and the love of my life. But all of that doesn't mean a thing if he's not my boyfriend, and I know Tommy's not my boyfriend. He's never once asked me out on a date, and he's never said he loved me. He flinches at the word boyfriend, even when he knew I was just saying it to get Shay off my back. He already has a girlfriend, and I am not that girlfriend. And he can't even stay faithful to his girlfriend, let alone me. So what could I possibly say to explain all that?

My dad wanted me healthy and safe and happy. My _relationship _with Tommy was none of those things. But Dad expected a more honest answer, so I was obliged to give him one. "Dad, we're just friends," I said. Quite possibly, that could be the stupidest thing I've ever said. Dad cocked an eyebrow and gave me this utterly disbelieving look. Okay, yeah, I see his point, and I could tell that he was going to bring up specific examples of how our relationship, whatever it was, had transgressed the lines of friendship, so I had to explain. I bit down hard on my lip. "Friends who sometimes make out," I continued anxiously. I could've sworn I heard Tommy snicker. I would've said friends with benefits, which was closest to the truth, but then Dad would think that I was letting Tommy use me for sex. That would've been not only deadly but demeaning. Dad shot me a dark glance. I shrugged, almost on the verge of biting my nails (which would've been a dead giveaway that I was lying). "Hormones," I muttered, getting tongue-tied, using the first excuse available, "I don't have a boyfriend, and I see Tommy so much... that sometimes I just can't help myself. He's just... **there**_ all the time, _you know? And hot... And a really, really, _really _good kisser... And, hey, I'm a teenager, we're not supposed to be sensible!"

A mortifying lie to tell, but hormones are golden. See, now it sounds like I'm the one using Tommy to relieve my sexual tensions! It had the added advantage of disgusting Dad with those personal details about Tommy. Dad looked kind of ashamed or embarrassed for me, but I had to lie when I couldn't explain. Besides, I was protecting Tommy. If it looks like I initiated everything, they'll have a harder time pressing charges against him. I mean, I can't very well say I'm in love with him when he's in the room. Because how awkward would that be, Tommy overhearing me telling my dad I loved him? I mean, he couldn't run away or anything, but he wouldn't have to talk to me. It wouldn't be the right way to tell him anyways; I wanted to wait for the right moment... which may very well never come.

Then the look of discomfort dropped right off Dad's face. He got awful serious all of a sudden. He leaned in a little bit closer to me, a strangely intent look in his eyes. Suddenly, I knew exactly what I was going to ask. My throat went dry. "Jude, have you and Tommy... Have you had relations... Have you two slept... Have you made lo... Have you been togeth... Have you, uh... How far have you gone with Tommy... exactly?" Dad stuttered, turning red and blushing horribly. As you can tell (I hope), what Dad really wants to know is if I've had sexual intercourse with Tommy. Now, Tommy and I have different opinions on that subject, obviously, so I was going to actually tell my dad the truth this time. Still, it was so damn awkward to have him ask me that. But at least he had the decency to ask, not assume like everyone else.

"EWW! _Daaad!" _I squealed in a typically disgusted, terribly embarrassed teenage girl voice. I swatted at his arm, pulling a face, like he'd just accused me of having a crush on the boy-next-door instead of having sex with Canada's answer to Justin Timberlake. I wasn't blushing; it wasn't the first time I'd been asked that. Not even the second or millionth or whatever. And I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed to say no flat out. It seems like everyone I know nowadays is always giving me some warning about Tommy being bad news, telling me not to get involved with him. These people don't realize several things. The first of which being that he's my producer and co-writer, essentially making him both my boss and my partner. I don't do the same work without him, and we have to be simpatico and pretty tight to make beautiful music together.

Then there's the fact that people have a lot of misconceptions about Tommy. To some degree, the misconceptions are true; he is a slut, and he's broken many hearts including mine. But Tommy is deeper than he seems on the surface; he's not just some playboy who jacks around and does every girl in town. There's so much more to him than the front he puts up for the world to see. He knows music like you wouldn't believe. He's serious and hardworking. He's not an ass 24-7, and he's not always trying to get some tail. He's awfully sweet when he wants to be. He's not evil and not emotionless. And, this might be clichéd and all, not to mention biased, but he is really a beautiful person once you get to know him.

Finally, aside from that... I can't avoid the guy, not even if I try to. Not even when I want to. If I do, he seeks me out. Tommy's like the sun. I don't revolve my life around him (well... okay- but only a little!). What I mean is that he's this huge ball of light and heat and energy, pulsing and erupting and reacting... creating life, sustaining it. And I'm drawn to him by this strange strong form of gravity. He's a black hole. He sucks me in, and I can't get away from him. I can't pull myself away from him. So he sucks me in and then tears me apart, molecule by molecule. Our stars are hopelessly crossed, our paths forever entwined. I'm bound to him against my will. Our stars always collide. Fate likes playing with me, you see. So I can't just stay away, try as I might, for about a thousand reasons, including my sister and his brother.

I realize who Tommy is and what he's known for. And I know that we starred in a music video together that was nothing less than R-rated and virtually pornographic. And because of that music video, I have a pretty decent impression of how Tommy would be in the sack. Yet despite all this, I have not physically had sexual relations with him. I am not that kind of girl. "Dad... I haven't had sex with Tommy, if that's what you mean," I stated calmly, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. Tommy, I knew, was somewhere behind me. I almost could've sworn I heard him scoff. Notice that I didn't actually answer his question. I glanced over at Dad, who looked noticeably relieved for a moment. And then he noticed that I hadn't said how far I'd gone with Tommy. He gulped and then repeated that question, this time minus the stuttering. "Relax, Dad," I said in a voice that was surprisingly breezy and nonchalant, especially considering that I jumped about a foot in the air (Tommy had pinched my ass), "He hasn't molested me or anything." It was an excellent evasive answer, plus it reassured Dad that Tommy hadn't taken advantage of me.

Predictably, Dad sighed in relief. I took advantage of his distraction to reach behind me and smack Tommy's hands. "Good. I don't want to become a grandfather before my time." I laughed nervously and straightened up a little. Well, no chance of that happening, not now, anyways. And not Tommy... even if...

Fortunately for me, it didn't occur to my dad that that meant that every touch of Tommy's I'd welcomed. But really, he honestly hadn't done much. I suppose one could say he touched my inappropriately, but even that was tame. He's felt me up a little, but he hasn't touched naked skin. Still, despite my innocence, the fact that I even _had _to have this conversation with my father made me feel ashamed. I felt like the world's biggest slut. Dad placed his hand on my knee kindly, smiling at me, and all I could think of was how I didn't deserve it. I had lied to him. I was a whore, and he was still looking at me like that, with eyes so full of paternal pride and love that I felt sick! I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. Dad's smile was instantly forgiving.

"Jude... I want nothing more than to see you happy," He began with a gentle smile. I was still awkwardly in his arms. "And if Tommy's the guy that makes you happy... I'm okay with that," He whispered, the hints of a smile lingering on his face. Dad knew, sorta. He saw right through me. It's funny how parents do that, isn't it? He basically just gave me his blessing to go after Tommy. He said it's okay for me to want Tommy. Then Dad paused, pulling back slightly, frowning. "But I don't agree with what he's doing to you and your sister. If he really cares about either of you, he'll make a choice," Dad continued warningly, a bit louder. I wondered if Dad knew Tommy was in the room. It almost sounded like a threat. But what if Tommy doesn't choose me? What if he chooses himself? What if Dad's wrong?

Dad broke the hug, giving me a lopsided smile. "And if he breaks your heart... you've always got your old man. I'm be here for you until the end. You will always be my little girl, and I will _always _pick **you," **Dad replied tenderly, patting me on the knee. It was like he read my mind. I started to cry. He was so sweet! At that moment, I would've picked my dad over Tommy, hands down. I hurled myself into my daddy's arms and buried my head in his shoulder. He chuckled goodnaturedly and wrapped his arms around me protectively. I could smell his cologne, which I would inevitably wind up smelling like after this. But I didn't care. I loved... still love... my dad so much. Dad rubbed my back soothingly, letting me cry on his shoulder. "How 'bout we go for ice cream after your show, Rockstar?" Dad suggested kindly.

I smiled in spite of myself and lifted my head off his shoulder. I looked him in the eye. "I'd really like that, Daddy," I murmured happily, wiping at my eyes. Dad beamed back, and I stood up awkwardly. Dad kissed me on the cheek, patted my forehead, and went downstairs to unwind a little. He wanted to get ready for my gig too, apparently.

I walked over to look at myself in the mirror. I was a mess. Half my head was wet, and my make-up was smeared. Oh well, I would've had to redo it anyways. I swiped away the make-up, threw some water on my face and dried off a little. Honestly, I completely forgot Tommy was in the room. I started to take my shirt off while walking over to the shower. I pulled back the curtain, and there was Tommy. He clamped a hand over my mouth so I didn't scream or do something equally stupid. His shirt was mostly buttoned now. The top three buttons were undone, however, revealing a nice expanse of chiseled chest. He glanced down briefly, enjoying the view. He smirked and looked at me so intently that I turned red. It was strange. He said nothing, so I felt it was my duty to break the ice. "Tommy, what exactly are your intentions towards me?" I asked playfully. Hey, I wanted to know in case Dad asked again!

Tommy took a step closer to me, and I took a step back. "My intentions are to..." Tommy mumbled something crude and started to kiss my neck. I didn't really appreciate it, plus I didn't want another hickey. I pushed him away and kinda, well, slapped him. Hey, he had it coming! Filthy intentions and all that. I shot Tommy a reproachful look. He just looked down and didn't say anything. Then a playful grin appeared on his face. "So you think I'm hot, huh?" He joked, smirking all the way.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Hello, were you not here when I was staring at your ass? Obviously I think you're hot, Tommy. Jeez! Talk about stupid questions. Why do you think I put up with you?" I retorted, feeling somewhat irked. Okay, that indecent proposal of his had gotten to me. I mean, what, does he think I'm like every other whore out there? I'm not. Tommy's face fell a little, but I think he was just doing that for effect. Psh. It wasn't working, even if I did feel a little bit guilty. I leaned past him (he was standing in front of the shower) to turn on the water... extra hot.

Tommy pretended to look thoughtful. Ha! Like he ever even thinks! "I'm a good kisser?" Tommy offered flirtatiously. Then he smiled at me, and I kind of melted a little. Okay, yeah, that is it. And I love him, but he doesn't know that. "So, Jude, what exactly _is _our relationship?" Tommy asked mockingly. And that killed it for me. I smacked him hard. I hide him from my father, and Tommy mocks me. That's real nice. I glowered at him. Tommy put his hands up in a surrendering gesture. He looked me straight in the eyes. "I apologize." I didn't believe him. "Now, you said we were friends with benefits... So how 'bout we get to the benefits, then? I have to repay you for... toweling me down," Tommy suggested with a dangerous, wicked smile. He gave me the eye, putting his hands low around my waist. He was trying to repay me for squeezing his ass, I think. I kind of couldn't move because he really was right there. I couldn't get out of his way, you know?

He leaned down to kiss me and had almost hit home when I heard Dad coming back up the stairs. I jerked away abruptly, panic in my eyes. "Quick, Tommy! My dad!" In a flash, Tommy was off of me, and I was opening the window, which was squeaking horribly. Great. Now Dad knows I'm opening the window. It's so loud and squalky. I shuddered, listening for Dad. "Oh, crap, oh crap, oh crap," I muttered anxiously, like it was a prayer. Eventually, though, I had prised the window open. Took a lot of elbow grease on my part. Whether or not it was actually big enough for Tommy to slip through was another problem, but whatever. Dad was on the top step. I grabbed Tommy's leather jacket off the counter and shoved it at him. We didn't have much time now. And the bathroom door wasn't even locked. I broke into a dead sweat, a dead panic.

Gulping, hearing Dad's footsteps padding down the hallway, I was forced to resort to desperate measures. I dashed over to the window, dragging Tommy with me. He was shaking his head no, but I had to get him out and fast! Before Dad caught him. And this time, hiding him in the shower wasn't an option. I growled at him and threw him at the window, attempting to push him out of it. I grunted. "If Chaz can shimmy his fat ass out of a window, then so can you," I hissed irritably. The kitchen window was smaller too. Tommy made a crude comment about his genitals being bigger than Chaz'. I snarled that that had nothing to do with anything, this window was bigger, and what did I know about Chaz' parts anyways? You ought to ask Ruby, you stupid slut. Okay, so I didn't say that last one. The slut part, I mean. I said the Ruby part. He said I was going to kill him, and I told him to climb the damn tree, reassuring him in a whisper that I'd done this a lot.

That was a lie. I did it once. But I snuck out of my own window and broke that tree, and this one was wicked sturdier. So I figured he had a chance. Plus, it was only the second story. It took more than that to kill someone. Then I heard Dad stop right in front of the door. I shoved Tommy backwards out the window, but he pushed back. "Tommy! My Dad!" I hissed, trying to push him out the window.

Tommy gave me a look. "So?" He said rebelliously, before he kissed me painfully hard. Especially since my lips were still bruised. Then he pulled back; I was totally breathless, and he was unaffected. I heard Dad's fingers jiggling the doorknob, and I knew Tommy had to go. And with everything in me, I shoved him out the window just as Dad came right back in the bathroom. I threw myself bodily against the window with the force of a sumo slam (that shook the house a little), so that Dad couldn't see Tommy behind me. I checked, too, and Tommy was hanging out in the tree. Actually, it was a pretty sweet deal. He was crouching a little, but the tree branch held. All he had to do was climb down, and that tree had loads of branches. Surprising show of disregard for Tommy's welfare on my part, isn't it? Maybe it's because I'm still pissed that he was trying to get in my pants earlier... with my dad downstairs! Not to mention after he'd already screwed Ruby! How low can you get? I was panting a little, sweating a fair bit, but I tried to hide it. Luckily for Tommy there's a tree underneath the window. I stood in front of the window, blocking Tommy from Dad's view.

I could hear Tommy behind me, leaves rustling, a grunt or two. I forced a smile, hoping Dad didn't hear anything, wondering what it was Dad wanted now. I was tempted to fire back a sharp remark, somewhat angry that I'd been interrupted when Tommy was about to kiss me. Besides, I'd gotten a goodbye kiss anyways. But I guess it was a good thing. I said nothing, but Dad squinted behind me. "Why are you about to shower with the window open?" Dad questioned, sounding utterly confused. Normally, that was a good point. It was getting kinda nippy out, and I was always a stickler for privacy. Not today, however.

I smiled and fanned myself. "I think I'm coming down with a fever. I feel all flushed and hot. I wanted to breathe some fresh air," I explained hurriedly, pausing deliberately to glance out the window I was currently leaning against. "Besides, the only person that would see me is Jamie," I continued in a tone that made it very clear that I didn't care if Jamie saw me naked. At that very moment, ironically enough, I looked out the window to see Jamie. Then again, how could I not see Jamie? He was practically flagging me down. So I turned around, smiled, and waved at him. "Hey Jamie!" I exclaimed cheerfully. Jamie kind of gaped at me open-mouthed; I'd forgotten I wasn't wearing a shirt. Huh. Dad came closer, peering out the window curiously. I turned to block his view, knowing that Tommy was still scurrying about outside.

Which was, of course, why Jamie was trying to flag me down. "**Jude!**" He shouted, gesticulating wildly to the ground. I pointedly attempted to ignore him, but I glanced down at the yard between our houses anyways. I was surprised by what I saw. Tommy is really a prodigious climber, I must say. He's like a monkey, that one. In fact, he was about halfway across the lawn by this time, shirt flapping in the breeze. Jamie apparently saw this whole ordeal except me pushing Tommy out of the window. He said it was an impressive sight; Tommy had leaped down from the tree and went off running. He's in really good shape, isn't he? But I merely looked at this spectacle for a single moment, noticing that the jacket, which he was now wearing, was rather ill-fitting... too tight. Hmm, peculiar.

I was left with the responsibility of distracting Jamie so that he didn't alert my dad. That was a bit hard, but I gestured at him to stop with a stern look and a finger across the neck. "**Wow**,Jamie! I totally get that. It's quite an inspiring sight, really... but I don't think my dad would understand." Jamie nodded, suddenly understanding. Dad, I'm sure, didn't, but I guess he just assumed it was another teenager thing. Then I smiled, noticing he had calmed some. "JAMIE!" I screeched at the top of my lungs, "I'm really excited for the gig too! I'll see you there, front row center, right? I'll explain everything after the show... over ice cream." I glanced to Dad to see if it was okay that I'd just invited Jamie out with us. Dad nodded with a smile; Jamie was like a son to him. Then I turned, flashed a smile to Jamie, who nodded, beaming, if not a bit confused. But he got the silence thing.

I waved goodbye and turned around, seated on the windowsill, to face my father. He had this kind of suspicious look on his face, like he knew I was trying to pull one over on him. I merely smiled innocently, crossing my fingers behind my back and hoping to God that Dad didn't look out the window and catch Tommy. I was scanning the room, trying to think of something to say, when I saw them. I thought I'd gotten rid of all traces that Tommy had been here, but no... There they were, on the floor, mocking me. Tommy's boxers. They were really very pretty, blue and navy striped. They were also right by the toilet, right next to Dad's foot. Damn, we all must be a bunch of idiots not to notice that.

This also meant, disturbingly, that somewhere Tommy was walking around without underwear. Which is bad.

So, of course I had to snag the boxers before Dad saw them. They were too big to shove in my pockets, but not too big for the pockets of my leather jacket, which was sitting jauntily on the counter. I smirked and put it on. For some reason, it was a lot bigger than I remembered. Dad placed his hands on his hips, aware by now that something was going down. Now I had to distract him from the truth and grab the boxers at the same time. Better polish off my acting skills. Luckily, I'm kind of dating an actor, and I've been around more than enough drama queens to pitch a fit very excellently. But what to say? I couldn't think about it for too long, lest Dad glance down and notice visible evidence that Tommy had been here. It wouldn't necessarily mean that Tommy had been there, but it would mean that a boy had... And I didn't want to get grounded until I could drink in America. "_Jude? _Is something wrong?" Dad asked in a carefully measured, curious tone.

Here goes nothing. "Oh, **Daddy**!" I cried loudly, hurling myself at his feet. I promptly started wailing and pretended to sob. Since Dad couldn't see my face, he didn't know the difference. He was visibly startled, but he soon bent down to see how I was. "I lied to you," I sniffled weakly, wiping my face. I put my hand in the tub, which was still wet. I rubbed the water over my face so it looked like I was sobbing before looking up at him. I clutched his feet. Damn it, my knees hurt! Dad was frowning, but he tried to comfort me nonetheless. He stroked my hair, but my body still shook with faked sobs. "There _is _something more between Tommy and me!" I exclaimed tearfully. I peeked up; Dad was looking at me. Taking advantage of the distraction this statement produced, I snatched the boxers and stuffed them in my pocket. He didn't notice.

But after I'd said that, of course, I couldn't just walk out of there. I had to explain that "something more". Dad helped me to stand up, and I pretended to hiccup for dramatic effect. "I'm in love with him," I blurted, swiping at my eyes. I put a distraught look on my face, like perhaps I'd just discovered it. Dad kind of smiled at me, pulling me into a hug. He looked understanding enough, like he'd sort of suspected it all the while. That surprised me a lot more than it should have, but then again, he was my father. It's a parent's job to notice such things. "Hopelessly, helplessly, painfully so." My eyelashes fluttered like I was trying to blink back tears.

Dad rubbed my back again, kissing me on the head. "Shh... It's okay, Jude," Dad replied consolingly. I smiled slightly, attempting to perk up. I made it look much more difficult than I really was. "I always knew you did." I almost gaped, surprised that he had always known. Am I really that transparent? Does Tommy know? Is he just too polite to say anything? Dad smoothed my hair, pulling back so he could look at me properly. He stared at me with such knowing, warm eyes. He really did seem okay with it. "That's why I fought for you," Dad declared with a proud smile. That really made me gape. Dad fought for me and Tommy? Then it all clicked. Of course he had. He knew all along how I felt about Tommy... he understood how my music was dependent upon him. And when my mother raised the inevitable objections, he would silence her and talk her into letting me continue to work with him. I had actually seen this happen once, when the tabloid pictures had first come out, maybe a day or two after I had first met Tommy. He'd calmly assured Mom that nothing was going on between us, but perhaps he'd seen it burgeoning even then.

I threw my arms around him, hugging him tightly in sheer gratitude. I knew all that stuff about Tommy had to have upset him, but that he was still rooting for me despite all of it? He genuinely wanted me happy, and he knew that Tommy made me happy. Dad wanted me to be with Tommy, then? I felt like Dad knew something about Tommy that I didn't (then again, he is a man and all, so I suppose it's possible. Even I'm not sure I want to be with Tommy, regardless of how happy he makes me. Of course, he also makes me incredibly miserable, but that's love for you. Maybe he's just waiting, like I am, for Tommy to come around. He respects Tommy so much, almost as much as I do... but not quite. He doesn't love Tommy or put so much faith in him... understandably, of course. The embrace was a wordless thank-you.

A few moments later, Dad broke the hug and left for real this time. I returned to the windowsill, peering out of it to see if I could catch a glimpse of my beloved. I sighed dreamily, leaning my head against the window. "I love that man," I murmured happily, clutching a hand to my heart. Then I got up, locked the door, and actually showered. It was kind of thrilling to think that Tommy had used the same shower. Several minutes later, I pulled on the new clothes, including the leather jacket which was now huge on me. Strange, I thought. I redid my make-up quickly. I glanced down at my watch. I still had a few hours to kill. With that thought in mind, I retreated to my room, putting my hands in my pockets. Flopping down on my bed, I was surprised to hit something square. I was sure I hadn't put anything in my pockets except those boxers.

I closed my fist around the object, pulling it out of my pocket. It was a velvet box, one of the ones with the sort of domed lid. I suddenly realized that Tommy and I had accidentally switched jackets, which meant that he was wearing mine (damn, he's gonna stretch it all out!) and I was, obviously, wearing his. And, upon the discovery of that damn black velvet box, I could only think one thing. Well, first of all, what the hell is Tommy doing walking around with a little velvet box in his pocket? I mean, Sadie's got a class right now; he knows that. The only person that would be home is me, which Tommy well knows because I got famously suspended. But back to what I was thinking.

All I could think was how Tommy hadn't been kidding... not necessarily. Maybe he was actually serious about that proposal. I think I almost fainted when I saw it. Actually, my heart started beating really fast, so fast that I thought it would explode in my chest, and my pulse raced, and my brain was moving at light speed, and it felt like I was having a stroke and a panic attack all at the same time... and suddenly I couldn't breathe. I was gasping for air.

"_But I've got a ring, in case you ever change your mind."_

Was it too late to change my mind? Jude Quincy sounded awfully nice, after all... Even after that little panic attack I had. That was just because I couldn't believe it. Tommy **really** wasn't kidding when he said he had a ring. Just... who would've thought he'd actually show up with one? Not me, that's for sure.

So, curiosity winning out over sense, I opened the ring box slowly, wondering what the inevitable ring looked like. But I was sorely disappointed, and not because the ring wasn't there. Oh, it was there all right. It just wasn't at all what I wanted.

Mind you, Tommy knows full well what I want. Honestly, all I want is him. A ring does not matter to me, only that it exists. However, such a ring would be a manifestation of the love Tommy and I share. Potentially. Only for now that love is mostly one-sided, unfortunately for me and my poor battered heart. And the ring is a promise to be faithful and stick together and to love each other above all. Such a promise, a band, should therefore be beautiful to my eyes. And, since Tommy knows me so well... better than almost anyone in the world minus my dad and Jamie, and perhaps Mom and Sadie...Tommy knows what I like, as was proven by him selecting the cake. Tommy also has good taste in jewelry. So it was that the ring that greeted me was a huge disappointment.

It wasn't my type at all, and it didn't seem like Tommy's type either. It seemed like something he'd buy, but he wouldn't buy it for me. It was the kind of ring you buy for someone who needs to be impressed. Tommy knew I didn't need all sorts of fancy crap from a ring. Tommy knows that; he bought me the star ring I never take off. This ring, though, was the kind of ring you buy for someone high-maintenance, someone expecting big things, someone shallow. It wasn't even my color. The ring was gold, plain yellowy gold, high carat number, I'm sure, but ugly against my pale skin. I would've preferred platinum, white gold, or sterling silver (which, although they don't make wedding rings of it... my star ring is silver... Plus, since silver tarnishes, you could tell when the husband was cheating by the green band). Large diamonds were set into it, heavy and far too many carats to be necessary.

I took the ring out and placed it on my finger briefly. The ring was noticeably bigger than my finger.

The ring was essentially ostentatious and too showy. It was the kind of ring I would never wear. It drew too much attention. And I hated that kind of attention. Even the cut was something I wouldn't like. Obviously the ring wasn't mine... Which meant, unfortunately, that it was for Sadie. Hit me like a blow. Tommy's words echoed in my ears, mocking me. He really was just kidding. It felt like my heart was crushed. I'd gotten my hopes up, only to be let down yet again. It wasn't fair; life wasn't fair!

I didn't shed a tear, though, not even one, although I wanted to. I couldn't cry. I had to perform, to blink them back. I took a couple minutes for myself before I got up and walked down the hall like a zombie to Sadie's room, ring in hand. I knocked on the door softly, trying not to let my face show how lousy I felt. Sadie didn't say anything, but I knew she was in there. I don't blame her for not wanting to talk to me. Since she didn't tell me to go away, or even say anything at all, I took that as an invitation to come in. I gently pushed the door open and walked in. Sadie was on her bed, doing her homework. I cleared my throat, and she glanced up briefly. She gave me a dirty look. "What?" Sadie snapped irritably, refusing to look at me. "I'm not coming to your gig, so don't bother asking."

I bristled a little, but refrained from saying anything. I wasn't going to ask her that. I didn't go away, and Sadie glanced up at me once again. Her eyes flashed. "You're wearing Tommy's jacket, Jude," Sadie said quietly and resentfully. I didn't realize she'd recognize it. Still, it didn't mean anything. I'm also wearing Tommy's medal and Travis' ring. That means more than some lousy jacket. But even then... The ring was for her, not me. She was the one he wanted to marry. She was the one he'd snuck in to see. Who cares if he screwed Ruby because he wanted me? That doesn't matter when the ring isn't for me. He just wants to have sex with me, that's all. He doesn't want to commit to me. He doesn't love me.

I gulped, knowing exactly what I was doing. But I had to do it. The ring wasn't rightfully mine. It was Sadie's by right, and I had to give it to her. To do otherwise would be dishonest. I walked towards Sadie slowly. "I found this in the pocket," I stated coolly, stoically, throwing the ring box down on top of her homework. "Congratulations, Sadie. It looks like you're engaged," I replied unemotionally. She'd been mean to me, and I couldn't exactly muster up any enthusiasm. Then I turned to walk out. Now, Tommy hadn't asked her; he didn't even know this had happened. I'd practically proposed for him. So they weren't officially engaged, but they were just as good as engaged.

Sadie started screaming hysterically before I'd even left the room. Great, just great. She leaped off her bed and started jumping up and down, squealing like an insane person. I couldn't stand to watch her, so I headed back towards my room, depressed. Dad was right. Tommy had made a choice. Just not the one I wanted. And he'd made the wrong one. He chose Sadie... but I had to live with that. So did he, though. Still, I couldn't say I'd expected anything different. I just didn't expect him to **propose, **much less to Sadie!

Before I was able to leave, Sadie made matters worse. She threw her arms around me, embracing me tightly from behind. Well, wasn't this awkward? I turned around to face her, and she hugged me harder. She started jumping up and down. Tears were streaming down her face. "Thank you so much, Jude!" She exclaimed hoarsely. She clutched my jacket, Tommy's jacket, like she wanted to rip it off of me. But I wasn't gonna let her have that too. I held on to the jacket, stubbornly kept wearing it. They can't take that away from me! Sadie pulled back a little. Her make-up was all over her face; she looked ridiculous. And yet she was going to be Tommy Quincy's bride. Sadie, of all people! It wasn't fair! "I'm gonna get married! To Tommy Quincy! Can you believe it?! _Me_!" Sadie squealed in disbelief. I shook my head, trying to hold back my own tears. No... I can't, Sadie. I can't. To think, only minutes ago he'd been kissing me. I couldn't say anything then because Sadie started dancing around the room. I'd forgotten she was a ballerina.

After a few minutes of being subjected to watching my sister make an ass out of herself while screaming inane things, I decided to burst her bubble just a little. "Uh, Sades... Have you talked to Tommy about this? I mean, does he know you're engaged?" I asked cautiously. Sadie stopped dancing and started worrying. Her face completely fell. And does it make me a huge bitch if I was happy that she was disappointed? In fact, my sister almost started wailing. I was brimming with glee.

After fifteen minutes, she stopped wringing and actually called Tommy. For some reason, I was still in the room. They were on the phone for less than five minutes, I think. You can bet I listened to that one-sided conversation for all I was worth. "Hey, Tommy? Yeah... It's Sadie," She began anxiously, playing with her hair. She nodded. "Um... I have something to ask you," She continued, getting more nervous with every word. I was waiting for her to drop the bomb on him, but she stayed completely silent. I swear, the woman went almost catatonic. She was staring into space like a total loser, mouth opening and closing like a fish. My brilliant sister carried on like this for what seemed like an eternity to me. Okay, so I was freakishly impatient. Honestly, I think I wanted to find out if she was engaged more than she did.

There came a point when I could tolerate it no more. I marched over to Sadie and snatched the phone out of her hand roughly. Sadie gasped and shot me a dirty look, but I started talking regardless. She had no stones, and I had them in spades. "Tom, I found a ring in your jacket. Now, do you intend to marry m... Sadie... or not?" I spat confrontationally. I glanced at Sadie, who looked completely and utterly horrified. What? Nothing about this proposal was conventional. I wanted to know if it was just a coincidence that Tommy had a ring in his pocket. After all, to add the knife to my heart, I'd found it!

I waited with bated breath for his answer. There was a very long silence... If I listened hard enough I could hear him breathing, but that was my only indication that there was someone live on the line. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to hear his voice, even if it meant that I was receiving my death sentence. Okay, so I'm being melodramatic, but Tommy marrying Sadie was going to kill me! If not literally, then figuratively. You can die of heartbreak, you know. One more just might do me in. I prayed to hear his voice, no longer even caring about the answer. I just wanted an answer, so I didn't have to deal with the suspense... the endless wondering. Finally, after forever, Tommy spoke. "Jude?" He inquired curiously.

I couldn't believe it. All that and the only thing he says is my name! I let out a strangled cry. "Tommy! Just answer the damn question. Don't be an asshole. I need to know," I growled into the phone, tossing it to my sister rather... violently. Did I just pretend to be my sister? Sadie scowled at me, but I shot her a dirty look. Hey, I'd only done what she lacked guts to do! I'd asked Tommy, at least, and that was more than I could say for her. Plus it was really painful for me, but I did it anyways... not _entirely _out of sisterly concern, but whatever. Sadie was anxious, hopping from foot to foot, twirling her hair, dancing around. Tommy was being cruel. Or maybe just tongue-tied.

Tommy was apparently talking, saying something, anyways, because Sadie was paying attention. She nodded attentively, biting her lip in that "sexy" way. She looked much less nervous, but I can't say why. Like I said, I couldn't hear what Tommy was saying. "So, Tommy?" She questioned as calmly as she could. Sadie paused and then swallowed hard before asking him herself. "Does that mean we're engaged?" She burst out excitedly, nervously. She shooed me out of the room, and I went gladly. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I understood the general gist of the conversation. She basically repeated what I said earlier. Sadie asked if they were engaged, told him she'd found the ring, and were they? I can't vouch for what Tommy said, but I bet it was a lot more awkward for him than how it sounded to Sadie.

I heard her say one thing, though. She was really loud. "No, Tommy, Jude's not in the room!" For a few moments, I wondered why Tommy had even asked. I was sure he'd recognized my voice when I'd asked him if they really were engaged. Nonetheless, he eventually agreed that they were engaged. I wish I had the foresight to pick up the phone and listen to the call, so I could decipher something from his tone, but I did not. I didn't want to hear it. I know this because Sadie hung up giggling and started squalling so loudly that Dad and Mom both ran upstairs, thinking she was getting attacked. I wished, trust me, I did. When they arrived, Sadie shrieked, and I quote, "I'M ENGAGED!" My dad asked her who (this elicited a duh, an eye-roll, and a squeal over the proclamation), which I thought was a reasonable question. I couldn't very well believe Tommy had proposed either. And then she dashed out to go buy bunches of bridal magazines, and I think one or both of my parents fainted. As you can tell, I'm really trying hard not to think about any of this, hence why I haven't come out of my room yet. Really, I'd like to go cry, but I can't do that.

It made me sick to think that she was probably wearing that ring now. His ring. The bile rose up in my throat, just as bitter as I was. I grabbed my phone and dialed Patsy's number. God, I needed to talk to someone sane. Sadie and Tommy had just thrown my entire household into turmoil. Pick up, pick up, PICK UP! Gah, come on, Patsy! I don't even know why I dialed Patsy, but I needed someone to distract me, and she was fun. "Hey, good liquids! Who the hell are ya?" Patsy growled in a gravelly voice in true hungover rockstar fashion. I sighed heavily.

"Hey, Pats... It's Jude," I answered, sounding more depressed by the word. I feel so damn pathetic now, and I am not pathetic. I'm so sick of crying over Tommy. He's with Sadie, not me. That hasn't changed. What has changed is that I will not go after him. I will not help him cheat on my sister. He's going to cheat on her anyways. It doesn't matter how good she is in the sack; he cheated on her before they were married/engaged. He won't stop afterwards, even if he wants to. He has no self-control. I don't even have the right to be mad or sad or jealous; Tommy was never mine to begin with, and it's not like he's cheating on me with her. It's the other way around, and I have no right.

"Oh, hey, Red!" Patsy declared noticeably more cheerfully. She sounded like she'd just woken up. I almost felt sorry for waking her. "So, what's wrong? You sound like someone just ran over your kitty," Patsy grunted understandingly. Well, something like that, Patsy, I thought. More like my sister's gonna marry the love of my life. If I was really dramatic, I'd say my life's over, but I'll just have to go on living and seeing them every day. But it won't ever be the same. Because they'll be sickeningly sweet together, and of course I can't ever touch Tommy in a nonplatonic way again... or else I'll be a homewrecking whore. And then I'll have to sit and watch them have my nieces and nephews while I die alone, or worse, I decide to take Travis up on his offer. Or I could marry Taylor just to spite Tommy, get a little revenge for him marrying my sister.

I sighed heavily, raggedly. And then I dropped the bomb. It felt good to be telling someone. "Tommy's marrying my sister," I blurted. There really was no other way to say it. "They just confirmed it over the phone. Sadie's been screaming her head off about it. And I feel completely miserable, but she's my sister, so I have to be happy for her." It's hard. I paused, trying to blink back the annoying tears that were forming in my eyes. "I found the ring in Tommy's coat. I saw it first, so I had to give it to her, knowing what it meant," I murmured softly, hearing my voice thickening. I blinked the tears back harder, but they didn't go away like I wanted them too.

No more wasted tears on Tommy.

"_Damn." _Patsy clucked her tongue. "Man, that blows," She muttered succinctly. "You need a stiff drink, Cherry?" Patsy hinted coarsely. I shook my head before realizing she couldn't see me, then I said no. Patsy sounded disappointed. "You sure about that, Red?" She asked doubtfully. I wasn't, but I have this whole no-drinking pledge. Bad things happen when I get drunk, and for some reason, Travis always seems to show up. Plus I had that gig. I said I was anyways. "Hmm, so you want Good Ole Patsy to cheer you up, eh?" Patsy continued interestedly. I rolled my eyes. Obviously I wanted to be cheered up just a little. "Well, then... I've got a little story for you," Patsy began mysteriously.

I begged her to tell the story, so Patsy began, smirking. "Well, once upon a time there was this homo named Jacob. Now, Jacob had a twin brother, but he'd tricked his brother out of his birthright, so his hairy monkey of a brother wanted to kill him. So, Jacob, being a smart hombre, decided to run for his life. And he did. He ran to his cousin's hovel and decided to stay there. And, being the virile young lover he is, Jacob falls in love with his pretty younger cousin, Rachel. Isn't that disgusting? Anyways, he wants to marry Rachel because she's hot and that's the only way he can have sex with her. So he bargains with his uncle... Seven years of labor for a wife," Patsy elaborated crassly. Only she could turn a beautiful story into something crass. But what does this have to do with me? Tommy doesn't want to marry me, and he doesn't need to marry me to have sex with me. Probably. I mean, I want to be married, but if it was either getting married to have sex or losing my virginity to Tommy... You know which one I'd chose. And if that makes me a fool, it's because I'm a fool for Tommy.

Patsy coughed, had a swig of something, and went on. "But his uncle's a devious 'hole, so when time for the wedding comes, he tricks Jake into marrying the wrong sister." Huh? Sister? So he doesn't marry Rachel? Patsy tsked and burped loudly. Patsy paused and giggled a little drunkenly. "Oops! I forgot to tell you that Rachel has an older sister named Leah. Only Leah has weird eyes or something, so Jake thinks she's freakin' ugly," Patsy interrupted distractedly. But how did Jacob marry the wrong sister? Is he blind or something? As if she read my mind, Patsy answered my question. "Can you imagine it? Jacob wakes up with this huge hangover, half out of his head, and sees Leah lying next to him. He must've screamed like a little girl!" Patsy cackled, even though she was fully aware of the insane things that happen when you're drunk and/or hungover. "See, olden-time weddings were very long affairs, and everyone offered the groom a drink. Drinking wasn't mandatory, but not drinking would've been rude. Plus, the bride was wearing about a thousand veils. So completely tanked and wasted, he didn't notice he was doin' the ugly chick. Woke up with some hangover, I bet," Patsy explained quite matter-of-factly.

Well, that explains it. It doesn't help, though. Tommy had a choice. He knew what he was getting into. He came here with that ring in his pocket, fully knowing what he was doing... But still, that has to be the most unromantic proposal ever. Kid sister comes in, interrupts her homework, says it was in boyfriend's jacket which said sister is wearing, chucks the ring at her and gives a bitter congratulations. And then she has to call her boyfriend to even confirm it. So there was no real proposal.

"Anyways, so Jacob's pissed. He goes and yells at the uncle, who tells them that it's a family tradition to marry off the oldest first. So Jacob agrees to work another seven years for Rachel... Although I think he marries her the week later or something. Of course he loves Rachel more, but she can't have kids at first. Leah can, though. She gives him like four, and then gives him her maid to marry so that the children will be hers. Now, I don't see the logic in adding even more competition when her husband doesn't even love her, but whatever... So Rachel did the same thing, and the maid had a kid or two, and then Rachel had two of her own," Patsy rambled very quickly. I guess she just wanted to get the story done with by this point.

I was beginning to wonder what Patsy meant. When I said nothing, Patsy grew frustrated and decided to explain it to me. "You don't get it, do you? You're Rachel; Sadie's Leah," Patsy spat. Age-wise, that may be correct. But that doesn't make me the favored wife.

"Why do you think I'm the Rachel in the story?" I asked, not able to believe her. Come on. If you could pick between me or my blonde, tall, prettier sister, who would you pick?

Not me, obviously.

I could almost sense Patsy rolling her eyes at me."Your dink of a producer might be _with _your sister, and he might even marry her... Although I wouldn't hold my breath. Bet you they won't even set a date," Patsy drawled skeptically, pausing momentarily. She always was a betting person. Unfortunately, she almost always wins her bets. I did not know this the first time I bet with her. "The point is that you're the one he'll be thinking of. He'll always care about you more than her, and in a different way because you get the music thing. And, try as she might, Sexy Sadie doesn't get what that's about... what we as musicians, even ass-shaking boybanders, are about. You can't get it unless you _live _it, so they'll never understand each other," Patsy elaborated almost poetically, prophetically. She said it with such pride... _musicians. _It meant a lot to me that she even included Tommy in there, almost like she thought he was a legitimate artist.

And she was completely right about that, too. Because I had never looked about it. Music was the thing in common that we had and Sadie lacked. When you're in music like we are, it doesn't just become your life- it _is _your life. Music sustains people like us through the hard times, and it's always with us every day when we need it the most. Even if everything is gone, and I have nothing... I have music. We have music. And I know that music alone will sustain me. Tommy too.

You see, Patsy hates record execs. She hates big labels, lawyers, and managers. So, naturally, she hates Tommy, although she almost kinda respects him in a way because he stood up to Darius, which takes mega guts and not giving a damn about anything. I don't talk to Patsy about Tommy, but she knows anyways. She's dreadful perceptive like that. "Not like you and the dink do, dig it?" Patsy paused deliberately; she was lighting a cigarette. She took that first puff and continued in her typically frank manner. "Now, I don't know how the loser feels about you, but I know that you're only _completely _besotted with him... And he feels more for you than he has quite possibly ever felt or ever will feel in his pathetic teenybopper life," Patsy growled, puffing away like a chimney. I started to interrupt her, but she continued firmly. "Jacob will always love Rachel more than Leah, no matter what Leah does for him. Got it, Red? You'll be stuck with the loser if you want him," Patsy insisted inflexibly, once again prophetically.

I was kind of inclined to believe her despite all my doubts. Patsy really knew her stuff. She was just so intuitive about things. And of course, I did want Tommy. I didn't mind being stuck with him for the rest of my life. It's crazy to think about it, but I'd be so happy if I could just be with him sometimes. Just to be near him, sleep in the same bed, have someone to keep me warm on cold nights, someone with which to share my life... much less if that person was Tommy? I would be in heaven. And even the fights, even those would be worthwhile. After all, we'd get to make up afterwards.

"But Sadie's prettier than me. And the homecoming queen. And she's great at everything," I protested because it was true, and I couldn't see how or why anyone would pick me over her if they had a choice. Unless someone was in love with me... or had loyalty to me. Now, logically you're thinking, uh, hello, then that must mean that Tommy's in love with you; remember, he met you first? But that's not how it works. That little nagging voice in my head pointed out what he'd actually proposed to me first and given me a ring all before any of this, but that was a joke. And I didn't have a diamond ring on my finger. I had Travis' family ring on my right thumb, and the cheapo ring Tommy had given me on my left ring finger. But you see, it was just a bauble, crafted of plastic and cheap metal... probably aluminum or something just painted gold. The paint would just flake off. Not the real thing. It wasn't even the crappy quality of those things you buy at Claire's. And, to make matters worse, it probably had lead in it, but Tommy had given it to me, so I still wore it, despite its momentary ugliness. I looked down on it now, flexed my finger, and swore it almost sparkled like a real diamond. It was beautiful to me in that one instant.

But Sadie had the real thing, and I had a cheap mockery. But Tommy had proposed to me, and he'd proposed to me first, and wasn't that something? He'd at least asked me, joking or not. No one had asked Sadie. We all just assumed.

And wouldn't it be funny, terrifically, hilariously, uproarious, terribly funny if we were all wrong? If Tommy had never meant to propose to Sadie... if his having that ring in his pocket was somehow just an accident? But who else would it be for? It wasn't Portia's, that was for sure (she'd sold it at auction the day after the divorce papers were finalized). Besides, it was too yellow, too grandiose, too classless for Portia. She was a woman of intricate, trendy tastes. She'd want something simple, classic.

"But she can't sing a bar," Patsy interrupted. Was that really important to Tommy? None of his bimbos could... Then again, I wasn't exactly one of his bimbos, was I? I'd never actually had sex with him. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Red. Some guys don't like Mary-Sues. And, come on, what guy in his right mind would pick Barbie over you?" She asked skeptically before taking another puff. Uh, how about any guy? Barbie has it all: she's tall, blonde, gorgeous, smart, has a perfect figure, legs that go on for miles, huge breasts, the perfect tan, great clothes, perfect make-up, and awesome shoes. Plus she can do anything she wants. What guy doesn't want that, the whole package? She's "Barbie Girl", and I'm like... what, the annoying kid sister that no one wants? And I'm not even that because I'm not blonde like Skipper and Kelly (although Kelly kinda had a little boyfriend... named Tommy. Hm).

"What guy in his right mind would pick me over feminine perfection?" I gaped. I mean, seriously, what guy? I know Kwest wants to "tap me" and all, but he's the idiot who total Tommy to go after Sadie. He even used the word "Barbie". I mean, some guys would, I guess... Like Jamie (although he hates Sadie) and Speed (who is not in his right mind). But not Quincys. Regardless of how much Taylor supposedly likes me, you think I don't know that he'd rather have Kathryn Mansfield? The way he fawns over her, really... It makes my Tommy obsession look small. And not Tommy, who will apparently screw girls who look like me, but not actually me.

Patsy laughed coarsely, slapping her hand down on her thigh. "Well, obviously Squinty Frown's not in his right mind, Cherry," Patsy proclaimed with yet another laugh. Okay, I'll give her that one. She puffed a bit on her cigarette before I think she stubbed it out. "Anyways, Cherry Bomb, as much as I would looove to continue this utterly fascinating conversation, I have an appointment to screw... attend to. It's extra urgent. But I'll be there around eight-thirty to pick you up. See ya, Red!" Patsy finished with a suggestive grin. Someone has a date to have sex. Well, good for her, I guess... As long as it's not Travis.

"Yeah, yeah... See ya, Patsy," I said, pausing briefly before asking, "But where's the story from?" Damn curiosity gets me every time.

Patsy sighed. "The Bible, duh," She replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then she hung up; I heard the phone click. My jaw was hanging open in disbelief. Patsy and The Bible? Who would've thunk it? Then again, I guess she had been raised Jewish. She probably had a bat mitzvah and all that.

Anyways, after that, I did anything I could to possibly distract myself from the horrible fact that my beloved was currently engaged to marry my sister. Of course, despite everything, I thought about it all the more now that I was trying not to. My mp3 player kept playing songs that reminded me of him. I threw it down in frustration and started to practice. I tuned my guitar, and that was all well and good. So I started to practice, but every song I'd written pretty much came back to Tommy in the end. Except maybe "Who Am I Fooling?" or "How I Feel". But even those made me think about him. _Did you just waste your breath asking me how I feel today? Do you really wanna know? _Or... _Who am I fooling?_

Even playing just the chords damn near reduced me to tears. I practically threw my guitar down with a clatter. I tried watching TV, but this stupid show... Instant Idol or Sudden Fame or Overnight Success or Office Smash... Well, it just had My Life written all over it. I mean, okay, so the girl was blonde... Some Alexz Johnston girl or something... That was the actress' name. She looked a bit like me, but I sing waay better. Besides, she's so POP, although there was kind of a rock edge. And then she had this producer, Tim Rose or something (again, the actor's name), who looked almost exactly like Tommy. There happened to be a marathon of it on CTV. So, in the first of the two episodes I saw, the blonde girl was hooked up with aforementioned hottie producer. And he wrote her a song and played the piano. It was so cute I wanted to vomit. Apparently it was the aforementioned blonde chick's eighteenth, and they were gonna go public. But some creepy weirdo showed up, and so in the next one, the producer smashed her heart. I turned it off before I could start crying.

So yeah. Then I decided to read a book, but my mind kept wandering. I tried to write a song after that, but I could only get out a few verses before beginning a new song, which was also a failure. Somehow, though, I'd managed to waste enough time. Coincidentally, I played that song too. It was kinda fun to get lost in that time when I loved Shay. I started laughing hysterically while singing it. Patsy came up right in the middle of Shay's little rap. "Hey, Harrison! Wow, you sure put the hip in hip-hop," Patsy retorted sarcastically. I shrugged, feeling a faint flush on my face. She started laughing, and I stopped, unplugging my guitar. I slung my Sunburst around my back, grabbed my backpack, and followed Patsy out the door.

Patsy's dark, free hair was messier than usual. She was smiling widely, meaning that she was in a good mood, which was rare for Patsy. This also meant that Patsy had gotten laid, which was ultimately unsurprising. She was dressed pretty typically... Typically for Patsy, anyways. Black nails, cut short. Hoop earrings up and down her ears, spiky bracelet, beringed fingers (all silver, including an elephant and a coffin). Black choker 'round her neck, many heavy chains hanging down including a spike necklace. Fishnets, plaid and black dress complete with skull and crossbones that showed off the strange tattoo on her shoulder, stomping combat boots. Heavy black eyeliner and thick eyeshadow, no lipstick. That's about as girly as Patsy gets.

She led the way stomping down the stairs, stopping dead in her tracks at the foot of the stairs. There stood my pristine sister, girly wedding mags in hand. Sadie was wearing light pastels. She stared at Patsy with disdain. Sadie shot me a glance. "Jude, make sure the door doesn't hit your gothic friend's back on the way out," Sadie replied nastily. I noticed unhappily that she was wearing his ring, the dazzler flashing brightly and cheerfully. It was winking at me mockingly. I felt all the color drain out of my face. I almost fell into Patsy. But Patsy wasn't afraid to speak like I was. She saw beyond Sadie.

Patsy stiffened and straightened up, rising to her full height. She was taller than Sadie (although the fact Anger burned in her dark eyes, turning them black. "It's **punk**, not goth," Patsy growled threateningly. I could practically see the steam coming out of her nostrils. Patsy was understandably pissed off. For one thing, she was also wearing red and white (on the dress). And another? Patsy hates being called a goth. I was never stupid enough to even think it (not to mention that I took her for a punk from Day One, being punkish myself), thank God, but I've seen what she's done. Pats, you see, has freakish hearing, so if you say it behind her back, she will make you pay. One time a chick said it behind her back, right? Guess what Patsy did? She slipped something in the girl's drink at a party and tattooed her. The C word. Right on her cheek.

Another time this really popular guy said it to her face. Guess what Patsy did? She crashed his birthday party, seduced him, and took his clothes. So he had to walk completely naked through five miles of woods back to the party. In the dark. All dirty because he'd been so turned on. Seriously, Patsy twisted him and kicked him so hard in the nuts and... He literally had black balls, okay? That's Patsy for ya. Her reply was... "Who's the goth now? You're the one wearing black." She hid his clothes all over that party too... his boxers were under a sloshed girl. I could really tell more stories of Patsy's legendary status, but that would take all day. I can't believe I never knew her before. Ooh, there's the one time she put a bright pink swastika on her own locker and framed this chick for doing it. That was great, really.

So Sadie really didn't know what she was getting into. She just rolled her eyes like the Barbie she is, clutching her pristine wedding magazines. Today's Bride, Vogue, Glamour, Harper's Bazaar, Brides... etcetera. I figured they were gonna get into it soon, so I sat down and pulled out the stack of magazines I have stashed there for these express purposes. Exclaim!, The Nerve, Wasted Youth, Brave Words & Bloody Knuckles, Guitar Player, Rolling Stone, an old issue of ROCKRGRL, Under the Radar, Ugly Things, Shameless, Songlines, Record of the Day, Clash, and Blender. It's a wonder other crap fits in there with all the music magazines I've got in there. I glanced back up. Patsy and Sadie were engaged in a fierce staring contest. I rolled my eyes. This could take forever. I shrugged and opened Wasted Youth, tossing the rest of the mags back in the bag.

I glanced up, and apparently Patsy had won the staring contest. Sadie was almost crying. I wished she would. I wanted Patsy to make her cry. Does that make me a bad person? Patsy was smirking victoriously, but there was still a murderous glint in her eyes. Sadie, blinking furiously, missed it. Stupid girl. "Hey, Blondie, know what happened to the last chick who called me a goth?" Patsy taunted, voice turning steely. And deadly, but Sadie missed that too. Sadie rolled her eyes dubiously. I could see the sarcasm etched into her face. Bad move, Sades.

"No," Sadie bit out tersely. She was clutching her precious magazines with white knuckles. I wanted to jump at her and rip those magazines out of her hands, tear the ring from her finger. I wanted to go out kicking and screaming. But instead I just sat there on the steps, reading Wasted Youth with one eye and glancing up at the brewing battle with another. I knew there was going to be a showdown. Would Sadie's Karate beat out Patsy's sheer ass-kicking rage? Probably not. I've only known Patsy for like... two months, but I've seen her in ten bar fights. She won every time and took some pretty hard hits. Half of those bar fights were with men, and trust me, Patsy doesn't have a scratch on her after they're through. It's the guys that are hurting and begging for mercy. She doesn't let anyone kick her around.

Seriously, Patsy's kind of like my role model or something. Patsy smiled like the Cheshire cat. Patsy has a very frightening smile, especially like that. That's her "I'm gonna do something evil to you" smile. Sadie, of course, knows none of this. She will come to regret being so stupid later, I assure you. It was really a grim smile. "I slit her throat," Patsy deadpanned. With the way Patsy is, you can never tell if she's serious or not. You can also never tell if she's drunk or not. I shuddered because the way she said it was very creepy. And, honestly, I couldn't be sure she hadn't. It's not like it would surprise me. This is Patsy Sewer (née Stuart) we're talking about.

Sadie, though, Stupid Sadie, scoffed. She didn't believe Patsy. Bad move, there, Sades. She pointedly ignored Patsy and turned to address me, pointing a finger at me. Was it really my fault, though, I ask? I did not pick a fight with Patsy. I am not that stupid. "Hey, Jude, get your dirty, psychopathic... _Goth... _friend out of here!" Sadie spat venomously, shooting a brief dirty glance to Patsy before whirling around abruptly. Now, Patsy doesn't mind being called dirty or crazy. She says dirty's relative, and plus, as she claims proudly, "I was born in the gutter." And crazy, well, she's not denying it ("But then again, who among us is perfectly sane?"). That was another mistake. Turning her back on Patsy.

Because less than a millisecond later, Patsy whipped out a switchblade, simultaneously pulling it out, flicking up the blade, and throwing it at my sister. Sadie, hearing a noise, turned around. Her eyes widened seeing the knife flying at her. In a flash, the knife landed just above her head in the wall. Sadie shot Patsy a look. "Nice aim, Gothika," She snarked, pivoting to retire to the kitchen. Yet another mistake. Clumsy, clumsy Sadie. Before Sadie could take one step further, Patsy whipped out a BUTCHER KNIFE (!) and threw it at Sadie. This one also stuck in the wall, pinning Sadie to the wall by her shirt. It was awkward since she was pinned by the side. Patsy glowered at Sadie, brandishing a little dagger.

"Next time you do that, I won't miss. You're just lucky you're Harrison's sister, or you'd be dead by now," Patsy promised menacingly. She meant it too, every word. I had no doubt that Patsy wouldn't miss. Unfortunately, however, my sister has a strong bladder, so she didn't wet her pants. Then again, she was also wearing black jeans. Patsy smirked evilly, winking at Sadie. "Bet I could get an insanity plea like _that_," Patsy cackled, laughing like the Wicked Witch of the West. I didn't doubt her. She could, all right. It'd be hard to prove that she was insane, but I think she's borderline. Sadie panted, now afraid of Pasty. She suddenly understood that the crazy gleam in Patsy's eyes meant business.

I could've told her that a while ago, but I refrained, partially because Sadie wouldn't believe me... and partially because I was still pissed off. She just got engaged to the love of my life. I think I've got the right to be a bit sulky about it. So after that Patsy turned and offered me a hand up. I grabbed the proffered hand and stashed the magazine in my backpack. And then I followed Patsy in a dead run the hell out of there. Patsy sort of hurt Sadie. It was just a flesh wound, really, and it was just a shallow little cut... little line, really... But she drew blood. She drew blood like I had wanted to when I heard my sister shout for glee about her impending nuptials. You think I should spoil the wedding? I mean, I guess I've got to ask Tommy first when it is... And I'll probably be in it or singing or something, which would be really awkward. On the one hand, she's my sister, you know? Blood is thicker than water supposedly, but my ties to Tommy aren't water either. I love her, and I love Tommy, but I'm not as okay with the idea of them as I pretend to be... or thought I was.

I want Tommy for myself, and that makes me selfish. I'd be, what, ruining my sister's happiness for my own? That would make me a bitch. Then again, Sadie did that to me. I kissed him first! Me! So, technically, I have a claim to him... but Sadie liked him in the Boyz Attack! days. Does that make me then the man-stealing skank? He was my sister's teen idol. But that's really quite shallow; she loved who she thought he was, who Darius made him out to be. I know the real Tommy, and I love him because I _know_ him. I love him in SPITE of Boyz Attack!, not because of it. Can Sadie honestly say that? Then again, it would be cruel of me to ruin her happiness. I want Sadie happy, just not with Tommy. Besides, what if she makes Tommy happy? If she makes Tommy happy, then I can't fight... but he said he's not happy with her. He said he wants me. Tommy says a lot of things, though. And he hasn't said anything to me with a ring, so point for Sadie!

What if I make Tommy happy? I could, right?! Maybe I do... But how could I make someone happier than Sadie? I don't even know IF I make Tommy happy. And whether or not Sadie makes him happy is really none of my business anyways, even if I am in love with him. After all, he's marrying her, isn't he? That means **something**. That _has_ to mean something. It's not like it's an accident. This is all assuming, of course, that Tommy would actually pick me. Or that I would even disturb the wedding. Do I have the kind of guts for that?

I honestly don't know.

A public proclamation of my love? Something I've never even told Tommy (but I tried; God knows I tried!)? Can I do that?!

I'm not sure.

Plus, think of all the various facets of PUBLIC (**extremely** so) humiliation I'd face. Think of how I'd be setting myself up for failure. What guy in his right mind picks this punk over the cheerleader?! I mean, if Tommy said no, and, let's face it... He probably would (although he might not marry Sadie, best case scenario)... That would kill me. It would be worse than Shay. Shay's cheating was a little blast; Tommy's rejection would be a full-on Hiroshima. The wreckage from that would be my heart. Gone, torn to pieces, on fire, dead. I don't think I could handle that.

But what if he said yes? Tommy was, after all, a maverick... ever-changing, impossible to predict, wild, impulsive, and free. What if he said yes to me and no to Sadie? What if, indeed...

What _if_?

I got there right on time thanks to Patsy's "short-cuts". Her short-cuts really aren't short-cuts at all. In fact, I'd call them scenic routes. They're just really rambling drives, almost tours, really. She tells you cool stuff along the way sometimes. But she only drives like that when she's got time to kill (like a taxi-cab driver too). When she has no time to kill, she goes the maximum speed the car can go and emulates Mario Andretti. She does stuff that even Tommy wouldn't attempt. I mean, the girl is COMPLETELY reckless. There are no limits to her (which explains her record of 114 unpaid speeding tickets). "Infinity and beyond!" She proclaims daringly.

Right on time happened to be early enough to help the guys set up. Vinyl Palace again. Man, last time I was here I was on a date with Travis. What the hell, right? Life sure throws you for a loop or twenty. I was so psyched, though, to have a full set, not just a couple songs. I hooked stuff up, tried desperately to avoid Tommy (because he was practically my brother-in-law, not to mention I'd seen him naked earlier, and I was still having all sorts of naughty fantasies about what I wanted him to do to me). You know, the usual. I did, however, eventually have to see Tommy, though, so I kept it down to a few very businesslike words. In other words, I pulled a Tommy and pretended like nothing had happened at all. He was probably confused by that, but it's not like I care!

By that point I'd been stewing for a little while. A long while, rather. And it was pretty nasty. The rage hadn't gone away. For some reason, I was more mad at Sadie than Tommy, perhaps because he'd never really implicitly _asked_ her to marry him. We just all assumed. I'd grown even more furious with Sadie just thinking about everything alone before the show. I pictured their wedding in my head, okay? I saw my sister walk down the aisle in that mockery of a white wedding dress. She was gorgeous, and so was Tommy, even if he was wearing some utterly ridiculous pastel color. It brought out his beautiful blue eyes. His tie was even more ridiculous; clearly Sadie had dressed him head-to-toe. There were pale and shocking pink roses everywhere, as well as Sadie's trashy favorite flowers in abundance. Her wedding dress was strapless, a sort of princess-type dress that belied an innocence I knew she did not possess. Dad walked her down the aisle looking for all the world like a proud papa. And there I stood, on Sadie's right, as her matron of honor. I also had the unprecedented honor of singing with the rest of Boyz Attack! (fittingly Tom's groomsmen) on the happy occasion. I was wearing a dress as ugly as sin, picked out to critically flatter me the least. I looked fat and gawky at the same time in the ridiculously colored outfit, which at least drew attention (it reminded me of some awful Technicolor nightmare. Seriously, where did she get this thing? Did she find a circus quilt, some old movie costumes, and use big black yarn to stitch them together?). My make-up was ill-applied to say the least; perhaps done by a first-grader or similarly young child foolish enough to think lipstick belongs everywhere on the face. I looked half-whore and half-clown.

The ugly shoes weren't helping. It was a dreadful affair. I had to suffer through their treacly vows and cheesiness. It was absolutely awful! My hair was, well... Bird's nests have better craft and style than my particular (painful) hairdo that day. Sadie deliberately set out to make me look as ugly as possible. And, contrary to Patsy's words, in the terrible daymare, Tommy actually DID marry Sadie.

That's what really got to me... Knowing that my sister, not me... The wrong Harrison was going to become Mrs. Tommy Quincy. Sadie had what I so coveted: the promise of a future with my fair Tommy. So, in a stream of a particularly vindictive feeling, I loudly and proudly opened the show with "Too Sexy Sadie". In my dear sis' honor. This time I was nice enough to give the guys a few moments of warning. It really got the audience going, absorbed into their hatred for the whore described in the song. If I'd been feeling anything other than anger, I might've felt guilty. But I didn't. Such is the price of marrying fame. Tommy and my Dad sure didn't look happy about it. In fact, Dad was giving me his "stern" face. I know! My dad being _stern_. Gimme a break. Tommy took it a step further, of course, as he always does. He pushed his way through the wildly dancing, gyrating club, climbed on stage (okay, went backstage) and came very close to dragging me offstage.

But luckily Darius' sweet friend, Lou, handled it for me. Lou is a big, burly bodyguard. He could probably take Darius unless Big D busted a kung fu move on him. Big Lou, as he is affectionately called, once handled Boyz Attack! (especially Tommy, I think). Random side note: Why do I get so many leftovers/holdovers from the Boy Band Golden Age? Little Tommy Q. to produce, Chaz Blackburn to befriend, Darius Mills to manage, a boyfriend who dressed in white sweatsuits, a wicked nasty resemblance to Chaz' Lolita-love, "Pick Up the Pieces" for my album, etcetera... Tommy needs a bodyguard, though. His body's just so fine... people must surely want to be touching him all the time. Plus psychotic females might want to kill him because he didn't call back, and Tommy happens to have that nasty habit of getting into trouble. Okay, so trouble _finds_ him... whatever.

After that, I sorta skipped around set-wise. I launched into a bright and chipper version of "Over-rated." It's not the best song for me, and it is hella confusing, but I like it all the same. It's fun, plus it was a good lead-in for my next song. The next song was "S.T.D. Walking", which was destined to be my next single, but only for the alternative charts, because the regular ones would never play it. It was basically about a guy who's a huge whore, or Tommy, for short, as we like to call him. I thought it a fitting tribute. After all, Sadie should know what... or who, rather... she's getting into. Plus, it really was fitting, given that he's been cheating on her with anything with legs.

I jumped off after that with "Dirty Old Man". Because I needed to stick it to the man, or, rather, Travis. Stylistically, this new stuff's a **lot** angrier than my old stuff. More punkish. Actually, I'm kinda surprised "Dirty Old Man" even got two seconds of mainstream pop airplay. It's stripped-down, catchy-as-if-The-Matrix-wrote-and-produced-it-but-actually-serious Ramones-ish rock. Except you can understand me. Think a little like "53rd and Third" meets "Complicated" or "Sk8r Boi". With a dark, deliciously twisted edge. Crap. I don't think I spelled that right.

Oh well. Another difference between me and Avril (besides the 2-3 years she has on me and the completely crazy debut album sales). I don't believe in spelling things weird. I just spell 'em like it is. It's probably Sk8ter... Uh, Sk8er... CRAP. Like I said, I am not Avril, so why am I wasting my time spelling this? Everyone loves that song. They sing along. Oh, wait! I know. It's kind of a little bit like "U and Ur Hand Tonight". Or is it 2night? Sheesh. Why can't these musicians just spell things like NORMAL PEOPLE? That being said, I like Pink. She's got a great voice for blues, don't you think? Plus, she's worked with Tim Armstrong, which is only my goal in life.

So that was fun, and I was beginning to forget about my bitchy sister and the love of my life gettin' hitched. My spirits were rising. Plus I have a date with Tim tomorrow (not Tim Armstrong... that I know of... rather unfortunately). I continued with the fun and uplifting and especially empowering and ridiculously catchy "Not Standing Alone", a personal favorite of mine. I'd arranged it almost entirely myself, recorded it live, not in some studio. Okay, so maybe Tommy was there. And he blew off a date with Sadie to record that song with me, apparently. We had a raging party afterwards at the practice space... this really rundown apartment building. Patsy supplied the liquor, naturally. Hm. I think I made out with Tommy in some dark corner. Or maybe that was Jamie. No, I'm thinking Tommy. He tasted sweet and was a really, really, really good kisser. Knew exactly how I wanted to be kissed and all.

But then some moron had to come ruin it. Oh, right, Kyle. I might owe him, but I don't like him for ruining that for me. Frowning a bit at the thought, I launched right into "Forbidden Fruit", making sure to search out my co-writer's eyes in the crowd. I fondly remembered writing the song with him, curled up with him, nearly driven to madness, reaching my breaking point. I didn't realize I was smiling, really, full-out smiling for the first time since I'd found out the "happy" news. The less... rough... version was really an elaborate, spectacular affair. It was slow, sticky, and seductive. Soft nature sounds mingled attractively in the background, attempting to suggest a lush garden. I remembered with an even wider smile the trips we'd taken to find such sounds. A frequent, especially prominent background noise was the sound of bites being taken into fresh apples. Tommy and I went through about half of a bushel for those.

It had a sort of exotic (or erotic, rather?), Indian-flavored beat. Speed got to play the sitar for this one (although Tommy had played it and beautifully on the record version), while I was on lead guitar. Only guitar, really. Don't get me wrong... Speed's good at the sitar. It is a very hard instrument to play from what I've seen and heard. But he's no Tommy, you know? And Tommy studied under a master in Calcutta. Speed lacked the beauty, only possessing minimal grace. But when Tommy played, it was the most enticing sound I'd ever heard... although he's got stiff competition with himself. Let's see... There's that frustrated groan he makes often, the soft sounds of pleasure he makes when he's kissing you, an even softer, toe-curlingly seductive moan he makes if you _really_ turn him on, and the sound of him biting into an apple.

That song made me feel hot. Whenever I finished singing it my clothes were always plastered to my skin. The song was all too appropriate. Tommy was the fruit in question. He wasn't mine to have. It would do me well to remember that despite the want. It really got to me. I finished the song with teary eyes, fully aware that everyone could see them. I couldn't help but to sniffle. "Sorry. That song... is about someone I..." I tried to explain, but I trailed off when I noticed that Tommy had perked up. He knew full well I was talking about him. With a pang, I remembered how close we'd been writing it. I was glad I hadn't said "was written with..." instead. I looked down and swiped at my eyes a bit, hoping my eye make-up wasn't completely ruined. Then I looked up and finished my sentence the only way I could. "...Can't have." I faked a smile and awkwardly moved on to the next one. That wasn't what I wanted to say at all. But sometimes you have to settle.

Speed asked if I was okay, and I just nodded. I was so far from okay, but Speed didn't know why. I didn't want to tell him. It was pathetic. I can't cry during every song I've written with or about Tommy. I threw myself into "Anyone But You". It was a typically fun song that I'd written with Speed, but I couldn't enjoy it like I normally would. But I was a performer now, and the show must go on at all costs. I'd done this before, and I'd do it again. I had sung "24 Hours" better after Tommy rejected me. I had made myself sit in that studio with him and record "Time to Be Your 21" for hours until it was done. I could paste a smile on my face and play the happy chanteuse for a few more minutes. The song passed me by; I was on autopilot.

Strangely, the next song on my set list was "Liar, Liar". Quite a transition. It was also the first time I'd sung the whole thing. It was words on napkins, in my head, my life... but never out loud. Today was the big premiere, which meant I had to give a big introduction. Breathless from an overly energetic performance, I exhaled heavily (accidentally into the mike). I began to speak; the words came out in a rush. "I have never sung this song from beginning to end before. It's been in my head and on my heart for a while, though. Too long, I think. And there is no doubt in my mind that today is the right day to sing it. This song is about how the people we love... The people we love the most... deceive us in the most horrible ways. Men don't always mean what they say or keep their promises. And it's called "Liar, Liar"," I elucidated wearily, feeling the sadness overwhelm me. I took up my place at the piano, turned sideways so I wouldn't have to look at the crowd.

Speed and I began to play the opening. "_You said I... was your everything... You said I... was the __**one**_"I began hauntingly, clutching the microphone with white knuckles. I tried to look away from Tommy. He hadn't said either of those things, but he'd said close enough. For God's sake, the man had proposed to me, after all! I shook my head in sorrow, looking down at the battered piano. "_You __**played **__me... like a radio... You used to love that I... had no shame_," I sang accusingly, remembering just how much Tommy loved to toy with me. I paused briefly on the love, holding the v just a bit longer. The concept of Tommy and love? He seemed to forget sometimes that I wasn't one of his sluts, and why should he when I was shameless? He played me like a cheap fiddle, though. He didn't even have to grease the strings; he just dragged his bow across me like butter. I resented him immensely for seducing me with his siren song, for turning me on and off so easily, mid-song like that.

My eyes flashed. "_Put my pain into words_," I choked out. My voice was half-whisper, half-song. It was hard and painful to pour my pain out, to put the betrayal into words when it was still raw. "_Hold my hand to the flame..._" I continued darkly, haltingly, wishing I had a candle to play with for demonstration. Love had burned me. I was like that dumb little kid who puts her hand on the hot stove just to see what it'd feel like. White-hot fire. It was a temptation to overcome, seeking that skin-searing heat. It's almost like I like the burn, like I want the poker to brand me. Listen to me, speaking all in metaphors. I'd walked through the flames and come out more than a little charred on the outside but raw on the inside, like a badly cooked steak.

The chorus came next, put together and sensible, holding the verses together. In reality, the song made little sense, but how can you make sense of such pain? I couldn't very well put it in anything less than obscure terms. Like something catchy and true like: "Tell me you don't love my sister more than your car. Tell me you want me wherever you are. Ask me to marry you, be yours 'til death... Liar, Liar." Well, okay, that sucked, but you see my point.

I smiled, bitterly, ironically. "_Tell me you __**love **__me like a __**star**__Tell me you want me wherever you are. Tell me you'll breathe me 'til your last breath... Liar, Liar... Ooh, Liar, Liar_," I sang passionately. Tommy never had said any of that. He'd just said he wanted me, asked me to marry him half-jokingly. He never said he loved me, or anyone, for that matter. But the star part? That was personal. I rubbed my finger against the star ring that gleamed on my finger. It seemed so much a part of my identity, that ring. Everything had changed after that, everything. A theme in my life, in my music... Those damn stars. Like how I compared the men in my life to stars, just completely randomly the other day. The Instant Star competition, me talking about how it only takes an instant... They crop up in my songs all the time, maybe because I stare at my ring so much...

"_Whenever we're together, no one's a star..._"

"_If I was falling... like a star..._"

"_When I look at the stars, I see your face... Looking at the stars above, I'm thinking of sweet love... And I am wishing on a star... that you are thinking of me too..._"

"_I dreamed we were... riding on a star..."_

"_They build you up so high... 'til you can hardly see the stars beneath your feet..._"

"_And for every endless midnight, there's a sky full of broken stars..._"

"_A thousand stars, you have my word... Aren't bright enough to fill these cracks..._"

"_Everyone we know's a part of... everything we are forever... under the stars..._"

"_Watch me burn like a shooting star... Turn to dust in the atmosphere..._"

You know, I don't know where some of those came from. I don't entirely recollect writing all those. But oy, preoccupied much?

I remembered with a pang one night when Tommy had driven me home.

It was towards the end of the wrapping of my first album but before we got in that ridiculous fight over "Frozen". I don't even think I knew about "Frozen" then, or that Darius was even remotely interested in me. It was a bit after the telethon, I think, so Tommy and I were close once again. I was already falling for him all over again. It was really late at night because we'd just finished recording something, and we'd both lost track of time. Definitely past my curfew. So, of course, Tommy had to take me home. He took me out for something to eat first, since neither of us could remember the last time we'd eaten. We'd been in the studio all day, since at least nine in the morning; my voice was so hoarse it hurt to talk.

Tommy stopped at a McDonald's or something and got us these Big Macs because I'm not a shy eater. Whatsoever. In fact, I think nothing of stuffing a whole sandwich in my mouth. I have no ladylike pretensions. We were both ravenously hungry, so we ate in the car... a rarity, since Tommy obsesses about the cleanliness of his Viper. He was just so hungry he was willing to overlook it. We gobbled down those burgers and fries like speed-eaters and then slurped down the sodas. My throat was no longer parched, but it was still sore and painful to talk. Tommy, desperate to save my voice since we had another recording session later on that day, since it was, by that point, tomorrow, force-fed me honey. He always keeps a spare bottle in his car since it's good for your vocal cords, especially since Tommy smokes.

I don't really like honey, but at least it's sweet. Anyways, Tommy pulled over on the side of the highway midway through the drive. At first I was worried that something was wrong with the car. Obviously that had to be it. Why else would he stop? Did we have a flat? No gas? I was actually starting to worry, but it turned out that there was nothing wrong with the car. So, why, you ask, did Tommy stop? He stopped... to look at the stars. He helped me out of the car, leaned against the hood of his car, and pointed out all the constellations. It was really nice, even if it meant that I got home at three-thirty. At that point, I wasn't in the habit of questioning Tommy. His authority was absolute in my eyes. So I didn't ask why he took me there, why he felt the need to stop suddenly on the way home. Tommy often didn't make any sense, and I was used to that. Besides, I lived for those seemingly random sweet gestures. I wasn't going to question my luck.

He didn't even kiss me or try and make a move or anything. He was just there, and it was so great... to be accepted into his company like a confidante. Although it was still chilly out, and I shivered, so he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. But that was not unusual then. It was an innocent, meaningless gesture. Every touch didn't have sexual undertones; they just kicked up the butterflies in my stomach. Simpler times... My heart sank as I was overwhelmed by nostalgia. Who would've thought that some six months later he'd be marrying my sister? Things had changed so much.

It was strange how my relationship with Tommy simultaneously heated and cooled. How at times it could be so intensely physical, heated even, but not connected on that emotional level. There had been a distinct frost to it as of late, with Sadie in between. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I can't be nice to Tommy when he's dating my sister. "_Bit by bit, I feel the draft,_" I breathed, closing my eyes. I could feel a chill threatening to overwhelm me, but I didn't even quiver. My fingers played the keys, playing the notes to the melody they'd memorized back and forth. "_Just sit back... and watch it __**burn**_**," **I warbled, thinking of when I'd taken that shot. The shot that had wound up becoming one more, and then another, and then I was so drunk I could barely stand, and then I woke up, hungover, in Tommy's bed. I think that was the happiest morning of my life. I forced myself to harden, to steel myself to the cold, cruel world. "_Hold your __**ice **__up to my veins. Call out, call my __**name**_"I called challenging, as if I was waiting, as if I could take it.

My eyes were suddenly drawn to Tommy's. I had avoided looking at him all song, not even deigning to give him one tiny glance, when it was so obvious that the whole song was about him. My fingers were on the keys, but I couldn't feel them. My whole body was numb, my ears deaf. I couldn't even hear myself. There was only Tommy. His eyes and mine. I wasn't begging, just showing him what I was feeling. Only I wasn't showing him everything. I was saving that for the last verse. "_Tell me you love me like a star. Tell me you want me wherever you are. Tell me you'll breathe me 'til your last breath... Liar, Liar. Oh, Liar, Liar..._" I sang in a desperate, sincere whisper. My eyes were dry, but I tore my gaze away from his. Then I finished the into to the next verse, tied up my loose ends professionally, and I rose, clutching the mike with white knuckles and heading back towards the crowd.

My eyes locked on Tommy's. The shocking blue of his eyes suddenly swimming in my vision (he really was right near the stage, practically at my feet) left me breathless. I walked to the very edge of the stage, knowing full well I was risking being pulled off, but I didn't care. I stood tall and proud, straight to a fault. I poured everything in me into performing those last few lines... all the emotions I'd stored away, bottled up, and pushed out of sight came bubbling to the surface. All my jealousy, the secret, seething jealousy that ate at my heart, the jagged confetti of my broken hearts, and most of all the rebellious, stubborn anger that continually burned inside of me, driving me on. "_Tell me you __**love **__me like a star! Tell me you want me... __**wherever **__you are! Tell me you'll __**breathe **__me 'til your last breath! __**Liar, **__Liar... Ooh, Liar... __**Liar**_"I screamed, throwing all of myself into the grand finale.

For a few moments, I caught my breath, trying futilely to regain my energy. Panting, I forced a smile. "And, on that note, I would like to wish my best friend congratulations on his impending nuptials. May him and his bride live a long and happy life together," I said breathlessly. The words sounded so formal. My smile turned sardonic as I raised my microphone in a mock toast. I wished very much that it was a real glass flute filled with champagne. I wanted to get drunk very badly. "Here's to fidelity! Here's hoping he remains faithful, although Heaven knows that isn't likely," I quipped mockingly. That elicited a few laughs but mostly confused silence. I think they thought I was drunk. Tommy's stare burned, so I didn't look at him.

After that, I continued into some much less dramatic, emotional songs, but it was like I was doing them on autopilot. Okay, so there were two left. Whatever. After "Liar, Liar", I was pretty worn out. Emotionally and physically. So I called Patsy up and sung a duet with her. "Instant Pain", came out sounding all heavy metal and scream-ish. I couldn't lose myself in it, so I just sang half-heartedly, letting Patsy take the reins. No one screams like Patsy. She very nearly entirely overshadowed me, yet I didn't care. There was only one more song left in the set list. I was to end with "Another Thin Line", a.k.a. my life story.

I don't remember much of it... a little vaguely, I guess... but it's so hazy in my mind. I just remember singing and moving around a lot. My voice was huskier than usual, and I remember feeling so exhausted. But I kept going like an Energizer bunny. Until I reached the point where I couldn't.

"_Another thin liiine..._" I finished triumphantly. And then my world turned black. My song ended abruptly, mid-note, mid-word. I crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. And then there was no more.

I woke up much later, feeling groggy. More correctly, I felt like someone had hit me in the head with a sledgehammer. Or otherwise hungover, only I wasn't. When I opened my eyes, Tommy's face was the first thing I saw. He was so close, but so far out of my reach. I mean that in the metaphorical sense, since he was betrothed. His eyes lit up when he noticed I was awake, and he hugged me so hard it knocked all the wind out of me. He seemed relieved I was... awake? Honestly, I had no clue what had happened. For all I knew, I'd just woken up out of a coma. All I remember was ending the song and... blackness. I pushed Tommy, my future brother-in-law, away, lest he show a little more less than brotherly concern. Then I sat up abruptly but so abruptly that all the blood rushed to my head. I was kind of dizzy.

When I managed to get my bearings, I noticed that I was surrounded by the guys. Speed was right next to me. He pushed Tommy away, muttering about how he'd upset me and ought to leave. Then Speed turned around to face me. He grabbed my hand and bent down a little. "How are you, Jude?" He asked anxiously. I shrugged, wondering why he was so worried. My head hurt, but other than that, I was fine. It would go away eventually.

"I'm fine, Speed. Just have a splitting headache, that's all. What happened?" I replied casually. I was pointedly ignoring Tommy, although I knew full well that he was there. He just didn't deserve to be spoken to. Plus I couldn't look at him without undressing him mentally, which was distracting to say the least. Speed frowned and shrugged. He explained that I'd fainted at the end of the show, and I'd hit my head pretty hard on the stage. The doctor said I didn't have a concussion, but that I would have a headache for a while. The crowd had thought it was part of the act, luckily. Speed and the guys carried me offstage right after that, and Tommy, Jamie, and Dad had burst in right afterwards. Tommy had called the doctor. Dad had stayed until the doctor came. After the doctor had pronounced me fine, Dad went to tell Mom, who hadn't been at the concert.

Apparently I'd missed a lot. Wally handed me an ice-pack. I gently probed the back of my head. Sure enough, I could feel a huge bump on the base of my head. I frowned and gratefully held the ice to my head. Then I leaned up and rewarded Wally with a kiss on the cheek. He flushed bright red and immediately backed away anxiously, as both Tommy and Speed were giving him death glares. I rolled my eyes. Boys... sooo predictable. You don't want them, and they want you all over again. Okay, so it was more than a little awkward. "Jude, are you okay?" Tommy asked cautiously, concern heavy in his voice. His concern was not welcome here. I shrugged and nodded carefully.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I answered evasively. I was anything but okay, thanks to you, Tommy. But I wasn't going to tell him that. He shot me a look, like he knew I wasn't telling the truth. Of course he knew. I pointedly ignored his look and waved him off. "You know, Tommy... You can go now," I continued, glancing at him disinterestedly. I polished my nails on my jeans, yawning. I needed him out of my sight, or else I was gonna get snarky and bitter. And then it would be obvious how absolutely unhappy I was for them. Tommy shook his head and tried to insist on staying there. I cut him off brusquely; his mouth had barely opened. I smiled coolly, standing up and walking over to a mirror to check out my appearance. I could use a bit more lipstick, and luckily for me, the lump was unnoticeable. There was, however, a bit of blood in my hair. How unfortunate. I was gonna have to clean that out afterwards.

Still looking in the mirror, I fluffed my hair and redid my lipstick, turning my back on him. "Besides," I continued sarcastically, "I'm sure you have to run off to Sadie anyways. Heaven forbid you miss another one of your little dates for _my _sake." I used a fake cutesy tone. I felt sick at the thought of it. And wow, that came out a lot bitterer than I intended. I turned around to look at him darkly. Tommy didn't move. His eyes were steely. He didn't intend on going anywhere. Too damn bad. I was going to make him go.

"No, actually, I don't. Sadie's studying for finals tonight," Tommy contradicted. Uh huh. Right. And that's why she ran out of the house to go buy bridal magazines. I couldn't believe a word he said anyways. Liar, Liar, his picture's right next to the word. I snorted, and Tommy marched across the room. I would've been scared if I didn't know Tommy like I did. He came too close to me, close enough to whisper in my ear. I stiffened and tried to remain unaffected. I couldn't let him see what his proximity did to me. "Come on, Jude... You and Sadie? There's no choice there," Tommy murmured in a tone that was supposed to melt me like butter. He failed miserably.

I jerked away from him, shoved him away violently. "I KNOW, TOMMY!" I screamed, voice dripping with more frustration than I could ever remember feeling. I even threw in an effing adjective, but I deleted that from my speech for your benefit, dear reader. That would be inappropriate. I sighed. "You don't have to remind me, Tommy. The choice is obvious." And it was obviously Sadie. Tommy looked confused at my outburst. Everyone else in the room, I noted, was staring at me with wide eyes. They apparently thought I'd bumped my head a little too hard on the stage. They, like Tommy, did not know I knew about his engagement. Although, really, I don't see why not. I freaking congratulated him on stage, and it's not like Jamie's getting married. In fact, most of them didn't know he was engaged to my sister at all. Tommy gave me a look, asking why I was mad if the choice was obvious. He thought I narcissistically meant myself. No, Tommy, I am not you.

I didn't chose to prolong the conversation. I once again turned away from Tommy, this time to face Jamie. I still had questions. I needed to know why I'd fainted. It could be something deadly important. "Jamie, did the doctor say why?" I asked somewhat nervously. Jamie frowned a little and shrugged, which didn't make me feel any more reassured.

"Nope, not really. He said it was probably stress or a mix of factors... Like lack of sleep and food, dehydration, trauma, that sort of thing," Jamie explained knowledgeably. He adjusted his glasses, worry etched into his features. He was worried I wasn't eat/sleep/drink-ing enough. Although the Doctor fella did have a point. I was stressed to the max. I hadn't slept in days, properly in months. I hadn't eaten anything today or for awhile except that ice cream and water or soda. A bit of honey before the performance. And trauma... well, for one thing there was the head injury. And for another, there was Tommy's impending nuptials. I nodded sympathetically.

"Don't worry, Captain Safety. I'll remember to eat more, and I'll try and do something about my insomnia," I promised, grabbing his hand. I couldn't make promises about the stress or trauma. Jamie pulled me into a bear hug. Whenever he does that, I feel how much taller he is. It's a strange feeling. I could tell how anxious and scared he'd been by the way he held me. Honestly, it was kind of nice. Jamie would never lie to me, and he's so loyal and kind and smart... not to mention he loves me. Perfect boyfriend material. He's everything I want and look for in a guy. Maybe I would've dated him if he wasn't my best friend, or if Tommy wasn't in the picture. I can't say because Tommy **is **in the picture. But, honestly, if I ever reach that age where I want children and I'm not dating anyone... or married... I'd totally artificially inseminate myself with his kid(s). That sounds weird, but I love Jamie very much. He's right after Tommy and my Dad. I'm not too sure about the order, since I love all of them.

I stayed in Jamie's arms for a while, let him have that nice, long, warm embrace. Tommy cleared his throat somewhere in the background, so we broke apart a bit reluctantly. I rolled my eyes, and Jamie leaned in to hear what I had to say. "Tommy's jealous of you," I whispered directly into his ear. Jamie giggled. He's very ticklish in that area. Then I pulled back, and he straightened up a little with pride and a smug look on his face. I waved it off nonchalantly. "And he should be!" I declared sunnily, winking at Jamie. God. I hope he doesn't get the wrong idea about this. Jamie, not Tommy. I don't give a crap about what T.Q. thinks. I leaned in conspiratorially towards Jamie. "Because if I'm not married or dating anyone by the time I'm like... 35 or something, maybe older, maybe younger... I'm going to have your kid," I promised, holding my hand out for a shocked Jamie to shake.

The look on his face was completely worth it. I think he stammered something like, "B-b-b-but wh-what about-t... T-t-t-ommy?" What about him, I thought vindictively. I shrugged. Realistically, I doubted that Tommy and I would even be friends by that point in my life. Especially if and when he finds out that I haven't had sex with him. We're bound to get in a huge fight and stop talking. Not to mention that dude, he's gonna be my sister's husband. I've heard of keeping it all in the family, but that's just ridiculous! So Jamie is the better choice. He will be there, and we will always be on good terms. He's my best friend in the world. Plus, c'mon, Jamie'll be a great dad. Tommy, well, I know he'd want to be... but Tommy's so inconstant. And Jamie isn't flaky like that. Plus I don't realistically think I'd end up with Tommy anyways, and we fight all the time. But of course I didn't explain this all to Jamie because it makes him sound like a safety choice. Besides, I didn't want to give Tommy the time of day.

Pausing reflectively, I quietly asked Jamie about my dad. Jamie said my dad was going to meet us at the ice cream place. He'd gone to get me some painkillers for the headaches. My dad also probably knew that I felt disgusting and needed to change into clean clothes. Speaking of which, methinks I ought to get all the menfolk out of here so I can change. Oh, wait. Tommy's seen me naked, and pretty much everyone in this room has seen me in a bra. Eh, whatever. I threw my jacket to the ground, ripped off my shirt, snatched another off the rack and put it on. I bent down and put on my jacket again. Much better. I felt about a gazillion times less sweaty. Now if only I could be a gazillion times less in love with Tommy.

When I turned around, they were all staring at me. Jamie was cooler than I'd thought about it, but hey, he'd seen me earlier in my bathroom... Speed looked downright excited. Kyle didn't much care. Wally was blushing... And Tommy, well, Tommy looked angry, like that sight was meant for his eyes only. Only I'm not his property. Oh, screw this. I'm leaving. I grabbed my backpack, slinging it carelessly over one shoulder and made a break for the door. I snatched Jamie on the way and was almost out when Tommy started pursuing me. Unfortunately, I couldn't navigate backstage that well. The last time I'd performed here was over a year ago. I lost Jamie quickly and tried to hide from my hunter. I ducked behind curtains and equipment, never stopped moving, did anything I could to avoid him.

But, of course, he found me. He always did. Tommy found me and pinned me up against a wall in a dark corner. He could do whatever he wanted to me, and no one would ever know. Yet he didn't touch me. I could almost feel the rage burning in his veins. His face was flushed; his eyes blazed a dark, bone-chilling blue. Still, his hands held my wrists up over my head. His chest heaved against mine; we were both out of breath. And, to be honest, I was more than a little terrified of those dark midnight eyes, murky like a forbidden forest. They were still blue, but I thought Travis... "You can't run away from me, Jude," Tommy muttered almost mockingly. I looked down shamefully, upset that he was actually right. It was impossible, especially since he had me all caged up like this.

He traced my lips and leaned in towards me flirtatiously. "Not after what you did today... We still have to relieve that tension," Tommy continued seductively, licking his lips. I felt a faint flush rise up on my cheeks. Cosmic payback for teasing him as I did. He bent down to kiss me, but I quickly turned my cheek the other way. His lips would not hit their mark. I wasn't going to let him play games with me. No, sir. His hands trailed down my sides. I stiffened, but I couldn't move. "Now... why did you run from me?" Tommy murmured in a low voice, brushing his soft lips against my neck. He tried once more to kiss me, but I again turned my head and struggled against him.

"Because it _can't _happen, Tommy! I won't let it!" I shouted defiantly, insistently, stubbornly, feeling myself on the verge of hysteria. I had to stay strong. I had to keep the tears out of my voice. I had to keep my voice steady. I couldn't falter or weaken. Not now when it was so important. My sister deserved better, but so did I. Dad was right about Tommy needing to make a choice. He'd made one, a big one; he couldn't go back on it now. And I was going to hold him to it. But Dad had forgot to mention that I too had a choice. I could choose not to care and let Tommy have what he wants... I could let Tommy have it both ways. I could let him have his cake and eat it too. Or I could suck it up and be firm. He chose my sister, and I could deal with that. I could deal with it because I had to. I couldn't respect myself otherwise.

Tommy pulled back a little, looking confused. He gave me a skeptical look, but I wasn't going to give in like he wanted. He leaned in, and I ducked as best as I could. "Why not?" Tommy asked, an innocent look plastered all over his face. He was anything but innocent. I shot him a look. I'd gathered that he didn't know I knew, but this was just ridiculous. Does the man really think I'm going to be all over him after I heard he screwed a girl who looks just like me? Let alone him marrying my sister? No. I'm not okay with that. I gave him a look and tried to push him away, but Tommy was stronger. He overpowered me easily.

I wanted to say yes, to let Tommy kiss me and do what he wanted with me. Tommy made me happy; he made me happy, and he broke my heart too. But in the end, that wouldn't have made me happy.

It would've just made me feel cheap.

And so Easy.

Like I really was a friend with benefits.

Tommy's little toy.

To use when Sadie didn't give him any.

And why buy the cow when you get the milk for free, you know?

I am not that girl. I am not Tommy's whore.

I may love the guy, but I will never stoop that low.

So I turned away. Might as well play the game a little longer. It'll be easier, right, if I make him think I don't want him anymore? If he doesn't know that the only reason I'm doing this is because he put a ring on my sister's finger. She could get seriously hurt if Tommy's unfaithful. Which is why he won't be. I'll castrate him myself first. I said the first thing that came to mind... the only believable card I could pull that didn't involve Sadie. "I really like your brother, Tommy," I blurted enthusiastically. Tommy's eyes darkened briefly; he was questioning which brother it was, I'm sure. "Taylor," I clarified dreamily. I pretended to drift off thinking of him. In reality, I did like Taylor. He was... so damn cute, really. But I didn't like him that much. He was... awkward, a little shy, prone to talking endlessly, and a really crappy kisser. Still. And, most importantly, he's not Tommy.

He doesn't even compare.

Just like every other guy I've ever met. Toast against Tommy. No one compares.

Tommy made a face. He crossed his arms over his chest, a scowl beginning to form. He didn't even pretend to be happy for his brother. At least I could do that. I didn't tell him not to date my sister. I didn't crash their first date. I didn't tell her not to date him. I tried not to get between them, but I did. And I'm still the "other woman". Doing the same to Tommy's brother makes me no better. "Yeah, you were really thinking about my brother today... when you toweled me down," Tommy remarked sarcastically. I felt myself flush, and I glanced around to see if anyone had heard.

We were completely alone, of course. Damn. Well, maybe if I screamed... Okay, so Tommy had me there. And, come to think of it, I completely had him there. "You're the one who told me not to hurt him, Tommy. I think doing... anything... sexual... with his brother qualifies!" I exclaimed, throwing his own words back in his face. Tommy flinched, but he had said that. He wasn't okay with it because, much like my father, he does not want me to date. However, unlike my father, he wants to screw me. Tom looked down, unable to deny it.

He shook his head. "Like you're really that serious with him anyways," He retorted irritably. Can you believe his nerve? Okay, true... I'd only gone out on a few dates with Taylor. It wasn't that serious, or even exclusive, but he deserved better than me making out with his brother. Especially considering how insanely jealous he is of Tommy. Just for once, shouldn't the little brother get what the older brother wants? I mean, I can sympathize with him... growing up in his big brother's shadow then trying to break out on his own. It was like that with Sadie and me, even still... with the whole liking-the-same-guy problem.

I glared at him. "You're seriously telling me you would screw around with a girl your brother's so obviously fond of?" I questioned incredulously. It was hard to believe that Tommy could have so little scruples; then again, he's engaged to my sister, and he wants to bang me. And tries. That's not really any better, is it? Tommy nodded, and I scoffed. Was that supposed to impress me?

"If I wanted her badly enough, yeah," Tommy drawled, looking me over appreciatively. I think that was supposed to mean that he wanted me. Bad. He wanted me but not to be _with _me. Sleazy. And wanting me just for my body is so... not cool. Not to mention objectifying. I shook my head in disgust.

"Is that why you and Travis aren't on speaking terms anymore, Tom?" I sneered, crossing my arms over my chest. Tommy stiffened against me and said nothing. He pulled away a little bit more, so that I could almost get free. "Because you _wanted _Kate?" I continued, taunting him. Tommy looked surprised. My eyes narrowed. "Yeah, Tom, I know you were that guy." Tommy came closer to me, eyes darker. This time it was anger, a forbidding, long-buried wrath, not jealousy.

He pushed forward, stopping only when he had me flat against the wall, pressed up tight against him. My heart leaped up into my throat. "What else do you know?" He snarled threateningly. I felt a tiny flicker of fear. Tommy was never like this with me, though I knew him to be a very angry man. I shook my head slowly, wanting him away, craving the space. No sudden movements.

"Nothing." Tommy backed away then, running his hands through his hair. It was as if the mere mention of his nemesis (in surprisingly sympathetic terms on my part, given the circumstances) made him utterly incensed. Why had I sounded so much like I was taking his side? I wasn't. It was just that Tommy had done Travis wrong, and didn't I know how that felt better than anyone? Tommy tried to make up for the fact that he had almost just gone postal on me. What is it with guys whose names start with T? They always seem to have a temper.

I exhaled deeply and tried to calm myself down. My heart was still racing from that unpleasant little encounter. Tommy sighed and slowly turned to face me, a pained look on his face. "Look, Jude... I really want to finish what we started today," Tommy said almost pleadingly. My only thought was how absolutely pathetic that was. I rolled my eyes at him. Euphemism it all you want, Tommy, but I know what you're really thinking.

"Correction," I interrupted mockingly, "You **need **to finish what we started because you're a guy, and you just get these urges..." Ugh. Tommy was sickening sometimes. I glared at him with naked hate. It was a lot easier than I thought, telling him no. I didn't even need to act now. Time to put all my cards on the table. "Tommy, I don't _have _to have sex with you, okay? Me hitting on you shamelessly this afternoon does not mean I have to. The time for that has passed, Tom. You had your chance," I snapped with a bit more fire than I intended. Those last words especially seemed so bitter. But he'd had his chance, and he turned his back on it. Sadie's his forever now, and there's no more Jude. Just friends and nothing more. I'll make him see that if I have to hammer it into his brain.

Tommy appeared surprised at my bluntness. Oh, but there was more shock headed his way! "We were interrupted," He tried to say. I wasn't gonna accept that BS. I knew better than that.

I shrugged diffidently. "By my dad. And maybe we were interrupted for a _reason, _Tom; did you ever think of that?!" I damn near growled. Fate could be sending us a message: a loud and clear NO. I wasn't giving him any leeway to jack around. I forced a smile on to my face, rolling my eyes at him and his expectations. "It's not like you've had a hard-on for the past eight hours, Tom. I don't owe you squat. You're just horny; you want some, and you expect **me **to give it to you," I stated so bluntly I could've sworn Tom's cheeks flushed. I shook my head no hard and repeatedly so that the message would come through properly. "Well, tough luck. No dice, Quincy. You're not getting lucky with me," I reaffirmed, just so it was clear that he wasn't going to get anything from me. Besides, he'd had sex with Ruby; what the hell did he need me for? He could just keep on playing house with her, close his eyes and pretend it's me. And even if I wanted to... if I could... I wouldn't do it now, not like this!

A bitter, grim smile graced my lips. "So either go find your girlfriend and beg her to do it... Or skip out on her to bone one of those crazy groupie sluts who hang out at those sleazy nightclubs you frequent. Or do it yourself," I rejoined a bit bossily. Tommy was really surprised now. Either he didn't think I could be that vulgar or rude... or that frank about sex... Or he was unused to being rejected. The third sounds the most true, doesn't it? In fact, Tommy stood there with his mouth slightly open in stunned disbelief. As if me telling him off was so flipping shocking. Like I haven't done it in song: "That Girl"! Oh, get _**over **_yourself, Quincy! I rolled my eyes for about the millionth time in a minute. So. Damn. Frustrating. "What? Did you expect me to just **toss **you off on your merry way?! Or take you in my mouth because, _mmm, _you just taste so damn good?!" I exclaimed disgustedly, mockingly, and more than a little sarcastically. I accompanied the quip with hand gestures. I felt queasy at the mere thought.

Tommy full-on scowled at my speech, looking more than a little disgusted himself. But also a little turned on, and a little like he actually wanted me to do it. Perv. What, does he expect me to talk like a bloody princess too?! I'm not pristine like Sadie. I mean, sheesh, yet he expects all this stuff. What am I, some chick in a Cory Lee video? He shook his head, sighing exhaustedly. Apparently I just didn't understand him and his sexual needs. Whatever. "No, Jude... I just... I wanted to actually _remember _it, okay!" Tommy shouted, just as frustrated as I was. Only he really needed to get laid. Then he turned kind of red, almost like that made him embarrassed.

I couldn't really say anything to that, since I'd made it up and all. But I did anyways. "Oh, like you remember screwing Ruby?" I shot back snidely. I felt like that's all I was to Tommy, one more screw. And I'd be a lousy one too, for Tommy's standards. After all, he is a pirated porn star. Tommy looked down. He wasn't real proud of banging Ruby, as well he should be, given she's his best friend's girl. That would be like Chaz nailing me. And, honestly, if I was sexually attracted to Chaz (and, okay, I am not immune to his charms... but only a little. The Ruby thing squicks me out), I might consider it just to spite Tommo. Besides, there's a much lower chance I'd catch a communicable disease from him. After all, he only snorted and had Ruby. He's relatively unscathed, minus the receding hairline.

Tommy really couldn't say anything to that. His lips were set in a line. He thought for what seemed like forever before he found his answer. "You're the real thing, Jude. It doesn't get any better," Tommy declared so utterly decisively that it almost made me gasp. He sounded like he believed it, and he looked so serious, so intent, that I almost... I almost I don't know what... but I almost gave in to him. He took a step or two closer to me but no more. He stood there, frozen, waiting for my reaction. Honestly, after what he said, I couldn't completely collect myself right away. But it was so easy after I remembered what he'd done, who he'd been with. So easy.

And the fact that he was marrying my sister. So obviously it did get better for him.

A hell of a lot better than Hey Jude.

I shook my head and tried to keep my breathing steady, reminding myself that these were all lies. He didn't really want me, despite what he'd said. "No, Tommy. No. You're with my _sister_, my reality notwithstanding. You can say whatever you want, but it won't change a thing. I **refuse **to help you cheat on her," I insisted firmly, trying to show him that my will was stronger than his was. I couldn't have made it any clearer. "I'm not going to come between you two anymore," I promised. Not if I can help it, I added mentally. It was going to be hard; I wasn't that sure I could even do it.

Tommy actually snorted. "Funny, that never stopped you before," He remarked idly. "Like this afternoon, for instance." He gave me a look, an intensely lecherous one. What does he expect of me? Constancy? I'm only sixteen. He's the adult here. "If I recall correctly, you were throwing yourself at me." He seemed suddenly so smug and full of himself. It was so disgusting. Especially when I practically had him in the palm of my hand this afternoon. If I'd wiped the rest of him dry, he would've completely exploded, and then who would be the smug one? I just shrugged. I couldn't very well tell him why now and ruin the whole charade, could I? "What's changed since this afternoon?" He inquired almost suspiciously. And then I could take no more of this wretched game. I couldn't pretend anymore that I didn't know about it. How stupid did he think I was? I couldn't bear to stand there and watch him pretend that everything was the same. He was smiling that stupid cocky smile, acting completely normal, like he hadn't just proposed to my sister. That was the straw that broke this camel's back. Couldn't he see that _everything _had changed- maybe even forever?

So I exploded. Quincy has some nerve. "I KNOW!" I thundered suddenly, shocking Tommy with the force of my yell. He backed away, but I marched towards him menacingly. He gulped a bit nervously, but he looked so confused. He shouldn't, though. He knows what I know. "How **stupid **do you think I am, Tom?!" I shouted incredulously. I fingered his jacket briefly, continuing to rip him a new one. "I'm wearing your jacket, Tom." He looked confused; Einstein hadn't even noticed. I'd only been wearing it all performance, and it was huge on me. I think he asked me if I wanted to give it back or something. He didn't get it. "_God! _I found the damn ring in your pocket, Tom! I _gave _it to Sadie. I was the one who had to ask you if you were engaged! I damn near proposed to your girlfriend myself, and you say nothing about it? You didn't even have the decency to attempt to tell me on your own?!" I screamed with more fury than I had ever known in my whole life. I had never felt so utterly betrayed. Tom gaped at me, utterly flabbergasted with these revelations. "What, you didn't want me to know? Did you want to keep it from me forever? She's my **sister, **Tom!" I cried, feeling my voice break. I was about to descend into insanity.

And there you have it. The only words I have ever truly spoken to Tommy about my feelings on his relationship with my sister. Aside from those remarks after I just found out they were dating. Not even a criticism.

I can't tell him who to choose or how to live his life... That's up to him.

Tommy tried to explain, but I wasn't having any excuses. I cut him off before he could begin. "And you had the audacity to ask me what had changed, Tom, when you knew full well what it was?" I hissed with bitter disappointment. He wasn't at all like I thought he was. That Tommy was a decent guy; this one wasn't. He was just a lying, womanizing, philandering wannabe-bigamist. Nothing more. I shook my head in shame. "It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt, right?" I quipped caustically, laughing harshly, fakely, at the unfunny joke. So many people had been hurt by him. I could feel the fat, juicy, heavy tears forming in the corners of my eyes. "It was okay as long as there were no rings on fingers because then you were _free. _I could convince myself that it wasn't that serious because you said you weren't happy with her. I thought that I could..." I trailed off, unable to say that I thought I could make him happy. I could never satisfy him; he always wanted more. Sadie, a fricking Super-Girl, wasn't enough for him. I swallowed back the tears, held back the sniffles. "You didn't love her," I said in a shaky, unsure voice. I didn't know if it was true. Tommy had sworn, but he'd lied about so many other things too... Then again, it wouldn't be the first time he married a woman he didn't really love.

"It was okay because there was nothing binding you to her. There was no marriage, no children, nothing but a sham of a relationship that you could easily dissolve. I wouldn't be a homewrecker, just a boyfriend stealing slut," I explained bitingly. The words all came out harsh, cruel even. My eyes narrowed in rage; I didn't give a damn what he thought about me. Tommy looked a little stricken, but I didn't care. I charged fearlessly onwards, approaching him. I stopped right in front of him, close enough to poke him in the chest, which I did. I jabbed him hard to punctuate my statement. "You put a ring on my sister's finger. You're as good as married in my books," I declared boldly. It was true. The ring, although it did not reside on his finger as a visible symbol of his approaching eternal commitment, meant that he was off-limits, out of bounds. For good. Those words... what a mockery. Tommy didn't stop, what if I... What if I can't either? I silently touched the necklace he'd given me and said a prayer. Oh, crap. Lost causes.

"So help me, God, I will not so much as **touch **you, Tommy," I swore vehemently. I figuratively wiped my hands clean as he had when he'd decided not to perform with Boyz Attack!. I sounded so sure of that. I was almost ready to swear on a Bible. I meant it, but I wasn't sure I could do it. Was it even possible? Would it ever end? I was so unsure, so scared, so nervous that none of this would work. I didn't want it to be a false promise. I was sick of being a hypocrite. Touching Tommy, cheating with him... would make me no better than Yvette. There was no woman alive I less wanted to be. With the possible exception of a Pussycat Doll or a stripper or a hooker (but if I did anything with Tommy, I'd be no better than them either). Or maybe Rihanna. Just because I hate that damn "Umbrella" song so much. That was a sobering thought. I was not going to be the Yvette to this upcoming marriage. "I'm not going to break my sister's heart. I won't betray her. Not anymore," I finished seriously, resolutely, giving oath after oath, all of which I intended to keep. I meant every word. Sadie deserved a faithful husband, and no matter how miserable it was to see her with Tommy, I would make sure that she had one. I wasn't going to get in the way anymore, except if Tommy cheated on her with some bimbo. Then and only then, I'd step in and put an end to it. I forced the tears back so hard, so willfully that my eyes were dry.

There must be no show of emotion on my part. I will do this. I will not think about it. My heart is not breaking. I will not miss him or touching him or kissing him. I see him every day, and that won't change yet. I may love him, yes, but I want what is best for him. Sadie is best for him. Not me. She loves him so much, and I don't want to take that from her... like she took it from me. She has a chance. She deserves to be happy, really; they both do. She's legal, too, and she's not famous. She's perfect. Everything he could want in a girl. The only reason I can keep loving Tommy is because Sadie can't get at my heart, and I can't tear it out of my chest. I can't get rid of these feelings. I can only wait for them to go away. Time heals all wounds. What I feel in the silent core of my own being is no one else's business, and no one else has to know. As long as no one else is hurting, it's fine. I am doing what is best for everyone, including myself.

I'm not going to be selfish. I love Tommy, but he doesn't love me. So why pursue him? It's not worth fighting for a few moments of fleeting bliss. It wouldn't even be that great. Tommy's... He's not worth fighting over, only he is... And I know I love him more than Sadie ever could in her whole lifetime, more than anyone ever could! But that doesn't matter because he doesn't know... And if he wanted that, he proposed to the wrong Harrison. It's not like he can take it back. If I wait, maybe something will happen down the line, but I doubt it. I'm not worth waiting for, not like Tommy. He is.

Sad, isn't it? I think I'd wait my whole life for that man. And he's not even... Oh, who am I kidding?! He would be _so _worth it. All for even five minutes where I was his... But he's not mine to have, shouldn't even be mine to want. Tommy's my producer, my co-writer (notice that I did not say partner), my soon-to-be-brother-in-law, and my friend, but my producer first, and my friend last. There is nothing more between us, not now, not ever. My lips will never again touch his unless he is a free man. And, I suppose, I a free woman. I can look back fondly on the memories, but that's all they are, memories... my only souvenirs. They are in the past, simple as that. Not the present and not the future. I will resist temptation if it kills me.

Tommy scowled and gave me a pouty look, but I held firm. I began to back away from him. It was bad to be so close. Too close, rather. He shook his head, grabbing my arm before I could escape. Seemingly effortlessly he spun me around to face him, walking forward, sandwiching me between him and the wall. "You can't deny it, Jude," Tommy taunted, so close I could feel his breath against my neck. I couldn't even slap him because I'd sworn never to touch him. But that didn't mean I was okay with him grabbing me! "So why don't you just give in?" He asked temptingly. And then his soft lips descended on my cheek. I knew damn well that I couldn't do that, no matter how good it sounded. I jerked my head away from him, muttering no louder and louder, again and again. Tommy knew I wanted it, and that made it worse. Don't paint him like some Travis. I did, but I couldn't want it.

Finally, I decided, screw that no-touching him thing. I need to just... To push him away. "BECAUSE YOU'RE GOING TO BE MY SISTER'S HUSBAND!" I bellowed, throwing all the force I could at him. It worked, though. Panting and breathless, I managed to get him off of me. Tommy clutched his stomach in pain. I hated that I had to hurt him, but... It needed to be done. I couldn't give in. He looked up at me, glaring, betrayed.

"How can you be so cruel?" Tommy wondered aloud, groaning in pain. I shrugged, although it was more of a twitch, really. It physically hurt me to see him in pain. And then, of course, I wanted to comfort him. I came towards him, but he backed away, wary of me. That stung, but I deserved it. Besides, better that than me playing Florence Nightingale to his injuries, right? I sighed heavily.

"I have to be, Tommy. For Sadie's sake. She deserves a lot more than what you can give her," I replied quietly. Me, I'd be happy with his scraps. She deserves faithfulness, true commitment, and true love. Tommy can't give her that. All he can give her is an illusion. Tommy winced at my words; I'd made it sound like he wasn't good enough. He already had so many inadequacy issues thanks to his mother. He was perfectly good enough, just a lousy boyfriend. I tugged on the edges of my hair. "It's not that... I care, Tommy... I just care too much, okay?" I explained as best I could. Honestly, I really had to fight to avoid saying that I was in love with him. It's completely not the perfect moment or anything. Lord knows it won't change a thing, especially his engagement. And it would only make things worse, more awkward. But I wanted to tell him nonetheless.

You would really think he'd know by now. Tommy's not that stupid, after all. He has to have put two and two together sometime. It's not like I'm that subtle. Really... I mean, Jamie knows, and so does Dad. They guessed, and they know me better than just about anyone, excepting Tommy. So, logically, Tommy should... Josie and Joan do 'cause I told them, and Travis has to, right? And Taylor knows there's something there; Sadie knows I've got feelings for him. It's not like I've really hidden that fact. Maybe he just doesn't return them, and he's too polite to say so... so he chooses silence? Or maybe Tommy's just really stupid. All that hairspray and hair gel and cologne and beer and model boob got to his head or something. I need to stop caring, to stop being so obvious. And who am I kidding?! Tommy is a MORON when it comes to love. He doesn't know. In fact, he probably thinks that I just have this kiddie crush on him, so that makes it okay to make out with me. All he sees is the physical; he might be a whore in the ways of the flesh, but he's a virgin in the waters of love. In that sense, I am a whore by comparison... with only two guys, but still... Tommy's never even had one- girl. To love. I think.

Tommy looked resigned. "Me too, Jude," He acknowledged coolly. I hated how my heart soared at that. He just cared, and he'd said that before. Care... such a weak, weaselly word. He paused deliberately, casting me a dark glance. "But that's the difference between you and me... I'm willing to risk heartbreak," He said frostily, making himself sound all the better. Like he was the one who always put his heart on the line.

If Tommy's ever put his heart on the line, then I'm an unfeeling robot.

"Only because your heart **can't **break!" I sniped with a surprising amount of venom. Then again, my heart had broken up and down because of him, so wasn't I entitled? I wanted to slap him, but that would be touching him, and even that was lavishing attention on him that he didn't deserve. "So why care about poor Sadie's? Why not trample all over Jude's feelings?" I hissed bitterly, words dripping with disdain for him. Tommy flinched; he protested. He swore up and down that he was not unfeeling, not at all like I'd made him out to be. He claimed he wasn't cool to the touch or cold as ice. He said he cared; he really did. He didn't want to hurt us. But I knew that last one was a lie.

Because he might not want to hurt either of us, but he sure was... By asking me to be the other woman. By being with my sister yet still leading me on. By cheating on my sister. By being with her, engaged to marry her, when he didn't love her. By kissing me and taking it back.

He kept talking, even when I said that, even after I'd stopped listening. It made me mad to hear him say those lies to my face, to backpedal so fast he left dark streaks on the pavement. I shook my head and screamed when he wouldn't shut up. "You're such a _liar, _Tommy. That song was about you. You always tell me what you think I want to hear, or you do something really sweet... and it makes me think that you- but then I turn around, and you're contradicting yourself. Make up your **mind! **Suddenly you're pushing me away and telling me that you can't or proposing to my sister or something... And I'm left reeling because, like a sucker, I fell for it hook, line, and sinker once again," I exclaimed frantically, tugging frustratedly on the ends of my hair. Tommy was like that. Indecisive when it should be easy. I'm not going to be that sucker anymore.

No more second chances.

I was so disappointed. My eyes felt hot and wet. When I spoke, my voice trembled. "And I hate you for that, Tommy," I said plainly, trying to hold back the emotion. I could be cold like him. Only I wasn't at all. The hatred was thick and heavy in my voice, crackling and searing, anything but cool disdain. I wasn't wired like Tom. I was passionate and emotional to the end, even now. "So, for once in your life, shut it. I don't want to know how you feel about me. I don't care if you want me. You can say anything you want, anything you can think of... but I'm not changing my mind. I can't tell the difference between your lies and your truths, and frankly, I don't care to guess anymore," I continued curtly. He'd lost all right to courtesy when he pulled out the same old tired lines and tried them once again. Besides, it needed to be this way, all white and black and out in the open. I had to be the strong one, 'cause Heaven knows Tommy bent like a willow.

I sighed heavily, hating that it had come to this. Why did it feel like I was breaking up with a lover? I'm not even seventeen; how am I supposed to deal with stuff like this? Tommy had never been a lover, but he was the closest I've ever come to it... maybe even more intimate than a lover. Unless I... with Travis... But I didn't... right? Still, Tommy dry-humped me so hard I was sore for two weeks straight. It took a full four for the bruises and tenderness to completely go away. Tommy and I were... It was almost strange to imagine me without him so close, you know? But it wasn't as if I was cutting him out of my life. He just wasn't an option anymore. "I've reached the point where I just can't believe you," I murmured softly, timidly. My statement fell on Tommy with the weight of an avalanche. He looked so utterly stricken. Not by the rejection, but by the fact that I couldn't believe him.

I shook my head, tossed my hair stubbornly, so I'd seem stronger than I really was. I was quaking on the inside. That look on his face, that horrible look that seemed stuck there, was imprinted in my mind. Thinking of it made me want to shudder. But I couldn't show any signs of weakness. "So I'm not an option anymore, Tom; you can't come running to me when Sadie doesn't satisfy. From this point on, we are just friends, producer and artist, and nothing more. You made your choice, and now you have to live with it," I finished with a bit of oomph. Tommy hung his head a little, but he nodded. I realized then that he finally understood, but it was a hollow victory. He drew back, exhaling wearily. Mistake was written all over his face. He seemed somewhat embarrassed, but I could not relish the moment. Not when I felt so completely lousy myself.

I'd stood up for myself and my sister, but what was the point? I hurt myself more in the process. Maybe Sadie would be safer now, because of me. I tried to tell myself that he would change for her, but I knew he wouldn't. I suddenly remembered, just as Tommy began to walk away, that I had his underwear in my pocket. I was still wearing his jacket; I even smelled like him. My eyes watered, but I knew what I had to do. I walked after him, briskly, but not fast enough for it to be considered running. Running was desperate. I grabbed him by the shoulder, and by the way his eyes lit up you would've thought it was Christmas morning. But I wasn't back for more. I pulled away from him, took the underwear out of his pocket. "Here. You left this in the bathroom earlier," I whispered awkwardly, feeling my cheeks burn. I hated to do it.

I barely touched the fabric, just dropped it into his hands. But my sister didn't see any of this, of course. She just heard what I said, and she saw the underwear exchange hands. Tommy awkwardly jammed the underwear into a pocket, a twisted little smile on his lips. I don't know what Sadie thought, but all of a sudden, I heard a strangled cry and suddenly my sister was running away from us in tears. I'd done so much to ensure that she wouldn't be hurt and still... I'd hurt her. By not even doing anything. I felt my whole body sink in on itself a little. Tommy's face was set in a grim line. I took off his jacket, handing it back to him with blurred eyes. I might as well make it a clean break.

He shook his head slowly and gently put his hand on my shoulder. "No," he said solemnly, and it was like a benediction. "You keep it," He replied quietly, placing it back over my shoulders. His fingers lingered for a little longer than they should have. "I'll give you yours tomorrow." I turned to go after Sadie, but Tommy stepped in front of me, once again shaking his head. "No, I'll do it. I'm her boyfriend, after all. She'll listen to me," Tommy declared, interceding on my behalf. Still, even though the idea of myself with Tommy was no more... I couldn't help but notice that he was her boyfriend, not her fiancé, not her future husband. It was a comforting thought, but Tommy had never even professed to be her boyfriend before. He had cringed at the word with me, and here he was with Sadie, saying it like nothing. Maybe he'd just said it to save face. And I'm cursed- cursed to understand and agonize and analyze his every move.

But, of course, he did as he was told. He mumbled a quick, careless goodbye and ran after Sadie, feigning desperation to get back in her good graces. His acting skills came in handy. I was starting to think he'd missed his calling. He did this a few hours later, with barely any effort, some flowers, an apology, and an explanation... and a promise.

A promise that we would not see each other like that, alone, anymore. That it would be all work and innocent stuff- in essence, my promise to him.

I'd like to say I feel liberated, out from under Tommy's thumb, control freak that he is, but I don't. I'd rather be there than on my own. It's scary all on my own, and I'm sick of being left like this. I'm sick of having to deal with everything all alone. I want someone to hold my hand and wipe away the tears. I don't think I can take much more of this. The hits keep coming, but the bruises blossom deeper and deeper purple underneath the surface of my cover-up. I want a break from it all. Fame came overnight... Shay dumped me for my rival, Tommy took it all back, my dad cheated, my parents almost got divorced, my two best guy friends are in love with me, my pseudo-boyfriend won't show me his face (what, am I dating the Phantom of the Opera or something?), my sister's dating now marrying the love of my life, Tommy's been jerking me around like his pet yo-yo for the past year and three months, everyone in Canada thinks I'm a huge slut, and Travis sexually harasses me at school and almost raped me! And I maybe had sex with him! And I'm supposed to deal with that all on my own?

'Cause I can't.

And now that I've given Tommy up... well, that just makes things even harder.

I felt pretty flustered afterwards, so I caught my breath and walked around 'til I found Jamie. Luckily, I didn't have to do much looking. The prospect of ice cream was the only thing that could cheer me enough to even attempt a smile. Jamie took me to ice cream, where my dad was waiting with pain meds. Funny, I couldn't even feel the headache. My heart seemed to be drowning it out with the profound, aching void of loss inside of me. There was a Tommy-shaped hole in my life now, and it was sucking me in, tearing me to ribbons.

The ice cream wasn't the same. I tried to smile, but every attempt fell flat on my face. I couldn't get lost in it for more than even a few morsels of moments. I tried to laugh and joke and be the old Jude, happy and carefree... But I couldn't, not for tonight, at least. And then it occurred to me that I might have to do this every day for the rest of my life, so I should get a little better at it, but even that couldn't motivate me. I didn't want to have to spend my life pretending to be okay. Plus I kinda think they caught on when I started sobbing randomly and hysterically in the middle of the ice cream parlor. The thought of another miserable day just like this one was hell. I was like a dog without a master, aimlessly wandering the streets looking desperately for acceptance... food, warmth, shelter, and a home.

I was "free" from that unhealthy attachment, but at what cost? At what cost to myself had I saved us all?

I know I did the right thing and all, what I should've done, considering what was best for everyone, but...

Honestly, I think I'd be a million times happier wrapped hopelessly around Tommy's finger.

He has nice fingers. Pretty, long, slender fingers. Calloused from playing the guitar, but refined enough to be perfect for gracefully stroking key after key to get the perfect note. He always was good at teasing the perfect note out of you. Those hands on ebony and ivory, up and down, piano and forte. Those fingers splayed across my skin, my wrist, my stomach, those hands in my hair with their firm grip, those fingers laced in mine, warm and soft and loving... Oh, sweet sensation.

You know, He always did like me comparing our situation... relationship/nonrelationship/friendship, whatever... to Police songs. Because He's a child of the '80s and all. And He wants to pretend he's Sting, but He hasn't got the accent or New Age philosophy. Silly boy. He thinks I don't notice how He hums "Don't Stand So Close to Me" under His breath to try and control Himself every time I get a little too close for comfort.

Oh, maaaaan!

I think I miss Him already.

I think I really, really, really miss Him.

And He hasn't even gone anywhere.

And, so help me, I miss Him to pieces.

Crap.

The rest of my life... **without **Tommy (dare I even say the name?)... is _**so **_gonna suck huge.

- Loren ;

Tell me what you think.

Oh, and Tommy and Sadie being engaged presently doesn't mean that they will actually get married, as Patsy so wisely pointed out.


	37. I've Done It Wrong Again

Okay, I'm the first to admit this chapter's strange. It should sound strange, because the majority of it is Jude actually telling someone (other than you, the reader) the story. So most of it is literally Jude dictating. As the person she's telling it to is rather a stranger, Jude tends to lie to her about such vital things as her feelings for Tommy, so there's some of that awkwardness. Actually, this chapter also gets a little crossover-y, but just barely. If you squint and get the reference, then you'll understand. If you don't, then you won't. If people like it, I'll finish Jude's story in the next chapter.

Oh, and the single Jude mentions towards the end is called "Don't Tell Me What to Do", and it's sung by Kate Todd.

Oh, and I totally didn't mean to make Ruby so evil at first, but really, the other characters are waaay worse. Especially Tommy. You guys are gonna hate him more than Travis by the time this chapter's over. That's a promise. But don't worry. Next chapter's gonna be pretty dramatic too, but oh well. And maybe then you'll like him a little bit more?

Honestly, I myself am really tired and this chapter's so long, so I'll keep it brief...

One last thing...

This chapter is dedicated to a beautiful friendship and the hope that it still might be repaired.

Any and all reviews are appreciated.

* * *

"You wouldn't believe it... or maybe you would... I had the craziest day today," I began excitedly. It was refreshing to tell all my secrets... or at least what I couldn't tell the important people... to a complete stranger. A stranger who would soon become a friend. Knowing enough about a person does that. I felt so much lighter telling somebody.

"Oh, sure, you raise an eyebrow and don't believe me, but you'll see.

Anyways, it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. It, as you well know, is the first week of December, so the bombardment has commenced. Christmas images everywhere, which translates to publicity stunts and charity work as well as autograph signings for us famous people. It's nowhere near as glamorous as it sounds, waiting for hours in some mall for so long that your ass gets sore only to have a group of old women come to protest against your presence. Seriously, they did that to me! They had fliers and signs, even a catchy chant... and fresh recruits. Damn near had pitchforks and tar too. Like I said, you don't go somewhere to do charity work expecting to have a coven of cackling biddies denouncing you as a whore. And, of course, I couldn't even kick anyone's ass. Not even just a little.

No wonder I have aggression issues. Blame all the pent-up rage. However, since it's Christmas, my "tough girl" image needed to be toned down... apparently a lot. Tough is bad at Christmas time, and apparently Nice Girls sell hit records. Whores do too, of course, but they don't want to market me as a whore when I'm really not one. I mean, we live in a world where Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan can move units, but decent indie bands can't. What is the world coming to?

Seriously, though, E.J., my P.R. spin-doctor, did polls on my rep. The populace is torn between thinking I'm the biggest slut in the province, maybe the country- Hey, Canada's not that big, you know! Less than 40 million live here. Tokyo and its immediate suburbs contain approximately the same amount of people if not more. And the rest think I'm a tough cookie to crack and don't want to mess with me. On the bright side, though, everyone thinks I could kick Avril Lavigne's ass with one hand tied behind my back. If only they knew how vulnerable I really am. This whole tough thing's really just one giant front to get everyone off my back.

And softening up my "hard" exterior means lots of community service, charity balls, autograph signing, taking pictures with fans, kissing babies, and even... apologies. I don't mind helping the community. It's fun going to elementary schools and teaching music lessons. It's fun cleaning up parks, and I'll even go down to a not-so-nice neighborhood on my own. Although this is Canada, not the States. We leave our front door unlocked half the time, and I'm never afraid anyone's going to shoot me. And, okay, so Tommy went down with me to the impoverished area 'cause he likes to think he's street. But I don't need a male protector, hence the "tough" rep. Just because I'm not always hanging on some guy, they think I'm hard-boiled. Idiots. That being said, I have been taking self-defense classes in my spare time. I'm not going to let any man have power over me. Not like Tommy... and I won't let what almost happened with Travis actually... happen.

I'm just giving you more questions than answers, aren't I? Of course you don't know about all the intimacies of my private life, and you don't need to know in this synopsis, but I'll probably tell you someday. Maybe not about that Travis thing though... or who Travis is, although that's just about to come into play and... yeah.

Back to my original point, as I seem to be digressing far too frequently... The autograph signing and pictures are tedious, but it's nice to have fans and do right by them. You have no idea how nice it is to have people in your corner when everyone thinks you're a nasty slut. The charity balls are... unpleasant. They're expensive, always require a new dress, and, frankly, rather pointless. But they help me in the "girly" category, yet another one of those categories where I am sorely lacking. I'm a tomboy, and you get that, don't you? Girly girls aren't rockers. So, naturally, I detest those charity balls. I feel like some lame debutante with the painted-on fake smile, which reminds me of my awful sixteenth birthday. Plus the food always sucks, and I never get to dance. I'm way too klutzy to dance, though. Seriously, do you have any idea how many of those I've gone to in the past week? At least one a night, with three each on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Wear uncomfortable clothing, stay a couple hours, mingle, play ball, cough up dough, smile for the cameras, dance with some random old guy out of pity, trying to pretend he didn't just try to grab my ass. To make matters worse, Darius (who is sponsoring at least half of these parties) has me practically glued to Tommy's arm at every one of these benefits.

That, my friend, is painful. I can't even have a decent conversation with him. There's so much tension you could cut it with a butter knife, but the cameras are none-the-wiser.

It's worse, though, when they get creative. For instance, a while ago I socked my music teacher. A week ago or maybe more. To eliminate that black mark from my record- despite the fact that it was a merited punch, and he was a perverted pedophile who had attempted to rape me- they made me go back and apologize. Stupid move. Oh, right. Well, there, now I guess you know about that. Sorry, I just have this tendency to blurt things out. My music teacher... His name's Travis, by the way. That's what I was talking about a little while ago. So The Man made me go back to school (I was suspended, but an apology would get me off leave and back into the classroom) and apologize to him today. That completely sucked of course, but I'll get to that vortex of suckage later.

After all, my day did not start with that. It started with me waking up to the infernal sound of my boyfriend's ringtone. Yeah. Taylor's kind of my boyfriend. Loosely. It's this really annoying song by one of those lame emo-esque bands that have punk pretensions. Drives me up the wall, but I can't say that since my musical taste is more similar to his brother's. My taste in music is also good, unlike that of my darling Taylor, who enjoys both emo and gangsta rap. Honestly, I can't believe I ever dated a rapper! Whenever I mention how some demeaning rap song, if indeed you can call it that, objectifies women, Taylor always brings up Shay. And then I start humming "Pick Up the Pieces" because I know it pisses him off (fingers plugging my ears, belting it loudly enough to drown out even his shouts). And it annoys him even more that I know all the words. Hell, though, it annoys _me _that I know the words. Damn obsessive sister of mine.

So, naturally, I jumped up and snapped the phone open because I didn't want to listen to that crap. Maybe I could just go to sleep afterward, I thought like an idiot. I was horribly wrong. Unfortunately, things had gotten more serious with Taylor. It wasn't as much of a lie as it was when I'd told his brother that. Oh, yeah. Tommy and Taylor are brothers. Now, Taylor usually called me at least once a day. Unfortunately, that time was usually in the mornings, just before filming. We've been going out a lot lately... pretty much whenever he has free time, and my free time coincides with his. Taylor, however, doesn't know me well enough to realize how much I detest mornings. So he calls like a fool with a death wish. "Hey, Jude," Taylor chimed cheerfully.

I wanted to slug him, really, I did. He made me open my eyes and grope for the phone to shut off the lame-o emo crap for that lame greeting? Tommy says it never gets old, but with Taylor... It gets old fast. I bit my tongue and avoided telling Taylor to get bent. I mean, I really do like him and all... kinda. He's growing on me, a little like athlete's foot or another type of fungus. "Taylor, what have I said about waking me up before the crack of..." Here I paused to squint at my clock. It was 7:30. What the Hell? Seven-thirty? Did he want me to murder him? At that point, I was pissed enough that I very well could've driven all the way to Montreal, interrupted his filming, and done it. "7:30!"

Taylor sighed impatiently. Sometimes... okay, a _lot _of the times... I felt like he didn't really listen to me. Ever. Taylor's kind of inconsiderate, actually. And a lot of the times he doesn't believe me when I tell him things. It's not entirely a healthy relationship, but what is nowadays? "It's important, Jude," He stated brusquely, impatiently. Typical American. "Besides," He continued insistently, being a bit too whiny for my liking, "You know that filming starts at eight. This is the only time we have to talk." I wanted to point out that that was actually a lie. We both had lunch breaks, after all. And dinner. And there was always voice-mail, email, instant message, letters. Taylor's just not that original. Plus, what does he do at night? He doesn't really expect me to believe that he just goes home and sleeps afterwards, or that they keep him up all night, does he? But I've learned that with Taylor, it is necessary to pick and choose one's battles.

And, unlike Taylor, I wasn't going to get mad over some trivial little thing like him waking me up at the crack of dawn or me going to charity balls with his brother. It's not like I even want to be there. Taylor thinks virtually any contact with his brother will send me running into his arms, or that it means that I'm secretly screwing Tommy behind his back. And, despite the fact that everyone in Canada thinks that's true; I've never actually had sex with Tommy. I can tell Taylor doesn't believe that, though. He doesn't trust me, definitely not around Tommy. So I merely took a deep breath and asked, "What is it, Tay-Tay?" The diminutive came off my lips mockingly, but I didn't sound at all short with him.

Taylor hates to be called that. It's the embarrassing family nickname for him, and he resents that I know it because his older brother told me. He resents that I know his family so well through his brother. Although he shouldn't. Tommy's the reason we met and are going out. If anything, he should thank his brother. I wish he'd understand that we all have embarrassing nicknames. Shay, for instance, called me Shorty and Ju-Ju. Tommy calls me girl. My cousin calls me Judy. My grandparents call me Judith, even though that is not my name. It's just Jude. Sadie called me Judd, which I stopped really minding after I saw The Breakfast Club. That and Judas. And Jude-ass. Jamie called me J.J. See? I heard him lick his lips over the phone, clearing his throat.

That means that he's nervous, which means he's going to ask me something. Taylor is inexperienced with girls. Incredibly so. He can't even ask a girl out without choking and stuttering the words. Really, you'd think an actor would stutter much less. I even asked Tommy if he had a disorder, but Tommy said no, Taylor's just nervous. He thinks I'm intimidating! Ha! I figured that Taylor was just going to ask me out, which irked me because he could've waited or left a message. I was rather wrong. "Um... Well... C-christmas is coming up..." Taylor began promisingly. I nodded, wondering where he was going with this. Christmas party, maybe?

"Yeah..." I said patiently, waiting for him to say more.

Taylor coughed. He sounded more anxious than he had ever sounded before. That's saying quite a bit. I no longer found his awkwardness that cute, let me tell you. "And I was t-thinking that... that maybe you w-w-would li-ike to, uh..." He trailed off once more. Inept lover, that's what he is. In every sense of the word. Bad kisser, bad romancer, super-jealous. Which is why I'm kind of also sorta hanging out with my guitarist, Speed, a lot. Speed's sweet, and he knows what I like. We have the same taste in music, and we get along really well. Plus he really likes me, and he totally rescued me from this total creep. We have fun together. And, okay, he's a pretty good kisser, for a high school boy, anyways. I don't normally date them, you see. On paper, Speed would be my type... especially if we were living in a world where my Svengali-like producer didn't exist. He would be just about perfect except for his inability to take much of anything seriously and some vaguely brother-like vibes I get from him. You know, if we weren't friends, I'd feel like such a player, kinda dating two guys at once. Sad thing is that Speed's the more serious one. And I like him better. Oy.

Taylor attempted, of course, to continue. He failed miserably, and I couldn't even understand a word of his rambling. Since I'm a pretty blunt, frank person who likes to get down to the nitty-gritty details, I decided to interrupt this strange invitation with a quick interjection. Back to basics and all. "Get to the point, Taylor!" I snapped irritably, longing to get back to my rest. Taylor sighed frustratedly, but I just rolled my eyes.

He took a deep breath. "Well, every year my family spends Christmas vacation at our family home in Montreal. And it's usually so boring because Mom and Tommy are either at each others' throats or my, uh, other brother's there, and then no one really notices me. There's always a bunch of people there I don't know, and last year my oldest brother canceled, so Tommy was there... And he was no fun to be around. He completely brought the holiday down for me. All he did was mope, brood, avoid us, and hog the confessional... I thought it would be really cool if you would come stay with us for the holidays," Taylor explained excitedly. I felt half like I'd been punched in the gut. From shock, of course. There was a long silence. "So, what do you think?" Taylor asked anxiously.

"Um..."

For starters, I was trying to wrap my brain around the fact that he'd mentioned, albeit briefly, the older brother Tommy had forbidden people to speak of- twice. And then, suddenly, I remembered with a start the events of last year around this time. It occurred to me that Tommy might've been so depressed because of what didn't happen... never happened, really... between us, but that was unbelievable to me. That I was the reason. Yeah right. I was also more than a little surprised that a guy I'd known for maybe two weeks had invited me to his house for Christmas.

But more than all that, I wasn't thinking about whether or not I wanted to go. Because I did. Obviously Tommy was going to be there, but it was a safe environment because his mother would be there too and all. Even though he was off-limits, I was still thinking of it. Can't help it.

"I'm speechless, Taylor." Really, I was. Still am. I'd known him for, what, two weeks?

Actually, I was thinking that I'd kind of already R.S.V.P.'d. With Tommy first because he'd asked first.

Tommy had asked me like two weeks ago, right after his birthday party. Okay, so I hadn't R.S.V.P.'d exactly, but I'd promised to come (several times), and that was just as good as confirmation. So I was trying to figure out how exactly I could get out of that. He couldn't know Tommy had asked first, after all. I bit my lip hard, wracking my brain to think of something to say. "I think... I think... I'll have to ask my parents first!" I exclaimed. Yes, that was good. And a lie.

I'd already asked my parents. The day after Tommy's birthday. I asked them if I could please spend the holidays with Tommy's family in Montreal, and they actually said yes. I barely had to convince them or anything. Besides, they wanted to go on a romantic retreat to get their relationship back on track anyways, so they were only too happy to be rid of me. All I had to do was tell them that Tommy's mom would be there. She is the anti-aphrodisiac, so of course she'd keep her sons from getting laid, especially Tommy. She's just malicious like that. They assumed that meant the invitation was extended to Sadie too, but it wasn't. She didn't even know unless Tommy had asked her separately, and from what I gathered, he hadn't.

There was a rather awkward silence, so I felt compelled to fill it with an explanation. "My dad's super-protective, and they've been really worried about me lately. Especially since I fainted at that concert," I elucidated anxiously. I paused for a moment to catch my breath. I'd been talking really fast there. Maybe that was a little obvious?

"You fainted at a concert? When did this happen? I didn't know you had a concert!" Taylor interjected brightly, confused as all get out. Uh, oops. How did he miss that? I could've sworn it was in the tabloids, and they're like Taylor's Bible. Plus I couldn't exactly say that it was the day his big brother and my big sister got engaged. It was sort of forgotten in my mind except for that glaring detail.

"Oh, last week... It was nothing," I muttered distractedly, trying to write it off. "Besides, I'm kind of dating you. And... and... You're Tommy's brother," I continued nervously, lamely. Yeah, shouldn't have said that. That was THE wrong thing to say. It's that little jealousy problem he has. I tried to backtrack immediately, but that only made things worse. "It's just... They don't exactly trust him, and you only share like half his chromosomes or something... And maybe they'll think you two are a little _too _alike and..." See how my rambling just dug me into a deeper hole?

Taylor was stonily silent for a while, a very long while. "And why is that, Jude?" He questioned icily. I knew exactly what he was going to say. He was gonna give me another guilt trip about Tommy, but I could do nothing to stop it. "Maybe it's because you jumped into bed with him and then filmed it," He growled. See? Ouch! I kind of gulped after that 'cause, well, he had me there. I couldn't argue with that.

So I did one better. Hey, I was pissed off! The man had insulted my chastity. He was always doing that; honestly, he made me feel like more of a slut than Tommy, Sadie, and both of our mothers put together. Except maybe that first one. "Wow. So _that's _your way of trying to convince me to stay with you. Wow. You know, you could learn a thing or two from those brothers of yours, as much as you'd hate to admit it. After all, Tommy got me in his **bed**.You barely even got first base," I pointed out irately. I could've given him my rating of his kissing technique (negative 20), but that would've been overkill. And then I just hung up so he couldn't insult me anymore.

Technically, so you don't go thinking I'm really the slut everyone thinks I am, because I cannot stress this enough, I haven't... you know. I've just slept in Tommy's bed, and maybe he's been with me in the bed, but nothing happened. Trust me, if something happened, I would be unable to shut up about it. Anyways, so after that I pretty much collapsed back into my bed. I didn't really want to dwell on the crappy conversation. Some boyfriend he was. I was hoping to go back to sleep, but as is so often the case, my brilliant plans were thwarted. The phone rang again. It was scarcely eight. What's wrong with these people?

Grumbling to myself, I got up, cursing myself for not just turning the damn thing off. The ring tone was one of my own songs, so I figured it was the label. What could they have to talk to me about so early in the morning, and why now? They knew me well enough to know that I never got up at that time, even when I did go to the studio. "What the crap do you want?" I snarled a bit too venomously for a convo with record execs. I'm not the type to pull a diva-fit, but I'd already dealt with my overprotective emotional boy-toy. I didn't want to think of any more T-names. There are far too many in my love life. How unfortunate and unlucky, considering what happened later.

It was E.J. I generally don't like to cross E.J. because she's kind of evil and has a second-degree black-belt or something. "Jude, cut the diva act. Christmas is coming up, and frankly, you're looking like a public relations nightmare right now. We need to restore your good girl rep, Jude," E.J. stated concisely. I realized sadly that this was a conference, thus meaning that I would get no sleep whatsoever. Muttering swear words under my breath while E.J. commented snidely that that wasn't a ladylike habit, I walked downstairs to make myself some coffee.

"So, what do you want me to do, Edith Jie? How are "we" going to fix it?" I inquired bluntly, if not a bit rudely. Not that I cared. Remember, I'm not a "nice girl". I knew "we" really meant me. I was the one who had to fix things. I could've sworn E.J. winced over the line. She hates being called by her first name. The only reason I know it is because I overheard her talking with her mom one time. No, Georgia said it, never mind.

E.J. cleared her throat primly. "You're suspended, Jude. A juvenile delinquent does not sell records. And before you start talking about the punk rock movement... I would like to point out how long it took for The Clash to get a single that even charted. We're going for the mainstream, Jude. We want kids' parents to like you. We want the 'tweens at your concerts, and with your antics lately, we're losing one of our biggest demographics. Plus all the high school and college girls are hating on you because they all think you're dating Tom Quincy. The elderly are protesting because of what they think you are," E.J. declared in a rush. She's so chatty, that one. I resented her saying that mainstream thing. I'd rather have a bunch of hardcore, serious fans than be adored by those little teenyboppers.

She only paused a moment to catch her breath before continuing. There was no room for me to speak. "Now, we obviously can't get rid of Tommy. He's too important for your music to be expendable. But no one believes there's nothing going on there, regardless of the fact that you're both dating each other's siblings. So we've tried to legitimize you two a little with all the balls, make you a bit more friendly because of humanitarian work, like Angelina. That's not exactly working, so we've got to resort to other ways of fixing this... problem of yours." E.J. was basically saying this: "We can't do anything about the fact that you're a whore, but we can fix that delinquency thing."

I was still flummoxed from her even considering "getting rid of" Tommy. I could never do that, and he wasn't even remotely expendable. She drew a breath and then went on fearlessly. "But back to the suspension. I called the school, and they said you got suspended for punching an authority figure. To make matters worse, he's apparently your _music _teacher. Do you realize how bad that makes you look? It makes you look like you don't respect authority and like you're an arrogant bitch who thinks she's too good for a little advice. And that is not good. Plus, Jude, we can't have you flunking out of school, especially since your parents insist that you graduate... Especially that wretched mother of yours. And you're supposed to be a role model, Jude. Now, you're not Lindsay Lohan yet, but as far as the tabs are concerned, you're a trainwreck-in-the-making heading in that direction," E.J. drawled in her all-too-matter-of-fact tone. Sometimes the truth hurts. I heard that somewhere.

She didn't leave me time to argue with her, but all I needed to know was what to do. Funny. I'd never noticed how much E.J. disliked my mom. And that Lindsay Lohan thing really pissed me off, so I had to clean up my act a helluva lot. I waited impatiently for E.J. to tell me what I needed to do. I was not disappointed. "Now, I've made some calls, and your principal was perfectly obliging. All you need to do in order to get your suspension lifted is apologize to your teacher. Now, I've done some research as to when you could do this, but I'd say the sooner the better. He has class right now, as you well know, but he has a free period at the end of the day, or you could always visit him on his lunch break. He has the first period," E.J. replied merrily. Luckily I'd been doing my make-up work and having my best friend turn it in for me.

I didn't want to see him, let alone apologize. In fact, I wanted nothing less in the world. Why would I want to do that? If anything, he should apologize to me! So I put up a fight. "No way! No. _No. _NO! I'm not doing it!" I protested loudly, vocally.

E.J. was still more insistent. Her voice became immediately sharp. She refused to take no for an answer. "Yes, you _are, _Jude, if you know what's good for you. You are going to **suck **up your pride and kiss this teacher's ass until your nose is brown. Now, you better get your ass down there around lunchtime... or _else. _I want this teacher to love you, Jude. I want you down on your knees, begging for his forgiveness," E.J. retorted, her tone absolutely steely, completely inflexible. Well that was just too damn bad. Instead of scaring me like it was supposed to, she just made me even more angry. It was her choice of words. Suck up my pride? The pride wasn't the problem. Kiss his ass? Brown nose? Down on my knees, begging? I think not. Plus, just think of all the absolutely disgusting sexual innuendos in that speech.

"And I wanted him suspended! I wanted him to go to prison for what he did to me. But I didn't get what I wanted either, E.J., so I think you can deal!" I shouted back at her. She probably didn't know. The douche bag principal hadn't told her about the charges I'd brought up against him. My screams were met with a confused silence. "Oh, the Principal didn't tell you about that, did he? He didn't tell you how my music teacher kissed me, how he attacked me, how he _touched _me! He didn't tell you that I reported him, and nothing **fricking **happened! How he did nothing, how he laughed at my words, how no one took me seriously! And of course he didn't tell you about the tears or the **nightmares **night after _night _because how would he know, right?" I screamed, feeling all the blood rush to my face. I was breathless, and my voice was scratchy. And I was absolutely murderous. "As far as I'm concerned, E.J., that bastard had it coming. So don't freaking **expect **me to talk to him. Don't expect me to apologize to him when he... not after what he did," I hissed with a furious vehemence.

E.J. was stunned into silence by that... for perhaps one of the only times in her life. Um, okay. It was pretty intense, I'm not gonna lie. "Jude, that does not matter. You need to do..." E.J. gave up mid-rant, sensing my defiance. She pulled back from the phone and sighed a little. "Fine. Tommy, maybe you can talk her into it." Then she huffed and, I assume, handed over the phone to Tommy Dearest. Tommy couldn't even talk me into it, not that he'd want to. If he knew what Travis, whom he hates already, did, he'd go postal on his ass. And then he'd get himself in jail for second-degree murder. Or maybe manslaughter if he was lucky, and the lawyer could convince the jury it was a crime of passion.

Sure enough, Tommy came on the phone less than a moment later. "Jude..." He sighed my name, and I hated how my insides turned to mush just from hearing my name roll off his lips. I don't like being one of _those _girls. My legs wobbled, so I took a deep breath to steady myself. He sounded anxious or worried, but he knew why I'd gotten suspended. Just not that Travis had molested me. And now he was going to convince me to apologize like he couldn't... wouldn't? Hypocrite. "Look, I know you don't want to do this," Tommy said almost patronizingly. So far he wasn't exactly helping his case. I rolled my eyes. And yet he's going to try to talk me into it. He started to say something else, but he didn't get to finish.

"You don't want me to apologize to Travis, Tommy. You think he deserved what he got, and, hell, you never bothered to apologize to him in the first place either," I countered bluntly, interrupting him. I was so sure I'd rendered him speechless. Tommy had applauded me, kissed my knuckles, said he loved me when he heard what I'd done (not in that way, though, really). He was proud, as well he should be; I broke Travis' nose, and Tommy was the one who taught me how to punch. He hated Travis almost as much as I did, maybe even more. But we each hated Travis for different reasons, on Tom's part, reasons I could barely comprehend, if indeed I could understand that.

Tommy spoke seriously in a tone I hadn't heard for a very long time. "You know what you need to do, Jude. He's your teacher, and you ought to show him respect," Tommy replied evenly. He talked in a strange voice; I couldn't place his tone, cool yet firm. I scoffed at him nonetheless. Tommy was talking to me about respect? I didn't owe Travis any respect; he was barely an authority figure, and a lousy one at that. Plus, since when have I respected authority? And, finally, why must I show a man respect who doesn't even respect me? He didn't respect me enough to stay away, to not put his hands all over me, so why did I owe him an apology, much less one ounce of courtesy?

And having Tommy, of all people, telling me what I _ought_ to do? Well, what did he know? He ought to not have banged Kate, Travis' fiancée. He ought to stop cheating on Sadie. He ought to never have let Ruby in his house. He ought never to have kissed me. He ought to stay away and get his stupid aristocratic nose out of my business. "He doesn't merit it, Tommy. I know you don't believe that crap. Now stop lying to me and give me one good reason why I should go down there and demean myself by begging for his forgiveness," I stated sternly. I wasn't going to mess around.

All of a sudden I realized what that odd tone of his had been. Respect. Beneath that growl, beneath the lies, he still respected Travis. And I remembered what Taylor had told me about how close Tommy and Travis had been, and how much he said Tommy had admired Travis- how he had wanted to **be **Travis. But Travis had changed, and Tommy couldn't see that as clearly as I could; then again, I'd never known the old Travis. Tommy knew that there were many differences existing between the man he knew and the one he'd seen from a distance, but he had no idea how truly depraved his former friend was. And I did. "Fine. You want a reason? Okay. Here it is. We shall make a little wager, you and I... If you apologize to Travis like a good girl, I'll give you a reward," Tommy replied finally, attempting to challenge me.

I wasn't quite sure if he was flirting with me or not, but I didn't want to accept anyways. Don't get me wrong; I love a good reward, especially the kind I'm sure he had in mind, but that whole little speech of his had entirely too much flirting in it for my taste. There was something awfully calculating about the way he'd said all that. It felt like he was treating me like a little kid. "No, Tommy. I'm not just gonna play ball like that. I don't _want _your reward. I want a reason, and it better be a damn good one," I protested irritably. Though I couldn't see him, I knew him well enough to know he had stiffened.

He refrained from citing my image and record sales, the reasons E.J. had brought up. "Do it so no one can call you stupid... Do it so you can go right back to school and piss him off. You don't have to mean it; you just have to pretend like you do," Tommy exclaimed passionately in an intent sort of whisper. I have to say that he had a good point for once. But that wasn't enough for me, not yet. I wanted one good reason, something to spur me into action. Finally, Tommy seemed to realize that none of that was enough, so he sighed heavily. "Do it for me, Jude," Tommy begged. My heart skipped a beat. He wanted a personal favor? After what he's done? "If you do this one thing... I'll do what you want. I won't bother you anymore," Tommy capitulated. He sounded weak and resigned. His voice was hoarse, but I knew better than to assume that I was the cause of so much anguish.

You see, I had a cold a couple weeks ago. It was this dreadful thing, lasted about a month. Tommy, it seems, had finally caught my cold. He was completely miserable, sneezing all the time, coughing again and again. Funny how my sister didn't seem to recollect that I'd had the same communicable disease. By that I mean contagious through close physical contact NOT in reference to an STD, although I'm sure Tommy's had his share of problems with that too. Saying that he'd stop bothering me did it for me. Tommy had been damn near smothering me with his all-too (un)wanted presence ever since I'd fainted on stage. He took me out for meals, watched over me when I slept, stepped in to resolve potential conflicts, etcetera... a lot like an overprotective stalker-father, except he managed to outmaneuver my real father.

"I'll think about it." Or so I said. I really meant that I would go down and do that. I just had to maintain the semblance of cool. I couldn't show him how much he continues to affect me. Then I exchanged pleasant goodbyes with Tommy and hung up. Grumbling, I downed my now lukewarm coffee and went upstairs to shower and dress. If I was going to see Travis, I was going to go there dressed impeccably. And in such a way that he couldn't try to rape me again. That meant combat boots, skintight black pants, about twelve belts in assorted materials and colors, spike bracelets and chains, and a long-sleeved layered t-shirt with a black sweater over it, then a pink windbreaker, and then my leather jacket topped off with a winter coat.

Actually, that's a lie. In reality, I dressed like I was going to a funeral. Or on a steak-out/spy mission. Tight yet stretchy black pants, boot-cut, Doc Marten combat boots (which hinted at a potential ass-kicking, not kissing, or rather kicking the crap out of a certain someone), layered black shirts, dark sunglasses, a toque, and a long black trench coat. It was, after all, winter. I had to dress the part. But I did wear two bras. Just to confuse him in case he somehow managed to get past the buttons and the layers. Before leaving, I dropped a switch-blade in my pocket. A gift from Patsy. Gotta love that girl. They're illegal, and so what? You never know when something's going to happen to you, so it's best to be prepared. I'm not going in there unarmed. I don't want to be a victim. Think of it as a fifth line of defense, in case all those buttons and layers and snaps and boots don't deter him.

But before that, I had to get myself a nice, biiig breakfast. Now, technically Mommy and Daddy had both just left for work, which gave me free reign for a bit. I had to be down at the school by his lunch period. Great. Conforming to Travis' schedule already. It was like I was back already. So I found a lovely IHOP (it really IS international!) and enjoyed a lovelier breakfast. They gave me a discount; I signed a bunch of autographs... or two. It was a win-win situation. Oh, and they made me write the new IHOP jingle. That actually is true, since I had my guitar strapped to my back. "_I hop to the spot; it's the place to be. I hop-hop-hop to the restaurant that serves... only the best breakfast for you and me! IHOP! It's recognized internationally. IHOP! It's like a home away from home. IHOP! And they've got the best pancakes with the finest maple syrup outside of Vermont alone! International House of Pancakes! Come hungry, leave happy!_"

Okay, so maybe they don't actually use real maple syrup. Only we live in Canada, and in case you haven't noticed, the stuff is kind of everywhere. So it's cheaper to use the real stuff than import it. It's why we have a freaking maple leaf on our flag. And, y'know, the stars and stripes were already taken, and we tried other stuff, but you get the picture. Didn't work. And the Union Jack's... not my cup of tea. And maybe they're trying to ditch the International House of Pancakes bit, reverting to the acronym instead, and maybe it's not actually international. I mean, do you seriously know how far I had to drive to find one? All the way to the States. In the middle of nowhere. I had to look it up online.

I mean, I know there's Denny's. And Denny's is always open, but it's not International. So I came back at like, eleven, which didn't give me much time to get to school. I bypassed that by speeding. Only ten miles over, though, and that's downright slow. When I finally got to school, it was about eleven fifteen. I parked the car, albeit a bit jerkily, and for a moment I just stared at the door, open-mouthed. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to go inside, of course, but I kept reminding myself that I was doing it for a reason. Only when I got down to it, I actually hated the reason. I didn't really want to keep Tommy at arm's length. Nonetheless, it was lunchtime, at least at my school, so I had to get to Travis, if he hadn't already made for the teacher's lounge already.

So I took a deep breath and got out of my car. Then I locked the car over my shoulder and walked in without looking back. I had to pretend to be confident or else I wouldn't actually be confident. Because eventually, there comes a point where you stop pretending and just... are. I barged right in there, walked down the hallways like it was nothing. The halls were pretty much deserted, so I didn't get any strange looks. And I kept walking, walking briskly, okay, almost speed-walking, until I'd reached his classroom. This time I barged in without the deep breath.

My breath immediately got caught in my throat, of course. Travis was still in there, surprisingly enough. I almost hadn't expected him to be there, but he was. And he looked better than I remembered. A lot better. I might hate the man and everything he stands for, but I'm not going to say he isn't ridiculously attractive. Keep in mind that the last time I saw him he was wearing a lot of make up to cover up the bruising and still recovering from a broken nose. And he still looked so damn good that I mistook him for Tommy, whom I am very fond of. The nose was courtesy of me and my right hook, in case I didn't already tell you that. And he didn't have any of those mottled purple hickies all down his neck this time. I know because the first three buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned. Of course his hair had to look fabulous, and his clothes were absolutely perfect.

And, to make matters even stranger, Travis was talking to my friend Joan. Now, my friend Joan has this thing for Travis, and Travis, despite the fact that he's a teacher, has an even bigger thing for her. Joan never says a word, but it's so easy to tell how she feels. Anyways, I owe Joan a lot, since she's the one that walked in and... stopped... Travis. So, as of late, she hates him almost as much as I do, but it's worse because she has feelings for him too at the same time. Then again, I don't know. I haven't really seen her around him a lot. The truly weird thing was that she was alone with him when she obviously doesn't trust him at all. I removed my sunglasses and stood in the doorway.

"Mr. Quinn, I told you; I'd like to drop your class. I don't need this credit for graduation, and there's a section of Econ I can get in instead. Now just let me do it, okay?" Joan said coolly, placing her hands on her hips. Travis shook his head, surprised at her formality. Joan rolled her eyes. "I am not a musical person. I don't want to pursue it for a career, so it's not worthwhile to me to be enrolled in the class," Joan continued frostily. This time Quinn rolled his eyes. He snorted. On the bright side, at least he wasn't trying to hit on her. I think this is the first time I've seen them alone where he hasn't been coming on to her.

"Oh, please! You _know _you love it," He countered sharply. "And it's too late to drop now. It's almost end of semester, and you wouldn't get any credit. You'd just get a free period or wind up as a teacher's aid, and that's below you," Travis pointed out bluntly. He was right, of course. It was insane for Joan to insist now. And the end of the year was only a few weeks away. "Not to mention that you hate numbers, money, and math."

Joan is rarely inclined towards fits of passion, but she made a special exception this time. Travis always brings it out in a person. "I'm not like you, Travis! Music is not my **life**!"Joan shrieked. Travis grabbed her then by the wrists, extra hard. He jerked her towards him roughly, but Joan was stronger. Her eyes flashed, and she pulled back and broke free. That was true. Joan isn't a musician like you and me. She doesn't live it. She understands it, but she has higher (and probably more sensible) aspirations. I decided to make my presence known at that point, to save Joan a bit, since Travis was looking wicked angry. Besides, I owed her, and the least I could do was attempt to repay the favor. Not that I could come even close to doing that.

I cleared my throat and knocked on the door loudly. "So, um... hi. Haven't seen either of you in a while," I muttered awkwardly. I was going to make a sarcastic remark about whether or not he was going to try and rape another girl, but I was supposed to apologize and suck up. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Oh great. I can feel the mortification coming on now. The last time I'd seen Travis, he pretended to be Tommy and tried to marry me. I kid you not. That actually happened. My life is almost worse than a soap opera some days, and that day happened to be one of them.

Oddly enough, Travis barely reacted at all. In fact, I think he just blinked. Joan moved even further away from him almost guiltily. Like I cared. I'd been way closer to the man, so, even if I was a judgmental type; I was no one to judge. I walked towards them, plastering the phoniest smile I could muster on my lips. "Mr. Quinn, we need to talk," I replied upon reaching them, taking Joan's cue to be professional. I could do it. He raised an eyebrow, but I pushed on bravely. The quicker I said it, the faster it'd be over and done. "I'm sorry for breaking your nose." It all came out in one breath. Travis raised his eyebrows.

"Slower, please," He requested calmly. He wanted to torture me, I think. He probably heard me. The man has ears like a hawk. I wanted to glower at him, but I had to be on my best behavior. I kept reminding myself that I was only doing this to get myself out of a hole the size of Canada. And for Tommy. The for-Tommy aspect of it had a particular sticking-it-to-Travis aspect of it, since they detest each other. I took a shallow breath. Phew.

At first I couldn't say it. "I'm s... I'm s-s-s-s... orry. I'm story... I am... ack!" I stuttered. I was about the color of a tomato, I think. Travis was unsuccessfully trying to hold back laughter. Joan shot me a confused, if pitying look. I took a moment to collect myself. I'd spit it all out just matter-of-fact, pretending that he hadn't proposed to me.

"I'm sorry I broke your nose. I was out of line. It was the wrong thing to do, and I'm sorry," I said more slowly. Travis just stared at me, as did Joan. It was more than a little unnerving. Okay, it was a lot unnerving. Thinking they didn't understand, I decided to repeat it. He needed to accept for me to be in the clear. "I said that I'm sorry for punching you. And I'm sorry for the two black eyes. Oh, and sorry I was so nasty to you when you were just pushing me to do my best. I really do respect you," I apologized sweetly. Okay, that might've been laying it on a little too thickly.

Travis rolled his eyes at me. "Cut the BS, Jude," He snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you want?" I batted my eyelashes innocently. Nothing, just your forgiveness, but if he knew that it'd be conditional. Nothing. Joan stared at me as if she'd just seen an alien. Not that I especially blame her.

"Have you lost your mind? Or are you just having one of those weird mood swings where you decide you've fallen in love with him?" Joan asked curiously. I just shrugged and claimed nothing was wrong with me, glancing anxiously at Travis. Please don't let him think she was serious about me being in love with him, 'cause I'm not. Travis said nothing, which made me furious. But, of course, I had to repress this. Joan was ironically right about something: that mood swing. I'd been completely insane that day. It was also ironic since hello, the whole proposal thing.

Travis also felt the need to repeat himself. "Forgiveness," I said. Travis raised an eyebrow suspiciously. I sighed irritably. "Look, just forgive me. I really am sorry," I implored. Travis continued to stare at me disbelievingly, but he did nod. My shoulders sunk in relief. Phew, got that over with.

Joan immediately turned to me, livid. It wasn't like she was the one who'd just had to kowtow to the one person she hated most in the world. I only had enough pride left to keep me from crawling back to Tommy and having sex with him in the studio. "What is wrong with you? You're actually apologizing to the guy who almost raped you?" Joan shouted, berating me and sounding so very disappointed in me. It's not like I wanted to, but I had no choice. I said nothing, because I couldn't. If I did, it'd wreck everything. Her voice dropped an octave, and she addressed her words to me only, sounding hurt and betrayed. "Do you have any self-respect?" She whispered.

Travis stood there coolly with his eyes focused on Joan, who looked quite decomposed (as in not put together, not falling apart). He was smirking a little. He was acting like nothing had happened, and frankly, that just really pissed me off. Joan scowled at him and left without a word. After that, it was just me and Travis, and wasn't that uncomfortable? He just kept on smirking, enjoying every moment of it. So maybe I lost my stack a little. I had resisted humiliating him in front of Joan, but I wasn't about to keep up the act when we were all alone. What was the point? We knew everything about each other (in that sense); denying it was pointless. "Are you just gonna stand there like you didn't flipping **propose **to me?! Like you didn't beg me to marry you and attempt to abduct me?" I shrieked, unable to believe him. He was... is... something else entirely.

Travis was completely impassive. "I don't know what you're talking about," He said primly, as if he didn't actually have a clue. He was in complete denial, like he'd repressed it or something. I gaped at him. And I thought Tommy was a liar. I was there, idiot! I continued to glower at him, struck speechless. He said nothing, turning to his desk and calmly arranging papers. "I've noticed you've had Jamie get your homework, and he's been turning it in for you. That's good. I trust you won't need to catch up much, then. I expect a performance the first day, Ms. Harrison. You've had a lot of time to work on new material," Travis explained placidly yet firmly.

I nodded plainly. Maybe I'll write a song about him proposing just to remind him. "Yeah. Don't worry. You'll get your performance, whether you like it or not," I promised, turning my back on him. I was vaguely irritated, so I decided not to push it. I'd deal with it later, as Travis' remotely good mood was often short-lived. Without even a goodbye I whirled around and left the school like a tornado. Some people are simply unbelievable. I'd get why he'd pretend it didn't happen, but it did. Maybe he doesn't want to remember his moment of insanity. Whatever. I'll make him remember, and I'll make him ashamed of it. I'm not gonna sweep that under the rug like his abuses.

That being said and done, I had G. Major business to do. Actually, I had to properly R.S.V.P. for Christmas with the Quincys, which meant I had to do it through Tommy's mother, Victoria LaFramboise-Ruelle, who also happens to be my lawyer. Aside from that, I also needed to check up on her progress. She's suing some people for me for libel and slander for saying I'm a whore and that I'm dating all these people that I'm really not. And yes, his mother is as uptight and formal as she sounds. The woman could very well wind up being family, especially when Tommy and Sadie tie the knot, so it's important to be on good terms with her. Even though she hates me. On the bright side, she hates Tommy too.

So I called Tommy's mother up and told her receptionist I'd be dropping by. She has offices in New York, Montreal, Los Angeles, and Paris too, apparently. I didn't know that. Then I got myself a wrap or something for lunch and drove to her office, which was in the ritzy part of town. I barged right in, and the receptionist was rather unhappy about it, but whatever. She could deal. Tory wasn't even in a meeting; she was just sitting in her office all alone, almost as if she was waiting for me. Actually, it wouldn't surprise me if she was. That woman, I tell you, knows everything. "Well, well... Jude Harrison. Ms. Harrison, what can I do for you?" Tory greeted me, coolly polite. She gave me a scrutinizing look with those piercing frost-blue eyes of hers. "Let me guess... You're here to check on your pending lawsuits, right?" Victoria proposed shrewdly. She motioned for me to sit, so I sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk.

"That, among other things," I replied, feeling a bit queasy at the thought. Victoria nodded thoughtfully and handed me the different files. In a cool, clipped tone, she patiently explained to me the ins and outs of the legal system and where my cases were going. It was really boring, but I nodded and pretended to listen. I didn't understand any of it, but then again, I didn't have to. Victoria assured me professionally that that was her job. She also said she could get me out of G. Major at any time I wanted, since, as a minor, I could legally void any contract I'd signed. Maybe that had been why Georgia and E.J. had been reluctant to hire me, y'think?

"Jude, for what other reason are you here?" Victoria asked suspiciously. See how quickly she saw right through me? I sighed. Wow. How could I explain it? I sighed and attempted to tell her.

I bit my lip nervously. "Um... I just wanted to tell you personally that I'll be coming to your house in Montreal for Christmas. That is okay, isn't it?" I replied shakily. Victoria regarded me with interest. Apparently no one had informed her I would be coming. She didn't exactly look that thrilled. But hey, at least I'll bring her a present. "Is it okay? 'Cause my parents are completely okay with it. They really admire you, Mrs. Quincy... Um, I mean, Ms. LaFramboise-Ruelle, of course, sorry... I mean, I'll bring presents... You won't even know I'm there. Or if you really don't want to see me, I'll just stay home, but my parents are going out of town on a sort of second honeymoon thing..." I rambled. Victoria cut me off with a hand gesture.

She waved it off casually. "Of course it's acceptable, Jude. If your parents are okay with it, then so am I," Victoria said calmly, almost smiling. I almost had a heart attack. Victoria LaFramboise-Ruelle was actually being sort of nice to me, which is a rarity. I've only seen her be nice to her son, her flesh and blood... once... on his birthday. Then she actually did smile, and her eyes sort of twinkled. "I trust you have good taste in gifts," She remarked with a grin. Then I had another heart attack because she'd just made a joke. I was pretty surprised, actually, considering how I'd messed up that little speech and called her by her ex-husband's name, although, in retrospect, that might've been what she liked about me.

Victoria looked contemplative for a moment. "Besides, my sons all love you," She said nonchalantly, pausing for a moment. _All _of them? **Love **me? Seriously, what is it with people thinking Tommy loves me? Let me tell you, Lily, I knew there was a catch. "Now, I can only wonder which of them invited you." And there it was. I flushed horribly, and she knew. She always knows. Victoria smiled secretively, waiting for an answer.

I sighed and prepared to tell her the truth. "Both, actually... But Tommy asked first. Taylor called this morning and asked. I told him I'd get back to him," I elucidated carefully, wondering what she would think of me. Victoria nodded; she didn't look surprised.

"Because you'd already told Tommy yes," She interrupted in a tone I couldn't quite place. She was watching me. I nodded softly, guiltily, because there was nothing else I could do. Obviously I couldn't just deny it. Especially since, hello, it was the truth. You can't lie to Victoria. And that's pretty much it, once you get down to it. Victoria didn't look sad about it. Don't get me wrong, she likes Taylor scads better than Tommy... Yet she understands the way I'm drawn to him. They're a whole family of paradoxes, I tell you.

Victoria actually smirked. I was floored. "You realize, right, that he didn't even invite that fiancée of his? But he asked you... way in advance... _and _he cleared it with me first. Tommy never does things like that, you know, but he seemed so worried that you wouldn't be able to come," Tory drawled, flashing me an all-too knowing smile. She wasn't used to seeing impervious Tommy flustered, so it amused her to mock him for it. Tom really prides himself on keeping his cool, but of course, I tend to kill that in people. Taylor too, actually.

I was mildly shocked by this little revelation, seeing as _she _was his girlfriend, not me. You have to understand this. My sister beats me at everything, so it's weird how it seems like Tommy likes me better than her, his own betrothed. I mean, my sister's never been to his place or met any of his relatives... And I've met just about the whole fam. His little brother, his mother (the most important), his father, and maybe even his older brother... for all I know. When you think about it, it really sounds like I'm the girlfriend, not the Harrison actually wearing the ring. He's cooked for me, and he's given me jewelry, I suppose. Nothing fancy, though. Just classy all around.

Of course, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that my sister was going. She needed something to do for Christmas too, and I'd already assumed she was invited. She was certainly expecting something from Tom, at any rate. I felt myself flush at her speech, insinuating that her middle son had anything more than platonic feelings for me. It's so weird to have someone say that to you, especially when it's his mother. I decided a change of subject was in order because Tommy obviously doesn't love me. I'd say his mom was going senile, but she's razor sharp, and she's barely forty, although she looks barely thirty. "So, do you know what Tommy's getting me?" I asked brightly. Damn. I meant to say Taylor. Freudian slips and all.

Victoria smirked, like she was amused at my preoccupation with her son. Then she shrugged cruelly. Tommy and his mother are by no means close, so that was a stupid-ass question to ask. "What would you like?" Victoria quipped, rather less amused. She's not a messenger, so I guess she was slightly less amused. See how completely confusing this woman is? No wonder she's a lawyer.

Now, in reality, I have no clue. Tommy could get me anything. He's gotten me jewelry on multiple occasions, but last year for my birthday he gave me driving lessons and a promise to get along with my... with my now ex-boyfriend. Yeah, THE Shay. I'm betting on jewelry of some sort, which is good, because he has excellent taste in jewelry. I actually wear what he's bought for me. Like see, look, this ring... and this necklace. He gave me both of them. What? You thought they'd be fancier, didn't you? That's understandable since he's a millionaire and all, but he knows my taste, and I like things simple. "Michael Seater," I said plainly, not missing a beat. Victoria raised an eyebrow at my selection.

Oh, come on. He's hot, funny, and he has really great hair. You know what I'm talking about. Seriously, he's the only reason why I know anything about science. I watched Black Hole High solely because he was in it, hence the science. Hell, I might just ask to guest star in an episode of Life With Derek. How awesome would that be? And that's why he'd be a great Christmas present... wrapped or unwrapped. Now, of course, Tommy is never going to get me a man for Christmas, much less when I'm "dating" his brother, but it was a nice dream, wasn't it? Plus the look on Tory's face was totally priceless.

She collected herself some time later in about five seconds, once again maintaining the famous Quincy composure. She gave me a scrutinizing look and then followed that up with a very businesslike nod. "Since you're _practically _family," She paused briefly here, like she was spitting out something unpleasant (the unpleasantness being that I was practically family, sadly enough). "I'm extending family privileges to you. You may bring whoever you like, although I do request that you inform me which of them are staying so that I can have the maids prepare the proper amount of rooms. I like big Christmases, and I've got a big house with lots of room. I don't like to see my house empty. Also, don't worry if some of your guests won't get along with my family... The more awkward, the better. It keeps them on their toes, plus it provides me with endless amusement," Victoria stated formally yet also warmly.

This proves that she is clearly a sick individual. She likes chaos and having a bunch of people who dislike each other in one small really large space. I think she wants it to be some sort of social experiment. This is also worrisome, since she considers me a family member. Boyz Attack! And Darius Mills (and family) are also part of this elusive circle. "Since you will be in Montreal, I expect you to speak a bit of French or, at least, to try. You will also be expected to join us at midnight mass on Christmas Eve. Other than that and Christmas Day, your time is your own to spend as you wish. You will have full use of the facilities except my bedroom and private areas. Oh, and we are having a New Year's Party, as according to custom. It'll be all industry people, so your attendance, while not mandatory, per se, is heavily recommended," Victoria finished bossily. Her orders, despite being orders, sounded okay. I mean, a party? That could be cool. And if it wasn't, I could run off with Tommy. Ha, I wish. It'll be nice to spend Christmas with them, I think.

Either that or a complete disaster. I'd say it's about fifty-fifty. I nodded obediently. "Thanks so much, Mrs. Q," I said emphatically, flashing her a wide smile. I totally didn't mean to call her that, but I never know what to call her. I mean, she's an adult, so it's weird, disrespectful even to call her by her first name. Calling her Tory's way too informal, but I don't want to call her by her last name either because she has a long last name, and it reminds her that she's not married anymore. But I can't exactly call her Mrs. Quincy, can I, when her ex-husband's married to someone else, even if she is the most annoying woman alive? I think she likes being called that, though.

Only problem is now I've gotta think of what to get her, and she has expensive taste. You got any suggestions? Oh, right, you want to know what happened next because that only seems remotely crazy. Okay, so after that I was all set to go when she stopped me by assuring, "I meant what I said about Tommy, you know." So then why are you telling me?! Why not him, huh, if it's really true?! That's what I wanted to ask. Saying stuff like that practically encourages me to bang him and get him in prison. I mean, I know she dislikes him, but I didn't think she hated him that much. That was awkward, so after that I left, trying to regain my dignity.

By this point, it was around lunch time, so I went home and changed into some comfy clothes. I was still a little full from breakfast so I went to my rehearsal space (this really cheap place that me and the guys rent for like two cents a month... 'cause practicing in our basements got old) and crammed in a really energetic, frenetic jam session. I was running and jumping around like a madwoman, and it was a load of fun. By the end of it, though, I was completely sweaty and disgusting, so I went back home to shower. By then it was pushing four, and, upon checking my phone on the way home (from the subway), I discovered that Tommy had called me. Twice. Okay, ten times. I'd turned my phone off so it wouldn't ruin the really terrific jam session I had. Seriously, I think I wrote ten songs. I recorded them too, but it sounds really low-tech because I'm no pro producer. And all those instruments are heavy and kind of beat-up. They consist of a really beat-up old keyboard, this super-cheap bass Wally got at a garage sale, this piano down in the basement, old-speakers, an ancient microphone, and a seriously weird stringed instrument that was there when we rented it, so I had to lug my guitar and laptop (okay, Tommy's laptop. It has Pro-Tools, and he doesn't know I borrowed it) there.

An average person would say those were all booty calls, but they weren't. Stalker calls, maybe. He was worried about me, and he's been insanely worried about me since I passed out on stage. I guess he's got a reason; after all, I skipped lunch today. Anyways, aside from questioning my whereabouts, Tommy kept insisting that I drop by his place... and he wondered about the apology. So I had to hop back in my car, forgo my shower, and drive all the way across town to get there. I should've called, but isn't it fun to drop in on friends? There I was, fifteen minutes later, knocking on his door. "Tommy? You said you had something for me?" I called, still banging on his door. It was beginning to hurt my fists. "TOMMY! Don't you want to hear about Travis? Whether I apologized or not?" I was trying to draw him out. Then I resorted to screaming his name, which didn't disrupt anyone since he's the only one that lives there. He owns the whole building.

Finally, Tommy surprised me by coming to the door. He looked both surprised and pleased to see me. "Jude, hey!" Nice inversion there, don't you think? He flashed me a smile and then showed me in. There was a strange nervousness about him. I didn't get why at first, unless he knew I'd been to see his mother. I glanced around the place, noting that it looked exactly the same as I remembered, only slightly messier. Tommy is a neat freak, so he keeps his apartment in general compulsively clean. I should've known that something was up. It wasn't obvious, but it was there... some difference in the air.

I stepped inside, feeling somewhat anxious. I always feel anxious when I'm all alone with Tommy. It's kind of a precariously tempting position for me to be in. I cleared my throat nervously, trying to look at anything but him. "You said you had something for me, Tommy?" I asked, trying to keep my cool. I could feel my stress level rising, and being in his penthouse wasn't exactly helping matters. By all means, I should be hella comfortable in Tommy's house. I've been there so often lately that it's practically like a home to me. My sister, his lovely fiancée, hasn't even been there once. Obviously I don't want to think about what that means for their sex life, although I've stayed overnight at his apartment more times than I'd like to admit. Actually, that makes me wonder which of us is actually having a sexual relationship with him, since I've stayed over at his apartment, slept in the same bed with him, had dry sex with him on camera, and everything... well, _almost _everything... Yet my sister's the one he's marrying and dating and that, the whole shebang.

That's a really messed up thing to have to wonder about, much less at sixteen.

He nodded. "Yeah. Actually, I'm gonna go upstairs and get it. Just make yourself at home while you wait," Tommy muttered offhandedly. That was my cue to plop down on his couch and start channel-surfing. He has over a thousand channels, and unbelievably there was next to nothing on the screen. Then I came across this absolutely brilliant documentary on Boyz Attack!, so of course I had to watch it. Plus I was kind of dying to see Tommy's response. It had delved into their music videos, playing and analyzing them by the time Tommy got downstairs. By this point, I was on my feet, doing the dance moves to "Pick Up the Pieces". I'd achieved almost complete mastery when I turned around, mid-booty shake, and caught Tommy watching me with rapt interest.

I couldn't stop then, of course. I couldn't stop just because the idiot was watching. So I continued my dance routine without missing a beat, keeping my eyes focused on Tommy. It's what he would do, after all. I could tell he was getting a kick out of it. He had this stupid smirk on his face. Now, I knew full well he could do it with me, but he was letting me suffer on alone. He knows I'm absolutely awful at choreography of any sort, but I tried extra hard just to prove to him that I could do it. Still, it was hard. Luckily, though, it's a short song, and soon enough I was done and completely breathless.

Tommy started applauding, a wide smile breaking out on his face. "Nicely done, Harrison," He complimented. I could see the laughter in his eyes as he approached me. "But your ass shake needs serious work." He walked up to me, placing the gift that he'd been holding (which I'd somehow failed to notice) on the coffee table. He stood next to me goodnaturedly. "You've got to do it like _this_," he instructed, assuming the position. "Turn around, swivel the hips, pivot, and shake." I did as he instructed, but apparently I still wasn't doing it right. He shook his head, frowning a little. "Not enough shake." I rolled my eyes, but Tommy takes dance very seriously. He's a complete perfectionist freak, I tell you. So we kept practicing, but obviously I wasn't doing it right. So eventually Tommy grabbed my hips and made me move the way he wanted.

It's always done how he wants it.

I didn't mean that the way it came out. He always makes people do things the way he wants them to be done.

Erm... It's always what Tommy wants. There.

Ahem... He got a little... okay, a lot... closer than he probably should've. I think it was an excuse to grab my ass, personally. It was a successful excuse, at any rate. It took me about fifteen minutes to realize that, hello, I was getting caught up in his spell again. Tommy's like a spider; he weaves a fine little web of lies, and if you're not careful, you'll fly right into it and get stuck. And then he'll devour you whole. Or consume you, whichever you prefer. Only I hate spiders and lo... Don't hate Tommy. So after a while, I drew back and picked up the present on the table. It was a medium-sized box, carefully wrapped and trimmed with a beautiful bow. His compulsion is excellent for wrapping gifts.

I gave him a sideways look, wordlessly asking if it was okay to open it. Tommy graced me with a smile. "Think of it as an early birthday present," He said, motioning for me to open it. I nodded brightly and carefully started to undo the bow and then the paper and then I opened the box. Inside of it was another, smaller box. I opened that box and was surprised to find... diamond and platinum stud earrings, cut in the shape of stars. I have no idea how expensive they were, but I'd guess extremely. I gaped at them for several long moments and threw my arms around him impulsively. It's what you do when someone buys you such an outlandish birthday present. I couldn't think of a single thing that could top it.

Like he said last year, what do you get for the girl who has everything? It was a stupid thing to do, considering how I'm trying to resist him and all. And once I was in his arms, I kind of went all melty. He just smells so good. It was weird, since I was all sweaty and disgusting, but Tommy didn't seem to mind. "Tommy," I whispered, still holding on to him, "Your brother asked me to come stay with you for Christmas."

Strangely enough, although we'd been hugging far too long and far to closely for it to be considered proper, Tommy didn't back away. "Uh huh," He murmured distractedly, "And what did you say?" His breath was brushing against my ear, so Tommy wasn't the only one who was distracted. Too close. I bit my lip and shrugged.

"I said I'd think about it." In not so many words, yes. And that I'd have to ask Mom and Dad.

Tommy's lips brushed against my ear. "He doesn't know, does he?" He hissed almost accusingly. And then he kind of nipped my ear. I don't know if that was an accident or not, but he seemed kind of pissed, so it's a toss-up. Not trusting myself to speak, or, even, really, breathe, I merely nodded. "He doesn't know that I asked you weeks ago, and you said yes immediately," Tommy restated, clearly trying to prove a point. He drew back a little at this, but I was still in his arms. I could only nod again dumbly, wondering what he wanted from me. Are people trying to make me feel bad about that? If the guy of your dr... If your closest (note that I said closest, not best. There is a difference) friend asks you to come stay with him for Christmas, why say no? I mean, Tommy's only like, my first or second favorite person in the world, so of course I'm gonna want to spend the happiest time of the year with the person who makes me the happiest. I don't get why people should try and make me feel bad for saying yes in a heartbeat. Besides, that was before Taylor and I were really dating anyways. "Without any thought, without even asking your parents." I nodded again, wanting to know what he was getting at. Tom was starting to scare me.

I could tell he was angry with me, but I didn't exactly know why. Tommy knew I was going, and I hadn't exactly lied to his brother or anything. I realize now that he was mad because his brother apparently thought our relationship was serious enough that he could ask me that. Or something. Who really knows with Tommy? "You should've told him," Tommy continued in a low, measured voice. He said these words looking directly at me. I sighed, frustrated. If he was going to go on about it... "Why didn't you?" He asked with a curious lilt in his voice.

That was my breaking point. I glowered at him, pushing him away from me. "Because I'm not **stupid**,Tommy! I know how it looks, okay?! He's already insecure enough about our relationship as it is without me rubbing it in his face! What was I supposed to say? "Okay, Taylor, sounds great. But I was already going anyways because your older brother asked me first." I don't think so!" I shouted furiously. He was coming between Taylor and me in the subtlest ways. Tommy shrugged nonchalantly, a gesture that only raised my ire. "We ended our conversation fighting over you because I was dumb enough to bring you up as a reason why my parents wouldn't want me to go."

Tommy stared at me blankly after this admission. As if that still wasn't enough for him. I exhaled irritably, throwing my hands in the air. "What do you want me to say, Tommy?! That I like you a hundred times more than your brother?! Well, there, I said it!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I almost said I... Well, never matter what I almost said. It would've been too much, but the point is that obviously if I had a choice between Tommy and his brother... or Tommy and anyone, for that matter... Tommy would win. Tommy always wins. I heart Tommy, but I _just _heart him. No sentiments attached. And yes, I realize and embrace the irony in that sentence.

I wanted to leave then, but a pained look crossed Tommy's face. He made me stay, for I had obviously said exactly what he wanted to hear. I hated him for that. He has this way of getting completely under my skin and making it so I don't know what I'm doing. Coolly yet not frostily, Tommy walked over to me, snatching the earring box out of my hand. He didn't say a word as he carefully took one earring out of the box, turning me to face him. He gently shoved the earring through the hole, attaching the fastener in the back so that it would stay in. He did this like a pro, like one who had done this many times and for many years. When I asked, Tommy told me that he'd once had a pierced ear. Or two. I'm not sure if it was during his boyband days or in the days that followed when he was traveling and out "finding" himself.

Anyways, as pleasant as that little digression was, I'm sure you're not half as obsessed with Tommy as I am and would prefer I keep the thoughts on him to a minimum. It's okay. I quite understand. So he did the same thing with the other earring, and I thought this was quite possibly the sweetest thing ever. I walked away after that to go see what I looked like in a mirror, and the earrings were lovely. I was disgusting, but the earrings were absolutely lovely. They sparkled beautifully; I instantly adored them. It was love at first sight, and I didn't even love T... Shay... at first sight. Oh, hell, now that I think about it, I've never loved anyone at first sight. And I barely even loved Shay at all.

Tommy came up behind me and asked me how I liked them. Touching them with a faint smile, he said, "I saw them and thought of you. Figured they'd match your ring, and it was about time I actually bought you something expensive." Tommy's policy is: I have all this money, so I might as well do something with it. Like spend it on people I care about. Just care about. The L-word does not slip past his lips, even for family. I mumbled a thank-you and turned around to hug him once again, forgetting my anger. Tommy has a way of doing that to a person, just charming you with a smile and making you fall for him.

It was nice being all wrapped up in his arms, but I still felt icky. I didn't get how he could possibly want to be near me when I was damp and probably smelly. That's love, you say, but Tommy doesn't love me. "Tommy... I'm all sweaty and disgusting. I haven't had a chance to shower. You can't possibly want to..." I protested feebly. Strangely enough, he didn't care. Especially since I could've sworn that he inhaled me like a thirsty man drinks water. He was trying to squeeze all the life out of me, I swear. He didn't let go at first, but then he assented slowly. I had to practically peel him off of me, though.

He motioned widely to his house. "Mi casa es su casa," He proclaimed rather triumphantly. I thought he sounded more than a little bit drunk, but I was fairly certain he hadn't been drinking. I got what it meant, though. Not that it was literally my house too... That sounds weird, doesn't it? Makes you think he actually wants to spend his life with me.

I quirked an eyebrow. "Ma maison est ta maison, don'tcha mean?" Well, it was more appropriate. He's French, after all, not Spanish. Hell, French was his other first language growing up. Oh, cool. You speak French fluently too? Excellent. Tommy just rolled his eyes and nodded, suggesting that I go shower. I was more than willing to take him up on the offer. He has at least two, possibly three bathrooms in his penthouse alone. I tried the bathroom I'd used before (the modest one on the lower level), but for some reason it was locked. I wasn't willing to go to Tommy and beg him to unlock it, so I ascended the stairs instead. I walked through Tommy's bedroom, trying hard not to notice the rumpled sheets (still, at the sight, I couldn't help but wonder who he'd shared it with), and finally arrived at his bathroom. I'd always secretly wanted to use the master bath again anyways. The last time I used it I was so hungover I didn't know up from down.

Normally I would describe the scene to you, but you don't really care about that, and it's not really relevant. Plus you don't exactly want to hear about me showering anyways... But don't worry, I didn't bring it up for nothing. Me showering is actually very important aside from the obvious health and aesthetic reasons. It's important because, after I'd turned on the water, shed all my clothing, and was in the middle of washing my hair... I had an unexpected visitor.

I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count.

Yeah, it was Tommy. Oh, don't worry... Most producer-artist relationships aren't like ours at all. One can never be _that _indebted to one's producer. Unless your producer fancies himself Lou Pearlman or something; then you'd owe him your life and your royalties and your concert profits and your personal life and so on.

But, okay, that's a lie. The owing the producer thing. The Lou Pearlman thing is totally true. But anyways, one can. But generally producers don't... cross that line... Okay, sometimes. But most if not all accept other forms of payment than sexual favors (reputable ones, at least). Not that that's how I pay Tommy, although that would be a lot less costly. He gets a nice percent of my sales (10 or something, I believe. I got robbed, but he's just the best) and then half or so of my royalties in addition to what Georgia pays him. Besides, it's not like he really needs the money anyways. And the favors are really... just in addition, a benefit. Not really a perk or anything.

And I'm gonna shut up now before I make myself sound cheap. Most producers and artists aren't as close as me and Tommy. Especially the professionals. Let's just put it that way. We're so close, apparently, that Tommy stepped into the shower with me. I only noticed when I felt him almost slam into me from behind... Uh, I don't mean that in the hey, doggy-style, we almost had sex kinda way! I mean it more like he bumped into me from behind and kinda knocked me off balance a little. He _was _wearing clothes, just barely, but he was. He wrapped his arms around my stomach, pulling me closer to him. "I thought you'd be more excited to see me," He whispered, sounding a little whinier than I would've liked.

At this point, I was confused. Not that I wasn't before. I wanted to be like... Dude, I saw you two seconds ago, and you barged in on me in the shower... but I didn't. I was kind of frozen, actually, and you're wondering why I didn't freak out, right? It's because Tommy's seen me in various states of undress, including in his shower (I ought to mention that it is made of see-through glass)... completely nude. And vice-versa. Just the other day I caught the man in my shower at home. So that's why I didn't flip, although it was pretty damn scary. I don't exactly appreciate people sneaking up on me. It's a wonder I didn't karate-chop him.

I rolled my eyes at his choice of words. Puh-lease. I think it was pretty obvious which of us was the _excited _one there.

"I wasn't expecting you," I replied neutrally, wondering why he was there, intruding on my privacy. I gritted my teeth, vaguely despising him for it. Then again, I was also kind of excited. It was hot, him sneaking into the bathroom like that. His hands slipped down a little lower, then lower still. I wasn't wholly comfortable with that. "Tommy," I muttered firmly, a bit more sharply than intended, "_don't_." It came out almost absurdly breathily. No wonder he didn't take me serious. He didn't stop, so I grabbed his hands and removed them from my hips. "If you're going to be handsy, at least help me wash my hair," I quipped rather irritably. Admittedly, I should've probably kicked him out. Having him in there with me was too great of a temptation. But I might as well have him do it for me.

I could've sworn I heard him growl, but he did as requested. "Whatever you want," He sighed. I shuddered. He took the shampoo from the shelf, squeezed out a dollop, and started shampooing my hair. It felt really good, like a scalp massage. He was really good at it. The whole deal. He made sure none of it got in my eyes and washed out every little bit of the shampoo. I thought I was in the clear, but Tommy thought he was getting lucky. Obviously, you can see how that would be a problem.

Imagine my surprise when Tommy literally picked me up by the waist and whirled me around to face him. The embarrassment was indescribable. Well, actually, it was minimal, but I didn't like having to face him. I dunno how to explain it... It was just less... embarrassing if I didn't have to look at him. If he didn't see the front of me all out there. I'm not exactly that comfortable with my body. Tommy didn't stare, though; he barely even looked at me for a second before he swept me up in his arms, yes, swept, and planted one on me. We both got caught up in the moment, but Tommy was all over me, practically plastered to me. I wasn't wholly comfortable with the feeling.

Aside from the fact that this man will soon be family by marriage, there was something off about the moment. Especially when he pulled away from the kiss (yes, I know it should've been me!) and said... "Mmm, you even kiss like her." I was understandably confused. Like _who? _As far as I know, I only kiss like myself. Is he talking about my sister or something? He must've noticed my surprise, but he just kissed me again, which effectively obliterated all thoughts. Except there was a problem with this. The harder he kissed me, the grabbier he got. Okay, so he was practically mauling me, and I wasn't cool with that.

When I got the chance, I pushed Tommy back, off of me. "What's gotten into you, Tom?" I gasped out, feeling dirty all over again. It was the cheap kind of dirty, though. My skin was flushed, the water suddenly too hot. Tommy gave me this really lecherous look. He didn't have to say it; I knew what he was thinking. We both knew what had gotten into him. Well, actually, that was it, wasn't it? He wanted to get into me. But that didn't explain why he was suddenly there and saying I kiss like some mysterious woman.

He then pinned me up against the wall and started kissing me again. He was on me in a flash. I was bewildered to say the least, not to mention mildly alarmed. Okay, freaking terrified. I knew I had to get out of there before I did something stupid like rip Tommy's clothes off and ravish him. Either way I'd wind up giving in to him, and all the thoughts of my sister wouldn't be strong enough to stop it. "Tommy... no," I whispered, trying to melt into the wall. I couldn't move; I could barely even breathe. I didn't really mean it, but I had to get him off of me. He was so close I could barely think.

Tommy drew back a hair. The pressure against my skin lessened just barely. "Why are you being so feisty today? Normally you jump at the chance for a little... oblivion," He mumbled huskily. I shook my head, trying to get away from his lips. I could feel the warmth radiating off him. Tommy frowned at me. "Don't you want to forget?" He drawled, furrowing his brow in confusion. Truthfully, I did. I wanted to get lost in it and forget everything, every single one of the reasons why I shouldn't be here, doing this. But I couldn't do that, and I didn't really want to. I wanted to remember, and that was the problem. If I stayed, then it would happen. It couldn't happen.

I realize none of this makes any sense, but, pardon the pun, the recollections are foggy at best. I said nothing to this, and Tommy took my silence for an answer. He took that answer for a yes and moved in to kiss me again, but I thought faster. I moved my head to the side, ducking so he missed my face. Tommy scowled, looking about as confounded as I felt. His eyes were midnight blue with lust. "C'mon... pretend with me, Red," Tommy almost pleaded. His hands dug into my shoulders. Pretend what? That scared me, not knowing what exactly he wanted me to pretend. And since when has he ever called me Red?

That was enough to snap me out of it. I pushed Tommy back lightly and ducked under his arms, flinging open the shower door. I waded through the misty air, racing through the bathroom, skidding dangerously across the floor, snatching a towel off the towel rack on my way out. I wrapped it around myself tightly, knotting it. Damn. I was beginning to wish I hadn't left my clothes back in the bathroom. My sneakers were on the floor, but everything else was in the bathroom. I was left with two choices: 1. Returning to Tommy's bedroom to fetch clothes, 2. Leaving as I was. Or I could try the other rooms and see if I could find anything. I had to have left some clothing there. Obviously, Number Two wasn't an option. However, I ventured into the other bathroom nonetheless.

I was a bit surprised Tommy hadn't followed me, but maybe he understood. Maybe he was giving me time. Ha! Nah. Tommy doesn't know the meaning of the word. Unfortunately, I found no clothes in the bathroom. I was headed towards Tommy's mythical laundry room when something stopped me in my tracks. His penthouse is huge, and there are some parts I've never even been in before. Then, all of a sudden, this random door opened. A girl emerged from it. I'd never seen her before or been in the room.

But I have to assume it was yet another guest bedroom.

I didn't even know who she was, and she wasn't looking up, so I couldn't see her face. She was looking at something in her hand; she hadn't noticed me yet. I stood in the hallway, frozen in shock.

"Hey, Tommy... Are you ready yet? I want to f-" The girl proclaimed, walking straight into me. I should've moved out of her way, but, then again, she never should've been there in the first place. When she looked up and saw me, her jaw dropped. I don't know what she was thinking. Maybe she thought that Tommy was into some sort of threesome, or that I was the fiancée or whatever. Maybe she was even a little jealous or horribly embarrassed.

I'll tell you what she probably thought though, since it was what I was thinking. It was like looking into a mirror, staring at this girl, only I had no idea where the glass was. I thought Tommy had tricked me at first, that he was just messing with me. But the girl, my near mirror-image, was, unfortunately, all too real. I knew exactly how she was going to finish her sentence, and, with a glance, I knew what she was holding. It was a condom. A booty call, and while I was there! Can you believe the nerve of that guy?! Which of us had he lied to? And suddenly all the pieces fit together horribly.

It was like a jigsaw puzzle of... the worst thing you can think of. War, then. Something like that.

The rumpled sheets, messy from time no doubt spent with her... The sense I'd had that something was off... The uncharacteristic messiness... The locked bathroom door... And, of course, the ambush in the shower. Tommy was cohabitating with her, and obviously in a relationship/affair. It was her he'd been expecting, not me. Who is the mystery girl, you ask? This mystery girl who looks so very much like me.

I knew who she was. It was more of a suspicion, but I knew, deep down, that I was right.

For starters, I should say that she didn't look exactly like me. There were some differences in facial features, enough to make our faces look different enough that you could tell us apart rather easily. She had a bit of a different look than I did about her, either more childish or else more grown-up. The difference was pronounced, only I couldn't tell which one it was. She always did look younger than her years, though. She's only little younger than a year older than me, seventeen, almost eighteen. Almost, but not quite. Her hair's red, like mine, but a darker color, less vibrant, more brassy and auburn. Her eyes, like mine, are also blue, but a piercing, light blue, almost gray. Her skin was tan from prolonged work in the sun and darkly freckled. She's slightly taller than me, a little thinner, more womanly.

As well she should be, since she was pregnant once.

You look a little scared. You're wondering about the baby, aren't you? What happened to it? She miscarried, that's what happened. It was a girl, and her name was Charlotte. The mother, she was only thirteen or fourteen when she got impregnated. Fourteen, probably, since I'd like to imagine that they weren't flouting the law. It wasn't... They were living together and engaged. They would've gotten married if it hadn't gone horribly, horribly, horribly awry.

Honestly, I've heard a lot about her, this mythical girl, and she wasn't at all like what I was expecting. She seemed somewhat... subdued, which wasn't what you'd think, after the life she's had.

You're curious. You want to know who she is.

So I have a question for you.

Have you ever heard of Ruby McCartney? Does the name sound even remotely familiar?

I don't blame you if you haven't; you and I were only eleven or twelve when it happened. She's the girl I met in the hall. She's also Chaz Blackburn's ex-girlfriend, ex-lover, ex-fiancée, the ex-mother-of-his-child. Big scandal, I know. Chaz almost went to prison because of her. There was a huge trial, a huge court battle after her parents caught her and him in the act. Chaz was acquitted, just like O.J. And, once again, just like O.J., he did it. He wasn't that old, though. He was only just eighteen, and he really was in love with her. She kind of ruined his career, but it's been long-forgotten in the annals of time. Which is why neither of us remembered it.

She was also Tommy's latest conquest, chosen for her resemblance to me. Ew. I hate that that's true, and I hate that I had to tell you that. She was presently living with him, but I just thought that meant in his building, not in his actual apartment. I was appalled, to say the least, especially since she was wearing a skimpy pink slip of a negligee. You could've knocked me over with a feather to see her there.

She bit her lip and looked uncomfortable as well she should. I don't know if she knew who I was, but I sure knew who she was. "Well, well, you must be Ruby McCartney. I've heard a lot about you, you know," I replied drolly, forcing a painful smirk on my face. My statement was ambiguous; she suddenly looked suspicious and on guard, but she didn't say a word. I had not expected her to be quiet, to try and shy away from this. She looked ashamed at being caught here with Tommy. Maybe the ownership showed on my face, the sense that I belonged there. She must've felt like an interloper or something, but it soon became clear that she didn't know who the hell I was. Funny, that.

She didn't look at me in the eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest nervously. "So you must be the girlfriend, then?" She asked in a rush. I bristled and scowled back at her. Here was a girl so very similar to myself yet also so very different. She's been in my place, and yet I didn't feel sorry.

I shook my head hard. "It's fiancée," I snapped roughly, "And that would be my sister." I stiffened, straightening up to my full height. She seemed startled by this revelation, even a little guilty that Tommy was so close to being a married man. I felt a little thrill at that. She deserved it. Ruby looked up for the first time, giving me a look. It was the first time she'd really noticed me. She gave me a kind of dismissive look, like she wasn't impressed at all. I didn't understand why. If she was in love with Chaz, then why bother acting like a rival over Tommy?

"Then who are you?" She practically spat. Oh, sorry, am I intruding? I rolled my eyes at her. How can she not recognize my face? We practically share the same one! Fine. She wants to know who I am... She'll meet me. I straightened up, holding my neck high in the air.

I smirked, sticking out a free hand for her to grab with as much dignity as I could muster. Especially since I was only wearing a bath towel. "Jude Janis Harrison, the first ever Instant Star," I explained pridefully. I saw the disdain in Ruby's eyes, but I didn't care. It did, however, annoy me that she didn't shake my hand. She stared at it pointedly and looked away, disinterested. And then the bitch scoffed.

"I'm sure," She snorted, "that there are a million other girls out there just like you." Ha, but I'm serious. I rolled my eyes for what seemed like the millionth time. Yes, Ruby, including yourself. I crossed my arms over my chest, withdrawing my hand. Fine. I tried to be her friend, remember. I scowled at her darkly, and she rolled her eyes at me. "Like I care."

You'd think I was the older one from the way this conversation is going. I'll put it in terms she can understand. "You should. I'm Tommy's protégée, best friend, and going to kick both of your asses!" I snarled threateningly, moving towards her. Ruby looked me over again and found me lacking. She just laughed like it was the funniest thing she ever heard. Dumbass. I'm perfectly serious, and she'd know that if she saw what I did to Travis. But this girl just thinks I'm such a joke. Like she's so much better for only being a year older than me?

She placed her hands on her hips, looking for all the world like a glamorous whore. That's how Tommy likes 'em. So why's he bother with me? I'm certainly not glamorous. "Go home, Little Girl," Ruby drawled rudely. My jaw dropped. Oh, no, she didn't! She did not call me a little girl. She's only a year older than me! "This place is for big people. You belong with your dolls," She continued authoritatively. Man, is she nasty! How could Chaz have ever loved this bitch? She must've changed a lot since then. Wow, having a sexual relationship at a young age with an older man really does screw you up. A predatory grin crossed her thinner lips. "Maybe if you're lucky, you'll find a willing Ken doll. Too bad they're anatomically incorrect. Tommy most certainly isn't," She finished victoriously.

Oh, I hated her. So much. More than Sadie and Shay and... maybe even Eden... combined. But not more than Travis. No one do I hate that much. I glowered at her. "Trust me, I know," I hissed irritably. Ruby raised her eyebrows in disbelief, but the whore laughed nonetheless. "And you're really not one to talk, are you, Ruby? Last I checked, you were still seventeen. Now, I'm sure your parents must be wondering where you are, and I'm sure they'd be unhappy to find out that you've run away to be with Tom Quincy... in every sense of the word," I continued frostily. Ruby merely grinned, but I couldn't help but notice how she stiffened just a little. "Between him and Chaz, it's a wonder you haven't caught an STD. Don't you know how many other barely-legal little groupie whores Tommy's banged?" I retorted nastily, feeling a need to get back at her for her earlier annoying comments.

That was enough to make her almost lunge at me, but I was faster, despite my lack of clothing. "Other than you, you mean?" She shrieked virulently.

I glared daggers at her but refrained from hitting her. Okay, so I'd given her a veiled insult, but why does she care? We're getting into it about Tommy, not Chaz. "Why do you care about what I say about you and Tommy? You don't **care **about him! The both of you are just using each other anyways! And you're still in love with Chaz!" I screeched viciously. That was enough to stop Ruby in her tracks. It was true, and she knew that I'd gotten it straight from the horse's mouth, which gave me a whole new level of legitimacy. Her eyes narrowed, and she seemed to take me seriously for once.

Ruby pursed her lips. "How do you know that?" She asked quickly. I didn't answer because it's obvious. Then Ruby looked at me shrewdly. The corners of her lips curved up, and she started to laugh. She was flipping amused! "Oh. I get it. You're in love with Little Tommy Q! That's cute!" Ruby exclaimed mockingly, suggesting I had no chance with him. Wow, I was losing all sympathy for her fast. I didn't say anything to confirm or deny it, but I sure scowled at her.

I tried to regain my pride. "Well, actually, I prefer to call him Lover," I quipped sardonically. Or Beloved. Or Adored. Or Love of My Life. Or my world. Or Dreamboat. Or Babe. Or Baby. Or Honey. Or Sexy. Or Love. Or Hot Stuff. Or Babesicle. Or Hottie-Hot-Hottie. Or Angel. Or Angelface. Or Babyface. Or Sugar. Or Sweetie. Or Sunshine. Or Dreamsicle. Or Prince Tommy. Or T. Or Big T. Or Dude. Or Dog. Or Homie. Or Comrade. Or Man. Or Boy. Or Big Boy. Or TQ. Or Little Tommy. Or LTQ. Or Jay-Jay. Or Producer. Or Producer-Man. Or Quince. Or Q. Or Tommikins. Or Tommy-Whommy. Or Tom-Tom. Or Quincy. Or Pedophile. Or Asshole. Or Jackass. Or Dumbass. Or Lazyass. Or Stupidass. Or Bastard. Or Ass. Or Badass. Or Dick. Or Jerk. Or Jerkwad. Or J.T. Wannabe. Or Teenybop. Or Dickwad. Or Dingbat. Or Dung Beetle. Or Idiot. Or Moron. Or Stupid. Or Manwhore. Or Manhole. Or Whore. Or Slut. Or Harlot. Or Tramp. Or Thomas. Or Saint Tommy. Or Tom. Or Tommy.

Ruby shot me a dirty look, but then she straightened and looked victorious, as if my statement confirmed everything she had ever thought of me. Not that she had ever thought of me. She didn't even know who I was, and I didn't know whether to be angry or pleased with that fact. "Don't talk about things you don't understand, Ruby," I snapped, too tired of this argument, her, and Tommy to bother with it any longer. She didn't understand, not like I thought she would.

That cruel smile appeared again on her face, and I saw no traces of innocence left in her. Chaz and Charlotte had stripped her of all that, and now she was just an empty shell of a person. She was just another mean, cruel, judgmental girl who didn't get it. "So you're Tommy's little schoolgirl jailbait, huh? The one I'm supposed to replace... because you aren't legal. How old are you, just shy of fourteen?" She drawled amusedly. I glowered at her, stiffening, but I didn't say a word. A breath would be wasted on her, even a single one. Especially when she was trying to make me mad. "He always gave Chaz such crap about us, but here it turns out he's no better," Ruby continued with a harsh laugh. She could say anything she wanted about me, anything at all. Hell, I might even believe it. But when she could say something like that about Tommy so icily, Tommy who had done so much for her, that was my breaking point.

He helped Chaz out, hid it for him, supplied him with places to take her. He kept their dirty little secret to himself, never told a soul. He got his mother to defend Chaz when charges were brought up against him. He lied in court to be Chaz' alibi. He saved her beloved's life. He checked in on her, informed her about Chaz. He was letting her stay with him, and I know he helped her with money. To top it all off, he even tried to comfort her, even if he did it in the wrong way... and he didn't care if she pretended he was Chaz. Ruby liked it, though. If she didn't, she wouldn't be standing here in his apartment in a negligee. And she was so unbelievably ungrateful about it all. I couldn't believe it.

Before I knew what I was doing, I'd slapped her hard across the face. "How **dare **you say something like that about Tommy! Tommy, of all people, who has done so much for you! This is how you repay him, maligning his name and calling him a _pedophile_?!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, nearly shaking with rage. I can recall being that angry very few times in my life, most of them either involving Sadie or Travis. But I was not done yet. "He _is _better than that... a hell of a lot better than someone like you will ever know! Tommy never had sex with me, Ruby! And that is why he is better than Chaz. Tommy can resist temptation," I growled venomously, feeling as poisonous as a cobra. I was willing to bite her for him; it would've given me great pleasure.

Ruby gasped at first, clutching her cheek. She was in shock, unable to believe what had just happened. I took advantage of this to move back. She was still absorbing it all, trying to make sense of it fruitlessly. She lacked the gumption to look ashamed of herself, as she should've. Then again, how could she? She had no shame left, growing up with the stigma of teenage pregnancy and the fact that she'd almost ruined a good man hanging over her head. She felt no debt or gratitude towards Tommy; she felt very little at all. I don't know why I told her that personal detail. I didn't need her to know, and I didn't want her to know. But she had to know, needed to know that Tommy was not like Chaz. That Tommy was not weak.

That Tommy was not a predator, and that he had not and would not... make me like her. I didn't want to be like her one bit: completely miserable and a whore drowning my/herself in the arms of a man I didn't love.

Finally, she straightened, letting all the astonishment drop right off her face. She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and let out a huge, high laugh, making it clear how little she thought of the both of us. She didn't believe me, but why would I lie? Why would I tell this hoyden I hadn't screwed Tommy if it wasn't true? Unless she thought I thought she was going to tell the cops, but I knew she wouldn't. She didn't hate me that much; she cared far too little.

I shook my head in sorrow, feeling pity for her. She'd been so messed up that she no longer understood that there could be pure, nonsexual relationships. Not that my particular relationship with Tommy isn't at all sexually charged. It is, to an alarming level, even. I won't argue with that. But I've never had sex with him. And that's all that really matters. I haven't ruined him yet.

Or ever.

I won't.

Really.

Like I was saying, I thought it was terrible that she didn't understand what love could and should be. She didn't understand that it could be... sweet and pure and uncomplicated... unrequited too... But it was like she'd completely forgotten that it existed, so bitter was she that she couldn't be with Chaz. She didn't get that I could just love Tommy. That not every relationship had to be sexual. And that maybe I wasn't ready to have sex with him at all, to give that most intimate part of myself to h-someone. She'd given that part of her away so long ago, wholehearted, and it had all blown up in her face. So now she... what? Gave it up meaninglessly to anyone who said the right words and did the right things? I was not so cheap; some things were still priceless to me.

"You don't get it. It isn't like that with Tommy and me. I think it's terribly sad that you can't understand that," I disagreed quietly, feeling a sudden sharp pain in my heart. "Love and sex are two very different things, and love is pure. Love does not fade like lust, when the blinders of attraction have fallen off, the glow has faded; the hungry need quenched, and all is exposed... the beautiful and the ugly, vice and virtue... when every bit of the person, his heart and his mind and his **soul**,not his body, lies naked before you. Looking upon that, knowing him through and through, the bad and the good, and still liking what you see, not wanting to forsake him... _that_ is love, and it is eternal. True love is not so easily forgotten," I murmured passionately, getting caught up in the intensity of my words. I meant every one, meant them so hard that it hurt me, cut me a little deeper to say them thus, but there was no other way to express it. I wished he was around to hear them, the words I could never say to his face, but I was never that lucky, and today was no different.

I'd almost forgotten Ruby when I suddenly realized I wasn't breathing. My little speech had left me breathless; I couldn't look her in the eyes. I looked up, forcing my eyes to harden, vanished the softness from my face, willing my voice to turn steady, abandoning the breathy, intensely raspy whisper I'd adopted earlier. "I know what you think of me, and I don't care one whit. But Tommy will never sink that low so long as I have breath left in my body," I promised furiously, staring her down to make sure she understood. She probably didn't, but I'd said my piece.

And now there was nothing left to say.

I was sick of the showdown, but, even more so, I was sick of being there in their damn little lovenest. Ugh. Like I wanted to think about the two of them going at it like rabbits! She was far more experienced than me, that was for sure. I hated her so much then that the blood boiled in my veins at the mere thought of her with Tommy, locked in any sort of embrace, let alone a passionately sexual one.

And now I needed to leave before I did something stupid. I whirled around, momentarily forgetting that I was only wearing a towel, and padded towards the exit. I was just down the hallway, crossing through Tommy's living space when I felt nails digging in to my forearm. Ruby ripped me around, yes, ripped. The anger had finally set in. Her nails scraped hard enough to draw blood, hard enough to pain me, but the bitch didn't care. She just dug in harder, wanting to hurt me. Why? I wasn't carrying on with the love of her life! You know, Chaz. She's not carrying on with the love of my life, obviously, because that would be ridiculous.

She shook her head. "Don't say Chaz isn't better than Tommy. Chaz is a _real _man. Tommy makes pretensions, but he's not around if you need him. Chaz stepped up to the plate. He's a man of his word, which is more than any woman, you included, can say for Tommy," Ruby hissed icily. I raised an eyebrow, trying not to flinch. Her grip hadn't loosened. Since when were we comparing Tommy and Chaz to see which one was the better man? Neither of them are really that great on the gray scale of morality. I tried to shrug away from her touch, but she held firm.

My rage grew every second her nails pierced my skin as she waited for me to give an answer. She didn't deserve it, but she'd get one nonetheless. "Well, if Chaz was so great, then maybe you should stop having sex with his best friend and go beg for his forgiveness instead!" I countered loudly, teeth flashing. I knew Chaz was a nice guy; I just wished she'd get her head out of her ass and stop betraying him like this. Tommy wasn't a helpless victim. He knew better, but Ruby had to stop it because Tommy wouldn't. Not for my sister, and most certainly not for me. If not her, then it'd be someone else. Ruby was just worse because of her age and the fact that his best and oldest friend was in love with her.

Ruby's grip loosened. Her whole face tightened, making her look much older than her seventeen years. She knew I was right, but she was too ashamed to admit it. For the longest time we stood there in silence, her hand still on my arm, but no longer clenching it. Neither of us had anything to say to one another, or, rather, she couldn't think of a damn thing to say. "You are not one to lecture me. If you really love Tommy so much, you would fight for him! Love, above all things, is worth fighting for," Ruby retorted stiffly. Note that I have never said anything about loving Tommy. And hasn't she ever heard that some things are worth waiting for? But I'm not waiting for someone like Tommy to come around. I know better than that; guys like him never do. And, sometimes, if you really love something, it's better to let it go... so that it can be happy and safe, even if you aren't... and, if it loves you back, it'll return to you.

None of these, are, of course, applicable to Tommy. He definitely doesn't love me. I swear, I don't know where anyone gets that idea!

Love is worth fighting for, though. Ruby just can't take her own advice. And sometimes you have to fold. Ruby doesn't get it, because there's never been another girl in Chaz' heart. She's just a coward. But I do. And I'm not going to be selfish. I just shook my head. She had no idea what she was talking about. "Take your own advice, Ruby," I mumbled tiredly over my shoulder, turning my back on her and walking towards the door once again. I suddenly remembered that I'd forgotten my shoes, so I turned and ran to get them. When I was halfway there, I slipped on... nothing... my feet, maybe? I thought for sure that I was a goner. That I was gonna fall and crack my head and everything, so I instinctively closed my eyes, bracing myself for the fall.

The fall, of course, never came. When I opened my eyes, I was staring right back into Tommy's. I gasped a little and drew back, but then he planted one on me messily. His arms were wrapped around me tightly, drawing me flush against him, bringing me down so low my hair almost touched the ground. Then Tommy pulled back, shooting me a sly grin. "I was wondering where you'd run off to," He replied, looking me over hungrily. I was kind of at his mercy, so I couldn't really move much. Yes, I know it's hard for you to believe that I am really just an innocent victim in this and that Tommy Quincy seizes me and kisses me all the time, but it's the truth.

I'm not going to say I didn't respond, but it was kind of just BAM! He was there and POW. I don't want him like that, though. I can't, even if I did. And I don't. Tommy's a good kisser, though, so it's kind of hard not to respond. Seriously, I am not kidding about this. Best kisser ever, and I've kissed like, um... Hm, Tommy, Shay, Jamie, Speed, Wally, Tim, Travis, Chaz, Mason, and Taylor. Wow, ten guys. I'm like... a kissing slut.

Tommy grinned, taking me in with hungry eyes. He couldn't tear himself away. "So glad you haven't dressed yet... Means I can do this," He murmured, sliding his hand under my towel and up my skin. I reflexively slapped it away, flushing all the way up to my roots. "I like it when you're wet." I know... you're disgusted too. That kinda made my spine crawl a little. I managed to push him away from me, straightening up so that I could stand. After all that, he still thought I was Ruby?

I backed away nervously, planting my hands on my hips. "Wow, Tommy," I said, completely disgusted, "You've gotten so used to the cheap imitation that you don't know the real thing when you see it." I shot him a glare, feeling dirty once again. Tommy's eyes widened in shock. If he had an embarrassed bone in his body, you would've seen it, but Tommy feels no shame. I gestured over to Ruby, who stood watching us in her skimpy attire. Tommy's eyes followed my finger. "There's Ruby, Tom. So run to her and have your little quickie. I am out of here," I replied coolly, turning towards the exit. Screw the shoes. I just needed to get out.

He grabbed my arm, face contorting in some strange, pinched emotion. I didn't want an explanation. No explanation would be enough to make me understand what I already knew. He shot me a pleading look, forcing me to stay a little longer, but I would not cave. And rightly so! I was completely sickened by the whole situation. I didn't belong there! I was really the outsider, the interloper, and it was better if I just left them all alone. I shook my head, hating even to look at the sight of him. "No. I'm leaving, Tom. It's not my place to be here. You've got Ruby and Sadie and a million other girls to keep your bed warm. You sure as hell don't need _me_," I retorted icily. He clutched at my wrist tightly. "What part of I'm **gone **don't you understand, Tom?!" I growled, jerking my wrist free from his grip.

"Let me explain," Tommy begged, holding me there with his eyes. That man has a Svengali-like power over me, with all the personal magnetism and sexual allure these figures lack in reality. I shook my head, holding myself high, as dignified as I could, cutting him off before he could say more. Mere words aren't good enough.

I glared at him with quickly darkening eyes, burning into him accusingly. "I'm not wearing your ring, Tommy. You don't have to explain a _damn _thing to me," I snapped viciously, resisting the urge to slap him upside the face. I turned around, eyes still narrowed. Then I walked towards the door quickly and deliberately. Tommy caught up with me, of course, which was beginning to get wearying. He inserted himself between me and the door.

Wow. That sounds dirty.

I shook my head, pushing him away yet again. I couldn't stand to stay there one second longer. "Oh, get over it!" I barked shortly, feeling my cheeks flush with annoyance. "I'm not your type, so it would never work out. You just want me because you know it's wrong, and... You can't have me," I continued logically, even a bit fiercely. "You can't," I affirmed stubbornly. Tommy gave me a challenging look, silently asking what his type was with his eyes. "_Easy_,Tom. Your type is easy, and that is one thing I am not," I stated bluntly, letting my words fall like a bomb. "That's why it'll never work." That was enough to make him pull back just enough, so I opened the door and proceeded to go out into the hall. What a one-sided conversation. I shook my head in disapproval, holding myself up with as much pride as I could muster.

And then I opened the door and stepped out without hesitation. I slammed the door behind me, glad to be leaving. It hurt to stay, and I wasn't going to be around to witness him with Ruby. Damn him and my weakness for lost causes.

Comes with the territory, you know, being St. Jude and all that.

Now, as if catching my dear producer (although he's damn near a bro-ducer) mid-liaison with a barely-legal copy of myself wasn't horrible enough, in addition to the other indignities I'd suffered that day, it was about to get worse. Horribly so.

You didn't think that could be possible, but, lo, it is!

While walking down the cool hallway, in my breezy little white "dress" of a towel, I remembered my sheer lack of clothing. It was vaguely embarrassing, but I've suffered worse. Probably. My life is one giant string of embarrassments, you see. Plus, I highly doubted I would be the first woman to leave Tommy's apartment in such a state. I figured people would either assume, as they always do, that I had slept with him, which is nothing new, or, even better, that he'd tired of me and had thrown me out immediately preceding coitus. Sadly, Tommy is actually cold-blooded enough to do such a thing. I know he wouldn't do that to me, but still... He's turned out a rather long and illustrious series of bimbos in his day. I was sure not to be the first.

But, unfortunately, it was also the richest neighborhood in Toronto, and I'd left my money in my jeans, along with my jewelry, and everything else I held dear, except the earrings, which, oddly enough, I had never removed. However, I could always pay with the earrings, if the embarrassed passerby were unwilling to do me a favor. Somehow, I doubted they would need the payment. This is, after all, Canada.

By that I mean that the people here are generous, not your typical asshole city people who don't give a damn about anyone except themselves.

Excepting Tommy, of course, 'cause he lives that hedonism...

I was, as you can see, rather lost in my thoughts. Naturally, that meant I wasn't even remotely paying attention to the path in front of me. I wasn't in much of a hurry to leave, as Tommy wasn't exactly following me along and showed no signs that he would give chase. His building, as usual, was deserted, so I wasn't embarrassed or worried about what the neighbors would think.

Not that I've ever been one to care what people might think.

Okay, so it sounds like I care, a lot... But it's only when they accuse me of doing stuff I haven't done. I don't like labels. And I've been labeled a bad-girl whore. Next thing you know, I'll become Young Hollywood, and random celebrities will be denouncing me and calling me a drug addict and a party girl... and, as you can see, then I'd get jail time and rehab and they'd take my kids away or something. Oh, right. Don't have kids. But as you can see, clearly, life just degenerates with paparazzi pressure.

How easily it can spiral completely out of your control.

Like me. I mean, you kiss your producer once in front of thousands on international TV, and suddenly you're a whore who opens her legs to anyone! I swear, in one week I went from doing Shay to Tommy to Boyz! Attack to Mason!

So I was thinking about that... and other stuff, personal, private crap... And BAM! Guess who I ran into in Tommy's building?

Oh, right. You have no idea because it was supposedly deserted. Well, it could've been worse. Nah, no, it couldn't have. 'Cause if I ran into Sadie, my sister, she'd have been heartbroken and probably definitely dumped him. Running into Chaz did not have the same affect. That was obviously worse. So, yeah, I ran into Chaz Blackburn. Talk about awkward.

Honestly, I was just glad the towel stayed on. It falling would've been more embarrassing than anything Chaz could've ever done.

His eyes widened when he saw me, as I'm sure mine did when I saw him. There was a little shock there, but a lot more horror (on my part), as I knew full well what Chaz was going to catch Tommy at. Now, Tommy might've deserved such an ugly fate, but I was going to do anything in my power to save his ass. It would all be better if Chaz never got to see Tommy. Chaz wouldn't go to jail or get a broken heart; Tommy wouldn't die, and Ruby, much as I dislike her policies, wouldn't get humiliated. As if the sight of Chaz alone hadn't surprised me enough, what he did next did. Beyond words. And mortification such as I have rarely known.

Tommy and Chaz think a lot alike, so it shouldn't have surprised me that he too mistook me for Ruby. Imagine! He hasn't seen the love of his life for so long that he doesn't even know her face! For a second, he stared at me with dark, hungry eyes and then... Also, like Tommy, Chaz overwhelmed me practically upon sight with an overly passionate kiss that I was wholly unprepared for.

Talk about a warm welcome.

Now, it's not that I haven't kissed Chaz before, because I have, of course. A couple of times. Once when I was really nervous, one time to just to piss Tommy off, a few times when he thought I was Ruby, and there was this one moment right before the premiere of that awful trashy song... But, you see, nothing really with any great degree of passion. So I was kind of... Hit by it, caught rather off-guard in a most unattractive way.

And then my back hit the wall, and Chaz was practically glued to me, and I started wiggling. Never do that if you are in such a situation, especially if you are wearing as little clothing as I was then. It only antagonizes things, excites them further. I soon realized this flaw in my thought processes and stopped struggling momentarily, to get my thoughts together. I managed to collect myself a bit, and, panting, I broke away from Chaz and pushed him off of me. Vaguely disgusted, I swiped at my lips, adjusting my towel anxiously under Chaz' piercing stare.

I was freezing, flushing to my roots, and I felt damn near naked. I didn't like the predatory way Chaz was looking at me, like he wanted to swallow me whole. I swallowed hard and tried to force the terrible look off my face. "While it's nice to see you too, Chaz, I question the necessity of such an enthusiastic welcome," I remarked rather irritably. At this point, it hadn't exactly occurred to me that he still thought I was Ruby. Remember, he knew her better than I did, so this glibness didn't exactly surprise him.

To my shock, Chaz glowered at me. He looked quite possibly the angriest I'd ever seen him. "How can you say something like that? After all those years? After all that we shared, you reduce it to that... some insignificant little comment," He growled, clenching his fists. I hadn't known Chaz to be capable of any passion whatsoever, but I guess Ruby brought out that part in him. Or she killed it, and, now, since he thought I was Ruby, it had been resurrected.

I wanted to wince at his anger, at how damn unpredictable he looked. He was half-crazed. "Chaz, I'm Jude. Not Ruby," I said coolly, straightening up a little to cover how flustered and afraid I actually was. I didn't know what the hell Chaz was going to do to me! I had half a mind that he was gonna slap me silly! I crossed my arms over my chest. Obvious defensive maneuver. For my own sanity, I generally tried to avoid looking at him. Finally, though, when the silence became too awkward, I had to look.

Let me tell you, Chaz was about twice as red as I could ever be. Even twice as red as my hair! He looked down nervously, biting his lip and saying nothing. His feet were suddenly fascinating. I rolled my eyes. Okay, awkward situation. The Situation to End All Awkward Situations. Big freaking deal. I'd dealt with worse than that. So I cleared my throat, adjusting my posture, and began to speak. "What are you doing here, Chaz?" I didn't ask from curiosity. I asked to know why he was there because I needed to keep him out. That was the mission I was devoted to now.

Chaz didn't look at me. He refused, clearly ashamed of what he'd done. "I needed to talk to Tommy about the album. I just wrote a new song," He replied quietly, cheeks still red. I nodded patiently. Not exactly urgent. Maybe, just maybe, I could deter him. "I wanted his opinion on it." I nodded supportively. Okay, I could get that. It was the same way with me. Tommy was- is- always the first person I run to.

I held my breath, and Chaz finally looked up, eyes filled with a million silent apologies. "Look, Jude, I'm sorry I... Did that. I shouldn't have assumed..." Damn straight. Never assume, Lily. It just makes an ass out of you and me. Or, in this case, me and Chaz. I nodded briefly, barely glancing at him. "I thought you were..." At this, I shot him a dark glance that made it plain that I knew exactly what he was about to say. Like I'd forgotten my resemblance to Ruby in all ways except personality. Chaz stopped lamely at that, mustering up the nerve to finish his already-stupid apology. "I shouldn't have assaulted you like that. It wasn't right of me." Or gentlemanly, I added mentally. "I'm sorry," He finished quite pathetically.

I was tempted sorely to roll my eyes at him.

Nonetheless, I nodded anyways and "forgave" him. Then Chaz suddenly noticed my attire, although I'd known he'd noticed it earlier. He hadn't minded then or wondered why I was in Tommy's hall, only wearing a towel. Hell, he would've thought that was easier! He only wanted to get some action, so he didn't even notice that I was obviously out of sorts. "Why are you in Tommy's hallway, only wearing a towel?" Chaz asked slyly, in a sing-songy sort of voice. He gave me a suspicious look that concealed thinly veiled lust. For the millionth time, I'm not Ruby!!!

I shot him a look that could've melted Tommy's ice-cold heart, if only because of the intense hateful heat. Obviously I didn't want to discuss it, and it wasn't as if I didn't know exactly what he thought I was doing there. He was just like everyone else. Now, I realize how suspicious that looks, but, still, it'd be nice for someone to have a little faith in me! Just for once! "That, my dear, is a story for another day," I retorted airily, changing the subject. Chaz merely chuckled and shook his head, deciding it was better to leave it alone. He was, of course, right.

He rolled his eyes goodnaturedly and strolled towards the door. That's when I knew I had to stop him. I raced after him, feeling myself flush. Unfortunately, running got me all... breezy, which meant I was freezing. I skidded to a stop only seconds before I would've run into Chaz. I then insinuated myself between him and the door. It wasn't exactly healthy for my sanity, being pressed up against him like that, but it was what had to be done. "I don't think you wanna go in there." Chaz raised an eyebrow. "Tommy's redecorating. It's completely awful in there. Huge mess."

I could've smacked myself. That was the best I could come up with? Why didn't I just say he was sleeping or having sex or not decent? Oh, right, because Chaz has been there through all of them.

Chaz shook his head. "Really? I didn't know... Tommy normally likes to brag about his home improvement efforts." That was not what I wanted to hear. But Chaz thought it over for a minute, and he still decided to go inside. "But I've seen it worse, probably. Tommy always likes to keep things neat, so it probably won't be a big mess," Chaz stated casually. Sometimes I hated how well he knew Tommy; he had the advantage of years of intimacy on me. That sounds weird and kind of gay, but Tommy's known Chaz since childhood, and they lived in pretty close quarters for all those years in Boyz Attack!. That's much longer than he's known me.

I shook my head insistently, not moving from my place in front of the door. "No, seriously, Chaz. Don't go in there. There's stuff hanging down from the ceiling and holes in the walls and the walls are all primed... Oh! And the flooring can't be disturbed, since the varnish is drying!" I interjected, flashing an anxious smile. I realize now how suspicious that sounds, especially since I came out in a towel and Tommy was still in there. Obviously he couldn't be there, you know, if he was really redecorating.

Chaz' eyes narrowed in disbelief. That was when he started to realize that something about the whole situation didn't add up. He said nothing, though, merely tried to open the door. Surprisingly he didn't even point out my logical fallacies. I pushed his hand aside stubbornly. I wasn't going down without a fight. "Tommy's not there, Chaz." Chaz shot me a look, clearly not believing a word of it. "He's downstairs, in one of the other apartments. He's... sleeping."

It was the middle of the afternoon, so obviously Tommy wasn't sleeping. For some reason, each lie that came out of my mouth was increasingly ridiculous. Then again, I wasn't exactly thinking that sensibly. My only thought was making sure Chaz didn't walk in that room and catch Tommy in the act. He glared at me briefly. "My ass, Jude! You're up to something!" He exclaimed irritably. I tried to look as innocent as possible, but Chaz wasn't buying it. "And I'm going to find out what it is, no matter what you try to do," He muttered determinedly. I gulped hard, pressing myself into the door even further, blocking the doorknob from his grip. Not if I can put a stop to it! Chaz' face twisted into a horrific grimace. "What, afraid I'm gonna catch Tommy with his pants down?" Chaz quipped cruelly.

He was more right than he knew, and that showed on my face. Chaz saw it, but didn't comprehend it. He thought I meant it in the way that I'd just left Tommy there, kind of halfway suspended, mid-moment. He thought I'd... That I was either in the middle of being with Tommy, or that I was just leaving him. That showed on Chaz' face, that stupid little disrespectful smirk. He gave me this mocking look like I was cheaper than dirt, as if he'd suddenly lost all respect for me. It was an awful look, and I'd have never expected it from him. But what he said afterwards was, perhaps, even worse.

"Sorry to ruin your first little tryst with Tommy, Jude. Really, I am. I know it's a once-in-a-lifetime experience; Tommy'll show you a _wild _time, all right, and it'll be fun while it lasts. He'll hold out, drag it out a little... Pleasure fades. You won't be able to stop thinking about it, I'm sure, for the rest of your days. But remember, Tommy won't be there when you wake up in the morning. And he won't call. Or _care. _But the memories of him will hang around you, haunting you like a ghost, and you'll relive the moments in your head so much that they'll cease to be real, and you'll think you've imagined them all. And then you'll lose your mind and be driven to desperation. So, _excuse _me for interrupting one of those fleeting moments of happiness in your soon-to-be ruined life. I know you've been looking forward to this ever since the day you met him. But I really **can't **wait, and you've got five minutes left in you. I've seen Tommy more undone than I'm sure he is right now. So don't say he's not presentable. Besides, he wasn't ever that presentable anyways," Chaz ranted bitterly, venomously sarcastically, so harshly that I felt stripped bare and violated. He thought so little of me.

I could only gape at him, astonished, wondering what the hell it all meant. He hadn't treated Sadie like this, and he actually liked her, wanted her even, a little. And what was I to him? He didn't want me. All I was was a reminder of Ruby. Did he not like to think that she'd been soiled? Or did he think of me like a little sister?

Or was it all just another Tommy thing? He sounded so awfully bitter about it, so jaded, voice too full of experience. And maybe he was. He'd probably seen it hundreds of times, how Tommy had messed so many girls up. But he sounded like he was tired of people bitching about it, whining to him about how Tommy had broken their hearts. And Chaz didn't want to hear it. Where had my supportive friend gone? Now all I had left was the broken man who knew Tommy better than anyone. I knew he was right. About a lot of things.

But I wasn't going to lose my mind. Not over Tommy. I don't care how much of a heartbreaker is, or how many other girls he'd made crazy. I wasn't going to completely lose it because of him. I'm not like those girls. I have a backbone. A brain. And... I don't need him. He doesn't consume me.

And did Chaz seriously think that just having sex with Tommy one time would ruin me for good?

Because I think he's already ruined my life without doing that. It's not like no one'll want me because of this thing with Tommy. His own brother wants me, for crying out loud!

But it's like Chaz thought I was completely worthless now because he perceived me to have had sex with Tommy. Or to have almost done that. And all the respect and care was gone, and I didn't know why. Is that why Chaz liked me? Because he thought I resisted Tommy so fiercely where no one else had?

He was wrong.

And maybe he was jealous. Maybe that was it.

I was numb with shock, completely silent for one of the first times in my whole life. What could I possibly say to that? It was wholly unexpected.

He pushed me then, pulling me away from the doorknob before throwing open the door violently, carelessly. Since the door was open, and there was nothing to support me, I went stumbling back into the room with him. In fact, I landed flat on my back on the floor. I hit the back of my head on the floor and was momentarily dizzy. Luckily, though, I'd pulled Chaz with me. Unfortunately, this meant he landed on top of me uncomfortably hard and knocked all the breath out of me. And that he was a lot closer to me than I was comfortable with. Chaz, flushing more than me, sought to get off of me as soon as possible, but I had other plans.

Okay, originally I didn't.

I just knew I had to stop him from getting up. Especially since my ears prickled, catching the sound of a light feminine laugh and a low masculine groan. Tommy and Ruby. Ugh. I hugged Chaz then, suddenly, to keep him from getting up and seeing the two. He would get even more angry. I knew they had to be nearby. I could sense them nearby, but I knew they hadn't seen either of us stumble in or heard the door swing open. Chaz stared at me, big brown eyes wide and filled with confusion. Then he frowned and tried to draw back, but I merely held him closer. I wasn't about to let him get away. I saw the disgusted look on his face, and it made me want to cry. He thought I was nothing more than a two-bit whore.

But I forced myself to ignore that. There were bigger, more important things to worry about than what Chaz thought of me. "Oh, Chaz!" I murmured softly, clutching him to me. I didn't want to say something hopelessly corny so that I wouldn't be able to respect myself. As you can see, respectability is a problem with me. "I..." Well, I couldn't think of one damn thing to say, so I remembered that actions were stronger than words, grabbed his lapels, and planted a fierce one on him. I tried to keep kissing him as long as I could, inhaling him like air or whatever.

Chaz pulled away, sickened. He was about to say something and screw up even further. "I want you, Chaz. Only you. Screw Tommy, okay... I want you," I breathed, gasping. You know, I would've never thought those words would come out of my mouth. They weren't true, but I sure made Chaz believe they were. Ew. I think I'm a better actor than my boyfriend, actually. Life necessitates that, I guess. I grabbed him and practically shoved my tongue down his throat. Chaz was objecting a lot less, which I guess was good for me. Maybe it was the fact that I'd said I didn't want Tommy or that I looked so much like the girl he really wanted. Something made him give in to me, something unwise and untrustworthy in him, utterly stupid.

And then I was tugging at his clothes, attached to him by the lips, trying to belie how horribly uncomfortable I was. Either way, it worked. Chaz, never the most observant of men, didn't seem to notice. Unlike Tommy. Tommy would've noticed, but of course I couldn't think about him. Chaz would notice that. And I was really hoping that he didn't undo the towel. A lot. More than a lot... And next thing I know, I'm practically straddling Chaz, and then his shirt's all unbuttoned, and then it's on the floor, and I'm trying not to panic but I keep hearing Ruby's laughter in my ears and Tommy's low moan in my head and he's putting my fingers on his belt buckle and I can't think straight because I'm on the edge of a nervous breakdown and if I do, I won't be able to keep it together enough to do what I have to do.

And I was _really_ hoping what I had to do didn't involve losing my virginity to Chaz.

Then again, I wouldn't be the first teenage redhead with the last name of a Beatle to lose it to Chaz.

But, of course, since such a plan was hopelessly flawed from the start, it was destined to fail miserably. Chaz' hands were all over me... I don't like to talk about it much. Or at all, really. It's easier not to think about it, to think what I did for such undeserving people. I didn't like the feeling of those hands, but at least he wasn't impudent enough to stick them underneath the towel. Not yet, not then. I tried not to concentrate on those feelings, to pretend like I really enjoyed it, and I made sure to gasp and moan in all the right places, and to bend my neck just the right way so he had easier access and didn't have to strain himself. Like a well-trained whore. Sometimes, you know, I think I'm really no better than what they say I am.

You don't want to hear this, though. It's a valuable lesson, of course, of the power a woman can wield over a man. Never forget that. It's a very useful power to have, even if using charm against men makes you feel like a whore or a tease or a flirt. And then Chaz's belt was suddenly undone, and I couldn't breathe. I froze for a second and just stared at him, this strange man beneath me. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to do anything. But whatever it takes... Whatever it takes. I just had to push all of those thoughts aside into a little box so I would think about them later.

I managed to snap out of it enough to unfreeze myself, to throw myself back down on top of Chaz, trailing kisses from his jaw to his neck. And then, I don't know, something went horribly wrong. Horribly, terribly, awfully so wrong. Chaz slipped his hand up my thigh under the towel, just barely, not half so bad as Tommy had done earlier. I hated the feeling, but I pushed that down, locked it away inside of me. Chaz groaned, and I knew then what he obviously wanted. It was just weird to think that, in that moment, he wanted me. "Bed," He muttered distractedly.

To say I was nervous would've been an understatement, but I have a fortunate aura of bravura about me. So the boldness kind of masks everything else. It makes it seem like I know full well what I'm doing and don't go around just jumping into things, which I do. Obviously I couldn't let him get to a bed. There was no way we'd avoid Tommy and Ruby that way. He was starting to get up, and I couldn't risk him seeing them. I accidentally bit his neck in surprise nonetheless. "No," I hissed, pushing him down. I broke away from him only long enough to fix him with a coquettish glance and a decidedly sultry smile. "I like it better here. I want to feel my back against the wood," I whispered seductively, demandingly.

Chaz raised an eyebrow, but I'd kissed him again before he could utter one more syllable. Like that would've been enough. I knew what Chaz wanted. So when he flipped me over, I tried not to make a sound, tried not to be hit by the surrealism of the moment, the fact that I was about to... on the floor... and with Tommy only meters away? Anything for the cause. Well... I don't know. Honestly, I have no clue what I would've done had Chaz not... I don't think I would've gone through with it, at any rate. I don't think I could've. But no matter. It didn't happen, so there's no point in going over the what-ifs.

You know, this is the most honest I've really been with anyone. In weeks. I would never tell anyone this. It's embarrassing, and it doesn't exactly make me look good. It makes me look slutty and desperate and dirty and rotten, and all those things I like to pretend I'm not. Man, I can't even imagine what you must think of me right now.

But I have to finish the story. I can worry about that later. Right now, I just need to get this off my chest. And, of course, you're dying to know what happened with Chaz, right?

Well, you are. Even if you won't admit it.

Basically, this is what happened.

Chaz sat up, since he was on top of me, so that I could unbutton his jeans easier. Yes, he had a button-fly. I happen to hate buttons, but then I was thankful for them because they were hard to undo (pun unintentional). I didn't exactly want to touch Chaz that much. It was a little closer than I really intended to be to the guy, especially in the rather... excited... state he was in, and I had to lean back on my elbows to sit up a bit. While waiting for me to undo his pants (yes, I realize just how very wrong that is... and how old he is... In the U.S., Chaz could get arrested for this!), Chaz happened to look around the place. I didn't notice, but then his eyes caught on something.

What Chaz saw was Tommy and Ruby, up against the wall. His hands up her dress, her strap falling to her shoulder. I'll spare you the gory details since I never saw them like that. At first he thought he was hallucinating, I think, but then he blinked and the image of them didn't go away. So it was real, and that was when he realized that. But he didn't pull away. I don't think he understood, or maybe he wanted to see if Tommy would look over and see him so he would know how it felt. Either way, Chaz stayed there, on top of me, and let me humiliate myself. As you can see, I _really _appreciate that. Asshole. So he turned his eyes to me and, after much struggling, I finally undid the last button. Chaz groaned, loudly, and then, a little quieter, he sighed.

This whole thing is so incredibly messed up. He changed after that, becoming less rough and insistent. Almost like the Chaz I knew, gentle, even. There was a resignation about him. So he leaned down and kissed me softly on the mouth, pulling back and undoing the knot on the towel. And he was just staring down at me, so calm and collected, and... completely silent. Chaz pulled back the towel, away from the skin to which it clung desperately, and I could do nothing in my power to stop him. And then Chaz distanced himself a little, to stare. I wanted to cover myself, but there was no place for modesty. Not now. I was basically at his mercy.

And I hate that my relationships with men are so often like that. With them having all the power and control in that aspect. You see, my own ideas backfire so easily.

But Chaz let out one long, drawn-out, weary sigh. Maybe he wasn't going to do it. I don't know.

What I do know is that that was enough to pull Tommy away from Ruby long enough to glance over and notice something that was worth a second look. He damn near marched over, and I was still laying there, numb and uncomfortably exposed, underneath Chaz. The rage in his face... I could never describe its like. The blood flushed brightly in his cheeks, making him look florid and ridiculous, but Tommy didn't say a word. I could see the unfair judgment written in his eyes, and I knew that I deserved it. My cheeks flamed in shame. But it wasn't as if I'd had a choice, and I'd just been doing it to save his hide, and now the whole horrible thing had backfired on me. Ruby followed Tommy a bit later, since she needed to get herself together just as much as I did (although she still had sex hair and rumpled clothing), but by then I'd recovered enough to seize Chaz' shirt and wrap it around me, embarrassedly shoving Chaz off of me and hurrying to my feet.

I frantically began to button the shirt, feeling the panic bubbling up within me, wishing Tommy hadn't ambushed me in the first place. Damn him. All I had wanted was a shower, not this. Damn him to Hell! I needed desperately to get out. Ruby's judgment would be even worse than Tom's, and I didn't know if I could handle a single more cutting word about my apparent promiscuity. I tried to avoid thinking that I'd almost had sex with Chaz. Almost. Ruby was openly gaping at me, while Chaz merely rebuttoned his pants and rose silently, coolly. He said nothing to me, barely even glanced at me, but he shot Tommy a glare before turning to Ruby.

The tension in the room was palpable, and I didn't know who was going to snap first. All I wanted to do was find some clothes, any clothes, and get the hell out of there as fast as I could. I decided then, quite wisely, to retreat to the upstairs, where I'd left my clothing. I flew over to the staircase, wanting to escape the awkwardness of that knowing, pregnant silence. At first I thought no one had noticed, but I should've known better. Both Tommy and Chaz called me on it. "Oh, Jude, the fun's just beginning," Tommy seethed, "Come down here. Now." We obviously needed to have a little discussion. He said that in a voice that left no room for argument, so I forced myself to walk back over to the circle of shame.

I couldn't look up because I knew how their accusing eyes were boring into me. I could feel it, and if looks could kill... Tommy was, per usual, the first to speak. His words were harsh. "You're exactly my type, Jude," He retorted viciously, giving me a dismissive glance. He paused for dramatic effect, so that his words would hurt more. "Except you're so easy even I wouldn't touch you." I flinched at his words, but otherwise bore it in silence, knowing that I deserved it. He shook his head curtly. "You're such a hypocrite, Jude. You get on my case for being promiscuous, but you're not much better!" He interjected indignantly.

That made me look up. I wasn't going to take that lying down. My eyes blazed as I dared to meet his burning stare. "Well, in case you hadn't already realized, Tommy... I'm **SIX-**_TEEN! _I'm allowed to make stupid decisions, like _you, _for instance! You're twenty-three, Tommy! What the hell is your excuse?! You're not a damn **teenager **anymore!" I shouted back, equally as furious. My jaw tightened. I wasn't proud of myself, and I should've denied it, but he was right on some level. But the whole thing has just... spiraled out of my control. "It's not like I'm the adult here!" I snapped defensively, shooting murderous glances at both Tommy and Chaz, neither of whom looked as chagrined as they should've.

Everyone expected so much of me, and I'm really just a girl. "And it's not like I'm almost married to your brother! And _you, _of all people, know better that better than anyone... You've been trying to steal me away from him ever since you found out he was interested! So don't say I'm just as bad as you are. At least I have scruples!" I finished finally, fiercely, a little out of breath from my rant. Tommy gave me the dirtiest look imaginable, clearly reinforcing his previous message.

"You practically had sex with my best friend on the floor of my apartment. How can you claim to have scruples after that? How can you think that **anyone **owes you an ounce of respect when you act no better than a streetwalker? You're worse than I am!" Tommy growled disgustedly, unable to even look at me now. His face curled into an unattractive grimace, and I had never disliked him more. Especially since he made me feel just as low as I'd fallen. I hated that I'd disappointed him, but it wasn't fair. What, I was supposed to be some completely devoted virgin while he screwed around with half of Canada?! HOW IS THAT FAIR?! And I didn't even...

I glowered back at him, crossing my arms over my chest. Apparently he was too cowardly to meet my burning stare. I'd forgotten completely about the spectators, so incensed was I with Tommy. Either way, neither of them had a thing to say. "You say that like you haven't been banging Ruby since she got here. It's not like _I_ screwed the love of my best friend's life! You have no moral high ground here. Besides, you are no one to lecture me on respectability. Who trusts you, Tom? No one. Mothers are afraid of you; they think you'll corrupt their daughters. And you _have! _Look what you did to me! **This **is all you, Tom! Look at the mess you made," I screamed, wanting so badly for him to own up to his share in my downfall. I didn't notice Chaz flinch. He's not the innocent victim in this. And it's not even like I actually had sex with anyone anyways!

But Tommy didn't look or acknowledge it. I felt so cheap and dirty that I felt like a streetwalker in my own mind. Only a streetwalker had more pride. "It's not my mess, Jude. You made your own be..." Here Tommy trailed off, the traces of a bitter smirk forming slowly on his face. "... _Floor... _And now you have to lie in it." The metaphor didn't quite work, but I felt a sense of abandonment nonetheless. How could he give me up and just toss me aside like that? I was supposed to do that to him. It figures he'd just try to wash his hands of it. Running away like always. That's all he does.

I felt like crying, but I had to be strong. "Someday, Tom, you're gonna have to accept responsibility for something," I hissed prophetically. Tom, however, bore a look that suggested that he was completely innocent. He wasn't, of course, but I could say nothing in response to that. The room was deathly silent once again.

To my surprise, Chaz suddenly broke the awful silence, glaring at Tommy. "She's right, you know," He bit back, challenging Tommy with his eyes.

Tommy's eyes narrowed, and his scowl deepened. "You _would _take her side," He countered accusingly. Chaz' eyes were black with carefully contained rage, while Tommy's showed in his too-straight posture, his hard features, the set of his jaw, and the midnight color of his eyes.

Chaz shrugged coolly. "Well, it's the least I can do..." He replied smoothly, deliberately suggestively. That comment had the effect of making me feel lower than the ground beneath my feet. I was a worm, nothing more. Tommy looked slightly green at the thought, but Chaz continued easily. "You have no honor. And you're the hypocrite here, Tom. She's just doing what you _taught _her to do, after all. You're just jealous that she's not doing it to **you**.You hate that she's off-limits, but you can't legally do one damn thing about that. And so you take another innocent girl and-" Chaz' voice was low, gravelly almost, a dead-sounding monotone.

He seemed strangely devoid of emotion yet so nastily bitter. At this point, Tommy, offended by Chaz blaming him for me (then again, so was I! Me following Tommy's orders like some subservient, spineless little housewife?!), interrupted. He let out a harsh laugh. "Ruby hasn't been innocent for some time, Chaz, and you know that better than anyone. So don't pretend _I'm _the one who ruined her. You're the one who almost married a fourteen-year-old," He snarled, smirking a bit at Ruby. I didn't want to watch, but I couldn't say anything.

Chaz ignored this purposefully, saving this comment and resentment for later, so that he could continue his statement. "You took another innocent girl and made her take Jude's place because she was the closest you could get to the real thing. That's **despicable**,"Chaz spat, clearly sickened by the mere thought. He and Tom circled each other then, exchanging predatory glares. I'd never seen them this at arms before, not even when they'd first seen each other after all those years. The Boyz Attack! fights were never as emotional or personal as this.

Tommy wanted to spit in Chaz' face, but he somehow managed to restrain himself, only uttering, "And now you've done it too! The **exact **same thing, Chaz!" He was right, of course, Chaz had done the same thing with me as Tommy had done with Ruby. The only difference was that I wasn't missing... Well, Ruby was thinking of Chaz when she came on to Tommy, missing him. And I was only thinking of saving their worthless asses when I... Yeah. Chaz neither denied it nor confirmed it.

The smile on Chaz' face was thin and icy. "Oh. _Forgive _me, Tommy," He stated ironically, sounding more bored than apologetic. His face hardened. "So then Jude's the mother of your child? I wasn't aware you were a father. At least... not by this girl. She's so young, Tom." That made me glare at Chaz. I wasn't pregnant, quite obviously. I hadn't even slept with Tom. And... Tommy had other kids? He never told me anything about... Um, I mean kids. Period. Not other kids, since I'm obviously not having one. And even if I did, it wouldn't be his. And wow, so not helping my case. And who was Chaz to comment on teenage pregnancy, anyways? He impregnated a thirteen-year-old! That's not even really legal! Tommy was about to deny this, but Chaz spoke faster. "Oh, so you've proposed to her, then? Funny. I didn't see any ring on her finger, and then what's this you've got going with Sadie?"

Chaz' comments continued, coming faster and faster, increasingly cutting, like lead bullets. Tommy stiffened but couldn't say a word. Chaz wouldn't let him get a single comment in edgewise. "So you want to **marry **her, huh, Tom? And then she's the _love _of your life, the _reason _you wake up in the morning, your only hope for the future, the **one **person you want to spend eternity with, then, and you could never want anyone else even half as much?" Tommy didn't agree, clearly, by the way his eyes widened. I looked down, feeling my eyes cloud over. "You would **die **for her?" Chaz asked sneeringly, mocking me. He knew full well the answer was no. He paused briefly, but Tom still said nothing. I'd rather just know. "Then, by all means, if that's all true... _**Then **_I've done the exact same thing as you, and I'm terribly sorry," He finished cruelly, eying Tom and knowing that wasn't true.

Tommy didn't look guilty like he should've, but he didn't look like he really thought any of that either. There wasn't even a pained expression on his face. And I knew, even though it hurt, that none of it was true. Tommy would no sooner die for me than he would for his own mother or that brother he hates. Maybe he'd actually even save her. He doesn't have a selfless bone in his body. Tommy merely eyed Chaz darkly, exchanging sentiments I couldn't name, messages only Chaz understood. "Not the exact same thing, Chaz, but close. Close. You know she's _my _girl. And... Since when do you become a moralist just because I'm **not **in love with Jude?!" Tommy rejoined loudly, louder than I thought. His voice cut through the silence, and Tommy saying that... It was just so harsh.

The breath caught unpleasantly in my throat. I felt like I was choking for one horrifying moment.

And then I exhaled.

But the bottom was still falling out beneath me, and I flinched nonetheless. It hurt to hear him say that awful thing, tore me up inside all over again. I kept on breathing, though. I kept on living, even though what he said might as well have killed me. Oh, no, he most assuredly wouldn't die for me. But the world didn't end. Life kept on going. I wasn't about to let him affect me that much. No more.

Then would've been the time for crying, and though I felt the hotness pressing against my eyelids, not a single droplet fell from my eyes. It was as if all the tears were frozen, and my eyes were painfully dry. I couldn't dredge up even a single tear. Maybe I was all cried out. Just as well. I'd wasted enough of them on worthless men.

Chaz looked surprised at this passionate declaration from Tom. Not stricken, like me, but no one was looking at me, and I was thankful for that. For once. Then Chaz' eyes darkened still further, and he glared absolute daggers at Tommy. The look was so black and hateful and accusing and a thousand other things, disgust heavily among them, that I was surprised it didn't actually kill Tommy. It terrified me. But the light in Tommy's eyes dimmed a little, and I could sense an overwhelming wave of guilt had just washed over him, the first of what would later amount to many. Many tiny reactions I would never see.

I pressed my hands to my pained temples, hurting all over, wishing I'd never come to this godforsaken place. I felt a thousand years older but none the wiser. Chaz sobered a little, the same cool, passive look passing over his features. He shook his head, staring at Tommy in disbelief. I had the feeling that I'd missed something important, but I didn't know what. "I should kill you right now. I _want _to kill you right now. But I can't," Chaz grunted, rage rumbling out of him, barely repressed beneath the words. He was clenching his fists, but Tommy looked nonplussed. He wasn't afraid in the slightest.

Tommy merely raised an eyebrow. He didn't care to know why, but Chaz asked anyways. "And you wanna know why?" Chaz questioned brazenly. Tommy just shrugged and gave his own reply.

"Because you know I can sweep the floor with you, and since you attacked me in my own home, I could get self-defense if I hurt or killed you," He replied just as cold-blooded as can be. It's a wonder the blood isn't frozen in his veins.

Chaz didn't look alarmed by this, but it was clear that this wasn't the answer. He chuckled almost warmly at Tom's suggestion. "Good one, Tom, but not it. Not even really that close." Tommy's face was utterly blank. He wasn't paying much attention to his friend, but he seemed to snap to attention when he heard Chaz tsk him. A flicker of some emotion flashed briefly in his eyes, but it was fleeting. "I pity you, and, frankly, you're not worth the jail time." Talk about cool. Tommy hates to be pitied, so I saw his wrath flare up again, but Chaz, who was suddenly dominant, once again refused to let him speak. He cast a brief glance my way before quickly looking away, not as unaffected as he'd hoped. "Just like Jude, right?" Chaz drawled provocatively, knowing full well how furious a comment like that would make Tommy.

Because fundamentally, that was the difference between Ruby and I. Ruby, to Chaz, was worth the possibility of jail time. He'd almost confessed; he had wanted to plead guilty. But Tommy had stepped in and stopped that out of his own guilt. And I... I wasn't. I wasn't worth the possible jail time, which is why I haven't had sex with Tommy. One of those reasons, anyways. Chaz and Travis hadn't cared, but then again, I was legal to Chaz, and no one believes me about Travis anyways.

Tommy's cool, blank face grew livid before my eyes. And then he punched Chaz quick as a flash.

Chaz' head swung back at a rather unattractive, painful angle. He barely flinched, though he was obviously in pain. He shook it off, as if he was used to it.

Once again, Chaz turned to look at me, this time shooting me a pitying glance. Oh well. I didn't care. Pity is better than lust or the shame I was forced to feel. The expression on Chaz' face softened a little. "I'm sorry for you because you're so blind, Tommy," He sighed frustratedly. Then his voice lowered significantly, and I had to strain to listen. "You have no idea how lucky you are. That girl would do _anything _for you, you know that? Even have sex with me so I wouldn't come in and catch you with Ruby. And she practically did, all to **save **your sorry ass! But when you find her, you reward her selflessness by yelling at her and calling her a whore!" Chaz sibilated, each word dripping with fury. And by saying, quite loudly, that he doesn't love me, I added mentally with more than a little resentment.

It just figures that Chaz would take my side now, doesn't it?

"It's not like we had sex anyways, so back off, Tommy. You're the one who had my girl, not the other way around," Chaz grumbled clearly, possessively, making it all as plain as day.

Tommy's eyebrows rose, and I tried desperately to look at anything but him. Chaz had been right, had spoken the truth, had gotten a little too close to home. I was dazed from all of this; all of my energy was focused completely on keeping it all together. I was so focused on that, and Tommy and Chaz were so focused on their little staring contest and their stupid battle of wills that no one noticed Ruby until it was too late. She took her own advice; what can I say? She strutted over to me, looking as classy as she could in that trashy ensemble (no less trashy than my own), and slapped me hard right across the face. "WHORE!" She'd screamed like a battle-cry before unleashing upon me a long string of unprintable words that ladies don't know. Tommy was right about her innocence being wholly gone, I couldn't help but think.

My whole face stung, maybe it even swelled up... It did, didn't it? And I just blinked, then Ruby tried to hit me again, but Tommy was faster. He intervened, abruptly stepping between us and shoving her away from me roughly. I was in shock. Pure and utter shock. "Chaz, get that crazy bitch away from Jude!" Tommy yelled with a strange urgency. Chaz looked like he sorely wanted to sock Tommy for calling Ruby a crazy bitch, much less after he'd slept with her for a couple weeks, but he nodded nonetheless.

He had grabbed Ruby, catching her after Tommy had pushed her. He was just glad to be near her again, I think, but he was still so angry. He cast a brief glance at her, searching for something in her. He came up empty, though, and soon looked away, locking eyes with Tommy. "Don't call her that, Tom. Show some respect for the women you've screwed," He scolded half-heartedly. A weariness appeared in his eyes. "Besides, we need to talk anyways," He murmured with some finality. Then he turned his back on Tommy, clutching Ruby's arm with white knuckles, guiding her back down the hall I'd first confronted her in for a little privacy.

Tommy didn't say anything after they left, even though I was waiting for some sort of pronouncement. He didn't even look at me, and I couldn't look at him either. Eventually, though, he cleared his throat and spoke unsteadily. "So... You were only... doing that... to distract Chaz so he wouldn't come in here?" Tommy asked hesitantly. I nodded immediately and felt my anger growing. Why is it that he trusts and believes Chaz over me? Why does he automatically assume the worst of me? Tommy just nodded back, a bit confused, and not quite knowing what to do. Well, neither did I. It wasn't like he thanked me or anything. He should've, though. I practically sold myself for his safety, and I don't get even a thank-you.

I had to say something, though, so I sighed. "I'm really glad that you... stepped in when you did. I didn't want..." I trailed off, unable to say anything more. The sincerity was obvious in my words, and I noticed that a wan smile appeared on Tom's face, but only just barely. We probably should've talked like the other two, but what was there to say? Like I said, I wasn't the one he was marrying. He didn't owe me an explanation, yet I somehow owed him one, and Chaz had given it for me. How oddly perceptive he was. After that remark, I grabbed my shoes and turned and walked upstairs.

Ugh. I needed to get into my regular clothes and out of Chaz' shirt. I hurried past Tommy into his bathroom, collecting my clothes in a rush. I could feel Tommy's eyes on my back, so I dressed with calm modesty, putting the underwear on underneath the shirt, so Tommy wouldn't see. Then I put on my bra (still under my shirt), and then came the jeans, and then I unbuttoned Chaz' shirt and threw on my own t-shirt. Dirty as the clothes were, they were still mine. And that was better than Tommy's ex-girlfriend's cast-offs or a souvenir from my battle with Chaz or, still worse, something of Ruby's. Besides, I had a spare set in my car. I washed my hands, but that didn't make me feel any more clean. I felt like I'd been living in the gutter and swimming in sewers.

Tommy sighed, just staring at me and Chaz' shirt lying forlornly on the damp floor. He went back into his room, and I thought for sure that I was rid of him. I put on my Converse and then I took the opportunity to examine myself in the mirror, and I found that I didn't like what I saw. Chaz had really done a number on my neck. An annoying number, as I'm sure you can see. My make-up was ridiculously smeared, so I wiped it off and vowed to apply it anew in my car later. Finding myself somewhat presentable, I walked out of the room, trusting that Tommy would give Chaz his shirt later. I needed out.

I ran straight into Tommy, who bore a sheepish look and, apparently, my miscellaneous jewelry. He handed me back first my St. Jude chain, an old necklace of his he'd given me a long time ago and I'd lately found essential to my wardrobe and my sanity. Then he handed me my guitar pick necklace, one my best friend Jamie had gotten for me after I won Instant Star. It belonged to Joe Strummer, so naturally I treasure it. Ah, the wonders of Ebay. Then he handed me my star ring, which is as much a part of my identity as the red hair. That, coincidentally, was also a present from Tommy on my thirteenth birthday. And I didn't really know him then. I just sorta talked to him at this one Boyz Attack! concert when I was twelve and sorta helped him get his life back together. So he felt he owed me and sent me a birthday present, and... wait a sec... How'd he know when my birthday was? I never told him.

Weird.

Anyways...

Finally, he handed me the last two rings, another of which he'd given me (a cheap toy machine ring, probably cost him a quarter or something), and a larger one that belonged to a man. He knew full well whose ring it was, and that was why he was scowling. Huh, weird. My jewelry is made of presents from men, only men. Strange. But the ring happened to belong to Travis, whom Tommy despises. Remember when I said that Travis tried to marry me? Well, that was kind of his engagement ring to me. It's got his family's crest on it and everything. Tommy put it on my thumb himself, running his finger over the engraving with a look of disdain and bitter hatred. "A memento from one of your other lovers?" He growled, suddenly dropping my hand. Of course, he'd given me the earrings, my star ring, that cheapo ring, and the chain I was wearing, so one piece of jewelry from another guy, apparently even his worst enemy was a crime.

The ring was a symbol to Tommy, of everything Travis had and he did not. I scowled at Tommy, drawing my hand back protectively. Still, it made me wonder why I still had the ring in the first place. But then again, I never was one to turn down a perfectly good gift. I rolled my eyes. "I don't have any lovers, Tommy. Not you, not Shay, not Taylor, not Speed, not Chaz, not Mason, and most CERTAINLY not Travis Quinn!" I snapped a bit too shrilly. Tommy flinched at Travis' name, despite my denial. I would never get the man to trust me. Then I whirled around, still feeling as naked as I'd been when he looked down on me. But we weren't going to discuss that.

I brushed past him coolly, holding my head up high, trying and frantically failing to regain some of the dignity I'd lost. Tommy was close on my heels; I could sense his brooding sulkiness skulking behind me. Walking carefully down the rest of the stairs, I finally turned around when I hit the floor. Chaz and Ruby weren't out yet, and I didn't hear anything. For a second, I thought they'd killed each other. But I pushed that thought aside and faced Tommy. It kind of hurt just to look at him, but I made myself do it. "Thanks for the earrings," I murmured thankfully. Tommy nodded disinterestedly. I suddenly remembered something, frowning at the thought. "Earlier... Your promise."

Tommy furrowed his brow, trying to remember. I cleared my throat softly. "You said that... if I apologized to Travis that... that you'd do what I wanted and leave me alone," I said shakily. I knew without a doubt then that he would leave me alone, but it was funny how I didn't want him to. Tommy just nodded, giving me a searching look.

"Oh, I'll have no trouble doing that... But that's not what you want," Tommy swore intently. His voice was low and almost velvety to my ears, but it wasn't comforting in the slightest. He was right, too, damn it. I just nodded, neither confirming nor denying it, just accepting it, meeting his glance for a moment before looking away. His eyes burned me. A moment later Chaz and Ruby calmly walked out of the back. Chaz' cheeks were flushed with lingering rage, and his eyes were wet. Ruby was openly crying, sobbing rather, and chasing after him. When Tommy saw her, he made a face and stalked upstairs. I stood there, staring at them.

Ruby walked up to Chaz, putting her hands on him in desperation. "Chaz, _please_!I'm **sorry**!I love you!" Ruby pleaded, hurling himself upon his mercy. Or, in this case, lack of mercy. I personally don't think he should've been so hard on her. She was only seventeen after all... Her frontal cortex wasn't even fully developed yet, so how did he expect her to make good decisions? Then again, maybe he was doing it for her, so that she could go to college and have a life free of attachments, or nothing could be the same after losing Charlotte. But Chaz was stupid about it. You never forget your first love, much less someone who had so much influence over you growing up.

He shook his head slowly, looking conflicted. Then he pushed her away gently, removing her hands from his arms carefully. "No, Ruby. It can't be. I can't. I love you too, and I'll _always _love you... but it's not the same. And, even if it was, it'd take time for me to forgive you for... this. I'm just getting my life back together, and you have your whole life ahead of you. I'd only ruin that for you," Chaz replied softly, trying miserably to smile. Ruby started to protest, but Chaz silenced her by placing a finger to her lips. "You're so beautiful, Ruby, and you've grown up so much. You've really grown. You're a bona fide woman now. And as much as I want to... I can't do that to you. The last thing you need is to get tangled back up in me again," Chaz continued reverently. I flushed, feeling quite the voyeur. Ruby didn't quite understand, but nothing she could say could convince Chaz to change his mind.

Tommy came downstairs, bearing a suitcase and a heavy duffel bag, while Ruby was still murmuring to Chaz in hopes of reconciliation. Tommy's face hardened; he had to have known that he was a large part of the reason why they couldn't get back together. Everyone was clearly miserable. Then Tommy practically threw the bags at Ruby. "I'm afraid my generosity must now come to an end. You'd better go back home to your parents," Tommy stated gruffly. Ruby merely stared at him in shock, and even I couldn't believe he was that cold-blooded.

Both of them had thrown Ruby out like yesterday's news, and both of them had assumed the worst of me. So I could sympathize. All of a sudden she had no hope, no place to go, maybe even no money. And, while I might not have liked her that much, I didn't think they were justified in treating her so poorly. Ruby picked up her bags slowly, tears streaming down her face. And then I knew what I had to do. I whirled around and slapped Tommy across the face. It would've been really funny if I called him a cad or something, but I didn't. I called him an asshole without any courtesy instead. And other things about how he had no manners. Then I marched over to Chaz and slapped him too, shooting him a disgusted look. It wasn't because of Ruby. It was because of how far he was willing to go, how low he'd made me feel. I abruptly grabbed Ruby by the arm, pulling her out the door with me. Just before the door slammed behind me, I heard the slap of skin on skin and instinctively knew that Tommy and Chaz were getting into it.

I should've let her kiss Chaz goodbye. For closure's sake, at least. She probably wanted to, but something tells me she'll run into him again. Instead, I helped her with the bags and got in the elevator, pressing the button for the parking garage calmly. I did all of this without saying a single word. It was Ruby, not me, who broke the silence. She had ceased crying from pure shock and was merely staring at me. "Why did you do that?" She asked, not comprehending. She frowned, confused. "I was a total bitch, and you defended me. Why?" It was like she didn't get that sometimes people do nice things just to do them.

I shrugged, trying to play it off as nothing. "Regardless of my personal feelings, they had no right to treat you like that. Especially Tommy," I said simply, still appalled Tommy had treated her that way. I looked at her for a moment. "Tommy shouldn't have just kicked you out like that. It was tacky of him." Ruby brightened just a little bit, but shame took hold of her features. Funny. I hadn't thought she'd had any. She just sighed.

"I guess I kinda deserved it," She admitted guiltily. "Tommy only kicked me out because Chaz found out, and he knows Chaz wouldn't have it. And you. He couldn't after you..." I couldn't believe she was defending Tommy's actions. She sounded like a scared little girl. Tommy's actions were deplorable. After today I wasn't really sure I knew him at all, and maybe it wouldn't be too hard to forget about him. My sister has no idea what she's getting into. None whatsoever.

I shook my head. "I already knew about you and Tommy. He told me. That's why I wasn't that surprised to see you. Chaz... Chaz doesn't like the idea of you with Tom, but he wouldn't care as long as you weren't living on the street. He just wants to see you safe. If it wasn't too hard for him, he might've even let you stay with him. But Chaz knows he'd give in eventually," I explained calmly, scarcely able to believe I was having such a civil conversation with Ruby. Ruby's eyes turned thoughtful, and she assented silently that I was probably right. She seemed surprised to learn that Tommy had told me and peered at me curiously.

"You're right, I guess. That's how it was when I stayed with Tommy, and Tommy didn't even..." Ruby trailed off, a hesitant look in her eyes. I knew what she was going to say next. Tommy didn't care. Oh, I wanted to tell her that I was more than familiar with the feeling. She cleared her throat awkwardly, pursing her lips. "I just can't believe he..." Me either. Tommy lacks discretion, though. And then Ruby's eyes narrowed a bit, but not in anger, rather, in pity. "You speak with such longing," Ruby remarked offhandedly. I merely swallowed and said nothing. There wasn't anything to say to that.

The door opened a few minutes later, and we emerged in the small parking garage. I picked up Ruby's duffel and led her to my car, throwing her bags in the trunk. She smirked upon seeing my car, obviously recollecting its similarity to Tommy's ride. I grabbed the clothes out of the back, intending to walk over to the elevator and change. "Don't worry about where you're going to sleep tonight. You're going to be staying at my house," I said over my shoulder, too busy putting the bags away to look at her. When I finally turned around to see her upon slamming my trunk shut, she was gaping at me in awe.

"Are you serious?!" She exclaimed in disbelief, sounding animated for the first time in our short acquaintance. I nodded. Would I offer if I wasn't? I guess people doing things for such blatantly unselfish motives was kind of new to her. I didn't hate her. If anything, I understood her better than anyone else ever could, and I saw a little of myself in her, the direction I might've gone... had things turned out differently. And that scares me, so I had to help her. Ruby ran over to hug me then, and I smiled awkwardly, not expecting that. "Thank you so much! No one's ever been so nice to me, and I don't have many friends because everyone knows..." She seemed to crumple at this, and I realized suddenly how very lonely she must be, which explained her hard demeanor.

Even her parents don't look at her the same way, I guess, which is probably one of the reasons why she ran away twice. Either that or they just don't care. I patted her on the shoulder sympathetically. "It's no trouble, really. My sister just left for college, I practically live at the studio or whatever, and my parents are gone a lot. I'm sure they'd be happy to entertain you. And they probably won't remember what happened," I suggested, glancing longingly at the elevator. She seemed to perk up at this, even smiling a little. I flashed a weak smile back. "Now, I'm gonna go into the elevator and change into some clean clothes, since these smell like crap. You can hang out in the car. We'll be out of here as soon as I'm done, okay?"

Then I walked into the elevator, changed quickly, and came back out. I threw the dirty clothes in the trunk. Luckily Ruby was already lounging in the car peacefully. After that we had a surprisingly decent conversation. Ruby told me about her life, and I told her about mine, and I felt like she kind of understood me. It was sad, but a pretty revealing conversation. Ruby doesn't have many friends, no girl friends at all, so it was kind of a relief to her. When we finally got home, she dropped her stuff in one of the rooms and we sat down to watch TV. My loving parents left a note saying that they went out to grab some dinner. And I knew I was in trouble when a rerun of Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers came on, and I started to bawl.

Clearly, this is not the behavior of a sane woman. So I knew I had to get out or else I was really going to lose my mind. I had to go somewhere where everything was unfamiliar and nothing reminded me of anything... or anyone. I apologized to Ruby and gave her this really half-hearted explanation but I told her I had to go. I gave her strict orders to pretend to be me. I knew my parents would be able to tell the difference between us, even if Tommy and Chaz couldn't, so I advised her to go stay in my room and feign illness. I recommended feeling dizzy, having a headache, or extreme drowsiness so that she could be both left alone and receive food. Then I bolted before Mom and Dad could come back.

I just got in the car and started driving. It was like I was on autopilot. I wasn't even thinking about where I was going, just getting out of the city and going away to a place where people didn't recognize me. My mind was completely devoid of thought. And then I heard this song on the radio while I was flipping absentmindedly through the channels. It was your song. Before I knew it, I was listening, and it kind of hit me where it hurt because I'd been feeling everything I was hearing. It was so honest. So when I came upon your town, halfway on the way to Ottawa, I had to stop. I finally stopped and gassed up my car because I was pretty much running on fumes, and then I parked.

It hit me real suddenly just how hungry I was, so I walked into the first place I saw, Mickey's Discs. Luckily they serve food too, or else I'd be starving. And then I found your single, and the rest, as they say, is history..." I finished wearily, suddenly needing a drink.

Lily gave me an expectant look, but I just shook my head. Okay, so I kind of left it unfinished, just a little, but the rest wasn't that crazy, no, not crazy at all. "I'll tell you the rest tomorrow, Lily... I promise. I'm just really... tired right now. It's been a very, very long day," I yawned, blinking slightly. "I'm gonna go to sleep," I murmured wearily, sinking into the couch. I smiled sleepily. "Thanks for letting me crash here, Lily. Not many people would let a strange rockstar sleep in their home."

She looked at me warily before chuckling. A moment later, she smiled and threw me a blanket. It was at least twelve in the morning, probably even later. Lily looked a bit wilted herself, but nowhere near as drop-dead exhausted as me. You wanna know who Lily is and why I'm here, but I'll tell you that tomorrow too. That, m'dear, is a story for another day. "Okay... Goodnight, Jude," Lily whispered before she turned to go upstairs. I kicked my shoes off and pulled the blanket around me, instantaneously closing my eyes and drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

For the first night in a long while, I wasn't tormented with dreams or thoughts of Tommy.

- Loren ;)


	38. It Never Happened

Okay, so some reviewer... obviously an idiotic one... Commented that this fic was short and asked why I had so many reviews. snorts What, did you not see the next chapter button? I gotta say that's the first time anyone's ever called my fic short. Especially since, to my knowledge, it's the LONGEST Instant Star fic on the site, as well it should be. I have to say that the notes for that chapter were actually merited though. Since it was the first one and all. But that doesn't upset me. What upsets me is that I've got this huge craving to play all my Pokemon games, but they've decided to be little bitches that won't save. GAH. The save file has been deleted, it says. Well, not because of me. I just tried to turn the damn thing on! And now, as if the deleting everything was bad, they won't save! I don't know if it's the games, the batteries, my Game Boy Advance, or what... I mean, I realize they're kinda old, but I think they're in pretty decent condition. Makes me want to cry. If I have to restart the game one more time I'm gonna flip my lid. sigh So, if anyone knows how to fix this (and it works!), I will lavish rewards upon you like a king. And possibly love you forever.

Now, aside from that, I sense complaints forming. Already. As for whether Jude's OOC in this chapter, or you just don't understand why she's doing it... She tries to explain as best as she can. Also, she's not OOC, since she's done what she does in this chapter many times with Tommy in many various forms, including in "Minor Liaison" and "Liar Liar". Blame it on Now, Voyager, too... I saw the other night, and so that kind of reminds me of this chapter.

Lol, I just realized that this chapter varies greatly from my notes. In my notes (shut up! Yes, I really do have notes! They're kind of a necessity for a story this long so I can keep all my ideas straight), Tommy is vicious, Sadie runs out, and then Jude tells him off. Huh, weird. Oh, randomly, I was also looking up Canadian slang, so now I'm gonna try and include more of it in the fic, not counting this chapter, really, 'cause I'm too lazy to insert stuff.

Also, I own the Canadian Video Music Awards. Or whatever. Since I only invented them and all.

Anyways, the next chapter is the much-awaited Dance Chapter, as I like to call it. It's where you find out once and for all the truth about Travis (gasp!) and expect to see a major Tommy/Travis showdown and more French insults! Yay! Methinks the chapter will be called Walking Contradiction, so also expect to see that song finally show up, for all of you who wanted to see it. Oh, and since it is a Winter Dance, next chapter is also, effectively, the beginning of a series of Holiday-themed chapters. This is not a holiday whim: I've had it planned out for quite some time. The only difference is that I've got specifics now. The New Year's Chapter will also be very important, so keep an eye out for it, and expect the true Christmas chapter to be full of cheer and cuteness and whatnot. I'm saying this because they might be posted far later than Christmas, so that's a warning.

Oh, I apologize for the crappy ending. Not one of my best. And yeah, it's a pretty dialogue-heavy chapter, but... well, I guess you'll like some of it. Anyways, reviews are greatly appreciated (especially since I'm supposed to hear soon from a college I want to go to if I'm accepted or not, and I'm expecting a rejection... though hope springs eternal), and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

As you know, I ran away last Friday. I was in Roscoe, and I met up with Lily, this completely awesome singer-songwriter. Roscoe's a really nice place to run away to. It's a bit of a drive, but if I really need to get away, Lily said she's fine with letting me crash at her house (which I guess is good, since I can't run to Tommy's place or Chaz', really, not anymore, and Jamie's right next door). She's really cool, has this great band... I helped land them a meeting with Georgia; she had them do a little work with Tommy, and I think she's going to give them a contract. I'm really happy for her. No one deserves it more. I mean, it isn't every girl who would take in a stranger like that.

No one knew where I was, which was a relief. Sure, Mom and Dad and Jamie and Taylor and other people called a lot. Tommy didn't call once.

Not that I care or anything. Or that I counted or screened my calls or anything.

Or waited.

An apology would've been nice. You know, something like... "Chaz was right, Jude. I never realized how lucky I was to have you." Or even... "I'm sorry I called you a whore when you only did it for me." Or since we're dreaming here, something like... "I'm sorry I had sex with Ruby. That was wrong. And I was an ass. But I love you."

Ha, I wish!

Oh, right, I don't have to lie to you. Okay, I care, but surprisingly less than I thought I would. It's amazing how easy it is not to think about him and not to care about him when I know he doesn't give a damn about me. It's like... why waste my time, you know? Taylor does care, though. He got a week off filming, and so we've spent every day of the last week together. And once I forcibly banished Tommy from my mind, I found out that once he got past his awkwardness (which I've come to learn exists only around girls he really likes... or me, at any rate), he's really an okay guy. Oh, and you know, if I don't mention Tommy or kiss him (Taylor, not Tommy. I haven't gone near Tommy in a week), then he's really the perfect boyfriend. Almost. Luckily very little brings me to mention Tommy these days.

Mom and Dad grounded me when I got back Sunday afternoon, but as usual, their grounding didn't work. Hence why I've been out with Taylor every day of the week. I'm trying to teach him how to kiss better, but it's not exactly working like I hoped it would. Sometimes I honestly wonder how Kathryn Mansfield stands it. I mean, she's had some of the best-looking, most experienced men in the world. She must be a very, very good actress then. If Taylor wasn't so cute, I swear I'd dump him. Or, well, I'd consider it. But he has this tendency of being really sweet, even if he doesn't have a romantic bone in his body.

That sounds like a paradox, but no matter what I do, there really isn't that spark with Taylor. I could see myself genuinely falling in love with him and everything because he's fundamentally a nice guy and all... if I let myself... but it wouldn't be quite the same. Never one iota like anything I will ever feel for his brother, not desperate or demanding or really even that jealous. I know it's not fair, but I can't help that. It's almost like how I see Chaz and Mason (although after seeing Chaz like that, it scares me now. Sometimes I fail to realize that the men I know are really full-bodied, red-blooded men, not just boys playing at it, and they have all these needs I can't even begin to comprehend). And what is love without passion?

I'm attracted to him for sure, but not in that bestial, all-consuming way. And that's really the only way I know how, you know? It's been so long I've forgotten anything less and anything simpler. That's how it is with Tommy... and, ugh, Travis. I was even attracted to Shay more! And, for all his immaturity, Speed is a very good kisser (we're scarily compatible, really). But I just can't think of Taylor in a remotely sexual way. There's no wanting to jump him, and he doesn't keep me up late at night. Makes me almost think that if I was somehow able to mesh him and Travis together I'd have the perfect guy. Not that I think of Travis romantically. Generally, I try and avoid thinking of him, but he has that animal impulse Taylor doesn't.

Although Tommy kind of sounds like a mix between them, with a little extra something thrown in... And Tommy almost is the perfect guy. Almost. You know, if a mixture between them wasn't Frankenstein. It could be, you know, with Taylor's SUPER jealousy and awkwardness and Travis' super hatred, lust for revenge, rage, and lack of respect for personal space. A monster, really.

Let's see... Ruby's been staying at my house for the past week. My parents love her; they've practically adopted her, really. I don't mind. She's been staying in the guest room, and we get along now. She's still really broken up about Chaz, so we've all been trying to cheer her up. She's just so lonely, though. The reason she came in town in the first place was because the anniversary of Charlotte's... well, you know... is coming up. She misses her a lot. Charlotte would've been almost four or five years old now.

Anyways, I've kind of been avoiding Tommy ever since that whole he-saw-me-almost-having-sex-with-his-best-friend-on-the-floor-of-his-apartment-thing. Because that was, you know, awkward. Even at the studio I'd ducked down hallways to avoid him. I mean, I even came to the studio hours before I usually get there and recorded with Kwest. Not that I recorded much. Just this one song called "Giving Up", obviously about Tommy. Kwest so knew, too. I could tell by the way he raised his eyebrows a little, and then the way he stared after I collapsed in tears after it.

I was making a pretty successful go at the avoidance thing until I ran into him yesterday. His stare was blistering and so black, hateful even. I couldn't stand for five minutes under that glare.

And that's how I wound up crouching down in the corner between the wall and the soundboard. I had originally come in here to retrieve a belonging I'd accidentally left behind, but I'd ducked down here upon noticing that Tommy was on the other side of the glass, tuning his guitar. Kwest came in later, and I didn't dare to leave now. I intended fully to dart out once he was a safe distance far, far away from me and my hiding spot. I'd just been treated to a behind-the-scenes rough version of Tommy's new song. It's this angry punk-rock number called "The Price of Fame". Totally Cobain reminiscent, and who would've thought Quincy had it in him?

I was completely impressed, like in a total groupie kind of way/I-wanna-jump-you sort of thing (which I have never felt towards Tommy, with or without the Boyz), not that I would _ever _tell him that. After the final take, and there were many... I was hiding there for at least an hour, probably longer. But my point is that I heard them talking. They happened to be talking about a girl. "T, man, you've got Sadie. You're gonna marry Sadie. Shouldn't you lay off the other women?" Ah, Kwest, the voice of reason.

It's just too bad Tommy doesn't listen to reason.

He also does not listen to common sense.

Hi, my name is Common Sense. I have no relation to the "PC" rapper Common.

"Kwest, you do realize who you're talking to, right?" Tommy retorted. I suspected he was rolling his eyes at Kwest, as was I. Dumbass. His name is Trojan for all the sex he gets. Sheesh! Kwest started chuckling, but then he shook his head in a sad way.

"Yeah. Man, why did I even bother? If you wanna do something, you're just gonna do it. It's not like you care what anyone thinks." Yeah, man, you've got that right. I could sense Tommy agreeing wholeheartedly. Kwest, however, possessed more of a conscience than Tommy. He frowned, his lips pursed (I could kinda see Kwest if I tilted my head and squinted). "But seriously, man... You have Sadie. We've been over this before. Sadie is like a Barbie Doll. She's all a man can want. Why cheat on that, Tom?" Kwest asked curiously, clearly not approving of his friend's actions.

I found my respect for Kwest growing. Although the Barbie doll thing kinda threw me and pissed me off. Who does he think he is, talking about my sister like that? Sadie is deeper than that. And equally as annoyingly perfect in every little unrealistic way. But still... That from a happily married man? Even if they can't tell Tommy or her brother?

"Well, Kwest, maybe I don't _**want **_a Barbie Doll. Maybe I want something _real," _Tommy retorted somewhat defensively. He sounded a little too much like a petulant child for my taste, even if he was rejecting the glorified offer of Sexy Sadie. My jaw dropped. Tommy, real? Isn't his type fake blonde, silicon, and artificial as they come?

To my chagrin, Kwest started laughing hysterically. Then he straightened up, clearly noticing that Tommy was not laughing or even smiling. "You were **serious**?!"He gaped, as disbelieving as I was. I can only assume that Tommy was stiff and shooting Kwest a murderous look. Then again, I wasn't sure he was capable of it either. Kwest paused a moment, giving Tommy a suspicious glance, and leaning back in his chair. "You want _Jude_,don't you?" Kwest questioned, voice heavy with disapproval. Wow, thanks for that, man.

My breath caught in my throat at the mention of my name as I waited for his answer. I hated the way Kwest said my name, though, in that stupid, thick drawl of his like it was a dirty word. That was stupid of me. Deep down I knew what it was going to be. Tommy doesn't love me. Duh. So obviously the answer would be nein, no, nyet, non, nyeh, nah... and so forth. "No, I don't," Tommy replied a bit stiffly, a bit unconvincingly, really. He'd said he had earlier, but I had no trouble believing him this time when he said he didn't.

Unfortunately for me, Kwest was not convinced so easily. "Oh, come on, Tom! You expect me to believe that? I've known you for years, and I know when you're lying. And I'm not blind. Everyone sees the way you look at that girl, not just me. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see the hungry look in your eyes or the way you preen when she stares at you. Or the way you've been chasing after her lately like lost schoolboy," Kwest countered a bit too ferociously for me. Was he actually arguing IN my favor?

He notices me staring at Tommy? And Tommy preens when I stare at him? Wow. Interesting. I never noticed that. I almost giggled at the schoolboy bit, imagining Tommy chasing me with books in hand, wearing a thin, heavily starched white shirt with a blazer and shorts. Tee hee.

Tommy interrupted Kwest though. The rage was thick in his voice. Obviously Kwest didn't understand. "Shut up, okay. You're blind, and you're wrong about me and Jude. Besides, remember, you never wanted me interested in Jude anyways. And I'm not," Tommy snapped tersely. I was expecting that, but it hurt nonetheless. A lot more than I'd like to admit, really.

Kwest wisely decided to drop the subject. Too late for me, unfortunately. "Sadie doesn't deserve this, man. It was bad enough when you were going after Jude. You at least cared then. Now it's just one random chick after another, and-"

Tommy once again cut into Kwest's speech, this time sounding irate and vaguely offended. "No, Kwest, it's not like that. It's one girl." Kwest gave Tommy a look, and he conceded. "Okay, fine, there have been a lot... But I'm only really into one. She's... great." His voice sounded dreamy, and I hated that it wasn't because of me. "I've never met anyone like her."

Kwest snorted. "Oh, I highly doubt that." I could sense Tommy scowling at him.

"Kwest, this girl's special," Tommy argued, making it clear he thought his friend didn't understand. "I think I'm actually falling for the girl..."

What I wouldn't give for him to say that about me.

Still.

Man, I really hate myself sometimes. Why do I do this to myself? I have Taylor now, and he's great. And, damn it, I'm supposed to hate Tommy, and I do.

But it's just so hard.

Kwest was not amused. Nor did he believe Tom. "Didn't you say that about Jude?" Kwest interjected sharply. I could tell immediately that that one hit below the belt by Tommy's sharp intake of breath. And mine, but no matter that one.

"That was completely different. Besides, I couldn't... even if I wanted to... But my new girl, she gets it. She's all mine, Kwest, or maybe she isn't, but it's just... different. I feel like I can be completely myself around her, and I'm not Little Tommy Q. I don't have the shadow of Boyz Attack! hanging over me. Do you know what a relief that is?" Tommy exclaimed, on the verge of rapture.

I instantaneously hated him for it all the more, finding myself bristling at his words. What, he couldn't be himself around me? I judged him? But only for being a slut. And I rarely ever thought of him as LTQ. I've accepted that part of him, you know. I did a long time ago, and I love him for that too... In spite of it, even. He can't be himself around me? Since when?

Kwest was clearly confused by this strange talk, as was I. He was just less frustrated than me. "Firstly, that makes no sense. Secondly, you're not even sure she's _yours. _Thirdly, I'm betting that you and this girl barely know each other. But you've got a connection, right? And again I remind you that you said the exact same thing about Jude some time ago. Only difference is that you know her a helluva lot better, and you know that Jude's basically all yours for the taking if you ever feel so inclined. And, finally, I would like to point out that you keep talking about this new woman of yours as a _girl. _And why would you call her that if you weren't still hung up on Jude?" Kwest pointed out quite sensibly. He almost convinced me that Tommy gave a damn.

And that Kwest actually thought me and Tommy was a good idea. For like two seconds. It was, at best, a very necessary counter-claim. Still, I resented his implication that Tommy could have me whenever he wanted or tried to. It made me feel like a sleazy whore, the kind everyone thought I was. Plus it was a lie. I'd pushed him away, damn it! He hadn't yet ripped me from his brother's arms! All in all, he made a good case.

Too bad it wasn't tr...

Obviously all of this, or at least part of it was true, as Tommy refrained from speaking at first. It didn't make sense, and he wasn't sure she was his, and they did barely know each other. But still, there was a connection, and he had said that about me, and he did know I was his. The last two sentences... not quite so true. "I'm not hung up on anyone," Tommy sniffed irritably. He sounded like a petulant child, and, much like a petulant child, he stormed out afterwards. Kwest exhaled heavily and followed him, and then I was blissfully alone.

For about two seconds.

No, really, what I actually did was get up, stretch (I was horribly sore from all the crouching), look for my belonging... Apparently Tommy (or someone else or the janitor) had taken it, and I would have to retrieve it at a later date... and then I left abruptly. After all, I had to go home and do homework, then go to the Canadian Music Video Awards with Tommy.

Okay, not actually with Tommy; I'm going with Taylor and Tommy's going with Sadie. Technicality. He's going because we're co-stars in my video, so we're up for Best Collaboration but he's also there to present the award for Best Choreography with the rest of Boyz Attack!. I'm up for Single of the Year... It's either for "Too Sexy Sadie" or "Minor Liaison". And then one for Best New Artist, of course.

I'll skip over the fascinating details of doing my homework in favor of the actual juicy gossip. After all, an awards ceremony is a big deal.

Portia got me this immodest, sinfully red designer frock. The kind I most certainly would never wear. Willingly. Not that I didn't look fabulous in it, of course. It was accompanied by a smirk and a coy wink along with an unnecessary sly comment about the effect it would have on Tommy. It's made of this filmy, gauzy fabric, and it's got these sparkles all over it. I'm not too crazy about the taffeta or the sparkles. It ends a couple inches above the knees, and it's almost scandalously low-cut. Basically, it's a bunch of things that shouldn't go together pieced together, including some fringe. Still looks fantastic, of course.

She also hooked me up with these killer high heels. Literally, they will kill my feet. But she worked a lot of make-up magic on me, so now I look completely different. My hair's up in this crazy style, but I look hot and kinda trampy, yet also fabulous, which is Portia's point. I think she expects Tommy to take one look at me and take me against a wall. As if.

A girl can still dream, though.

Since Dear Portia was already at the house for me, she helped Sadie a bit with her make-up and such. She'd secured her a pretty dress too, quite possibly Sadie's dream dress. Sadie was wearing this absolutely lovely mid-length halter dress in cream-colored silk. It had pearl embellishments. Like a good stylist, Portia was gone only ten minutes before the boys came to pick us up. They came in a limo, which was clichéd enough as it was. Taylor was outfitted in a curiously lime green suit. The shirt he wore underneath was emerald in color. As if that wasn't bad enough, his hair was slicked back. It only served to make him look greasy, not All-American.

I saw him and grimaced. He was painful to look at. Taylor didn't notice, but I saw Tommy smirk. As for Sadie, well, she was as horrified as I was. In fact, she pulled me aside with a warning, "If you plan on keeping the boy, never let him dress himself again." I agreed with her wordlessly and was about to tell her that I didn't plan on keeping him, but then I remembered myself.

He looked like a giant shrub, and together, I knew, we'd look like we dressed for Christmas. Which was a little too couple-y and cutesy and tacky as hell for me. Plus we didn't match at all! I guess that just shows how opposite we are, or maybe just how much he wanted to stick it to Tommy. Tommy hates, hates, HATES green, much less screaming green like Taylor was wearing. He looked like a damn lightpost.

Actually, I take that back. He looked radioactive. So radioactive that I feared for my life. In fact, the blinding color of his suit burned my eyes. I swear, I think his suit glowed in the dark. And I didn't want a damn flashlight for a date.

Tommy, on the other hand, was wearing a cool navy suit that complimented Sadie's ice blue dress. His hair was perfect. He looked good, and he knew it, all right. I could tell from the smug look on his face.

Oh, I forgot to say that I was wearing Tommy's earrings, since, after all, I'd earned them fair and square. I haven't taken them off since he gave them to me. A lot of that is 'cause I love them, and about half of it is the fact that I can't really take them off. Not because I want to get robbed. It's hard. Plus I'm wearing them as a sort of vicious reminder.

If Tommy noticed, he hadn't said a word about them, not even now.

I envied Sadie for a moment, not because her date was Tommy... but because her date was appropriate and polite and decent and had taste. Unlike Sadie, I did not kiss my date hello. I barely even touched him, no matter how much that disappointed him. Truthfully, I was vaguely ashamed to be seen with him. I can only imagine what the press will say. They'll say I went from one Quincy to another and that I picked the wrong one. Which is true, only I was never with Tommy.

So I faked a couple smiles and got in the car with the rest of them. I wound up sandwiched between the door and Taylor. A rock and a harder place, I'm afraid. It was real comfortable, getting slammed against the door so much. I'm gonna have bruises, and not even the fun kind. Taylor kept chattering nervously the whole way there, which only served to give me a headache. I don't think I heard one damn word he said to me. Not that it mattered. Tommy whispered over my head that it was the kid's first awards show. I nodded like I understood, but it was my first one too! And it wasn't like Taylor was even up for anything! All he had to do was be my date, and he wasn't even up for that!

We got there real early. The red carpet wasn't even said up. I suppose that was for the best, too, seeing as we all would've caused quite a scandal. Like WifeSwap, only with siblings instead. Seriously, we could be guests on Jerry Springer. I can just see it now: "So, Tommy... You're engaged to Sadie, but you've been going after her sister... Jude... behind her back? Even though you're her boss and she's dating your kid brother, Taylor?" What a show that'd be. Sibling Snatchers.

So this random girl came up to me at school yesterday and started asking me about my sex life with Tommy, which is unfortunately nonexistent, and she had all of these crazy ideas. Like she thought that apparently I'm flexible enough to put my legs over his shoulders. Do you know what that is? That's like a 175 degree angle. My legs do not bend that far back. They really don't. Do I look like pretzel woman or something? It only got worse from there. She actually asked me for tips on... "how to please a man". Gag me with a spoon. She seriously thought I was a professional at... um... that. You get the picture, right? I mean, do I look like a porn star or a brainer? Like I said earlier, ew.

Anyways, we all walked inside, and our dates had just gotten situated when one of the coordinators approached me and Tommy. She was a (unfortunately) pretty blue-eyed blonde with hideously fake highlights, and she beamed upon seeing the both of us, but particularly Tommy. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. After all, I'm supposed to be a nice girl. And nice girls aren't mean to strangers. "Tommy Quincy and Jude Harrison, right?" She asked, glancing down at her clipboard. I nodded glumly and glanced momentarily at Tommy. His eyes sparkled, his lips lit up in a smile. I silently hated him for looking so perfect and focusing that ray-of-sunshine-smile on that undeserving wench. The coordinator beamed widely, and I felt disgusted.

"Let me just say right now, I completely adore your work. "Minor Liaison" is **so** my ringtone!" She exclaimed enthusiastically. I wondered which of us she was talking to, since I was the one with a solo album under my belt... yet she was staring at Tommy and had barely even glanced at me. This time I did roll my eyes, grimacing as she enumerated her love for my least favorite song. Yes, it's even worse than "And I Ran (So Far Away)". Thinking of that, I started humming the song, thinking fondly of Tim. Tommy, I noted, was smiling goodnaturedly and eating the attention up, per usual. And ignoring me, but what else is new?

I envy how he's always so at ease, especially around women. A lot of the time because I envy those women also. For the first time, the producer surprised me by turning to regard me. She managed a smile. "What a lovely dress," She remarked sweetly, making it hard for me to hate her. I thanked her for the compliment, since I was pretty much at a loss for what to do. Grinning mischievously, she nudged me. "So, I saw the music video... One word: hot. And I've been hearing some major buzz around you two lately... And I really think you guys are going to win Most Earthshaking Collaboration," She declared brightly. I nodded excitedly and forced a smile.

Then, of course, came the obligatory girltalk. By which I mean the questions about Tommy in the sack. As in how he is. Fantastic, of course, not that I know. She turned back to me again with a conspiratorial smile. "So, Jude," She whispered so that Tommy couldn't hear (the bastard, however, knew full-well we were talking about him), "Was it exactly as good as it looked?" She meant off-screen. That, I thought, was quite the loaded question.

I tried to smile, but it was more than awkward. "Um... sure," I muttered unimpressively. The producer didn't look satisfied with that. "As many times as people ask me how Tommy is in bed, I never can quite find an answer. There are just no ways to measure his... skill. Besides, I find that qualifying the act by judging it _cheapens _the moment and memories... and the _love, _of course," I remarked endearingly but also, notably, loud enough so that Tommy could hear it. However, I whispered the last part so that he couldn't hear. I realized full well that that made it sound exactly like I'd had sex with him. I didn't care. What the hell was I supposed to say? "Well, actually, I wouldn't know. Tommy and I have never done the nasty... at least, not together." Of course I couldn't say that. She wanted juicy details, not the cold truth. My statement seemed to perk the woman up a bit, so she leaned in once more to question me. Probably more details. Oh, the joy! More lies! Heavens above! She's going to ask for tips next!

Fortunately, she didn't ask anything half as vulgar as that. "Really, Jude... And I'm only asking this because everyone else will... Are you and Tommy anything serious?" I forced myself not to roll my eyes. My ass. You're asking because you're curious and want to know if he's available. I plastered a smile on my face. It was, however, an icy one. Not that she could tell.

That stung a little, the question. "Oh, you _must _be mistaken..." At this point, I glanced down at her nametag. "...Kristen. There's absolutely nothing between Tommy and me. The cameras are, I'm afraid, quite deceiving on that point," I replied frostily, shooting Tommy a glare. "Everyone knows Tommy's not one for commitment of any sort. He's like a condom. You use him once in the heat of the moment, get him all dirty, and then you throw him away." I actually meant to say that he was a screw and run kind of guy, only good for one-night stands and the like. What came out was much cruder. Ew. Kristen, however, looked only excited. My glare and crude comments went completely over her head. She glanced over at Tommy, beaming widely.

"So he's single, then?" She chirped excitedly, loud enough so that Tommy heard and smirked. Very single, I thought, in his mind... but only in his mind. Maybe too single. I fought down the grin that threatening to form on my face at the thought of breaking her bubble.

I shook my head abruptly. "No, no! Tommy's quite taken." Her face fell a little, but still, she sent me a questioning glance, asking silently whether it was serious. Poor girl. I found Sadie in the seating and soon pointed her out. "See that girl?" Kristen nodded. "That's her. My sister and Tommy's fiancée. I warn you not to get between them," I proclaimed wisely. Kristen looked scandalized and raised her eyebrows, surprised that I was giving her that warning. I smiled weakly. Tommy deflated a bit after that, but it was quite necessary.

Then, bored, Kristen unenthusiastically announced that we were to perform. Together. Oh, the joy. And with no choreography or anything. I met Tommy's gaze, and we both silently agreed that we would not be performing "Minor Liaison", like everyone expected and probably wanted. It wasn't fitting, what with Sadie and Taylor and all... And it certainly wasn't proper... Plus there was the music video for that.

Kristen left us and Tommy moved closer to me (albeit stiffly) to discuss the matter. Luckily, I already had a song in mind. It wasn't quite new; in fact, it was a little less than a year old, but no one except me had ever heard it, not even Tommy or my dad. I'd always found it too personal to sing in the past, too personal for Tommy to hear. Maybe it wasn't a wise decision to pick it because as much as I was loathe to admit it, it was still too personal. And maybe it would only confuse things, and it was an inappropriate juncture, and so on... But I really didn't care. It was my way of getting closure, I guess. "I have a song," I said finally. "Don't worry. Just sing along with me during the chorus. It'll be fine. I'll show the band how it goes." I walked off to go do that when suddenly something occurred to me. "Oh. Figure out when we're on, okay?"

I left without any acknowledgment. I walked briskly backstage, hunting down the band. They were practicing, so I could hear them from aways away. I managed my widest smile as I walked into the room, chiming into a rendition of the song they were playing. "_I'm addicted to you... Don't you know that you're toxic? And I love what you're doing, but you know that you're toxic!_" I interjected brightly. The musicians raised an eyebrow, but hey, they were the ones playing "Toxic" in the first place. You know that it's catchy! I rolled my eyes. "Fine, be like that. I just came in to show you how to play my song," I muttered, feeling vaguely annoyed.

Why is it that nothing seems to be going my way lately? The leader of the musicians (who happened to be the guitarist) snorted and started laughing at me! Naturally, I was furious. Then one of the saner musicians tried to be diplomatic. "Look, Doll, we know your song already. We don't need to know how to play it." Naturally, he failed. Completely and utterly. But he succeeded in pissing me off more. I glowered at the guy, feeling my rage from earlier rising up. Tommy's silent treatment wasn't exactly helping things. God, why can't we just be friends like normal people?!

Oh, hell, even I know the answer to that one. It's 'cause he's a man, and I'm a woman. And he's Tommy freaking Quincy on top of everything! Even I can do that math.

I guess the guy wasn't expecting such a look from me. He thought I was some second-rate pop princess just because my songs got radio-play. He failed to learn that I write all my own songs, and he thinks Tommy defines me. Like everyone else and his mother (everyone's, not just Tommy's). "I'm not doing "Minor Liaison". That song makes me sick. So I'm here to teach you how to play this one," I said a bit too petulantly. Oops. Once again the guitarist (who, I noticed, was smokin' hot) scoffed.

"Why don't you make Tommy do it for you?" He sneered. That one stung. I didn't flinch, but it made me stiffen. What is up with everyone thinking I have this mythical control over Tommy? It's not like I've got him by the balls or anything. Do I look like a siren or something? So I decided I'd show that punk guitarist a thing or two. I might not be Hendrix or Clapton, but damnit, I'm a Harrison; I know things! I tore the guitar out of his grip and started to play the opening chords to "Smoke on the Water". Needless to say, that won me some well-deserved respect.

I stopped when the song was done, unable for the life of me to know how I'd done it all. All I knew was that the whole group of them was staring at me, mouths gaping wide open and applauding me. Call it a mood or whatever you like, inspiration... I earned their respect the hard way. Let me tell you, it's hard to remain all pristine and ladylike while rocking out to Cream. Not that you would know that, because, of course, who on Earth knows that kind of thing? Apparently I was so good that the guitarist got down on his knees and begged for my forgiveness. "I know my way around a guitar," I retorted coolly.

The other musicians looked to the guitarist pointedly. Hey, he was down on his knees already! Wow, that was fast. Wonder if Tommy can drop and gimme twenty that fast? Interesting possibilities, I think. They didn't need to look at him like that. But he does need to beg for my forgiveness... so beg on. "I'm sorry for underestimating you, Miss Harrison. I promise I'll learn your new song," He murmured pleadingly. I smirked then and pulled him up. Sucker.

He really was a man after my own heart. Seriously, he had this longish dark-brown messy hair with these great bangs and really dark, almost black, eyes. And he looked hot in his outfit. "No problem. Now, just make sure you get this." I started playing the song I intended to sing with Tommy, and around the second time the band kicked in. A few moments later I handed the guitar back to the mysterious guitarist and listened to them all play it. It sounded really good. They asked me to sing, but I didn't want to spoil it for them.

After I'd finished and noticed that I had like thirty minutes to get back to my seat and talk over the proposed choreography I'm sure Tommy had in mind, the guitarist came over to me, hands in his pockets. He was looking a little shy. He held out a hand. "I'm Jeff, and I wanted to say that you really rocked. That song's phenomenal," He said, sounding a bit awe-stricken. "And that secretly I've always thought that Minor Liaison has a deadly guitar riff." I just smiled, (okay, that made me smirk) and Jeff seemed encouraged by this. "And, actually, I was wondering something... But I need to know something first. Is there anything going on with you and Tommy?"

Why does everyone have to ask that question? I shook my head no before he could say something else. "I'm completely available, actually. You know how PR agents and paparazzi hype up everything. He's like a brother to me." Okay, so I was lying through my teeth. Tommy a brother? As if! Even if he was my brother, I'd never see him like that! There would be Incest-a-palooza happening in the Harrison home. I mean, sheesh, you saw what happened when we shared a bathroom! Would've probably done something naughty with him if Dear Old Dad hadn't interrupted. Anyways, that comment sure perked Jeff up. "So... what were you saying?

"Well, I was wondering if you'd want to hang out with me after the show... if you're free, of course," He offered somewhat shyly. It's funny how I completely forgot about my supposed boyfriend. Er, boyfriends? Y'know, Taylor and Tim and me hanging out with Speed. Wow. I see why most people don't date multiple people at the same time. It's hella confusing. I continued to forget about Taylor, by the way, but I couldn't say if I'd hang out with this guy I barely knew after the show. I shrugged helplessly.

It sounded appealing, but Tom definitely wouldn't like it, and there was that whole Taylor issue. And Mom and Dad would probably want me back home and Sadie would probably expect me to come home with her. "I honestly can't say. I have no clue. The people I'm with might be doing something or my parents might want me home... I don't know," I answered somewhat exasperatedly. Then something occurred to me. "How 'bout you give me your number, and I call you if I can come, okay?" I suggested with a flirty smile. He scribbled his phone number unto a scrap of paper that I tucked into the waistband of my underwear. Then, of course, I glanced down at my watch. My eyebrows shot up into the air. "Uh oh. If I don't go right now, I'm gonna be late and then Tommy's going to kill me. Yikes. It was nice talking to you, Jeff," I exclaimed, feeling somewhat alarmed. Then I winked, blew him a kiss, and dashed off down the hallway.

As predicted, I was just the teensiest bit late. Okay, so I wound up dashing all the way to my seat... And so maybe I kind of tripped at the end, and Tommy had to catch me. Big deal. And so yeah, maybe I kind of flashed him and Taylor got all jealous and started yelling, but hey, even Sadie understood it wasn't my fault! Tommy just didn't say anything. Froze me out again like the asshole he is, but whatever. Anyways, so Tom and I don't actually have to go on for a while, according to this lovely schedule he passed me. So I got to thinking about how much easier this whole thing would be if Tommy was a priest. Okay, yeah, so it might get a little Thornbird-ish... What is up with long epics being all tragic? With people experiencing about ten thousand times the drama and depression and loss that normal people experience.

But back to the comforting idea of Tommy wearing a white collar and a... damn, what do they call that thing? Oh well. Oh, a cassock! What a random term. Anyways, it reminds me of this conversation I had with Travis the other day. It was actually a civil one. Travis has been mysteriously civil lately, almost like he's been embarrassed or he's under suspicion or whatever. For some reason, he kept me after class. I don't remember why. More importantly, I don't remember why I stayed, since I don't trust him. But I think I was wearing spike heels that day. Oh, right. Duh. I forgot. Ruby was with me.

However, for this particular conversation, Ruby happened to be out of the room, getting some tutoring since she's missed quite a bit of school. Travis was sitting on his desk, and I was leaning on one in front of him. He has this new honesty policy, which is so weird. He's gone all straight-edge lately, and I don't know what to do about that. You know you're in for something when someone prefaces a conversation with: "So, did I ever tell you about how I almost became a priest?" Well, that's exactly what Travis said. Honestly, I was rather bewildered. Rather completely bewildered. Where did something like this come from?

But Travis proceeded to explain. "It was after... Well, I was feeling pretty damn lousy about my life, and I never wanted to see another woman in my life. I hated women, so I thought... Why not become a priest? It's not like I want the women anymore, and I don't like little boys, so why not? I thought, well, I've always been a good Catholic; why not turn to my faith? Plus I was in the hospital for an entire year, with practically half of my bones broken. I didn't have anything better to do than lie there and study. For months I couldn't even do physical therapy. So I studied and studied and got a bunch of degrees. I couldn't go to classes, but I could read and I could type papers, so I wound up with a teaching degree, a doctorate of Theology, and a doctorate in Russian Literature... to name a few," Travis explained calmly. I could tell it hurt him to tell me that, and I had no idea why he was telling me all this... everything I'd known that had been hinted at.

Except the doctorates of Theology and (Russian) Literature. I didn't even see that coming, really. I know how hard it is to get a doctorate, okay? That's a dissertation of at least 200 pages, right? And then like two-four years of studying and classes or whatever, right? And then way longer for the dissertation. It's hard work. Apparently the guy also has a doctorate in Music, too, for his compositions. And Education, but who didn't see that coming? The I-wanna-be-a-priest-bit also didn't surprise me, since, hello, he already told me... And, hello, Priest and Teacher? Yeah, those are only the two main career tracks for pedophiles! I ought to say ephebophiles and clergy, though. That's more PC.

I rolled my eyes, but Travis didn't notice. "After I got out, I was all set to join up. I even did, but... But then..." He trailed off, failing to explain what it was that had obviously had stopped him from pursuing it. Was it a girl? I doubted it. Revenge? Maybe. But what had triggered the need for revenge or his desire for teaching? I could only wonder helplessly. Wow. That was kind of a pointless little story there. But it shows how strange Travis has gotten lately. Maybe he had a midlife crisis or something.

Hell, it helped distract me from the whole... awards show. It was pretty boring. A bunch of second-rate hip-hopsters... Shay was there, enough said... Trashy Americans... Skye Sweetnam performed, and that was pretty cool. I saw some cool music videos, y'know, the non-hoochy ones. Then Tommy and the boys took the stage to announce the winner for Best Choreography. That was quite possibly the highlight of the night. Vintage Boyz Attack! dance moves, just like back in my childhood. No one was cheering louder than me and Sadie. No one. It was hilarious, kind of making asses out of ourselves. But damn it, it was fun!

Unfortunately, that award meant I had to go backstage. Luckily there was a break of an award or two, so the viewers didn't get all Tommied-out. Unfortunately, that meant I had to dash backstage again and into a dressing room, where I changed into a dark red silk dress that was designed to make me look like a rose. It showed an almost indecent amount of leg and wrapped around my shoulders, but it showed a much less indecent amount of cleavage than the other dress (although it showed quite a bit of collarbone). I changed into a slightly lower pair of high heels, ones I could actually move in. They put a bit of stage make-up on me, putting on another coat of lipstick, ruby-red and shiny. Apparently they wanted me to make out with the guy onstage.

They were disappointed.

Tommy came backstage, buttoning his outfit. I tried not to stare at his pectorals. Naturally, I failed miserably. He was wearing a vaguely suit-like ensemble, with the shirt half-open, revealing a lovely expanse of his chest. He was wearing a rather ill-fitting blazer they'd given him and black pants like usual. The make-up artists put some stage make-up on him too, a practice I knew full well that Tommy despised. I smirked, taking a few deep breaths and doing some of the vocal exercises Tommy's dad taught me. Scowling all the way, Tommy briefly discussed some dance moves with me. I, of course, got confused, so Tommy sighed disgustedly and told me just to follow his lead. The tech guys fitted us with microphones a few moments later, and then we couldn't speak.

Not that that was really a problem with us. He's barely said three words to me all week. "And next up, put your hands together for your Instant Star, Jude Harrison, and the one and only Tommy Quincy, singing the duet that was too hot for MTV!"

Hearing our names announced, I knew I had to go onstage. I didn't bother to mention the change in song. I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders before walking on stage. I entered from stage right; Tommy entered from stage left. We entered to deafening I glanced at the band, noticing all the familiar faces, noticeably Jeff. I flashed the guitarist a smile and a quick nod, signaling the band to start playing my song. I didn't think of the surprised looks on everyone's faces. Locking eyes with Tommy, I knew we were doing the right thing. No matter the message, I had to sing the song. For closure's sake, at least.

Oh, what the hell... Here goes nothing.

I stepped forward into the spotlight, trembling a little. "_One __**scream**__and I'm all a-quiver_," I bellowed, purposefully shaking all over. Man, I hate these flipping headsets. "_One _whisper_, and I'm all a-twitter,_" I continued, deliberately dropping my voice. I looked for all the world anxious and on edge, yet shy and sweet- like I wasn't. Then I jerked my neck up, turning abruptly to stalk towards Tommy. "_Your move... You've made a quitter!_" I sang accusingly, pointing my finger at him. It was as if that motion suddenly animated him. He took a few bold steps forward, and I took twice as many in the opposite direction. "_One false step, and I'm your footrest... Crushed under your heel so elegantly_," I finished the verse, voice heavily laden with irony.

The tempo sped up, and the drum beat got louder. I bobbed my head to the beat, shooting Tommy a daring sideways glance, signaling the start of the chorus. I swiveled my hips deliberately. "_We __**can't **__pretend it never happened_," I sang louder than I intended. Tommy turned abruptly to stare at me. His eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. He couldn't believe I'd said that, aired that. Oh, no, Jude didn't. Well, I did. Suck it. After waiting a moment, I pivoted to face him. I couldn't avoid this. I had to embrace it head on. "_No, not this time going around again_," I scolded, not taking my eyes off of Tommy. He started to circle me. This time I took a bold step forward, locking eyes with him and stopping him dead in his tracks. "_We can't pretend we never felt this way_."

I couldn't, anyways, but Tommy could. So easily. He doesn't love me, he's not stuck on me... He doesn't even think of me, I bet. My eyes narrowed as I started to circle him. "_No, we're not going around in circles again_," I quipped ironically, surprised when Tommy finally chimed in. I was even more surprised when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to him. "_We can't pretend this doesn't exist anymore_," We whispered in unison. The tension was thick in the air. "_Ohh, we can't deny the tension between us..._" I saw from the look in his eye that he wasn't denying it. But it wasn't the kind of healthy tension. There was nothing even remotely healthy about it. There was something off-kilter, something dangerous in the air.

I shook my wrist free of Tommy's grip and stalked away from him, pretending not to listen to him. "_Oh, you talk and talk and talk... Yet, what you say barely registers._" My voice was an octave lower than usual, making the song and me sound more jazzy and mellow than I'd intended. As if he was reading my mind, Tommy followed me and moved me around in a very complex dance move. All I did was sing and go where he made me. "_But we cannot take these words back... We can't, no matter how hard we try_," I warbled. Tommy's eyes flashed darkly, like I'd insulted him.

And maybe I had. I'd written the song right after my sixteenth birthday, seething with rage at Tommy for kissing me and taking it back. I thought that was the worst he could do to me. What did I know? I wrote it right after "Time to Be Your 21", and that song felt, to me, to be the safer one to sing. It was a way to sing about Tommy without acknowledging it. That song is just as much about him as it is about me. Me growing up, so it was more appropriate. This one was all about him.

I was furious that he could just deny it and expect it to be gone, like that. It didn't happen, and I was expected to forget all about it. Neither of us did, though, and it was pointless to just deny it. And now, now we really couldn't anymore. I mean, what's the point? I've given up on Tommy. For good, this time. I'm dating other people, and I'm having fun... I'm not happy, and Tommy's not happy... But I know he wouldn't be any happier with me. I'd just make him miserable. I think he's just never satisfied with his life, no matter how good it is. And he doesn't deserve Sadie, but he makes her happy... And that's good enough for me.

So why bother obsessing over him when he doesn't love me... when he doesn't care... when he's not hung up on me or thinking about me... when he's falling in love with another girl and engaged to my big sister and I've got Taylor? The most I ever got out of him was an "I want you" and a couple joke marriage proposals. Nothing ever came of it, so I've got to get over him before it kills me.

But that doesn't mean I'm not hurt by it, and that I'm suddenly over him. I leaped out of his grasp, landing far away from him on my own two feet in heels. My legs didn't buckle but the impact was hard. Still, I didn't stumble. I cast Tommy an accusing, bitter stare. My heels throbbed. "_I'm blue and bruised; your heart's __**black**_" I cried, meaning every word. I screamed out all of my pain into the song. "_Once again, I cry and __**die **__just a little inside!_" I sang out, showing off my range, hitting some impressive notes. I couldn't even muster up a single tear, for all my "crying" and "dying". My back bent under the weight of the song, and I snapped my spine up, stomping over to Tommy. "_Won't you tell me what it is that I lack?_" I demanded, realizing suddenly that I really did want to know why I was never good enough. Why I was never enough... _Never enough for you..._

This time, Tommy was prepared. For a moment or two, I could've sworn he looked a little sad, almost guilty. But just as soon as I saw it, he started singing, and the look was gone. Embarrassed, I looked away and followed his example. "_We can't pretend it never happened... __**No**__not this time going around again!_" We chorused, once again circling one another. The gleam in Tommy's eyes was decidedly predatory since he was extremely pissed I'd aired some of our dirtiest laundry. Y'know the kind I mean. The clothes with all the mysterious, incriminating-looking stains. My eyes burned into him. "_We can't pretend we never felt this way_," I sang with a strange lilt. Tommy was oh-so guilty of that one.

Tommy stopped abruptly, grabbing my wrist hard. "_No, we're not going around in circles again!_" His denial was so vehement. He held my wrist so tightly that I could swear I felt it bruising beneath his hand. He yanked me towards him. "_We can't pretend this doesn't exist anymore!_" Tommy stated fiercely. I'm sure it looked a lot more fluid on screen than it felt. A lot less tense and angry, I'm sure. I was rather terrified. What people don't know about the musicians they listen to... it's mindboggling, really. I thought it was awfully rich of Tommy to pretend like he actually felt that way, hurting me and all... When the damn song was written about _his _games and _his _denial in the first place. Like I don't know that we can't do those things. Then Tommy calmed some, slowly releasing his grip on my wrist and walking a ways away. "_Ohh, we can't deny the tension between us_," He lamented, sounding far more tortured than he really was.

Like I said, Tommy's a brilliant actor. It's funny, isn't it, how we musicians are just as good at acting as the professionals? At least, Tommy and I are, anyway. We're better than Taylor, at least. Obvious Taylor who doesn't even notice that Tommy's practically fingering his girlfriend at the dinner table. Although, to be fair, that was our first date. But, then again, it **was **our first date, and I was all set to have sex with Tommy in the restaurant. I mean, we practically made out. How dumb do you have to be to miss that?!

The music shifted dramatically and the mood intensified. It was a far darker version of the same tune. As if sensing my lyrics, Tommy came towards me. He didn't waste time; he picked me up immediately, lifting me in the air. I sucked in a breath, surprised and somewhat lightheaded. "_You pulled me away, took me aside..._" I wailed, accusing him with every word. He'd done that... kind of. As soon as I sang it, Tommy did it. I fell down a little in his arms. His hands moved down lower as he pulled me closer to him. "_**Seduced **__me that day_," I continued a bit too breathlessly. Tommy pressed me against him even more closely, knowing full well how horribly affected I was. Stumbling, I brought my hands down on his arms, hitting him to make him drop me. I couldn't take it! "_I can't think straight since..._" I exhaled raggedly as I landed on my feet. That, at least, was true.

That was a lucky coincidence. Eying Tommy warily, I backed away. I could see the wheels in his head turning, and I didn't want him getting any ideas from the rest of the verse. "_You stole me away, made sure I __**lied**_," I declared damningly, glowering at him and actually fleeing. Tommy caught me, of course, and then involved me in this ridiculously complex, vindictive modern-dance-inspired routine with a lot of dipping and swirling. He made me horribly dizzy. "_I can't bare to stay..._" I cried, breaking away from him. My head was spinning. The ground swayed and buckled before my eyes, so I tripped, once again twisting my ankle. It didn't hurt as bad this time, though. Luckily, Tommy caught me, so it looked like it was planned. I blinked, looking at him. His face swam before my eyes, and I drew back, not trusting him or my sight. "_When I see you, I __**wince**_"

I screamed the word so loudly I felt like I'd gone supersonic. As if he knew what was coming, he set me on my feet and abruptly moved away. I was left dizzy and confused, looking after him longingly. "_Why do you leave me this way?_" I pleaded, reaching out for him. I really didn't miss him all that much then, I just needed to hold on to something. Tommy left everyone, though, so I didn't take it personally.

What happened next floored me. Tommy began to sing, shooting me a smug glance. "_How can you unravel me with only a single kiss? I'm not accustomed to losing all of my control..._" He sang suddenly. The music hadn't even changed back to its more upbeat state yet. Control has always been so important to Tommy. What was weird, though, was that those were the correct lyrics. Tommy hadn't seen the song... so how had he known them? Did we really know each other so well that Tommy had read my mind? "_I'm not used to feeling like this, like this... I don't let just anyone reach in and touch my __**sooooul**_" Tommy exclaimed theatrically, even touching his heart.

My vision had cleared, and I scoffed at him, shocked. What soul, Tommy? What a liar! Me, touch the soul he doesn't have? If he does, it's black for all he's done! That's like him saying that he has a heart. Ha! The words were meaningless to me now that I knew that he didn't give a damn. Too late, Tom. They were just words to me. Bitterly, I started up the chorus, cutting off the end of his note. I didn't care if he joined me or not, so I sang them on my own. "_We can't pretend it never happened! No, not this time going around again! We can't pretend we never felt this way! No, we're not going around in circles again! We can't pretend this doesn't exist anymore! Ohh, we can't deny the tension between us!_" I snapped insistently, rage sizzling through every scathing word. He had frozen.

Big shocker there.

I made sure to look at Tommy with my blazing eyes, so he knew how absolutely enraged I was. Talk is cheap. I was glad, then, that the next line continued on in the same furious tone I sang with presently. The next verse required confrontation, and I was determined to do just that. I walked towards him, swaying my hips with precision. "_You don't know what I'm talking about, you say!_" My voice soared to operatic highs. I had never sung better. Then again, I had never been more indignant. My eyes narrowed. "_But you can't even just look me in the eyes..._" I spat disdainfully. It was true, too. As of lately, he couldn't. "_You tell me to go away, you need me so far away_," I sang mockingly, bobbing my head. I hated him with every fiber of my being then, hated him for every last thing he did.

I came closer to him until I was right there in his face. He couldn't look away. He was forced to look me in the eyes, in the face. "_Do you ever __**choke **__on all those bitter lies?_" I asked venomously, wondering idly if he did. Truthfully, I didn't really care. I wanted him to choke, and I wasn't ashamed of that. Then I slapped him, but only lightly. Still, Tom recoiled as if I'd really hit him.

He launched into the chorus before I could, whirling me with him into a ridiculously complex dance routine that left me so breathless I couldn't sing, even if I wanted to. He was seething but carefully disguising it. I could see that in his posture, the way he held himself a little bit more highly, how tense and stiff he was. How absolutely matter-of-fact his tone was. "_We can't pretend it never happened! No, not this time going around again! We can't pretend we never felt this way! No, we're not going around in circles again... We can't pretend this doesn't exist anymore! Ohh, we can't deny the tension between us..._" Tommy warbled much more mellifluously than I did. His voice was so velvety smooth.

And I remembered how attracted I was to him, how in love I was with him, and how much I didn't want to be in love with him. But I was, nonetheless. And I didn't want to be! Oh, I didn't! "_I'm disillusioned with being in love!_" I sang piercingly, trying to scream out every drop of pain. The verse was much more heavy, so much like it was when I'd written it, deep and jazzy, sultry and low. "_I feel like an __**addict **__to your drug_," I cried hoarsely as Tommy put his arms around me, dipping me down low, tango-style. I pulled up and out of the embrace as soon as I could, stumbling to my feet. "_My affection, an honor you're unworthy of_," I proclaimed self-righteously. It was true, though. Tommy really doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve to have someone like me completely devoted to him. I think he's too good for me, but, in reality, I'm too good for him!

I shook my head stubbornly. "_Not anymore, we can't sweep this under the rug!_" I reprimanded, glowering at him. Even now, we still did, didn't we? After almost a whole year, I still have yet to tell anyone about what happened the night of my sixteenth birthday. I kept my damn mouth shut, just like I kept my mouth shut about what happened that night he thinks I slept with him. Just like I kept my mouth shut about how he broke my heart. Like I always kept my mouth shut and denied everything and anything that even suggested Tommy and I had ever been more than friends. I shook my head sassily, waving my finger in his face. "_But forget high, you don't send me soaring... Forget the joy and in comes the rain!_" I bemoaned, turning away with some rather dramatic hand gestures.

I carefully schooled my face so that I looked perfectly downtrodden. I wasn't. "_You leave me low, but don't you dare __**go**_"I begged, caught up in a desperation I didn't really feel. I whirled around, clutching his shoulders as if he was all that tethered me to this earth. Then I sighed heavily and let my shoulders sank as my grip became lax. "_Nowadays, it seems like I only feeeel the pain_," I whispered, suddenly trying to choke back tears. The melody crescendoed as my voice weakened. It's funny how a song can say so completely what you're feeling when words can't. But the melody and the lyrics can, somehow. I don't know how. I was, however, simultaneously proud of myself for talking about it to someone, even if it was millions of people who didn't understand and didn't really know. And I was proud of myself for the way I sung it. Very Celine Dion, all those notes.

I shook my head this time a bit sadly as the tempo slowed down. Tommy walked carefully around me, slowly. "_Because we can't pretend it never happened... No, not this time, __**I**__ won't go around and around again! We can't go on and __**say **__that we've never felt this way... No, we're __**not **__going to go around in circles again!_" I sang sorrowfully. Tommy spun me around easily then suddenly stopped. I swayed on my feet, slightly dizzy, but I focused on Tommy so I wouldn't lose my balance in the already precarious heels. "_Because it happened, and you know it!_" I proclaimed defiantly.

Tommy stomped towards me. "_Because it did happen, and I know it too!_" He proclaimed, damn near shouting what I'd written. I wondered once more how he knew exactly what was on my mind. For a moment I just stared at him in disbelief. That was as close to an admittance as I was ever going to get. Well, he'd admitted it, hadn't he? I gaped so long that I missed a beat. Then Tommy shot me a look before stalking off in the opposite direction. I snapped out of my daze, turning to the crowd. My eyes followed Tommy walking away.

"_And though you can try and deny... Just try and forget it, I __**dare **__you! You know it's true, but still you lie!_" I screeched after him, seething with rage. Or, at least, that's how it looked. I wasn't really that mad. Tommy whirled around just as I finished and shot me a dark glance that said he wouldn't be forgetting it any time soon. I gulped hard and faltered in my steps just a little, starting the next verse on wobbling legs. "_Even when we can no longer pretend anymore..._"

Tommy approached me from behind, putting his hands on my waist and burying his nose in my hair. I could feel his stubble brushing against my cheek. "_We've long since passed the point of no return_," He murmured in a low voice. I felt his breath, hot and heavy, on my neck. I shuddered involuntarily. There was something so forbidding about that, and something terribly dangerous and sexy about the way he said it. He clutched my hips possessively, even painfully. He shook his head, abruptly jerking me around by the hips. Tommy did this so suddenly that I had to catch my breath. "_And we can't keep up this up like we did before_," Tommy snarled, leaning so close to me that our foreheads almost brushed. I closed my eyes for one brief moment and set my shoulders stubbornly.

Then I opened them and shoved Tommy away, fire blazing in my eyes. I straighted my posture proudly. "_You can keep on swearing it never happened... But we both know that won't make it true!_" I scolded blisteringly. I sighed, conceding just a little, exchanging glances with Tommy. "_No matter _how _much you really want it to._" How on Earth did I manage to say that in a level voice? Then, as if he knew what I was thinking, Tommy stopped doing meaningless background vocals and chimed in with me on the last line. We finished the song looking at each other. "_It never happened, but it __**did**_"The notes died out slowly, and for a moment there was an eerie silent finality. I breathed raggedly, removing my microphone while waiting for a response. I felt physically drained, sweaty and uncomfortable.

And I knew. I was purged. I was free.

I was done with Tommy.

I couldn't take the waiting anymore, so I turned and walked offstage. Just as I reached the door, I heard the applause begin. It quickly became thunderous. For a moment I felt almost bad for leaving him, but I needed to decompress badly.

Okay, so I really needed to strip off my sweaty clothes. I hurried backstage amidst cheers and congratulations. I ignored all of them, not stopping until I reached the dressing room. I threw the microphone in a box especially for storage before moving to a tiny, secluded corner. I kicked off my heels hurriedly, shoving my feet in the other ones. I tottered on my feet for a minute. These shoes are seeeeriously too tall. Then I started to unfasten and unwrap my dress slowly. It required a lot more precision than you'd think. I was beginning to get annoyed by all the different levels of frilly silk when I heard someone let out a sharp wolf whistle. I turned, covering my chest, to see Tommy staring at me with a smirk on his face. "TOMMY! What the Hell!? This is the girls' dressing room!"

He winked at me, staring blatantly at my chest. My bare chest. "Oh, I know." He started clapping. "This was a most pleasant detour," Tommy replied with a grin. He was looking decidedly lascivious. I flushed the color of my hair, hating how Tommy looked like he knew what I look like without my clothes. Oh, wait. He does. Tommy checked me out. "Guess that blush really does go all the way, huh?" Tommy reached out to touch me, but I drew back before he could. Like the moron didn't already know that, anyways. Could I be any more mortified? Oh, yes, I could. The morning after, which... well, only that one time and he wasn't even there when I... I exhaled, banishing the thoughts from my mind and turning my back to him, finally undoing the last of the strips of fabric that wrapped around my torso.

"If you're going to stare at my naked flesh and make lewd comments about my body like a twelve-year-old boy, you could at least get my dress," I snapped, still irritated with him. The satisfied grin curled on his face, but he did as I said. I knew I had little time, so I tugged the dress down, sliding it over my hips until it puddled on the floor. I gingerly stepped out of it, picked it up, and threw it in Tommy's face. He handed me my dress nonetheless, and I stepped in impatiently, pulling it up to my hips in a flash. Tommy hung up the "flower" dress and managed to have time to spare. He dragged his fingers along my lower back, just above my tailbone.

I shut my eyes tightly, and he pressed a stream of wet, gentle kisses down my spine without asking. I squared my shoulders and jerked the zipper up abruptly. Tommy jumped back so his lips didn't get stuck in the zipper. "Hands, R. Kelly!" I shouted, making him rue his own words. I found it a relevant statement, given the circumstances. I grinned victoriously, snickering, but my back felt kind of damp or slobbery. That was, of course, Tommy's intent. I just shrugged. He was still a better kisser than Taylor, even if he was molesting me. On a strictly physical basis... Tommy's hot, and he knows what he's doing. Really. As long as you don't fall in love with him, you'll be fine. Except you might want to use protection, because, really, who knows what STD you could be catching.

It's just that emotional, committed level where things start to get awkward and suck.

You know, if he wasn't practically married to my sister, and I wasn't kinda dating Taylor... Okay, so I really don't care that much about Taylor yet. He's a sweet kid and all, but I don't love him. I love Sadie, and I love myself. And I'll always love Tommy, of course. Damn, why did I have to think that? It completely ruins this new cynical thing I have going!

Anyways, as I was saying... Oh, hell, if I wasn't so terrified and so sure that I'd become even more attached to the guy (by this point, the only way that is possible is if I wind up pregnant with his baby or stalking him)... I'd have sex with him. But of course I can't do that. I don't trust myself that much. Plus Sadie.

Since I couldn't reach the top part of my zipper, I reluctantly allowed Tommy to do it for me. Wasn't like I had much of a choice. He had changed much faster than me. For a moment, I just kind of looked at him. He looked different to me, but I didn't know how. Either way, he didn't seem mad.

What a pity it was, then, that I didn't give a damn.

I straightened my dress and walked out the door with Tommy hot on my heels. Just as I did, someone grabbed me. It was Kristen. "Jude, you and Tommy just won Best Collaboration," She explained succinctly. "You two need to get onstage now and accept." Then she forcibly dragged the two of us to the door and pushed us out. I was worried about my appearance, but I forced myself to ignore that. Tommy's hand rested on the small of my back, guiding me, as we walked up to the podium together. When we got there, Chantal Kreviazuk and her husband presented us with the award. Chantal kissed both of us on the cheek, while her husband shook both of our hands. I hate that part. Having strangers touch you because of business.

We shared the microphone, podium, and award, however. Tommy motioned for me to go first. I stared out at the vast crowd of people and suddenly didn't want to say anything. But I was feeling malicious enough, and that was more than enough to drive me on. I leaned into the microphone, clutching the award in one hand. "Okay, so I'm going to keep this short. I owe this award to four people. Firstly, my music teacher, for giving me the idea in the first place and then contributing the male vocals after the label decided it should be a duet," I began, pausing briefly. God and my Mama had nothing to do with it. Rather the opposite, actually. Tommy looked surprised at this revelation. "Secondly, of course, to Tommy. If he hadn't left me alone in the studio that day, I would've never written this song. Really, Tom, I couldn't have done it without you!" I replied sarcastically, turning to face him. Sadly, all of that was true.

I took a breath, searching out E.J. in the crowd. "Thirdly to my other producer, Kwest, for manning the booth while Tommy and I were recording... And finally, thanks go out to E.J., my PR agent. If it wasn't for her, you would've never heard this song. I threw it in the trash, and she rescued it." I truly resented her for that. I faked a wide smile. "And, of course, thanks to the video crew, Big D, and all of you who liked and voted for it!" I exclaimed seemingly gleefully before stepping aside to let Tom talk.

Honestly, I didn't pay attention to one damn word the boy said. I completely zoned out, only snapping out of it when I realized he was dragging me away. I flushed. Oops. Then we walked down the stairs together and back to our seats quietly. Taylor was chattering in my ear, but I didn't hear him. I was kind of numb, really.

I sat there and watched as they got down to the last awards of the night. As I expected, I didn't win Single of the Year. I lost to Kalan Porter or Avril, I think. It wasn't much of a loss to me. Apparently it was for "Too Sexy Sadie." Go fig. I'm kinda glad I didn't win, actually. I saw the pained look on Sadie's face when even a clip of it played. Life for me is like that. I get pissed or hurt about something, write a song about it, and then wind up regretting it because it's so damn personal. Such is the case with "Too Sexy Sadie", "Minor Liaison", "It (Never) Happened"... And so on. But I guess I just need to get the words out of me so I don't explode.

However, I snapped out of it when I heard my name called. It turned out I'd just won Best New Artist. I was dumbstruck with disbelief. Eventually Tommy forced me to my feet, and I was swept into hugs from Sadie and Taylor. I carelessly dodged a kiss from Taylor and forgot about hugging Tommy entirely, intent on getting up on stage as fast as possible. It was only when I got on stage and was standing up at the podium that I realized what had just happen. I started smiling sunnily, grabbing the award from the presenter (who I didn't care to recognize).

I didn't have a speech prepared because I didn't think I would win, so I had to wing it. "Wow. I _never _thought this would happen." What a promising beginning. "Okay, first I have to thank Tommy, my producer, partner, and best friend. You are my inspiration, and I know my music would not sound the same without you. This award is just as much yours as it is mine. I owe everything to you. _Everything_,"I exclaimed slightly breathlessly. Honestly, I wasn't thinking at all. These were just the words that came to mind, and Tommy was automatically the first person who came to mind. "Next I have to thank my Dad for giving me an interest in music, teaching me how to play the guitar, and always understanding. Major thanks to my best friend, Jamie, for all those years we spent up in my bedroom writing songs together. And thanks to my mom, sister, and Kat, who've always supported me, even when it was tough. Especially my sister. Thanks also go out to Georgia and E.J. for taking a chance on me and always having my back. Then Darius for offering me the Shay Tour, and, most importantly, thanks go out to all the people who voted on me, both for this award and for Instant Star. Thanks so much!" I proclaimed with a wide, victorious smile. I hefted the award in the air before turning around and leaving amidst applause.

When I returned to my seat, Tommy was waiting with open arms. To my surprise, he hugged me twice. I didn't think much of it and threw the award in his lap. His grunt of pain could be heard five aisles over. Hehe.

The awards show was over shortly after that. I was glad because I couldn't take much more of it.

And that's really when things went from bad to worse.

It started when we were in the hallway, which was crowded with all sorts of musicians and their people. Not exactly a great place to start the drama, but that's how Sadie rolls.

It started innocently enough. Sadie was behind me and Taylor, arm and arm with Tommy. "Tommy, I really wish you wouldn't touch Jude so much. It just makes it look like there's something going on between you two," Sadie said in a rather whiny voice. I didn't really care too much because she had a point. Besides, I wanted to stay away from Tommy. I just kind of wished she wouldn't bring it up in such a crowded place. It's really amazing what people say when they don't think you're listening.

Tommy sighed, sounding distinctly annoyed. "Sadie, she's my closest friend. I was congratulating her on winning an award. Get over it," Tommy retorted. I was vaguely flattered he thought I was his closest friend. And the other stuff was pretty true. He was just leaving out all of the non-friendly stuff like what happened in my dressing room and the fact that the song was clearly about him. I winced in advance, knowing Sadie was going to explode.

I was not disappointed. "Get **over **it?! You didn't have to hug her twice, Tommy!" Came Sadie's shrill voice. I nodded. True, true. Hugging someone twice is like you don't want to let them go. He should be hugging _her _twice. I vowed to try and stay out of their argument, even if it was about me. Taylor was chattering on about something pointless, and I was pretending to listen but really ignoring him. Please. Tommy and my sister fighting is way more interesting than what Kathryn Mansfield did during Scene 102. Damn it. The crowd was not lessening. I wasn't even moving.

Tommy snorted. "Oh, you might as well say it, Sadie. You don't give a damn about me hugging Jude. It's the _other _stuff you're worried about," Tommy interrupted in his characteristically blunt way. Actually, Sadie shouldn't be worried about me at all, despite Tommy's obvious partiality for me. I at least care about her. And Tommy, but never mind that. Plus I haven't had sex with him. She _should _be worried about all those random groupie bimbos he's been having sex with on the side. Not that she knows about that.

Sadie gasped behind me. "Well maybe I wouldn't be worried about it if you could keep your hands off of her for two seconds! Maybe I wouldn't worry if I had any indication that you wouldn't leave me for _her _at the drop of a hat!" Sadie snarled, trying to be quiet. She wasn't, really. Maybe she was also worried because she didn't know what exactly I'd done with Tommy. I thought that but didn't dare say it. Psh, like I want to get in another argument about my relationship with Tommy, much less with Sadie?

Tommy exhaled heavily. He was practically up against my back. Not exactly helping his case. We were all pressed together that tightly. Seriously, are we stuck in quicksand or something? Why the hell isn't this line moving? Are they letting one celeb out at a time or something? GAH! I don't want to listen to this! I just want to go home and sleep. "I'm with you, aren't I, Sadie? You're the one with the ring on your finger," He said wearily. And, wow, I think I've said that before.

You would think that would be enough for Sadie, but it wasn't. Wasn't enough for me either. "And you're the one making goo-goo eyes at my sister behind my back. You spend more time with her than me, Tommy! All those late nights alone in the studio? God, Tom, I'm not stupid!" Sadie snapped. I frowned. Well, actually, Sadie kinda is. Dumb enough not to know about all the whores. Plus we haven't had a late night at the studio in like, at least two weeks.

This made Tommy mad, despite the fact that it was the truth. Tommy always gets pissed whenever you bring up the truth. "Sadie, be realistic. We work together," Tommy said shortly. I had the nasty feeling that the argument was going to get progressively uglier.

It did, when Sadie swung her arm around at him, furious. Tommy can't just brush it off, I guess. "I'm the one who's supposed to be marrying you, Tommy, not her!" Sadie shouted so loudly that heads turned in their direction. Sadie did not notice, and I wisely did not turn around so she could yell at me. "I don't even know where you live, but my sixteen-year-old little sister practically has a key to your place! I only met your brother tonight, but Jude's on a first name basis with your whole family! And it doesn't help that you're in the tabloids with her every other day, Tom! You practically had sex with her in that music video, and I had to watch it! How do you think that makes me feel, Tom?!" An outraged Sadie fumed.

She was right to be pissed. I was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. But, to be fair, she would've met the rest of Tommy's family if she'd gone to his party. I can't explain why she's never been to his place, though. And making his girlfriend watch him practically have sex with him is just cruel. I wondered vaguely how Tommy was going to explain it to her. He looks pretty damn guilty here.

Tommy shrugged. "My mother's Jude's lawyer, and my dad is a vocal coach. She met them at my birthday party. And she doesn't have a key to my place. She's just been there a couple of times... As for the music video, well, neither of us wanted that. But the label... I mean, c'mon, Sadie, you seriously think I wanted to sing those awful male vocals, let alone make out with Jude in front of a camera?!" Tommy explained a little less calmly. I was rather irked for several reasons. Firstly, he was totally lying about why I've been at his place and what's happened there. Then, of course, he failed to mention that I'd asked him to dispose of the song, and he hadn't. And, finally, what the hell is so bad about making out with me? It's not like I'm a bad kisser! Then again, if there's video footage, that could be used as evidence against him in a criminal case.

And we could see why he'd hate that.

Sadie turned on Tommy. Why isn't this line moving? I think I've moved approximately five inches here. Sheesh. "I _think _you'd use any excuse to make out with Jude!" Sadie countered vehemently. I frowned. Perhaps that's true. Tommy stiffened. I was just hoping Taylor wasn't hearing this. The last thing I need is another fight with him about Tommy.

"Sadie, I knew Jude first. She's my friend and my artist. She's not just going to disappear from my life, no matter how jealous you get. Am I dating Jude? No. So you have nothing to worry about," Tommy said a bit irately. He must get real tired of reassuring her all the time. I knew straightaway that Sadie didn't buy any of it, but I was wise enough not to get between them. Sadie's like two steps away from grabbing me by the hair and smacking me. Not gonna push her right now, thank you.

Sadie actually snorted in disbelief. "Nothing to worry about? You've got to be kidding me! You two practically have your own language!" Sadie sighed in frustration, quickly resuming her speech so Tommy couldn't get a word in. "You can't tell me there's nothing for me to worry about there because it's just not true. I'm supposed to be the only girl to you, Tommy, and right now I'm not. You can't have your cake and eat it too... I don't know if I can trust you, Tommy. Because every time I turn around, _she's _there!" Sadie implored sadly. She was beginning to get to the weepy part of an argument. She was still angry, of course, but mostly just insecure and hurt.

Tommy seemed to calm down some, sensing Sadie's pain. I have to say that's the first time he's ever cared about that. "Sadie... I can't tell you to trust me. I know my track record, and I wouldn't trust me either... But things will be different once we're married. I promise. Jude's just a friend. She's like a sister to me," Tommy murmured in a quiet voice. The words were loud enough to sting, however. I flinched just a little. It was nice to know that Sadie didn't trust me either. At least I love her! What stung most of all was the sense of loss I felt. Not because Tommy had said something mean. He'd done that before. Because that big breakthrough I'd made, where he'd finally admitted that it happened... It was like his words washed it all away, made it so it never happened. I was choking on his lies. Sister? My ass.

Sadie didn't buy it either, for obvious reasons. I mean, sister? Come on. How dumb does she look? She might be a blonde, but she's not that stupid! "That won't fix it, Tom!" Sadie shrieked so loudly I felt like everyone heard. Apparently, from the glances she was getting, everybody did. Sadie sighed heavily. "Sometimes I feel like you wouldn't even be dating me if my sister wasn't _illegal_,"She lamented, starting to cry a little. She'd said what everyone was thinking but didn't want to admit. Great, just great. I am now officially in hell, and this is it.

Unbelievably it got worse. That was enough to render Tommy speechless. It couldn't have happened at a worse moment. Sadie waited a minute or two... Those minutes became easily the most tense ones of my life. "She's _obviously _in love with you, Tommy, and she'd be with you in a _heartbeat _if you just let her!" Sadie shouted at the top of her lungs. That was my breaking point. Having to listen to them argue about me was bad enough, but having her humiliate me in public in front of famous people was another. I had to get out of there. So, fighting back the first traces of tears, I dropped Taylor's arm abruptly and fought and elbowed my way through the crowd. Damned if I wait for them to move and wind up roped into that argument with Sadie and Tommy. No thanks!

I pushed over some particularly annoying Canadian celebrities in my dash to the door. I just couldn't stand there and listen to them anymore. But I could still hear Tommy and Sadie fighting, no matter how fast I moved, as if they were in my ears. This time Tommy was the one yelling. I could sense his hand in the air, his eyes staring after me. "See, Sadie, look what you've done! You made your sister run off!" I heard Sadie slap him hard across the face.

I fought desperately to get to the front, trying to drown out their voices. But they were getting louder. "We are having a crisis here, and all you can think about is my sister! That is just too _typical_,Tommy!" Sadie hollered, slapping him again. I winced and wanted to melt into the floor. Put me between you some more, why don't you? I felt briefly bad for Tommy, but then I remembered that this was all his fault.

For some reason, this lack of concern made Tommy mad. Despite the fact that he's certainly showed me less regard. "Someone's got to when you don't seem to care if she lives or dies!" Tommy rejoined. I glanced back very briefly and noticed him moving towards me slowly. I turned back around and fought my way through the crowd like a wildcat. Sheesh, the boy just says one bad thing after another. I tried to run, but it was kind of impossible in the crowd. I didn't feel like a winner. I felt like a bitch.

Sadie grabbed him and resounded on him. "I need to know if you have feelings for her, Tommy! 'Cause that's what it sounds like when you care more about your _client _than your fiancée!" Sadie growled viciously. A wise demand it was. One that sent my heart up into my throat and made me freeze for a minute. I should've known, of course, that T wasn't going to answer.

Tommy wisely decided to snipe at her instead. "God, Sadie, can you stop being jealous for two seconds?! This is not the place." Unfortunately it was for Sadie. And she's been jealous for months. You think she's gonna stop now? Hell no. Tommy's a silly boy.

My dear sister sniffed at him. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize that the hallway wasn't appropriate for that question. Would it be less personal if I asked you if you had **sex **with her?" Sadie returned viciously, even bitterly sarcastically. She said this particularly loudly. As if I wasn't already humiliated enough. Tactless much? Plus, hello, she doesn't realize that sex is less personal for him than having feelings for someone. Or maybe she does. I wanted to look back to see Tommy's reaction to that, but doing that would be like admitting I'd nailed the guy. I hadn't done that, of course. "Oh, wait, you couldn't admit that anyway because then you'd go to jail!" Sadie drawled.

"FOR STATUTORY RAPE, TOMMY!"

I could feel Sadie's curious eyes burning a hole into the back of my head before she turned her blazing stare on Tommy. "Now," She said in a steely, challenging tone that reminded me of Clint Eastwood ("Do you feel lucky?"), "The real question is whether you're a child rapist, whether you're the kind of authority figure who would take advantage of a teenage girl who looks up to you."

Naturally, I can only assume that Tommy was absolutely incensed at that, and that he most certainly felt guilty for what he thought he'd done. But his silence made people wonder. Tommy sighed, sounding defeated. "Is that really the kind of man you think I am, Sadie?" Tommy inquired in a disbelieving, absolutely horrified voice. If it makes him feel better, I don't think he's that kind of guy, and I have the right.

Who is Sadie to judge that? She doesn't even know if I slept with him. But it sure is easy for her to think he did, you know. She needs so little convincing.

"Some kind of pedophile? Because of my relationship with Jude? You think I'm just like Chaz and my dad and my older brother?" Tommy asked, sounding so deeply hurt I couldn't believe it. I've never heard Tommy that broken up about anything. He had a way of being in quiet pain, suffering in silence. It wasn't that he thought Chaz and his dad and his older brother (who I was shocked he mentioned) were pedophiles, per se. But that was how it looked. His dad was married to a woman twelve years younger than him (at least), whom he'd known since she was six. Chaz and Ruby, well, he wasn't convicted, but everyone knows he did it. His brother, well, I couldn't vouch for him. Tommy didn't want people to look at him and think of him like that.

Ouch. That's... intense. And I really need to get out of here before he does something dumb like say yes. Which he will because he thinks we've slept together. "What, Sadie, do you want me to say yes? Every question you ask you expect a yes! You can't even have _that _much faith in me," Tommy rejoined furiously. I sighed. That wasn't a denial. Finally, I knew I had to force myself out of there, so I elbowed and elbowed some more, and I ran like a woman possessed until I could see the door. There were just a few people standing between me and the door.

"The fact that you won't answer any questions makes me suspicious, Tom. So just answer the damn question. Either you have feelings for my baby sister or you don't."

My foolish sister had just given Tommy an ultimatum. Tommy does not do well with ultimatums. I wasn't about to stand around and listen to the fireworks. Sadie was gonna roundabout on me too. So I shoved ahead out into the blinding night, flashing with cameras. I managed to scuttle down an alleyway where I was less... exposed. I sighed in relief, despite shivering in the darkness. I'll just wait here until things calm down.

Unfortunately, they did not calm down. Not even slightly. Just as I stepped into the alleyway, Sadie and Tommy emerged through another door. I groaned softly and hoped the darkness concealed me. I didn't want to get into this with them. I couldn't hear what Sadie was saying, despite the fact that she was screaming. All I saw was her chasing after Tommy in the dim light. Finally, Tommy just got so fed up with whatever Sadie was saying that he stopped dead in his tracks and whirled around, startling Sadie.

"You want the truth? Fine, then you'll get it!" Tommy bellowed. His chest heaved. "You're right about everything, Sadie! Aren't you glad?! _Yes_, I'd rather be with Jude. _Yes_, I wouldn't be with you if your kid sister was legal! _Yes_, I'm not happy! _Yes_, there's someone else! And _**yes**_, Sadie, I had sex with Jude!" Tommy roared hurtfully. I flinched abruptly, then I saw the pained look on Sadie's face and wanted to make him stop. Of course, that would mean revealing myself, and I was probably the last person Sadie wanted to see at this precise moment... Choices.

Tommy basically started telling Sadie the truth about everything, and I do mean everything. "I've been cheating on you for a long time. Since after you got back and broke up with me. Not just Jude... Jude was drunk that one time, and we've only made out since. A lot. But I cheated on you with lots of people. Any girl I could find that was willing... I even almost wound up married to my ex-girlfriend because of it, in Italy, right after we had that huge fight. I don't even remember most of them. I cheated on you with so many girls I don't even remember their names. And then I cheated on you with Chaz' ex-girlfriend, Ruby. She was living with me for a few weeks, and I only had sex with her because I couldn't have Jude. I only dated you so I could forget about her."

"You wanna know why she's been to my place, Sadie? She's even slept there, showered there. Hell, she's slept in my bed. The first time we went there to talk... no talking really happened, though... The next time I took her there after I bailed her out because she was so completely wasted. She even came over once to hang out with me, fell asleep with me on my couch. She came over last week to get her birthday present. Honestly, Jude's come over because we spend more time together."

The sad thing is that I already knew all of that. Sadie was too numb to even slap him for that. "But you can't blame any of this on Jude. She tried her best to resist. She's done it more times than I can count. All these times she'd told me to lay off because of you. Hell, I told her I wanted her at the premiere, and she turned me down flat. I told her I wasn't happy with you, that I didn't love you, all those things, and she just said that I shouldn't tell her that. And that she wanted me to say I was happy with you. She wants the both of us to be happy... It's just that that can't be possible. You can't be any happier with me than I can be with you. Jude was the reason we even got engaged," He explained patiently.

I rolled my eyes. Great. Tommy defending me. What a death sentence. Sadie is gonna hate me. So much. Then Tommy put the final nails in the coffin. "I never meant to get engaged to you, Sadie. It was all one horrible mistake! There's a reason I didn't propose. A recently divorced friend of mine gave me that ring, wanting nothing more than to get rid of it. I was going to sell it that day, but Jude found it in my pocket. She thought it was for you, so she gave it to you. Then she made sure you called me up and asked if we were engaged," Tommy explained cruelly. I know he didn't intend for it to sound that way, but sometimes his words were so biting.

Then Sadie surprised me. She finally spoke. "Why did you say yes, then, if you never meant to propose? If I'm so stupid, why didn't you, who knew better, say no?" Sadie retorted. She pushed Tommy then. "What, you couldn't tell me like a man?" She snarled. I felt suddenly proud of my sister. She looked absolutely fantastic, far too good to waste on a cad like Tommy.

Tommy flinched a little, as he always does when you insult his manhood. I believe that's a bit of a sore spot for him. He glanced down. "I do care about you, Sadie, and I didn't want to hurt you. It felt a lot like love, not that I really know what that feels like. I thought that I could make you happy. Plus... I genuinely do _like _you, and I've been engaged and married to women for lesser reasons and lesser feelings," Tommy said softly, touching Sadie's hand. My poor sister jerked away as if she'd been burned. He was right, too. Sadie was a good girl, and he sure knows her better than he knew Portia. Plus she was crazy about him. Sadie glowered at him in response, and then she whirled back and slapped him.

The smack sound was more than satisfying, and Tommy actually looked sorry. Actually, I bet it hurt too since Sadie's a blackbelt. Sadie started to cry slowly, not in the pathetically obvious way, but in the silent, disappointed way. She refused to look at him. "It wasn't fair to do that, Tommy. Not to me, not to you, and not to Jude. You could've said no. I would've understood..." Sadie murmured in a soft voice. Tommy shot her a look, and Sadie nodded grudgingly. "Okay, maybe I wouldn't have understood. And maybe I would've been disappointed. But it would've been nowhere near as bad as this. Nowhere near as humiliating as finding out _now _that you never really wanted to marry me in the first place," Sadie said with an undertone of vengeance. I could empathize with Sadie, remembering how I felt when Tommy told me he was with Sadie again, how absolutely miserable I was.

At this, she looked up at Tommy. Her tear-filled eyes flashed fury. "You got my hopes up, Tommy. You led me on. You cheated on me. And, worse than that, you broke _both _of our hearts doing it. Mine and Jude's," Sadie stated bluntly. She crossed her arms over her chest, walking towards him. "Sure, break my heart all you want... But I thought you'd at least care about hurting your **precious **Jude!" She snapped venomously, moving threateningly towards Tommy. We both noticed that he took a noticeable step back, almost like he was threatened. I frowned; well, that was kind of a nice sisterly sentiment. As nice as I can really expect.

This time Tommy looked as guilty as a murderer. I knew he was tormented by guilt, but I never really thought he felt bad about what he did to me or my sister. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe he did. Either way, he didn't seem that affected usually. Tommy's a good liar, though. He's had years of practice in that family of his at hiding his emotions. Sadie smirked victoriously, but it was a hollow victory. For a moment, after the smile fell from her face, she just stared at Tom. She stared at him like she was looking for something that she couldn't find. She seemed at a loss for words.

Her hair was starting to come undone despite all of the careful hairpins and layers of hairspray. "I love you, Tom. I love you a lot. Enough to marry you. Enough to put up with your... behavior," Sadie replied, trying to stop herself from crying. It amazed me that she was able to have such control. Her make-up didn't even run. Even in breaking up, my sister was perfect. And then Sadie frowned, the sorrow suddenly blossoming and manifesting itself all over her face. "But I'm starting to realize that half of what I loved was my idea of you, and you're not really who I thought you were at all. I don't ever think I knew you, Tom. Not even now," Sadie admitted, spitting out the words slowly like it was difficult for her.

I wish I could say that surprised me, but it didn't. Not even close. I sensed Sadie's implication that, obviously, I knew him better. Tommy missed it. I can't exactly blame her, though. Tommy makes it hard. You have to slip in under his radar and break down his defenses a little. Plus it doesn't exactly help that I spend about twice as much time with him as she does.

Sadie wiped at the fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked so beautiful there, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, moonlight shining down on her ivory skin. And yet, strangely enough, I didn't envy her. It was one of the few times in my life I haven't envied Sadie. The first time that ever happened to me was when I won Instant Star and everything in my life changed. Sadie shook her head, looking up. "And there was always this distance between us, this sense I had that something wasn't right... And it wasn't just you being unavailable. It was me, too," Sadie tried to explain, faltering when she couldn't find the words.

She sighed, suddenly finding them. "Because I never knew wholly who you were, and I can't love you for your faults. I _can't _love you in spite of what I don't know. I don't have that kind of **faith **in you, Tom. I could never love you completely," Sadie confessed. I think that was the most honest she's ever been with herself. And, in my mind, I couldn't help but contrast myself with Sadie. Once again I caught that hidden implication. I could. That was the difference between Sadie and me. I could and I did. I accepted his faults; I was used to them. I'd seen all the ugly of him hiding underneath the pretty exterior. I loved him completely, consumingly and all that... And I kept the faith. But I was done.

Tommy nodded slowly, but he seemed sort of wounded by this brutal honesty, the admission that she couldn't really love him that much. A part of Tommy deep down had depended on her for acceptance and love, I think, but she didn't really feel that way. Maybe he'd felt more for my sister than he let on. Obviously he must've liked her quite a bit to marry her. He wasn't that antipathetic to her. But Tommy seemed to understand. "Sadie, you and me... we weren't right, were we?" Tommy asked quietly, almost hesitantly. I wondered briefly why he needed the confirmation. He knew it was true.

Sadie smiled a little, letting out a breathless laugh. "No, Tom, we weren't..." She frowned, wrapping her arms around her middle. "But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt." Tom had the decency to look ashamed for that. Then Sadie's eyes hardened a little, despite the fact that they were swimming in tears. "I want know one thing, Tom, and I think I deserve to know. You owe me that much," Sadie requested, looking impossibly dignified. I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew what she was going to ask.

Tommy, the dumbass, didn't. So, like an idiot, he agreed. "Sure. Anything." He figures he owes her after what he put her through, and he does, but... honesty? Not his forte. Too risky.

My sister smirked a little, knowing she had him cornered. She could seriously ask him anything. Anything in the world, and he was obligated to answer her back. He could always lie, but my quick-thinking sister took care of that one. "And you have to tell me the truth." Against his better judgment, I'm sure, Tommy nodded again, a little slower this time. He probably thought she was going to ask some break-up question or something about his feelings for her. Tommy couldn't have been more wrong. "How exactly do you feel about my sister, Tommy? And remember, you can't get out of it. Tell me how you really feel," She questioned snidely.

I found myself waiting in the dark with bated breath. I hated the fact that I still cared, that I was still hopelessly curious. Tommy was stunned. Clearly the moron hadn't been expecting it, but my dear sister wanted some closure. I silently applauded her. Tommy looked hesitant, but he was trapped, and he knew it. He had to answer her, whether he wanted to or not.

And then my damned moron of a boyfriend walked out into the alley. I know because he glowed in the dark.

I seriously wish I was kidding about that, but I'm not. You should've seen how freaking relieved Tommy looked. I hated Taylor for that, and Sadie did too. She looked quite a bit put off, but she accepted it. "Well, it just figures... Doesn't it? That's a pretty clever way of avoiding the question, now, isn't it?" Sadie quipped irritably. She was more annoyed, really. Then, seeing Taylor, she got an idea, probably remembering a fight she'd witnessed between Taylor and me. Naturally, the fight was about Tommy. I say that because we have at least one fight about Tommy per date. Or something like that, even when I try and cut down on mentioning him at all. It was smart of Sadie to prey on my boyfriend's insecurity. "You know, we were just talking about your girlfriend and how my dear Tommy seems to be absolutely fixated on her. I think it's rather obvious he has feelings for her, don't you?" Sadie replied suggestively, pushing Tommy towards Taylor.

She wanted them to start fighting, I'm sure, but that wasn't what happened. Taylor seethed internally. Sadie rolled her eyes and shook her head, glancing at Tommy. "_There_, Tom!" She shouted dramatically, twisting off her ring and throwing it at him. Her aim was good; it hit him square in the forehead with a ping, leaving a small gash, before bouncing off one of the awards Tommy held. It landed in the gravelly dirt, falling in one of the cracks of the broken, molding concrete. "You can concentrate fully on my sister now! There's nothing left to hold you back! I hope you're happy with her!" Sadie shot back snidely, storming off. Normally I'd say I hope the same thing, but I don't.

I mean, I'm with Taylor, but that's not it. I guess I just need time. Time to figure out what I really want. Because I've had these Tommy blinders on so long I don't know anymore, and Tommy's out of the picture now... So things need to be reevaluated. I can't trust Tommy. Then again, I don't really want Taylor either. He doesn't trust me. I'd say Tim, but I don't know him. I think I just need a little time away from guys, period. I think I'll break up with Taylor then.

And not because of Tommy.

Well, actually, kind of because of Tommy.

But not because I wanna be with him.

Because Taylor will never trust me precisely because of Tommy, and what's the point in being with someone who can't trust you?

Needless to say, I was surprised when Taylor shot his brother a dirty look, picked up the ring (dusting it off on his jacket), and ran after my sister.

And then there were two.

I waited the prerequisite five minutes after Taylor left to head for my exit. Unfortunately, however, my favorite Quincy spotted me and ran after me. Ran. With the two glass awards. Desperate much? Naturally, however, I was even more desperate to get the hell away from him. So, never mind the stilettos and the sequins or my hair falling all in my eyes, I tore out of there like a bat outta hell. I ran for one of the conveniently placed limos in the vast parking lot.

Once again unfortunately, the one I picked was devoid of life- i.e. a driver. Which meant I was marooned. I was just about to sneak out of the limo when Tommy came in. And I was cornered this time around. Like a rat. "What are you doing, Tommy?" I managed in a somewhat level voice. "What do you want?" I continued defensively, even a bit bitterly. Then I finally turned around to face him abruptly. I blinked, surprised. His face was far too close to mine. "Don't you have some more hearts to break?" The words came out empty, devoid of their intended meaning.

Tommy shrugged, leaning in even closer to me. "The wedding's off, but I guess you figured that out already," Tommy explained. I nodded irritably. No duh. I saw it happen, dumbass. I rolled my eyes at him, glad I was facing the opposite direction now. No one, not even Tommy, can have a fight like that and still manage to stick it out, you know?

"Patsy said you two wouldn't make it to the ceremony, but I had no idea that the whole thing would be over in two weeks, give or take," I replied dimly. Makes me wonder if even she would've won that bet. Well, I probably would've bet on their wedding and many happy years ahead. I would've lost, obviously, in more ways than one. "I would've lost that bet." Talk about awkward.

Now that I was finally alone with a single Tommy, I just wished he would go away. That's not really healthy, is it? Tommy let out a low, throaty laugh. "For the record, I'm glad it's over. It's better this way," Tommy replied confidentially. Like that was something I wanted to hear. I didn't want to have to hear him make it even harder than it already was. No thanks. Funnily enough, though, I did agree with him. Brutal honesty's better than living a lie. Still, I knew it had everything to do with me, and I didn't want that kind of pressure.

I sighed, leaning back into the seat. The leather was, at the very least, comfortable. However, it was damn near freezing in the stationary, unheated car. Why did I have to pick the wrong limo? I had to pick the one whose driver was out on his cigarette break. Momentarily, I wondered where Sadie and Taylor had gone, but I assumed it was just home. I didn't really care, I reflected. Sure, I cared about Sadie. She was seriously hurting and might run out and do something stupid. But I didn't care if she did anything with Taylor. I felt no sense of ownership, not even the barest trace of the possessive jealousy that had always plagued me with Tommy. "Yeah. Now my sister knows how much of an asshole you really are, and she won't have you because you don't fit her perfect, preordained vision of what you should be."

Strange. That came out a lot more bitter than I intended it to. It made it sound like, well, for one like I'd heard what she said for him, and... for another... that I disapproved. I didn't disapprove, not really. I'd expected that reaction of Sadie. And I kind of envied her. She was able to just shut it off so much easier than me. I wish I could stop feeling that way about Tommy because he wasn't perfect. Unfortunately, that just made me love him more, and here he was, practically falling into my lap. Tommy regarded me with a curious look. "Huh. How'd you know about that?" He asked almost suspiciously.

I felt my heart race a little, but I turned away diffidently. I rolled my eyes calmly and tried to play it off. He mustn't know that I saw their entire break-up, pretty much. Or heard most of it, not that they were being even remotely quiet or anything. In fact, I think the whole Canadian music industry (and, I ought to say, perhaps some Americans) know that Tommy and his fiancée broke up because of his relationship with me, her sister. I'll be branded as a pre-homewrecker nationwide in the tabs this week. Joy. I kinda miss the times when I wasn't gracing the covers of so many tabloids. "It was only so obvious, Tommy. Remember what you said to me about dating a fan?" I stated as if only an idiot wouldn't know it.

The conversation in question we'd started shortly after I began dating Taylor. He pointed out that Taylor was, indeed, a huge fan of mine, all the while failing to see the irony in his relationship with my sister. It was all too easy to quote him. "It's flattering, but it doesn't last. Eventually you'll fall off their pedestal and they'll realize that you're not all who they thought you were. They're always more in love with your persona, the ideal... the face you show to the world... They love the idea of you more than they love the real thing, and that's something they just can't get past unless you knew them before," I recited from memory. He'd added that I'd wind up heartbroken, but I refrained from mentioning that since Tommy wasn't too broken up about it.

When he'd originally said that, I brought up him and Sadie, and countered by saying he didn't have a heart to break. Actually, I've said that to him before too. Tommy said it wasn't fair to say that like he says every time I say it, and I said it wasn't fair that he had a problem with me dating his little brother when he was dating my big sister. And that's when I called him a hypocrite. And implied that Tommy didn't care. It got kind of ugly. Tommy repeated his previous comment, and then there was gratuitous quoting of "24 Hours" which applies to everything in my life. Actually, it's my signature song. That and "My Sweet Time". "Waste My Time", "That Girl", and "Not Standing Around" are also contenders, but "24" is my best, oldest, and favorite.

When I looked at Tommy again, there was a faint smile on his face. Damn it. I said something right. "I'm surprised you remember that. You weren't too happy with me, if I recall correctly," Tommy remarked with a hint of amusement. I rolled my eyes at him. I wasn't too happy? Talk about your understatements. I was absolutely furious. I shrugged indifferently, wishing I could leave. I was so damn cold, and it was pointless sitting there with Tommy, engaging in pointless chatter about Sadie and whatnot. I didn't care anymore.

I decided to cut straight to the point. I didn't want to drag it out any longer. "What do you want, Tommy? Why are you here?" I asked abruptly, not mincing any words. I drummed my nails on the seat impatiently. Portia sure did one excellent manicure. The leather was soft and cream-colored, but it was cold.

Then Tommy looked at me, grabbing my chin gently, forcing me to look at him. And I knew exactly what he wanted. He said it out loud anyway. "_You_,Jude. I want you," Tommy whispered, leaning in towards me. His touch was so soft. And so misleading. So horribly misleading.

I jerked away from him. He wasn't Sadie's anymore, but I wasn't going to touch him. It was too soon, and there was the problem of Taylor and me needing to figure things out. And Sadie. It wasn't fair to her. "Don't say that," I denied in a hush, hating how my voice was breathy and my pulse quick. And that damn fluttering feeling in my stomach. But I couldn't, no, I couldn't. So I wouldn't, and I can't because it's wrong. And not right, and oh-so horribly, awfully, nastily wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong... but it's so tempting.

Tommy frowned lightly but moved towards me once again. I couldn't escape. His presence was overpowering. His eyes were dark, and I was on the verge of sinking into their watery depths. "Why shouldn't I?" Tommy hissed back. I could feel his breath on my skin. His voice changed, still bold, but more soft, considerate almost. "Why shouldn't I if it's how I feel?" I suddenly came to realize that he was half on top of me. I tried to wiggle out from beneath him, but it was far from successful. "There's nothing stopping us anymore, Jude. No Sadie in the way."

"Because it's a lie!" That was his way of trying to convince me, and it's safe to say it failed miserably. Because there was something to stop us. ME. I shook my head, pushed him away. "No, Tommy. **No. **I'm not gonna do this with you. Not now, maybe not ever. But especially not now when you just broke up with my sister!" I refused rather irritably. It was kind of insulting, made me feel all rebound-ish. Plus I couldn't do that to Sadie. Sometimes I think Tommy forgets she's my sister. Or maybe he just wants to. And then there's Taylor! His own brother! I am not going to cheat on him with Tommy, of all people, and finally do what he's been accusing me of. I refuse to give the two of 'em that satisfaction. But there was that maybe there. Damn that maybe. Damn that hope.

I tried to sit up more, but Tommy was still kind of draped all over me. He pouted adorably, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me towards him. "But I'm single now. There's no ring on anyone's finger. Isn't this what you wanted?" Tommy murmured in an almost whiny voice. He had a point there, but he'd also reminded me of something important. If you asked me last week, hell, even a day ago what I wanted most in the world, it would be this. But not now. I want to escape the drama, the vicious cycle, all that crap. It's not worth it, and there are so many other things I need to concentrate on and figure out. I'm not gonna waste any more of my time on someone who won't ever change. Who won't ever love me back. But yeah, it was what I wanted. Past tense.

I shook my head. "You're damn right, Tommy. There's no ring on my finger. Because I'm not married or engaged. And, since I'm not a slut, this can't happen. So, no, it's really not what I want," I retorted irascibly. I jerked away from him, landing on the floor of the limo rather painfully. I think Tommy smirked at that not-a-slut thing, but like I care. After all, he isn't exactly one to talk anyways, and, for all I know, I'm still a virgin. I like to think that, anyways. I blinked in surprise for a moment. Whoa. Had I just told Tommy I wanted to wait until I was married to have sex? Weird. Especially since I don't care about that, and I'm not one to adopt arbitrary moral attitudes for propriety's sake or sin or whatever. I mean, it's not like I expect Tommy to propose and mean it. Now there's a laugh.

Tommy was looking over the edge of the seat while I rubbed my head, and he was looking confused. "What?" He said, clearly not comprehending.

I glowered at him, somewhat annoyed. "I. Don't. Want. _You. _I don't want _this_. Is that clear enough for you, Tom?" I repeated slowly, treating him like he was an idiot. I sat up and started to dust myself off, preparing to make my exit. My shoes had fallen off, so I carefully put them both back on. I did all this knowing Tommy was staring at me in disbelief. I kind of enjoyed leaving him all flummoxed. I mean, wow, a girl not wanting Tommy Quincy? Don't think that's ever happened before. Must be new and scary to him.

Okay, I mean, I still want him. I can't exactly turn my feelings off on that issue. But not here. Not now. Not in an empty limo in the parking lot of some place swarming with paparazzos. The doors aren't locked, and the car isn't even heated. And he just dumped Sadie. I deserve better.

Regardless of whether I actually slept with Travis, at least there was a bed with blankets and sheets that night. Even if I was drunk. And it was my dirty room. And maybe Travis. I'm not drunk now, so, really, I have no excuse. Even if it is Tommy.

I started to rise, fully intending to storm out of the limo, but then Tommy grabbed my arm and sent me hurtling down to him. He tried to kiss my lips, but I turned my head. He missed, kissing my cheek instead. I tried to pretend I was unaffected, even tried to pull away. Then Tommy pressed his lips softly against my neck. "I wanna be with you," he whispered loudly and clearly, so that I wouldn't mistake it. The words sunk in, and I suddenly couldn't believe it. I must be hallucinating, clearly, because Tommy would never say that, especially not now.

"What?!" I gasped before realizing the words had passed my lips. He couldn't have said that.

Tommy turned so he was facing me and looked me straight in the eyes. He did that so there would be no confusion over what he was to say next. I held my breath, feeling anxious. His mouth began to open, and I bit down hard on my lip, anticipating the words I knew he was about to reissue. "I want to be with you, Jude," He declared huskily. His eyes sparkled, kind of like that fancy necklace in the Titanic. I was breathless, still in the worst disbelief. Tommy had not just said that. He couldn't have. But he did.

So I said the first thing that came to mind, which was, at any rate, most inappropriate. I didn't really know how to respond to that. I wasn't about to fall into his arms. Tommy may be charming, but even he's no Cary Grant. Naturally, I responded with that oh-so reliable anger. "Why is it every time you decide you want me, you feel the need to quote a pop song? I mean, c'mon, Mandy Moore? What's next, Tom?" I retorted, feeling exasperated. It was true, at any rate. Boys Attack! last time. "_I'm a __**slaaave **__for you_?" I sang mockingly. My eyes were like daggers.

I was real tempted to sing "Oops! I Did It Again".

Tommy scowled and leaned up to face me. He looked absolutely livid, probably because I'd driven him to peak frustration mode. "Because it's true, damnit!" Tommy bellowed. He grabbed my forearms, twisting to the side, and pulling me on top of him. "Because I mean it!" He snarled so ferociously it shook me. Then our eyes locked, and his were so dark and intense that it took my breath away. "Because I want to be with you," Tommy spat. And, just like that, it all fell into place for me. I got it.

Of course he wanted to be with me. Now, of all times. Naturally. I rolled my eyes. He just wants to have sex with me because now he can. There's nothing to stop him except me and my convictions. And Taylor. Damn that Taylor. It made me feel awful cheap, all right. "Oh, I'm sure you do, but you've already been there, done that. And we all know you don't really do seconds," I rejoined nastily. I made moves to get off of Tommy, since I was far too close to him for my health or comfort, but his hands firmly held my hips in place. He refused to let me go, and for the longest time he was silent, merely staring up at me with that dumb confused look on his face.

I smacked him in the chest irritably, wanting to get out of his vice-grip. Suddenly Tommy's eyes went wide with comprehension. He blinked in surprise. "You think this is all about me wanting to have sex with you, don't you?" Tommy asked in a surprisingly blunt tone. Once again, I rolled my eyes. Hello, limo? A car is like a motel on wheels. So obvious. Like it wasn't? Tommy obviously wanted to have sex with me, to "remember". For that matter, I wanted the same damn thing, but that wouldn't be healthy. Then again, is denying Tommy really that healthy? Tommy shook his head, frowning. "You don't get it. I don't want to have sex with you- I mean, I do, but that's not it. Not all of it, anyway. What I mean is that I... I want to have a relationship with you," Tommy blurted in a burst of explanation.

You could've knocked me over with a feather. Okay, so a part of me was expecting that, and I kind of knew that he meant more than just the fact that he wanted to hook up with me... But I hadn't expected him to just come out and say it like that, so very plainly and so powerfully out loud. And me, well, I couldn't say a damn word. Not even no. I could just stare at him, jaw flapping wide open like a flipping fish. He wants a relationship. With me. The thought was unfathomable.

I mean, Tommy Quincy wanting a relationship with _anyone _is one level of strangeness. But with me, that's just bizarre! It's a whole cake, really. And after being with my sister?

Is it absolutely terrible if I was really tempted to say yes? So horribly tempted I almost did it and actually said yes. God, I wanted to, though. I wanted to so bad. That might've been the stupidest or smartest move of my life. I can't really say. But I'll probably always wonder. And I'll probably regret it later, maybe always, and wish I'd chosen differently.

I assure you that in the last five seconds after making the decision, I've questioned the wisdom of such an idea well over a hundred times.

But I suppose I should tell you what I did, if you can't guess already.

Since I was effectively stunned into silence, Tommy took that as a positive sign and pressed his lips against mine. His lips were feather-light against mine, soft and pliant and warm. My eyes shut instantaneously, but I tried not to respond. I failed, naturally, because Tommy was so very persuasive. He slipped past my defenses, and before I knew it, his teeth grazed my bottom lip. His tongue deftly swept across the inside of my cheek. His fingers worked their way into my hair, gently undoing what hours of work had done. I think my insides actually melted, and I was gooey like a marshmallow fresh from the campfire, golden brown on the outside, hot and soft on the inside. And I was so happy, so blissfully, traitorously happy. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, sparks flitted across every ounce of skin that touched his. My head was swimming in ecstasy, and my heart pounded in my veins. It was like a fire, and I felt golden. I felt absolutely wonderful, over the moon. Tommy really did want me after all, and all those glorious things.

Then I felt the leather on my back, and I realized that we had switched positions. I guess that was what made me snap out of it. I am not the kind of girl who loses her virginity in a limo, thank you very much! I mean, sheesh! It's not like Taylor dumped me or Tommy bought me a fancy necklace. I didn't even start stripping or anything! And I just couldn't lie there and enjoy it because I have class and morals and decency and self-respect and dignity.

So I shoved the pervert off of me so hard and so fast that he tumbled to the floor of the limo. I sat up so fast that the blood rushed to my head. "I can't do this, Tommy," I ejaculated urgently. Funny word, that. Ironic even. But I really couldn't. I hastily tried to fix my hair and swiped at my smeared lipstick. Tommy groaned, rolled over, and sat up on the floor. He stared at me in absolute bewilderment, so I cleared my throat. "No."

"WHAT?!"

Can't say I blame him for being surprised.

I kinda was too. Can't believe I've got that much nerve. Woulda never thought I had it in me.

I don't think anyone, before or after, had ever told him no. Not in general, but in the context of that question. Everywhere girls were jumping at a chance just to be with him, and I'd just rejected it flat out. Me, the girl of his supposed dreams. Forgive me, but for starters, I wasn't wholly buying it. After all, at the beginning of tonight the man would barely even speak to me, much less give me a second glance. I was pretty damn sure he was furious with me and completely repulsed by my behavior.

So I sighed and took a deep breath. "Tommy, I said that I can't do this. I... I don't want to be with you. I don't feel that way about you," I replied calmly, forcing myself to try and look him in the eyes. I couldn't, though, so my eyes scanned his face, anywhere but his eyes. Tommy saw right through me, though, like I was a pane of stained glass, tinted yet still horribly transparent. Admittedly, yeah, that last part was obviously a lie, as any idiot could tell.

Tommy grabbed my hand tightly, gripping it with both hands in a fit of desperation. His eyes blazed with rage. He was enraged beyond belief at my attempted lies. "That's a lie, and you know it! If you're going to say no to something you obviously want, at least give me a decent reason! A true reason!" Tommy growled, pulling me towards him. It took all my strength, but I held back. A good reason would've been his recent break-up or my sister's feelings or the fact that I was dating his brother.

None of that would've been the whole truth, though. They were all just really excuses, none of them the main reason. I didn't think Tommy would understand why I really objected. I wisely decided to change the subject. "You say that like I'm supposed to believe you when you've barely spoken to me all week! I thought you were _disgusted _in me. What changed your mind, Tom?" I hissed. Okay, so maybe I was kinda pissed. I just didn't understand where this was coming from.

His grip on my hand loosened, but his thumb started rubbing the back of my hand distractingly. His face turned dark at the thought, but he answered soon enough for me. He seemed too embarrassed to look at me. "When I saw you and Chaz... I was angry. A part of me was angry at you, but I was mostly mad at myself for putting you in that situation, for not protecting you... and mad at Chaz, for letting you do that. I couldn't really blame you for doing that when it was all my fault. And I was jealous, so jealous that my blood practically boiled," Tommy explained in a surprisingly quiet voice. I had to lean forwards to hear him.

At that point, I felt the need to interrupt. For obvious reasons. "Yeah, because Chaz came closer to having what you wanted than you did. On the floor of your apartment," I interjected testily. Tommy's eyes narrowed. I shouldn't have reminded him of that, but I couldn't help it. Memories of him being an asshole about it and accusing me of being a whore were still horribly fresh in my mind. Hell, I said no to Travis when he said he loved me and wanted to marry me and I thought he was Tommy because of a funny feeling!

He glowered at me, eyes damn near green with jealousy. "So, Jude, was it good with Chaz?" Tommy quipped meanly. My blood boiled, and, ooh, how I hated him for it!

I slapped Tommy across the face, hard. He wasn't expecting it. My hand stung. "What kind of question is that, Tom?" I was ignoring the fact that I'd virtually asked him the same thing after I found out about him and Ruby. But that's the difference between him and me. He actually wanted Ruby. I never wanted Chaz. Nevertheless, I gave him his answer. "You say that like I actually wanted to... to do that with him! I didn't! I felt like a whore, Tommy... Like I was no better than a prostitute. It was like being raped, but I had to fake a smile and pretend I was enjoying it even though I didn't want it and I thought I would die from it, and you were so ungrateful. But yeah... Other than that it was just gr-_rreat_!" I screeched, frantically trying not to cry. My words came out in one long blur.

My darling producer had the decency to at least look ashamed of himself for asking such a horrid question. He looked at me anxiously and tried to blurt an apology, but I stopped him with a finger to his lips, shaking my head. I motioned for him to continue. "And I realized that it was true, what Chaz said. You really would do anything for me, and I didn't appreciate that like I should've," Tommy whispered. "And I'm sorry for being such an asshole to you. You didn't deserve it." I sighed and shot him a look. Like I'm supposed to buy the epiphany when it's a week late? Tommy sighed. "Okay, yeah, there's more. The way you talked about me tonight, when you were accepting that award. I wanted to _be _that guy you were talking about... I want to see myself the way you see me. But I'm not that guy. And I guess, even when I try, I really can't be him, can I, Jude?" Tommy elucidated softly, looking up at me with all the vulnerability of a child.

And that got me. That really stuck in my heart like French fries and fattening meat to the arteries. I shook my head because it was all I could do. Did Tommy really think so low of himself? I had meant every word. They'd come out without even a single thought. I felt a sudden urge to reassure him, so I grabbed his hand warmly, smiling down at him. "Tommy, you're not a pedophile." That's what I said. I should've picked something better, but that was what came out. I'd reminded him of that awful fight with Sadie, and it pained him to remember. That was also when I should've told him I never slept with him in the first place. It would've been the perfect time, but I kind of liked that secret. It made me feel like we had something real between us, a little secret of our own. He didn't look soothed like I wanted.

I sighed, leaning over so I could properly look down on him. "I knew what I was doing, okay? I always have. And I wanted it. Pedophiles manipulate kids too young to say yes, too young to know what they're doing. They take without asking. You're no pedophile, Tommy, no matter what my sister said," I explained clearly. I didn't want to make it sound like I still wanted him or anything, but I had to keep the adjective bitchy out of my sister. At that, Tommy actually did look comforted, and I felt the tiniest bit better. I rolled over, lying on my back, and I stared up at the roof of the limo. I didn't let go of Tommy's hand. "And whoever said you _weren't_ that guy, Tommy? It's not like I made you up," I quipped with an air of amusement.

I know the guy far too well because I could practically feel his smile widening. Tommy tugged impatiently on my hand, making me face him. He looked like he was expecting a yes this time around, and I was half ready to give it to him. "Jude, can you maybe give me an answer? I'm so sick of waiting," He hinted almost pleadingly. Then I remembered what he'd said, and I felt myself frown. You're not the only one who's sick of waiting, Tommy. But it looks like he's going to have to wait a while longer. Besides, I don't want him to get in jail. As long as I don't really do anything with him, I won't get him in trouble.

I exhaled raggedly and dropped my eyes to the leather seat, staring at our interlocked fingers. "I already gave you my answer, Tommy... I can't. No," I said weakly. I knew Tommy wouldn't believe that, but I found myself wishing he would. It would be so much easier if he did. I tried to turn away from him, but Tommy didn't let me. He was about to say something when I interrupted, saying the first thing that came to mind. "I don't even understand why you want to be with me anyways. You just got out of a relationship with my sister. And let's not forget the fact that I'm currently dating your little brother. You don't want to hurt him, Tommy, and this would be the unkindest cut of all," I wheedled with puppy-dog eyes, trying to convince him not to do it for Taylor's sake. But that didn't seem to work; as far as Tommy was concerned, brothers be damned in matters of girls. Hos definitely before bros.

Amusement flickered in his eyes. He smiled at me warmly, and I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Besides, I hardly believe you want to jump right into another relationship, especially if it can get you into prison. Remember, Tom, I'm not worth the jail time," I rambled with a self-deprecating smile.

That made Tommy growl. He got up on his knees so he could look at me, maybe even meet my eyes. "You are, Jude, or I wouldn't be asking," Tommy snarled in a husky voice so deep that it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He clasped my hand between two of his. My face felt hot and pink, and his hands burned my fingers. My thoughts raced at a feverish pace, thinking of another excuse. Who knew Tommy would pull a sudden 180 on me?

So I voiced my biggest objection next, the strongest excuse I could think of. Anything to make him guilty, to make him go away. Before I lost it and gave in like I wanted to. I bit down hard on my bottom lip and physically twisted my body away from him. I slipped my hand out from between his and felt the cold immediately. "Tommy, you don't love me, and I have absolutely no reason to believe you ever will. What's the point in setting myself up for one more heartbreak?" I exclaimed mournfully, fighting back tears. I exhaled softly. "Please, stop it, Tommy. This is hard enough for me as it is," I begged, unable to look at him.

I heard Tommy's breathing, labored and quiet, releasing bursts of warm air into the chill of the cab. He knew I had him there, and I could practically feel the guilt permeating off of him. Tommy didn't give up, though. It took him a while, so long I almost forgot he was there, but he came up with something. "I... I care about you, Jude," Tommy started promisingly.

At that, I sat up violently, whirling in on him. "Well, maybe that's not good enough for me, Tommy!" I snapped viciously. It wasn't. It was like winning third place, knowing he cared. You can care about anybody. Family, friends, acquaintances... I want more than just that!

Tommy looked down and continued, somewhat embarrassed. I was embarrassed too. I hadn't wanted to say that, much less like that. He took a deep breath. "I have feelings for you, Jude," He breathed. I gasped a little at that one. What is this, the night of revelations?

Then I remembered something that really cheapened the moment. Travis said the exact same thing. The day before he tried to rape me.

Thinking of Travis, I mustered up my best scowl and looked Tommy straight in the eyes. I was radiating rage. "Is that supposed to change anything?" I hissed with narrowed eyes and tight lips. I remembered the conversation I'd overheard earlier and found myself truly offended with him. "What about that girl you told Kwest about, huh, Tommy? The one you're falling for? What about her? You remember that conversation, don't you? When you said you didn't want me, but now you do?" I snapped. I wanted to see what he was going to say about that. He said he wanted to be with me now, and those were pretty words, but I wanted to know if he intended to cheat on me with that other girl.

Tommy turned pale, and for a moment I felt proud. "C'mon, Jude... I barely know that girl."

Rolling my eyes, I interjected once again. "She gets it, right? You can be completely yourself around her. You've got a connection. I know the drill, honey," I mimicked mockingly. I smirked, and Tommy looked guilty. Look at how easily his own words come back to haunt him. Bastard. "What am I, Tom, chopped liver?!"

Tommy frowned and shook his head abruptly, reaching for my hands almost frantically. "No, Jude, of course not. I was still angry then. I was lonely... Of course I feel more for you-" He was so pitiful that I had to cut him off. I had to because I couldn't bear listening to him anymore.

"No, Tommy. Enough is enough. You're only making things worse by trying to explain. Whoever this girl is, she's got to be better than me. And I know you just went with me because I'm the sure thing. So don't settle, Tommy. Go after her. She's the one you really want," I explained resolutely. Tommy shook his head and denied it. Maybe he really did want to be with me, but it didn't matter.

Even this didn't seem to damage his resolve. "I only want you, Jude. If you could only get that through your thick head, then we might be happy!" Tommy stated plainly, cutting me off abruptly. Wow. So this is what a heart attack feels like. Really, it's just one revelation after another, and I'm about to lose my mind here! I felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of me, and I didn't know what to say. I felt pretty damn cornered. He could tell me this, but he couldn't even admit to my sister that he had feelings for me?

My reasons and time were running out pretty quickly. So, in desperation, I resorted to bringing up that promise he made me. "You promised to stay away from me. What happened to that promise?" I whispered weakly. I felt as if all the energy in me had drained out.

He laughed slightly, smirking a little. "I never really intended on keeping it," He muttered. The wry smile stayed on his face. His eyes, however, told a different story. They were dark and intent. His grip on my hands was firm, almost desperate. "Don't make me, Jude." I took in a breath, and I knew I couldn't hold him to it. But I couldn't say yes either. So I just nodded and dropped his hand gently.

"My answer hasn't changed." Tommy nodded, understanding. I sighed. "I can't say yes to you, Tommy, you know that." He nodded dully and said nothing, but I knew he was disappointed, and I wanted to explain so badly. I still couldn't believe him, though. Fundamentally, nothing much had changed since he'd broken up with Sadie, least of all my feelings towards him. But my attitude had, towards giving him up against, and I guess I was a hell of a lot more confused. And angry.

"Why?" He asked simply.

Wow, I thought, I barely even know the answer to that myself. I just knew I had to do it. I literally had to. I sat up, leaning heavily against the seat, grabbing Tommy's hand for that extra bit of reassurance. It was hard to explain, really. But said it as best as I could. I'm going to break the cycle this time. I'm going to be free of him. "Tommy, if I say yes to you, then I say no to my liberty. I'll wind up back in the same damn vicious cycle, only I'll come out of it with a broken heart. And we couldn't be friends anymore. I need you in my life, Tommy. I need you as a producer and a friend. I need you to understand. But I also need my independence, and I can't have both you and my freedom."

He just nodded again, completely taciturn. But he seemed to understand. He smiled at me wistfully. "I would've promised you anything, you know... even a kingdom," Tom murmured almost dreamily. I flinched at his statement, and I knew I couldn't stay any longer. But I wanted him to keep a promise. So maybe I would make him do it after all.

I let go of Tommy's hand again, straightening my clothes. "Then I want you to promise me something, Tom." It came out ominous, but Tommy didn't notice. He looked almost excited that I wanted him to promise me something. He shouldn't. "I need you to promise me that you won't bring this up again unless I ask you to. That we won't speak of it. We can't speak of it," I urged him almost pleadingly. Tommy stared at me in alternating horror and shock. "We must forget about it." He stared at me uncomprehendingly, but I knew full well he understood what I meant. So I was forced to say it, and don't think I didn't hate myself for it, but say it I did. "It never happened." I repeated those three silly, self-denying stupid words like a charm. Abracadabra and it would all go away.

Just friends, I pleaded silently. That's all I can handle right now, and I'm not even sure I can do that. I remembered all those things I'd said after he got engaged to Sadie, the promises that we would be just friends and nothing more, the ultimatum I gave him, the resignation to a life without him in it in that capacity. It strengthened me just a little bit, but I knew I had to keep it now, and now it would be even harder with him single. Oh-so-single it hurt to think about it.

Tommy's eyes narrowed in disdain, but he nodded curtly. He obviously saw it as just another way I was throwing his words back in his face. I thought he was going to rip out something like "Et tu, Jude?" Fortunately, he didn't. His cobalt gaze was steely and cold, as were his hands clutching mine. "Fine. If that's the way you want it. It never happened. But first, let's at least make it a memory worth forgetting, shall we?" Tommy agreed ironically, eying me suggestively. I gulped nervously.

My dear producer, however, practically pounced on me. In all actualities, Tommy pulled me into his lap before I could protest. His lips slammed into mine, freely assaulting me. His kisses were hard and fast and took the breath right out of my lungs. And every kiss hurt just a little more. His lips trailed feverishly down my neck, applying the perfect amount of pressure. His wet tongue flitting over my sensitive skin. It was a deliberate, calculating maneuver to ensure that I would have a lovely little stream of obscenely red reminders, like a bunch of pustules, down my lily-white neck. Tommy is an evil genius. His fingers played with my hair, twirling strands of it. His hands on my cheeks, then around my neck, moving slowly down my arms, across my waist torturously until I stopped him dead in his tracks, cutting off his advances.

Obviously, I couldn't let it go on any longer. Tommy was either really trying to get his memory's worth, or he was trying to convince me I'd made a mistake. Nevertheless, I shifted in his lap, twining my arms around his neck and delivering an extremely passionate kiss on the lips. I kept at it until I had no breath left, and we collapsed on the floor, a panting, sweaty mess. For a moment, I let myself rest there, on top of him, catching my breath. I closed my eyes and just listened to the sound of his heartbeat, slightly racing but steady and sure, dependable, reassuring. And soothing. But I did that for only a moment, until the weariness lessened some, or, rather, until I could breathe again. Then I slowly rose, pressing a soft kiss to Tommy's lips before standing completely. "Goodbye, Tom."

He sealed his lips, sitting up slowly. I flashed him a weak smile and hurried out of the limo. Most of the limos were gone, so I called a taxi fairly quickly. I had to get home and check on Sadie, lest she think I was doing something truly inappropriate with Tommy, like nailing him. I told the driver to step on it and wound up paying him a hefty fee, which he fully deserved for not saying anything about my disheveled appearance or who I am. Since I was horribly flushed and messy, and my neck was properly marked up, I found the need to fix myself up a bit, so I climbed into my room, wiped away the make-up, and I changed into more comfortable clothing (that hid quite a bit) Then and only then was I proper and presentable enough to go visit my doubtlessly sobbing sister.

Hesitantly I walked up to her door, knocking quietly. When I didn't get a response, I tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. I took a deep breath before going inside, knowing full well that I was the last person other than Tommy my sister wanted to see now, of all times. Needless to say that we needed to have a sister-to-sister talk. A proper one, when Tommy wasn't hanging between us. Since she didn't seem to object, I slowly pushed open the door and slipped inside. Sadie was on her bed, sobbing quietly. I nervously plodded towards her, holding out a hand with a vague sense of trepidation. I approached her slowly. "Hey..." I whispered in what I hoped was a soothing tone. I carefully placed a hand on her back. "So, how do you feel?" I questioned in a weak whisper.

Dumb word choice. Sadie's head jerked up abruptly at that, and she glared at me through eyes brimming with tears. "How do you think I feel, Jude?" She remarked sharply, shooting me a look that could've peeled the bark off even the hardiest tree. My sister paused deliberately as her face curled up into a scowl. I felt somehow responsible for it, as I suppose I kind of was, wasn't I? "Like my fiancé just dumped me because he never meant to marry me in the first place. It was all one giant _mistake_!He never loved me, Jude... and I feel like no one else will either!" Sadie lamented. Her voice was hoarse and all over the place, hysterical.

I frowned at Sadie, wondering why she took the thing with Tommy so personally. No matter how much she loved him, my sister has never had any trouble getting a guy. She could walk around oblivious and millions would fall for her. I cleared my throat awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say to that. I wanted to deny it, as was the obvious truth, but I couldn't. Instead, I merely looked down shamefully, rubbing Sadie's back in a clockwise motion. "Sorry... Dumb question," I murmured apologetically. I wasn't exactly helping things, was I?

"I didn't hear you come in," She sniffed. I just shrugged helplessly. I couldn't very well tell her I snuck in through my window to avoid her, now could I? She glanced up at me, frowning. "Why are you even here anyway?" Sadie snarled bitterly, giving me a dirty look. "Shouldn't you be out celebrating with... _Tommy_?" She managed before her voice broke on his name. The tears started up anew and in a fury.

I wanted desperately to say something to comfort my sister, but I couldn't think of anything. I tried to rub her back, pondering what she meant. Why on earth would I celebrate with Tommy? I mean, I know it's kind of a shared triumph, the award, but it'd be dumb to do it without my sister and boyfriend. Plus, like I trust myself alone with Tommy. I'm not stupid enough to believe that I can, even now when I've REALLY sworn him off. For reals this time. "Celebrating the award?" I questioned somewhat awkwardly, gazing at Sadie anxiously.

Sadie glowered at me through her tears, slapping my hand away angrily. "No, celebrating his newfound freedom!" She exclaimed loudly. I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, which worried me. In addition to that, I felt guilty as sin. In a way, I kind of had. I'd rolled around with Tommy in the limo. I didn't... do anything worse, though. At least. Not that I could feel much better about that. I knew this would be bad, but I didn't think it would be this PAINFULLY awkward. "It's a big deal... the award," Sadie muttered a few moments later, wiping at her eyes. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen.

I shrugged noncommittally, sitting down gingerly on the edge of Sadie's bed. Readily, I wrapped an arm around her, forcing myself to look her in the eyes. Sadie let me. That was a good sign. "No, Sadie. I'm where I should be," I affirmed. I hugged her, sweeping her hair over her shoulder gently. I smiled a little. "Besides, the award was kind of cheapened for me. It's can't be happy when my sister's miserable," I explained warmly. My intention was to soothe Sadie, and I wasn't even lying. I had felt no happiness in her break-up with Tommy. I couldn't enjoy it when it had made everyone so miserable.

Admittedly, okay, I kind of knew it was coming. I know it's what's best for everyone. Sadie and Tommy would never have been happy together. I know that, and deep down Sadie knows that. I was miserable too, but I could've dealt with that if I knew they were both happy. And I knew I was always that wedge between them. I tried to back off and stay away, but it never really worked. I just feel so bad that them breaking up is pretty much entirely my fault. And over something so trivial as Tommy hugging me twice. In public.

That was the wrong thing to say. Sadie dragged her fingers through her hair, glaring daggers at me. Her lips curled into a sneer. "_Please_! Be my guest! **Be **happy! Don't stop on my account! You've been waiting for this moment since the day you found out we were together!" Sadie proclaimed far too dramatically, rage dripping off of every word. I hung my head but took it without any outbursts of emotion. She moved away from me, gesturing about wildly. "Go on ahead. Tell me 'I told you so', laugh in my face... I give you my permission," Sadie spat, voice heavy with self-loathing. I felt chills go up my spine.

Of course I couldn't laugh at my sister or tell her "I told you so." Like I could go ha-ha-ha at her! I am quite possibly the worst person to mock her. I mean, I couldn't make fun of her and relish in her pain. Me, of all people, who knows the horrible things Tommy can do to your heart better than almost anyone (except, perhaps Portia)! I'm no one to talk. I warned Sadie about him for her own good, but also partly because I was so jealous I could barely stand it. I shook my head, needing to clarify it as soon as possible. "No. He broke your heart. I'm not one to rub salt in a wound, Sades... No one deserves that, least of all my big sister," I whispered honestly.

That was it, basically. He broke her heart, but not quite like he'd broken mine... and that was all that mattered. Sadie shook her head, looking more than a little confused. Man, we have a screwed up relationship. "You told me he would. You warned me, and I didn't listen. I thought... I didn't think it would happen. But you were right. You knew," Sadie restated in a pained voice. I could tell she was really going around in circles on it, and I understood completely. Every girl likes to think like that until the break-up.

I reached out to hug Sadie again, noticing that the tears were falling down her face in hot waves. "I didn't want to be right, Sadie. But I was expecting that. Experience. He did it to me so many times that I could just see it happening to you... And I wanted something better for you because you deserve it. I wanted to stop it from happening, but I couldn't, and you wouldn't listen to me. I'm sorry, Sadie. I should've tried harder, and..." Here I paused for a moment, unable to mention it. I didn't want to go there, to open up that can of worms. But I made myself say it. "I shouldn't have come between you two."

There, it was out in the open. I held my breath, waiting for a reaction. Probably an impending explosion. My sister, however, surprised me. "Don't be sorry, Jude. It would never have worked out," Sadie replied in a strangely calm, matter-of-fact voice. She smiled weakly, waving it off dismissively. I'd always admired Sadie's ability to compartmentalize. She could compress while all my emotions were stitched unto my sleeve. "It wasn't even you. I was dumb enough to go after Tommy when I knew you... when I knew he was such a big part of your life. I as much as picked that fight with him. Hell, you probably saved me an embarrassing one-to-two year marriage and painful divorce," Sadie remarked, sounding strangely blasé. I couldn't help but smile at that.

It was strange. Sadie had gotten dumped, but she was... comforting me? Well, I also helped her out of a million or two in a settlement (and a freakishly adorable baby or two). I don't quite know Tommy's net worth. I know he's still getting royalties money, in addition to the nice chunk of change he pulled off from the tours and merchandise and CD sales from Boyz Attack!'s glory days. In addition to the money I'm sure he's gotten from appearances and such, not to mention his trust fund, G. Major paycheck, the money he makes off of his artists' album sales, his real estate holdings, and the wonderful investments I'm sure he's made. Sades shook her head. "Besides, it was my own damn fault anyways. I didn't want to believe you... I wanted to believe that I'd finally found it. I think... I think I knew all along that it would happen," Sadie admitted. It was easily the most honest we'd been in a long while.

Sadie sighed, regret heavy in her countenance. "I just wish you told me it would hurt so much."

Now, that was something I couldn't have told her. There aren't words for that kind of pain, for what Tommy's put me through. Which is a helluva lot. I shrugged, trying to play it off. "It fades, eventually... To a dull ache. It flairs up again sometimes. I guess I forget about it... when he smiles at me," I murmured somewhat dreamily. I was so used to pain from Tommy that I knew I could take it. I mean, right now... Anything could happen to me, just about anything, and I know I'd be okay. So Tommy breaks my heart once more. Am I any more hurt, any more affected? I know I'll just forgive him again in the end.

My sister looked at me, and I think it's the first time I've ever seen her truly impressed... of me. In a lot of respects, I'm stronger than Sadie. I think it's that I'm less willing to live a lie than she is. I've always gotta face things head-on, you know? I just keep charging on. Sadie bit her lip. "Does it ever go away?" She asked softly.

I let out a hollow laugh, smoothing her hair. "The pain of a broken heart courtesy of Tom Quincy?" I had to bite back the "Little Tommy Q". Sadie nodded anxiously. Then I snickered, shaking my head no. "For me... No. I've been a goner from Day One," I elucidated mirthlessly. It was a kind of pathetic position to be in, embarrassing even, being Tommy's fool.

"Great," Sadie quipped sarcastically. Her shoulders sagged, but I was glad to notice that she'd stopped crying. Somehow I doubted that. For a moment she stared at me as if in disbelief. "You know, Jude, I'm not strong like you. I can't take all the heartache a man like that has to dish out. I can't throw it back in his face like you do. I can't make him feel... anything," Sadie muttered, sounding defeated. Funny. I never thought about it like that, but I could take everything in his arsenal. I'd never imagined I threw what he'd done to me back in his face. Maybe I did. But I didn't like to think of it like that. Made me feel like a bitch. Sadie gaped, shaking her head in sympathy. "It must eat you alive to see him every day."

I know what my sister thinks. I know that's how she'd feel, but it's not how I feel. Seeing him doesn't really hurt. It's a reminder of what I can't have, sure. It's been painful sometimes, like when he told me he was back with Sadie or when "it never happened". That's the closest it's come to eating me alive. Those days right after... But I was more angry than hurt then. I shook my head abruptly. "It never has." Wow, I'm sick. It's like I like pain or something. "And I'm not strong. I'm just sick enough to keep coming back for more and dumb enough to forgive and trust him all over again," I stated blankly. Sadie was smart to ditch him. I've been trying to do that since he reeled me in.

To little to no success, I might add.

Sadie sighed pitifully, sinking into her pillow, pulling the blankets around her. She didn't look at me, and it seemed clear that she'd retreated into her own little world. "I was going to be his wife, but now that's never going to happen. What if I'm alone for the rest of my life?" Sadie pondered aloud, sounding more lost than I had ever heard her. I was used to her always having it together, never doubting herself. Sadie having a crisis of confidence was something I was wholly unprepared for.

I blinked, still surprised. I was the ugly duckling here. Hell, Tommy had still put the ring on her finger, not mine! How could she think she wasn't wanted? I pushed down the scoff that was building up in me. "You, alone? Please! You were _meant _to be married. You've practically got guys crawling all over you. I know that there's a million guys who would kill to have you on their arm. Screw Tommy. He's never been the marrying type... and he had no right to string you along," I declared in a too-bright tone, hoping she would get the message.

She just needs to get over him. Once she meets another guy, she'll be fine... It's best to put your mind on another guy when it comes to Tommy. Distractions are best. Only if they rival the original. Taylor does not. Now, who do I know that's Sadie's type and the marrying kind? I frowned, thinking it over, and then got a sudden idea. My eyes lit up and I grabbed a pen and paper from Sadie's nightstand. "Hang on a sec! I'll give you Chaz' number. He's single, and I know he's marriage-minded... plus he's really sweet, and I know he thinks you're hot... Plus you totally made out with him at that concert when you were fourteen and-" I was about to say his ex was back in town so he needed to get his mind off her, but I thought the better of it. They're both on the rebound. What can it hurt?

Sadie shot me a vile look that clearly meant business. She drew back. Naturally, I was too busy jotting down Chaz' number for her to notice this. "You never wanted us to get married! It wasn't in your plan, so you..." Sadie cried, pointing a finger in the air. I froze. She chooses now to bring this up?! NOW?! Why now? I thought she'd forgiven me.

I saw a momentary flash of red. Plan? My plan? Since when was I the domineering sister here? "Just come out and say it, Sadie! So I what? I sabotaged your engagement?! That's what you want to say, isn't it? No! I'm with Taylor. You and Tommy were, I thought, happy together... and I was happy _for _you! Why would I ruin that?" I snarled, standing up abruptly and moving away from my sister. I threw the number at her, dropping the pen down on the floor. I had half a mind to storm out of the room, but it was at least partially my fault so I forced myself to stay.

The look in Sadie's eyes said she knew exactly why. Jealousy. Obviously I wanted Tommy. I hadn't exactly been the best sister lately, ever since him, really... She stared at me with such resentment in complete silence, but she didn't get externally enraged. Finally, after an eternity, she muttered something. "Because he chose _you_," She said resolutely, crossing her arms at her chest. Her eyes were boring into the floor. "Tommy _picked _you," Sadie repeated for emphasis as she brought her eyes up to look at me.

Wha? I blinked in confusion. He did no such thing. I'd know if he did! I offered him that so many times, and he always picked Sadie over me, but I was still there on the sidelines waiting around like a lost sheep. I shook my head defiantly. "He never chose."

Sadie shot me yet another dirty look. She rolled her eyes at me, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But he's _always _picked you over me, and I was just too dumb or too unwilling to see it," Sadie grunted. I shook my head so hard my world spun a little. I knew Sadie was giving me another "duh" look, but I shook my head so I couldn't see it, even if it made me dizzy. "There's a reason you've been to his place, slept over even... There's a reason you know his family, and I don't. There's a reason you found the ring, and I didn't. There's a reason you were invited to his house for Christmas. It's that strong, symphonic connection that you two share," She pointed out bluntly.

She sighed as I continued to deny it. "You don't understand, Jude. I made him choose, okay? I gave him an ultimatum, and he picked you."

That was where I couldn't listen to any more. She might've done that, but it was a lie. "You're mistaken, Sadie. You asked Tommy how he felt about me, and he couldn't even answer. He doesn't love me any more than he loves you. Alright? I know 'cause I heard it from the horse's mouth. So trust me when I say that if Tommy really wanted me, he'd be with me now. And he's not. He was with you," I countered with a bit more vehemence than I'd intended. I hadn't realized that I'd just revealed overhearing their conversation. If Tommy really wanted me, he'd convince me. He wouldn't take no for an answer. He only thinks he wants me.

Surprisingly, my sister played Devil's advocate, taking Tommy's side. "What if he was scared? People get scared?" She checked with a quaver in her voice.

I smirked, shaking my head again. "Tom Quincy does not get scared. If he wants something, he chases it, and he gets it. He had a choice, and he chose you in the end," I corrected. I was about to end it with the chase comment, but that was untrue. Tommy had, in some ways, chased after me. But he didn't get me in the end.

Sadie stood up, planting her hands firmly on my shoulders. She looked me hard in the eyes, and it occurred to me that my sister was stronger in a different kind of way, a flinty Plexiglass sort of way. Rocks could smash into her, and she would crack, but she'd stay together. Or maybe that's how I'm strong. I just mean that Sadie didn't show her cracks. She seemed fine on the outside, whereas everyone knew it when I fell apart. I was surprised by her unusually confrontational style. She was usually secretly bitchy, making snide, pointed comments.

"I'm gonna tell you something, Jude, and I'm only going to tell you this once, so you better listen up. That man. Loves. You. Okay? He might not know it yet, because, let's face it, Tommy's as dense as brick... And he doesn't know the first thing about love or healthy relationships, but someday, mark my words, he's going to realize it, and he's going to come to you, bearing what he can of the heart we both know he's got... And if you say no, that's it. No second chances. Tommy will close off to you like a clam, and you'll never get back inside. Be patient, and you've got Tom Quincy in the palm of your hand if you want him."

She said it so matter-of-factly that I was impressed. Especially since she'd just broken up with the guy. "We dated for six months off-and-on, got engaged for two weeks, and he chose you over me in the end because he wanted you more. Despite every reason in the world not to, Tommy's thrown his lot in with you. You're dating his brother, six years younger than him, illegal, and work under him. And he still wants you," Sadie said even a bit rudely. She backed up then, hands dropping off my shoulders.

Once again, I had to disagree with her. Sadie stopped me before I could disagree with the statement that he loved me. Pure insanity, I assure you. Besides, it'd be years before Tommy ever admitted that, even if he was. In addition to that, there was the awful creeping sensation I had that maybe I'd already turned my back on Tommy. No second chances. That didn't seem fair to me, though, because I'd given him a million. "The ring was on your finger, Sades, not mine. He could have had me in a minute if he wanted. He didn't. It has nothing to do with either of us, Sadie. It's about Tommy and his issues. Tommy chose himself in the end. He chose his freedom," I continued in much the same no-nonsense tone as my big sister.

Sadie was about to interrupt, but I cut her off. It's true. Tommy chose being friends with whoever he damn well chooses and sleeping with anyone he wants to bang. He didn't choose fidelity and monogamy. As for me, Tommy burned his own bridges there. "Before you say I'm crazy, I overheard him and Kwest talking about this new girl Tommy's falling for. He can't commit. He can't even stick to one girl, Sadie," I blurted, briefly enjoying the look of surprise on her face. That, needless to say, was enough to shut her up.

When she finally spoke again, I was surprised. Of course Sadie knew he'd been cheating. He'd just told her. So my sister nodded like a martyr. "Yeah, I know... He said as much, at any rate. I just... didn't think he'd fallen for someone." She sounded more than a little shocked. But I was the one about ready to be stunned. Sadie looked down, picking at her quilt. She shrugged diffidently. "I guess I can't blame him," She muttered distractedly. I was disappointed in how accepting she seemed to be of his infidelity. I, at least, did not go so easy on him. She sighed heavily and looked up at me nervously. "Tommy and I didn't have sex," Sadie confessed, almost as if embarrassed. Her face was actually red.

Once again, you coulda knocked me the hell over, and I wouldn't have even swung a punch. WHAT?! I mean, hello, she dated Tommy... How did they never? My mind was racing with thought after thought, synapses connecting in disbelief. I swallowed, unable to speak for a few minutes. Strangely enough, though, I was relieved, and I guess it did explain a lot... Still, it made me wonder how far they'd gone, if I'd gone further with him and so on... "Oh. I always thought..."

Sadie fixed me with a severe look, crossing her arms over her chest sassily. "I know what you thought. The whole **world **knows what you thought," Sadie hissed a bit icily. It was understandable, since her name was now a synonym for whore. I felt a pang of shame... I hadn't thought that Sadie was... Much less after dating Tommy? "But I'm still a virgin." That, quite possibly, surprised me even more. Sadie's had a boyfriend for as long as I can remember. For a moment I just gaped, feeling my own face flush in horror and embarrassment. I felt like THE world's biggest bitch. And I'd vilified Sadie.

But eventually I managed a smile, even though it was a shaky one. "Oh, me too... I'm sorry. I was feeling spiteful," I whispered apologetically so that she could barely hear me. Sadie's jaw dropped.

"Wait... you never slept with Tommy either?" Sadie gasped. I smirked and shook my head. Man, I've really got everybody fooled here, haven't I? I guess I deserve that, though. It doesn't hurt coming from Sadie. I mean, now both of us haven't slept with him like that, and so we're not playing that awful game of Guess-Who-Nailed-Tommy. "The v-v-video?" Sadie sputtered. I shook my head, feeling the need to explain.

I bit down on my lip. "I hate that song. I didn't want to do it. The label made the both of us, and the directors and crap..."

Sadie frowned, staring up at me in confusion. She played absentmindedly with a strand of hair. "But Tommy said... If you didn't, why does he think you did?" Sadie wondered, looking positively bewildered. My face literally burned. And I probably looked like a cherry. Just peachy. How on earth am I gonna explain this to her?!

"Because I told him we did. And he believed me."

Okay, so it was really that simple. My sister's brow furrowed. She looked completely confounded. "Huh? I mean, what do you mean? But why would you-" Sadie stuttered, still in disbelief. As if I wasn't already flushing down to my roots. I swallowed hard, deciding to explain as quickly as I could. The faster I did it, the less she heard, and the less I was embarrassed.

"Because he broke my heart. It was the week I came back... that Thursday. We went to his place to talk, and Tommy was drunk. He kept coming on to me, but I would push him away because he was so wasted. And I didn't want him drunk. He kissed me a couple times, said a thing or two, and I helped him up to his bed. He wanted to have sex with me, but I just helped him undress, tucked him in bed, and sang him to sleep. Then I left. Tommy was so drunk he didn't remember what happened, so when the next day he told me he'd gotten back with you... I was completely crushed. I knew I had to lie to him, and I could either say that nothing happened or that something did, and I chose to overexaggerate. I was so shattered that the only thing I could think of doing was hurting him as badly as he'd hurt me. So when he asked, I lied. I told him we had sex. And it made me feel better," I rambled so quickly that the words ran together.

Understandably, this was a lot for my sister to take in. A lot for anyone to take in, really, but it was quite a relief to get it all out. To FINALLY tell someone. I know someday Tommy'll find out, and it won't be pretty. I waited with bated breath for a reply from my sister. She just stared for what seemed like an eternity, but she didn't look sad or furious with me. Finally, after about a million years, Sadie spoke. She looked absolutely flummoxed. "I... wow... Just... wow." I rolled my eyes. Real intelligent, Sadie. She was numb with shock, but I could tell she was just as relieved as I was. She exhaled with a little laugh, applauding me. "You've given him a taste of his own medicine, so bravo!" Sadie exclaimed. That, I suppose, was what she admired about me.

After that, Sadie hugged me tightly, and she said she understood. She was glad we'd gotten all of this out in the open and happy that we could move on from the drama. I was wondering what kind of nice alien had taken over my sister's body and made her forgiving. I could tell, though, that she was still all broken up about it. She said she just needed some time to deal with it and begged that I leave her alone. All in all, I was glad to leave her, and desperate to get news of Tommy and their break-up out of my mind. Before I left, though, Sadie shouted something after me, "Oh, yeah... You might not want to call Taylor for a while!" I froze. All that chaos and I'd forgotten about my supposed boyfriend? Yikes.

I wondered briefly what Sadie had said. I was sure she'd said something, and I was probably right. Then again, he was just as likely to be pissed for Tommy-related reasons, so it was better to pin it on that. Taylor will find any excuse involving Tommy to mistrust me. And this one is actually legitimate. I shrugged nonchalantly, not really caring. Taylor was stressful, and I just wanted to escape for a while. So I quietly dressed in comfortable clothing in my room and put on some fresh make-up.

Out of sight, and out of mind, right?

So what if there's no second chance, and I've lost him forever!

I decided that it was maybe time for another drink or twenty. Screw that no drinking thing. I mean, seriously, what else can happen? If I ever needed a drink, it would be now. All my normal drinking buddies were generally out... Patsy, I knew, was previously engaged ("I intend to be screwing all night long", she'd remarked blithely, adding that she'd take me out later to celebrate if I did win). Clearly Chaz and Tommy were out of the picture, and Speed and the guys had an important gig tonight. It was also Jamie and Kat's date night, so I didn't want to interrupt that... and, of course, Joan doesn't drink. And Tim probably has plans at this hour, maybe even with his girlfriend, so... I'm not going to call him up and risk catching him in the middle of a date.

I suddenly remembered the offer I'd been given earlier and started to smile. Maybe this night could be salvaged after all. I pulled the scrap of paper out of the waistband underwear, glancing down at the number. I tried to memorize the numbers before deftly dialing all of the numbers. I waited anxiously as I heard the phone ring three times. Pick up, pick up, pick up! Finally, after what seemed like forever, I heard a low, scratchy voice answer the phone. "'Lo?"

I smiled. At least one thing was going right for me tonight. "Hey, Jeff. This is Jude Harrison, you know, from earlier? Anyways, I was wondering if you're still free... I'd really love to hang out with you."

And I did.

Loren ;

Review. Seriously. Please. I want them. Think of it as a Christmas present for me, just like this chapter may be a Christmas present for you (if I don't post before then). Very cheap, too. Only a couple of minutes of your time, which, heck, if you've read the entire chapter, you've already wasted more than that on me and this story. ;) Anyway, if I don't post before then, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah (I know it's a little late), Happy Kwanzaa, and a Happy New Year!


	39. Walking Contradiction

For starters, I am so totally and completely sorry it took so long for this update to show up. As I write this, the chapter is still far from done, but I'm hoping to remedy that. I really did mean to get the chapter out before Christmas. But my other stories and mainly my life interfered. It's been hella crazy lately, and, honestly, a lot of things have distracted me. Like sleeping and movies and school and the election and strange events and holidays and family and college applications and interviews and friends and stress and me-really-needing-to-breathe and so forth. But a lot of the delay was just a lack of inspiration, and, really, a lack of desire to write on this story. Which sucks, since this one's my favorite. Still. And my baby. Honestly, I've been really uninspired/interested with Instant Star in general lately. I mean, new eps are on, and I didn't see much of last season at all because I think it got melodramatic and kinda started sucking, but still I'm pissed that they're cancelling it. Just got rid of the ONLY reason I ever watched the-N. But, you know, I read a couple fics... but those weren't enough. And then, today, when I found myself watching YouTube IS videos, that desire kind of revived itself again. And it was the music which brought me back, which is the thing I loved about the show in the first place. Well, and the characters, but the music is the constant.

So, here I am typing up this note. It really sucked being blocked on a dull part and simultaneously realizing that I had nothing to say for the part I was looking forward to. So that really helped, as you can tell. I mean, I'd been looking forward to writing this very chapter for months, maybe even a year or longer. And it just depressed me. Because it was kind of ruined. And I used to update like once or twice a month and now I don't, and, well, that depresses me. But no more. Phew. I've been writing snark on my other story for a while, so I can do it in this one.

Okay, so yeah, I wanted to finish this chapter out before I go to D.C. this weekend and then I've got this birthday party for a friend of mine, so after tomorrow me and my computer won't have much time together at all. So here I am in the middle of the night, working like a madwoman. It feels like there's still so much to be done. As you can see this part is clearly written later than the above two paragraphs. Anyways, it totally hasn't turned out at all like I expected. The fight is mostly about Jude, for starters, and it was really supposed to be about their pasts and issues and whatnot, and those barely factor in at all. I am, however, pretty proud of the fight scene, considering I know nothing about fights. Oh, and the chapter kind of turned out like twenty-or-so-pages-longer-than-I-intended, but I made myself not care about the word length. ALMOST FIFTY-EIGHT PAGES! I PROMISE that the next one will be shorter. For one thing, it's got way less plot... this one... It's a hell of a chapter, really.

Oh, first I should say that a lot of the French they use is rather, obscene and explicit. Some a lot more than other bits. There are some parts that aren't even obscene at all. But they're having an argument, so it's only natural. So if that offends you, well, just look past it, I guess. However, since Jude's translating, she's not gonna know the really bad words. There's a fair bit she doesn't translate, which tends to be the worst stuff.

Okay, I also would like to thank several things that made this chapter possible. Namely the French part, which is kinda climactic, since with the help of the devices listed after this sentence, I wrote it pretty much all by myself. I owe a deep debt first to French in Your Face, from which I draw many of the lovely expressions. Secondly, my thanks goes out to my Pocket Oxford-Hachette French Dictionary... which is not pocket-sized. Not even remotely, unless you have pockets that are like over four inches wide. And then the rest of the thanks go out to Wikipedia's page on Quebec French, , Swearasaurus, and any of those sites I looked over for slanguage. Any errors can probably be blamed on me for misreading or misconjugating something. I apologize for them, as I have stringently tried to avoid them. Okay, and if it sounds a little strange, that's 'cause parts of it are Quebec French, especially Travis' parts. Ideally, I would've done the whole thing in it, but we learn European French in my French class, so that's the grammar and vocab I know. Because Quebec grammar really confuses me. So I tried to stick to the simpler stuff out of that and some vocab choices. Tommy's French is more European because, remember, he's a French citizen. Okay, and yeah, I didn't use the French word for Forget-me-not. Because I figured, who the hell is going to know this? If I just translate it as ne-m'oubliez-pas, people will know what I'm talking about. Oh, and lol, as a little homage to Tommy-on-the-show's Acadian heritage, I use the verb râper once or twice, which means the same thing as fourrer and all that jazz.

Okay, let's see... I don't own the following: "Conquest" (Patty Page), the various personages and places of Instant Star even though it feels like I do by this point (Linda and Steve), the line "Carpe Omnias" (Hard Candy), Cyrano de Bergerac or the passage from it (Edmond Rostand), , Cool Whip, "White Christmas" (Bing Crosby), "You Drive Me Crazy" (Britney Spears), the one-inch punch, Jude's necklace, the various dresses, and, hm, everything else I can't remember. Which is prolly a lot. I do, however, own Travis, Taylor, Torie, Theo, and Joan. And, of course, the plot.

"_Oh, I don't want a lot for Christmas... There is just __**one**__ thing I need!_" I sang brightly, adjusting my dress and peering at my reflection in the mirror. "_And I don't care about the presents... underneath the Christmas tree! I just want you for my __**own**__, more than you could ever __**know**__!_" I bellowed while putting in the earrings Tommy had given me. They hurt my ears, as did the reminder of what I'd given up... what I wanted for Christmas but would never get. "_Make my wish come tru-ue! Baby, all I want for Christmas is... __**you... **__You-ou, ba-bay!_" I blasted along with Mariah Carey, managing to impressively mimic her.

So what do I want for Christmas that I can never get?

Tommy's heart.

I was in the middle of the next verse when Sadie walked in, frowning at me. "Come on, Jude. I've got to get you to G. Major so Portia can do your hair and make-up." I nodded, sitting down on my bed and putting on the matching heels. Once again I'm wearing blue. This time it's ice blue with elaborate spiral beading. It's sleeveless and floor-length. It flares out at the base, and I've got a bit of a train going, which will really be annoying in the snow. A slightly darker blue ribbon wraps around the top, ending in a lovely bow with a flower stitched on it. It's really quite lovely and formal. I've got on matching open-toed spike heels that are kind of gorgeous, and a ridiculously expensive necklace Taylor got me.

It weighs a ton, and it's all sapphires and diamonds. I can barely keep my neck up, but it looks ah-may-zing. It must have cost him a fortune, and he doesn't have one, which makes me wonder how he acquired it. I don't even think Tommy has that much money. He bought it partly for the dance, partly for my birthday (which is tomorrow), and partly to apologize for the awards show. He called to apologize the day after when he sort of found out what went down. Apparently Tommy had talked to him and explained everything. That was enough for Taylor, apparently. Imagine my surprise when I found out that Tommy had ensured I'd keep dating his brother. It was a sweet thing to do, though. Makes me love him even more.

As for Tommy, I suppose I should explain things. Ever since his, um, confession... I've been avoiding him like the plague. Seriously, I am a fourteenth-century peasant here, defenseless, hungry, and highly susceptible! It's hard to avoid Tommy, so I have to duck down hallways and corridors like a dumbass. Like Tommy did after Montreal, except a million times worse. Naturally, we have to see each other at least in the studio, but I can ensure that we are never alone together. Seriously, Kwest went out to piss, and I damn near followed him (INTO THE MEN'S ROOM) just so I wouldn't be stuck there alone with Tommy!

I've spoken maybe a handful of monosyllabic words to Tommy all week, basically whenever I had to. What can I say? It's awkward. I left him a phone message saying thanks for talking me up to Taylor. It consisted of a simple: "Thanks. For Taylor." I contemplated adding something like "that was nice," but even that was vetoed. Seriously, how socially retarded have I become?

Oh, and to make matters worse, the Sadie/Tommy break-up was kind of big. As in it was even news in the States and worked the nighttime talk show circuit. Naturally, my name was dragged into it, since I was running away, and Sadie was by no means quiet. There's video footage. Argh. We're now referred to as JudenTommy. Not even joking, although there are jokes. And, unfortunately, I was watching E!... The girl from Talk Daily interviewed me a couple days ago... But like I said, I was watching E!, and they asked Justin Timberlake about it. Well, he made some quip about getting Sadie's number... And then they asked him who he really admired or wanted to work with at the moment, and he said, "Jude Harrison... but it's only a pipe dream. I talked to her at a party once, and Tommy practically decked me for it."

Yes, he's very protective. State the obvious, why don't we? Justin is the biggest flirt, though! And then J.T. kinda compared Tommy to Lou Pearlman. I was really flattered but momentarily wondered whether he realized he was musically complimenting Tommy too (for the wanting to work with me thing, not the Lou Pearlman thing. Tommy doesn't control my life that much. It would be more fun if he did, and I would probably be a lot more _satisfied _right now. Or maybe not. I hear Lou Pearlman made some of his boybanders all sleep in the same room and have no girlfriends. Imagine what Tommy would be like with that kind of power. If it were up to him, I'd never look at another guy ever again, and I'd probably be sleeping with him!). So I brought that up in my interview with Talk Daily, mentioned something about boybands and such. Kind of awkward, it was.

Taylor insisted I wear the glorious necklace to the Winter Formal, or, as my friends and I like to call it... the SnoBall. Jamie quipped that only men with no balls are in attendance, but then Kat informed him they were going. They're meeting Taylor for the first time. And, um, they kinda don't know he's Tommy's brother. I did warn them, however, that if they mention Tommy, I just might shoot one of them. I don't want anything to ruin it, you know, when things are so good right now.

It's kind of mind-boggling. I was all set to dump him and everything, but he's improved so much. I don't know... Taylor's got a three week break from filming, so he's been around more often, and someone... Tommy I think... told him to shut up about Kathryn all the time. And he's getting better at kissing through my careful tutelage. Again, I think Tommy gave him a few pointers. He's less awkward around me. I guess he's realized that he has to compete if he really wants me or whatever.

You see, I kind of told the Talk Daily girl that I was dating around. They had a few pictures of me with Speed. Not any with Jeff or Taylor. I had a pretty good time with Jeff too. Of course I had to deny the Tommy stuff because obviously they brought up pictures of him first. And that would clearly do nothing good for my PR, stealing my sister's man. The Talk Daily girl asked the question everyone asks. "Is there anything going on between you and Tommy?" I sort of felt a pang when I glanced at that picture, but I said no and lied convincingly. I've had some pretty good practice, I should think.

You know, I really hate that kind of question. There's no weasel room. Because, duh, there's something there. There will always be something there. Is there something going on presently? DUH. Why not just ask me a question that I can give a straight, truthful answer to? Like, am I dating Tommy? No, never. Or am I making a move on him? No, not now. Maybe later, maybe never. Or even something like, have you slept with him? Platonically, yes. Sexually, no. If only it was that easy. Really!

To be honest, I kinda like the attention. It helps distract me from the shadow of his brother, which tends to eclipse everything. Tommy's like the sun: absolutely blinding. Taylor comes to pick me up at school. He's a safe driver, almost as slow as my grandma. Apparently Tommy and Theo's love of fast cars was not inherited. How strange and unfortunate. He's so sensible, so childlike... I'm not used to that. All the guys I know are dramatic, emotional, or... hormonal, ruled by their passions. Even Jamie, to some degree. He's just so likable, so easy to open up to and talk to... He's even kind of charming, but not like Tommy is. He's not debonair or anything. He's just so sweet and cute and approachable, thoughtful when he tries...

Listen to me! It sounds almost like I'm into Taylor. Well, maybe a little. Still, look at how I mentioned Tommy three times in that paragraph. I only mentioned Taylor's name once.

My hair was a mess, and my face unadorned, which kind of ruined the effect. I held my chin up, though, so I didn't fall down all over myself. Then I grabbed the wrap and clutch that went with it. While stomping down the stairs (unfortunately, I have never been very graceful. I merely consider myself lucky that I didn't fall flat on my face), holding up my train, I twisted on one of my from-me-to-me-presents, a pretty electric blue topaz ring. It's my birthstone. I'm really getting some excellent jewelry out of this whole being-famous thing.

Sadie's been pretty great lately. She's still stinging about the Tommy break-up, so I've been taking her out on the town with me for non-alcoholic fun. Sadie gets drunk and parties, and then basically I've got to watch her because she gets moronic when she drinks. So she flirts with about every guy in the city, and she makes out with a few... And my sister's kind of a tease. I keep pushing for her to go out with Chaz, but no matter what recommendations I give him, she says no. It doesn't matter how good of a kisser he is, or that he's commitment-minded, or that he's on the rebound too, or how attracted he is to her... She insists, and I quote, "You're nuts if you think I'm **ever **gonna do a boybander again!" Then I pointed out with an air of amusement that she didn't really do one. Sadie shot me a dirty look and whined, "He's not even from a different band!" I asked sarcastically if she'd make an exception for Nick Lachey or Justin Timberlake.

She said she'd think about Nick because of what that stupid skank Jessica did to him, but she deemed Justin "too much like Tommy in all the worst ways". She continued to tell me that he was just a less attractive American Little Tommy Q. Wannabe. Admittedly, that made me laugh. Furthermore, she added, "Besides, isn't he into you?" And that was something Sadie definitely wasn't about to touch again. She'd made that mistake before, and she didn't want to dirty her hands with it again. She even went so far as to suggest that I ought to go out with him since he's "obviously interested".

Yeah, and have Tommy, Taylor, AND Speed kill me?! I THINK NOT!

Anyways, I dashed into the car, taking care to avoid slipping on the snow. I am seriously clumsy like that. Fortunately Sadie had heated the car up already, and I thanked her profusely for ensuring that I didn't freeze my ass off. I noticed she eyed my neck in the mirror; she'd noticed the bruises from my encounter with Tommy the previous week. They hadn't quite faded, and the cover-up I'd applied wasn't quite sufficient. I looked down and said nothing. She hadn't brought it up. Sadie was careful on the snow, so getting to G. Major took twice as long, but I didn't really mind. I was, for some reason, really nervous. Not half as nervous as I got later on, but I'll get to that later on. Sadie ushered me into one of the empty rooms we use for this specific purpose, and I was greeted by a happy little coven of Georgia, E.J., Portia, and the two Victorias, i.e. my mother and my lawyer. I think the smile fell right off my face when I saw those two, but Portia grabbed me and practically threw me down in front of the mirror.

She started in on my hair first, crafting it into an elaborate up-do that involved lots of bobby pins, clips, hairspray, and little sparkly things. It was a masterpiece. My mom and Georgia gushed over me, while E.J. nodded approvingly, complimenting my dress, and Tommy's mother stared at me, grinning a Cheshire cat grin. She radiated disapproval. "Nice necklace, Jude... It looks familiar," She said. Her fingers were outstretched as if she wanted to touch it, but Queen V refrained. She turned around dismissively, addressing Portia loudly. "Oh, and Portia, do be sure to cover up those nasty love bites all the way down Jude's neck properly. Right now it looks as if an octopus got her," She ordered. She met Portia's gaze, and Portia nodded, frowning at me. I'm sure I was as red as a fire engine. I was mortified, glancing at the disapproving look on my mother's face. She looked like she was going to kill me.

As Portia touched up my neck, caking the make-up on, I glowered at Queen V's back. She'll do anything to make me look bad. I scowled. An octopus? The only octopus that got me was her damn son! Briefly, I wondered what the hell she meant by that comment about the necklace and found myself touching it nonetheless. Did Taylor steal it or something? I mean, this amount of diamonds is way expensive, so there would have to be a record...

Portia finished covering my neck and started in on my make-up. "This iridescent almost blue-green powder would look so gorgeous on your eyelids, and then, see, we can use this darker kind of midnight blue for emphasis and shadow! And then we're going to use this shiny cobalt blue eyeliner to kind of give you that extra sparkle, you know, to make them _really _pop," Portia gushed, looking over my face in the mirror. I nodded dimly and noted out of the corner of my eye that Torie started up and answered her phone.

She nodded, said some things I couldn't decipher, and looked a bit frustrated. I strained my ears to hear her, but Portia and my mother's arguing was far louder. Mom thought Portia's hairstyling ideas made me look like a hoochie-mama, while Portia thought my mother should stop using played-out slang. I didn't even know what one of those was, but I figured it meant prostitute, so I wondered why mom didn't just say crack-ho. Portia followed that up by telling my mother just where she could put her offensive slang and threated her mockingly in the same slang, only Portia sounded way better. But they were both pulling on my hair and it hurt. I wanted to put my hands over my ears and drown them out, but that would've been impossible. I started to hum, but my dear mother interrupted with a bit of a surprised gasp. She was looking at my earrings. "Oh, darling, where did you get those? Those are absolutely beautiful. So _you_," My very pleased mother cooed affectionately, adjusting them. I faked a smile and squirmed away a little. I had to resist giving her a look. I'd worn them pretty much all last week. It wasn't really like I was hiding them.

I smiled faintly. Tommy really did know me well. Taylor... not so much. I pushed the unconstructive thought out of mind. "Oh, thank her. She birthed the man that gave them to me," I replied nonchalantly, gesturing towards Victoria. She was still on the phone, listening impatiently, but she sported a rather proud smirk.

Mom raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. Okay, well, first she mouthed: "That's Mrs. Quincy?" I could understand her stunned surprise. She was clearly expecting Tommy's mother to look like she had two sons in their twenties. She did not. She looked impeccable, as always. I assumed she was there because she wanted to do the typical mother thing and take dorky pictures of her children. "Taylor gave them to you?" She asked, clearly surprised any boy I was dating would have so much cheddar. Mom and Dad haven't exactly met Taylor either, but I'm not that serious about him... Taylor wants to, of course, but I keep making excuses...

I mean, okay, so Mom loathes Tommy. But Dad and Tommy are like... BFFs. No, seriously, it's creepy. I'm sometimes worried that Tommy might hang out with Dad instead of me, and then Tommy gives me one of those text messages that's like... Save me. And he always accompanies it with a picture of his face, too, just so I'll come. It's usually 'cause Dad is talking about Bob Dylan or something that happened before Tommy was even born. I mean, Dad totally gets the producer thing, and he thinks it'd be okay if Tommy and I ever... You know. Anyways, back to reality, oh, there goes gravity...

Victoria snorted... loudly. She covered the microphone, rolling her eyes. "Ha! He has horrible taste! He can't even pick out his own clothes! He wanted to wear an electric blue and white striped suit. And not vertical stripes. Horizontal!" Victoria exclaimed in disgust. She shook her head solemnly. "That's what happens when a boy grows up without his mother... although I don't get it. His father has excellent taste," Torie ranted. She stopped ranting at the horrified look on my face, which made her laugh. You know what's the saddest thing of all? I believe her. Taylor is just crazy enough to do that. With a blue rose corsage. Shudder.

Sadie shot me a sympathetic look, patting my shoulder, and Portia sternly told me to relax my face or she would never get this right. Mom frowned. "So then Tommy gave them to you?" I nodded abruptly, noticing the worried look on her face. I was too stressed to care what she thought. I sighed, soothed my facial features, and looked calmly in the mirror. However, then something not too calm happened. Torie started yelling at whoever she was on the phone with- in French. She was screaming, practically cursing the person out.

I peered at her in the mirror as whoever she was talking to said something that stunned her into silence. Her face was the picture of incredulity. Then she shouted something even louder than before, but all of her words blurred together so they were barely intelligible. "EST-TU UN IDIOT?! C'est Thomas! EST-CE QUE TU VEUX QU'IL SÉDUISE TA COPINE?! TU VEUX UNE PETITE COPINE? Si tu demandes qu'il le fasse... Ce n'est pas bon, Taylor!" Torie bellowed, turning red in the face. Apparently Taylor disagreed with her. Dumb ass move, kid.

The only reason I know this is what she's saying is because she and Taylor told me much later. For all of you all who don't speak Canada's other first language, here's a simple translation: ARE YOU AN IDIOT?! It's Thomas! DO YOU WANT HIM TO SEDUCE YOUR GIRLFRIEND? DO YOU (even) WANT A GIRLFRIEND? If you ask him to do it... It's not good, Taylor!

Now, I'm sure you're wondering why Taylor's mommy is having this convo, as was I. Unfortunately, I was to find out in less than two minutes when a very frustrated Victoria hung up the phone, snapping it shut. She stalked over to me, clearly irate (with her son, not me). She made a face, leaning her head close to mine. Portia looked irritated, but she didn't like Torie to begin with because of the way she'd been treated when she was Tommy's wife (and probably because Torie had made sure she got next to nothing out of it). Come on, everybody knew that marriage wasn't gonna last. "I have some bad news." Unbelievably my face didn't drop at that. She looked strained. "Unfortunately it seems that a blizzard has blocked off part of the 401, meaning that Taylor won't be able to get here in time. My son apologizes, and, in his infinite wisdom, has decreed that you should go with his older brother, Tommy. He said he left a message on Tommy's cell, but he asked me to go find him and ask him anyway. He's sure, of course, that his saintly brother will agree to escort you," Torie explained with a sour look on her face.

This time I was incredulous. Somehow, I managed not to freak out, despite turning my head to the side so abruptly that I got lipstick over half of my face. "DAMNIT, JUDE!" Portia swore, picking up a tissue and frantically wiping away the smear. Not for the first time, I cursed the damn snow. Damn Montreal for getting so much snow. But the prospect of spending an entire night alone with Tommy due to his brother's orders... Was a living nightmare. He'll obviously put the moves on me, and I don't trust myself alone with him! Plus then I'll have to dance with him, like... slow-dancing. And I know for a fact that Travis is chaperoning this dance, which only equals more trouble. And that means I'll have to eat alone with him too, in an intimate romantic restaurant... even assuming he says yes!

Torie shot me a rather sympathetic look. "Georgia tells me Thomas is still here, mastering some band's latest single... Now, I'm off to go ask my son if he'll do it." Her eyes narrowed, and she nodded at me briefly. "I'd wager you'll have your escort in thirty minutes or less. If I know my son, he'll be jumping for this chance," Torie assured me dryly. Then she swished out of the room. Sadie did not look happy. My mother, perhaps, looked even more horrified than me. As soon as the former Mrs. Quincy was out of the room, I burst out into hysterics.

Not tears, rapid shouting. "Mom! I can't do this!" I looked to Sadie for confirmation. "I can't do this! I can't go with Tommy... He's Sadie's ex and Taylor's brother, and... Think of his reputation!" Portia rolled her eyes at me, still mopping up the excess lipstick. Fortunately it wasn't all-day lipstick. That stuff is a bitch to get off. You practically rip your lips off doing it. My mom held my hand and tried to calm me down. "I can't slow-dance with him and eat dinner with him, and I most certainly can't show him off... And God, everyone's gonna think I'm a whore again! And there'll be all those catty bitches there hating me, and he doesn't get along with my music teacher! Going with Tommy can only mean disaster. I'd rather not go than go with him!" I exclaimed dramatically, wringing my hands.

Portia grabbed my chin, hard, and started redoing my lipstick. She looked me directly in the eyes. "You can, and you will. You might not trust yourself around Quincy, but you've got to learn how to. Don't let your body betray you. Tommy will prey on your weakness. And you know as well as I do that Tommy is quite a catch, so you can show him off, and all those bitches, even some of these ones... will be very, very jealous of you. As for your music teacher, well, I say screw him! Now, you're going. Even if I have to escort you myself," Portia hissed matter-of-factly. I smiled awkwardly. Almost did screw my music teacher, if I hadn't already. Well, she had some good points there. And Tommy is a catch, and I can definitely show him off... And he's got really good taste, and I know he's a really good dancer! The more I thought about it, the better I felt.

I found myself relaxing more and more until Portia finished my make-up. I looked at myself in the mirror, and I found that I barely recognized myself. Sadie even managed to calm Mom down about the Tommy thing. I was impressed at how well she was talking the fact that I was technically going on a date with her ex... She wasn't taking it well enough to stick around, though. Sadie smiled, told me how pretty I looked, asked Mom to take pictures for her, and hightailed it out of there. She was going to hang out with some of her sorority sisters. Or Ruby. I don't remember.

Less than ten minutes later, Torie reemerged, victorious (punny!), declaring that Tommy was behind her. She bestowed me with a benevolent, almost proud smile. Portia and the other girls stuck around to witness Tommy's reaction, whereas my mother stuck around to snap inane photos. A few moments later, Tommy came in. I noted approvingly that his mother had told him what colors I was wearing so that he could dress accordingly. He was wearing a grey-blue suit with stripes the color of my dress. He was wearing a white button-up shirt underneath it. His hair was impeccable, and his shoes matched. I think. I don't really know. Tommy is a magnificent dresser. He dresses better than the Sun King. However, before Tommy Dearest got to me, his very own Mommy Dearest intercepted him.

She whipped out a bowtie (that matched my dress) and knotted it around his neck. Tommy fussed and fidgeted, maintaining he could do it on his own, but his mother just looked at him. "Honey, I haven't been able to do this since you went to the Grammy's when you were what? Fourteen? Fifteen? Allow me my motherly privilege." Her voice had a pleading tone that even cold-hearted Tommy couldn't refuse. I found myself smiling against his will. They looked so cute. Then Victoria embraced her son, kissing him warmly on both cheeks. If I didn't know her better, I'd say her eyes were sparkling with tears. She whispered something to Tommy that I didn't hear before pinning a white boutonnière to his lapel. It was a lily, coincidentally my favorite flower. I actually prefer day lilies and tiger lilies, but that doesn't matter. Those kinds would be out of season anyway.

Torie proceeded to hand him what I assumed was a matching corsage, and then she moved out of the way, pushing him towards me. When Tommy finally saw me, his jaw dropped. He became incapable of speech or motion, only able to look at me. I felt very, very, very immensely flattered. For an eternity, Tommy just stared at me. I smiled back at him, slowly moving towards him when it became clear he wasn't doing anything. Georgia laughed goodnaturedly. "Tommy, you can pick your jaw up off the floor now," She said in a voice that reminded him he was in public. If it wasn't a lie, I'd say he blushed. He sure looked chagrined, at least.

His mother elbowed him in the side, and Tommy winced. Nevertheless, he managed to meet me halfway. He also picked up his jaw and remembered to breathe. When he finally reached me, he held both of my hands and leaned in to whisper into my ear. "You have never looked lovelier," He murmured, pulling away from me and flashing an absolutely charming smile. Damn it if my heart didn't skip a beat. I hate him so much.

But that hatred didn't stop me from taking his arm when he offered it. "Shall we?" Then I smiled at him like a dope, because what else could I do? We went outside together, arm-in-arm. His car was waiting out front. It was turned on, so that either meant he'd left it there or had a friend handle it for him- both of which were quite unbelievable. It seemed Tommy was suddenly a gentleman, because he opened the door for me and helped me inside before gently shutting it and crossing over to his side of the car. He even made a concerned effort to drive slowly and carefully, though that might've been because of the snow and not because there was a lady present.

The hood was up too, but that was only natural, given how terribly cold it was. It was also snowing. I think that's got to be the first time I've ever been in Tommy's car without getting my hair all windblown. The wind probably wouldn't have done much (or even put a dent in it), though, not with all the hairspray on my head. To my delight, the new and improved Tommy let me have control of the radio. Now, generally I don't mind Tommy's iron grip on the radio. He has good taste in music, and I pretty much love any music he listens to, which is extremely rare. I was in a peculiar mood, though, one for Christmas carols and warm, fuzzy pop songs. So I turned the channels until I was fortunate enough to reach a Boyz Attack! marathon, including Christmas carols.

Normally whenever Boyz Attack! comes on, Tommy has a cow and immediately changes the channel because he gets so friggin' embarrassed. This time he barely even batted an eyelash (seriously, I doubt he even twitched), and, to my shock, actually smiled and started to sing along. After staring at him like he was some kind of new specie, I joined in, bubbling over with amusement. I was giggling like a little schoolgirl. Three words: Cutest thing ever! It was the most fun I remembered having in a very long time. In between songs, Tommy admirably carried on some very excellent small talk about school and music. He even managed to endure a somewhat strained conversation about Taylor.

He had just said something very, very witty, and I was still in hysterics when a very familiar song came on. No, sadly it was not "Pick Up the Pieces" or its Christmas version. The Christmas version, if I recall correctly, involves a teddy bear, Santa Claus, and wrapping paper. Darius became the first black Santa. It was actually "More to You (Than That Guy)". Given Tommy's rather notorious dislike for the song, I was surprised he even kept listening to it, much less sang along. We were stuck in traffic, so he had lots of time. "_Thinking about you, I'm on cloud nine... Your silken hair, your luscious lips, so __**sweet**_,"Tommy crooned dreamily, reaching over to toy with a lock of my hair. "_Night after night, our spent limbs intertwine... Your smooth skin, your swiveling hips, so kind... Girl, I just can't get you out of my __**head**__!_"He continued, shooting me a suggestive wink.

I felt myself blush. Horribly. I felt like a damn tomato, and not a girl headed to a fancy formal. I didn't feel like the rockstar I'm supposed to be. What unnerved me was that Tommy was looking at me. And quite possibly meaning it. And I'm horrified by this. He's been perfectly sweet, a total angel thusfar, and what... This is my reaction? Discomfort? Am I frickin' insane?!

Tommy didn't end it there, though. It would've been good if he did. He went on, not to be deferred. The cars remained frozen in front of us. Snow was starting to collect on the idling car, and I could tell Tommy had half a mind to just park right there. Luckily for me, he also had a brain and enough class not to do that. If not, well, I might be a goner... "_It might sound crazy, but I __**want **__to commit... We started as a fling, a simple one-night stand. Whatever you want to make me do, I'm into __**it**__! I _mean _it, even if it's just holding your tiny hand_," A sincere and flirtatious Tommy warbled, giving me puppy-dog eyes. I could taste the conviction behind his words. It was all true. He wanted to commit. He's into it. He means it.

I sighed heavily, forcing myself to look away and hating him for being such a prescient, beautiful, totally amazing musical genius. He is too good. Sensing my weakness, I'm sure, Tommy launched into the next verse with gusto. "_I don't just want to be _that _guy! I want to make you mine, __**all **__mine... You need to be here by my side... all night... Can't you see that I __**don't **__feel fine? 'Cause I want to be __**more **__to _you _than that guy!_" Tommy belted out, never once taking his eyes off of me. Those baby blues (No, scratch that. I hate that term)... Those old blue eyes (wait, what is he, Frank Sinatra?) glittered brighter than the huge, heavy sapphires in my necklace with defiance. It completely took my breath away. I was like a magnet. I felt myself drawn to him inexplicably against my will, but I couldn't break free from his magnetic pull. He was the North to my South.

Tommy wisely forgot to sing the next verse, instead choosing to lean in towards me. Apparently I wasn't moving fast enough for him. He placed his hand on my cheek finally and stopped moving, waiting for me to cross the distance between us. It had to be my decision. I found myself inching towards him, millimeter by millimeter, honing in on my target. Our lips had almost brushed when suddenly some YAHOO from behind us honked down on his damn horn, again and again and again. I abruptly jerked away from Tommy, realizing what I was about to do. I put both of his hands back on the wheel and pointed ahead.

A frustrated Tommy slammed down on the gas pedal, suddenly not at all caring about the wet road. I looked away awkwardly, feeling my cheeks burn. As I sat there, mortified and embarrassed, I was unable to listen to any more of the song that had betrayed me. I abruptly switched the radio station to Christmas carols. Tommy didn't seem to mind much; he was suddenly intent on his driving. I couldn't exactly blame him, so I wisely attempted to lose myself in Bing Crosby, quite possibly the only man whose voice calms me as much as Dad's, Tommy's, or one of the Beatles'. Seriously, we own White Christmas, Holiday Inn, and pretty much every other movie-musical he was in. He was my dad's version of The Beatles, by which I mean that that's what his parents played when he was little. My dad wasn't a kid in the forties, just like I wasn't a kid in the sixties.

I could swear I heard Tommy's voice in my head, so I started singing along in a pale attempt at drowning him out. "_Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful... Since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!_" I chirped, trying to emulate Bing's smooth cadence. I personally always thought inside it's so delightful makes more sense, plus it provides a nice parallel. Tommy shot me a sideways glance but otherwise remained silent and unresponsive. I didn't dare ask where we were going to eat. Looking out the window, I continued singing, "_It doesn't show signs of stopping... And I bought some corn for popping. The lights are turned way down low... Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!_" I hoped the snowstorm would let up a little, at least so I didn't wind up soggy and sodden and dripping.

Weird, isn't it? How this song's considered a Christmas carol, when it's really just about people being snowed in. Lovers being snowed in, I should say. I forced myself not to look at Tommy while thinking that. Jeez, where is this restaurant? I shivered, looking out the window. Tommy had the heat on, but I got cold just by looking outside. "_When we finally say good night, how I'll hate going out in the storm! But if you _really _hold me tight... all the way home I'll be __**warm**__!_" I exclaimed with a touch of extra flourish. That's my favorite part of the song. So romantic. Then I made the mistake of accidentally looking over at Tommy. He was looking at me and smiling.

Tommy started up the next verse cheerfully, shooting me looks when he could. "_The fire is slowly dying... And, my dear, we're still good-bye-ing..._" He supplied suggestively. I snorted and chimed in for the ending. "_But as long as you __**love **__me so... Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!_" We finished merrily. I burst into giggles, and even Tommy managed a few chuckles. The sad thing was that I meant the love part. Our voices always harmonized perfectly. After that, the ice was kind of broken again, and we continued chatting like old friends. He was perfectly charming, of course, like he was purposely trying to make me fall in love with him all over again.

It's not like he even has to try. I never exactly fell out of love with him in the first place, or even forgot what I love about him.

At any rate, I left the car feeling quite thoroughly impressed with him. He finally stopped at a particularly wonderful and expensive French restaurant. Perhaps the most expensive one in the city, for all I know. It's got valet service, at any rate. Strangely enough, Tommy actually surrendered his car to the valet (albeit with a stern look and a verbal warning), and walked inside with me. He strode right up to the podium with me in tow, and I was freaked. Obviously Tommy couldn't have a reservation here. It had been so short notice, and a restaurant of this caliber probably had to be booked weeks in advance. Nevertheless, Tommy walked up there and looked at the man behind it. He flashed his most charming smile. "Quincy, party of two," Tommy said with some self-importance.

The man gave him a disbelieving look. "You're not on the books," He deadpanned. I knew Tommy was gonna pull the famous act next, but I'm pretty damn sure the guy knew who we were anyways. I'm pretty sure he just didn't approve. Asshole.

Tommy kept the cocky smirk in place. "Yeah... I would've called, but the need to come here was kind of sudden. I just learned that my lady friend here was free an hour ago," Tommy quipped. I felt myself flush. Tommy is going to embarrass me, isn't he? "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Tom Quincy, and this lovely woman beside me is Jude Harrison," Tommy proclaimed dramatically. I believe you've heard of us, I added mentally. I rolled my eyes. The way Tommy said it was rather menacing, actually. I wanted to cover my face, but Tommy refused. His arm was wrapped comfortably around my lower back. I was just happy my dress wasn't backless.

The maître d' was less than impressed. He also rolled his eyes. "And I'm supposed to care... why?"

I expected Tommy next to choose the option of paying the man, but Tommy didn't want to waste his money. Besides, the guy was an asshole. He had something even better than that, unbelievably. He pursed his lips, eyes narrowing in irritation. I knew Tommy wanted to grab the guy by the front of his blazer and give him a good, hard shake. Tommy refrained from assault, fortunately. I suppose he didn't want to make a scene in his restaurant of choice. "You should care because François will fire you once I tell him about this," Tommy growled menacingly. He gave the man a crocodile smile. "He's an old friend of the family, and I'm sure he'd love to hear that his dearest friends got so little respect," Tommy explained threateningly.

I gaped. Somebody's got nerve. Truthfully, Tommy wasn't bluffing. He did know the owner, who happened to be a cousin of his. His favorite cousin, he later informed me. I'm assuming the aforementioned cousin was of the LaFramboise-Ruelle side. Fortunately for me, that was more than enough to convince the evil man to seat us at the best table in the house. He grumbled under his breath, muttering how it was reserved for someone even more ultra-famous than me and Tommy put together. Like I care.

"Thanks, Tommy," I replied simply, scanning my menu. Naturally, the whole thing was in French. It had no translations, but I could still get most of the general gist of it. Tommy leaned over and sought to help me translate, but I pushed him away, slightly irritated. "Tommy, I'm in French. I've had it since I was like, five. I think I can understand enough to know what I'm ordering," I reprimanded him lightly. Lapin is rabbit, poulet is chicken, cheval is horse. And I know the words for squirrel and crap. So I'm just gonna have Tommy order this poulet for me.

The waiter came quickly, probably because Tommy snapped or said Jump. He glanced at me for confirmation, but I just shrugged, pointing to the poulet. I didn't feel very hungry, really. I needed to keep my mind sharp, and Tommy wasn't helping my appetite. Tommy muttered something in quick, rather unintelligible French. I didn't care enough to pay attention, really. I had a friggin' huge migraine, and I was blaming it on him. My darling date tried repeatedly to engage me in conversation, but I was weary and uncomfortable. My head felt like it was on fire. Finally, his tactics became especially annoying, and I sighed. "Honey, I love you, but I just can't smile," I retorted somewhat tersely. You know, like the game?

Tommy shot me a strange look, but I ignored him. When the food came, I picked at my chicken. It was really good. Like kissing Tommy good. So I pretty much devoured it. Amazingly, I felt better after that. I decided that Tommy's cousin was a god. His chicken was magic. So after that I had some water, not wine (because that's illegal, and I'm not that stupid. Last thing I need to do is get drunk in a situation involving BOTH Tommy and Travis), and I started ingratiating myself to Tommy. I had to make up for being all snippy, after all. The excellent meal was accompanied by orgasmically excellent so-good-it-should-be-illegal dessert. After that dessert, I was on such a happy sugar high that I would've gladly married Tommy. Or hooked up with him. Or agreed to go out with him, or date him, for that matter.

If he'd only asked.

But he didn't.

I guess he thought it was wiser to not push me, which was a dumb move on his part. He could've had me in a split second. But Tommy failed to recognize a moment of weakness, so the idiot merely smiled at me, holding my hand, and gestured for the waiter to bring him the check. Then he whisked me up, half carrying me, and escorted me to the car. He never wavered from the perfect gentleman routine. Not even once.

He definitely drove faster heading to the school, but that might've been because we were a little late. We made it there ridiculously fast. Tommy parked in the extremely crowded parking lot. How he managed to find a spot is beyond me, since I was still out of it from the restaurant. There must've been drugs in that pastry. I knew it was too good to be true. Tommy helped me to the door, since I was sliding around everywhere in my heels. He's such an angel that he even helped carry the train of my dress. Fortunately, I had the tickets in my purse, so I took them out, handing them to the lame Student Council people at the door. I'd regained myself enough to gesture to Tommy, patting him on the chest. "My date," I said with an evil grin.

Jealous?

Don't you bitches hate me now? He stepped forward a little, shivering slightly, and I reached over and brushed the snowflakes off of him. I'd been wearing a coat, so I was pretty much covered. I handed my handbag, wrap, and coat to their own little coatcheck service and then proceeded to walk in with babealicious Tommy. Okay, so maybe I was showing him off like he was Sadie's engagement ring. It was ten carats, though. I definitely think that's something to brag about, even if it was ostentatious and kind of tacky. Sure was shiny, though.

I was fortunate enough to spot my dear friends there. They were standing to the sidelines not dancing because it takes at least thirty minutes to an hour for people to really start dancing. Actually, they were at the refreshments table. Kat squealed when she saw me and damn near tackled me. She was wearing a fitted turquoise dress. The dress was relatively low-cut and sleeveless, and as it approached the floor, the turquoise slowly progressed into teal. It was surprisingly normal for Kat's... rather eccentric fashion taste. Her curly hair was pinned up by dozens of little glimmering hair clips. A few strands of hair had escaped. She looked pretty, and I told her so. Jamie was wearing a similarly colored suit that was obviously one of his dad's from the seventies. Somehow, of course, he managed to pull it off with just the right mix of geekiness and a hint of punk sensibility.

"Oh my gosh, Jude! You look so fantastic! Who did your dress?" Kat ejaculated in a flurry of excitement. I laughed, not even able to begin answering her questions. I didn't even know who made the dress. Portia got a few for me to try out, and this one was just so boss I had to snag it. She touched one of the little circles in awe, smacking Jamie's arm. "Jamie, just look at this beading! It's so intricate and delicate!" Jamie shot me a look and just mouthed "shiny". That's all he knows. Like he gives a crap about beading.

"Ooh, and this bow! It's gorgeous! Is that satin or silk?" Kat chattered on absentmindedly. I shrugged, rolling my eyes and making a face at Jamie. Fashionistas. She bent down interestedly, peering at my feet. She pulled up my dress a little bit, so that she could better see my shoes. I made a funny face and wiggled my toes. Kat merely gaped at my shoes in awe, pointing at them in disbelief. I frowned, wondering what was so unusual about my shoes. Did I step in gum or something? I picked up my feet one at a time to examine them. Nope, nothing weird, just the red heel, and that probably clashes. I frowned, preparing myself for Kat's barrage of fashion insults, but none were forthcoming. "Those. Shoes. Are. Beautiful. I want to rip them off your feet."

I glanced at her surprised and was about to comment on her rather peculiar remark and the way she was eying my shoes beadily when... Unfortunately, Jamie looked behind me and noticed Tommy approaching me. He shot me a look. "Jude, what's Tommy doing here?" Jamie asked rather loudly. I felt myself flush all the way down to my toes. Luucy, you've got some 'splaining to do! Indeed! Jamie kind of looked vaguely like he was going to kill me. This is so not how I pictured this night going. "I thought we were supposed to meet your wonderful new boyfriend, Taylor..." Jamie said pointedly.

Kat also saw Tommy coming closer, straightened up abruptly, and frowned, turning to me. "Are you dating Tommy?" She whispered in a gasp. My eyes widened to the size of watermelons. "Because you know, you can tell us if you are... I mean, Jamie might be a little mad, but we both want what's best for you and..." But Tommy isn't what's best for me, I added mentally, frowning at the thought. I frantically shook my head no and tried to regain some semblance of normalcy. The worst part about it was how close she came to the truth. I hadn't told a single soul about Tommy's offer, and we hadn't even mentioned it.

I whirled to face Tommy, who looked a bit sheepish. I forced a smile unto my face, laughing awkwardly. Tommy lazily wrapped an arm around my waist. I felt short of breath. "Um, right... I was getting to that." Jamie gave me a knowing look, and I felt rather irritated. I sighed but didn't manage to calm down. "Taylor couldn't make it. He's stuck in Montreal, so he called Tommy up to take me in his stead," I muttered anxiously. Did I just say stead? Jamie looked at me in disbelief. I get that. Because, seriously, what dumbass would ask Tommy to take me to a dance?! That's what I thought. That's why I was frickin' hyperventilating. Seriously, it's like asking him to have sex with me!

Not that I would.

This minute, anyways.

If I hadn't had that manicure, I might've bitten my nails. I wound up biting my lip instead. "Oh. Right. Did I forget to mention that Taylor's last name is Quincy? He's um... He's Tommy's little brother," I admitted, starting to wring my hands. Tommy's grip tightened around my waist, and I smiled up at him gratefully. Jamie merely gaped, still unable to believe there was anyone alive that was that stupid. Or the thing about Taylor being Tommy's kid brother. Go figure.

Jamie started laughing, actually. Kind of like he was going insane. "Why am I surprised? Tommy's brother?" Jamie blurted in between bouts of slight hysteria. Kat grabbed his hand, pulling a face. She looked worried. Jamie looked like he was having a nervous breakdown. No one's more surprised than me, though. It's not like I planned on dating Tommy's brother. It just... happened. Accidentally. Like a really bad Counting Crows song.

Tommy moved his hand up to the small of my back. He smiled benevolently. His attempt to get along with my best friend, a.k.a. Jamie, was much appreciated. "Yeah. When Taylor called and told me, I had to come. Of course I couldn't let Jude come alone," Tommy said quite diplomatically. I smiled at him nervously. Truthfully, I was relieved he was there. It would be hell coming alone. I put my hand on Tommy's hip. He looked at me in surprise, and I pointedly ignored it. He was really going for the gold, so Tommy took out his wallet. "I've got a picture, if you want to see..." Tommy offered, opening it and pointing to a picture of Taylor. He looked a little younger.

Kat nodded approvingly, but she already knew what he looked like anyway. Jamie nodded and then shrugged. "So... how goes the ass-shaking?" Jamie questioned with strained civility. Kat scowled and elbowed him in the spine. Tommy's smile was equally strained. He looked a bit offended, but he wisely changed the subject, gesturing to me.

"How great does Jude look in her dress, huh?"

I smiled approvingly, vowing to repay him for that sometime. Kat smiled, and even Jamie was forced to agree. Quickly after that, the two practically ran off to the dance floor. I don't blame them. I should also say then that this dance's theme is Winter Wonderland. Fake snow, cut-out snowflakes, tinsel, and the works. My dress fits with the décor. Isn't that lovely? But you know what doesn't fit with the décor?

Travis Quinn.

Who happens to be headed right this way.

I need to diffuse the situation by sending Tommy to do something mindless. I pivoted to face Tommy. "Tommy, I'm cold," I stated bluntly, seeing Travis coming towards us in the corner of my eye. Tommy started to take off his jacket, but I shook my head. "No. Go get my wrap," I snapped bossily. I frowned. Travis was moving faster. "Pretty, pretty, pretty please?" I begged, batting my eyelashes at him. Tommy smiled at me strangely and swiftly left. As soon as he was out of earshot, I sighed and slumped against the table, staring up at the ceiling. "Thank you, God!" I muttered under my breath.

And BAM! My ears were assaulted by that most unpleasant of voices. "What a way to flatter a man! Thank you, Jude... I **do **like to think that I'm a _special _gift from God." There was Travis standing right in front of me.

I almost knocked over the damn punch bowl. At any rate, it sloshed dangerously, and the student officer manning the stand gave me a dirty look. I was too busy scowling at Travis to care... much. I immediately glowered at him. He smirked, moving to stand next to me. He leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Careful, Starlet. I could get used to that kind of welcome," He murmured seductively, waggling his eyebrows. I gagged, rolling my eyes at his utter disgustingness. I mean, seriously? Starlet?! What, are we suddenly on a nickname basis?

"_Don't_," I snarled, attempting to give him the evil eye. I suddenly found my throat parched and whirled around to pour myself a cup of punch. Travis was giving me a once-over. Ew. "You are heinous and disgusting. A complete menace to society," I hissed, glaring at him. Travis just smirked like he was the Belle of the Ball. Disturbing mental image there. I just imagined Travis in an antebellum dress. You know, Victorian with a bustle and a corset and hoop skirt. Like I said... disturbing. Also amusing, though.

"You really know how to compliment a man, Jude," Travis remarked sarcastically, snatching the glass of punch out of my hand just as I was about to drink it. I pouted, glowering at him. I really want to kick his ass, but I can't. Damn it. Damn this civil good girl act. Damn "behaving". I loathe it so. "Watch it. The punch is spiked," Travis warned me. I didn't care. Damn, if I had to be around him and Tommy all night, I was gonna need some hard liquor. Plus, since when have I ever trusted Travis, huh? Why should I believe his lying ass? "You know, you look absolutely ravishing, Jude. Tommy's a fool to leave you alone for a second," came his voice again, low and smooth, appreciative.

I swallowed hard, suddenly finding myself desperately in need of a drink. He was right. I wasn't looking at him. "Yeah, I wouldn't leave myself alone with you too long either. You might try to ravish me like last time," I fired off somewhat bitterly, feeling rather ill at ease. My heart thudded dully in my chest. Ravishing, huh? I could sense the impending smirk on his lips and sought to qualify my statement with something harsher. Reminding the both of us of what had almost happened so casually didn't seem right, not when my heart beat faster just thinking about that awful day.

"Oh, wait, sorry... Ravish implies that it would've been consensual," I continued nastily. I whirled around and took another cup of punch, one Travis couldn't steal, just to spite him. It was bitter on my tongue, not at all gratifying like I'd expected. It tasted a little funny, but in a good way. So it was probably definitely spiked. Tasted a little like rum. Mmm, rummilicious. I paused to actually look him over before scoffing. "Nice wardrobe choice, Lucifer," I retorted equally sarcastically. "Trying to capture that burning in hell look?"

Travis shot me a look, downing the rest of his drink in a single gulp. He smiled, but it was an ugly smile. "No, actually I was going for the Black Death," Travis rejoined coolly, getting himself another glass of punch. I snorted. That's so typical, isn't it? Travis going as The Plague. Although, I have to say... what about the Red Death? Or Purple Death? I'm sure there has to be one. Huh, why can't death be a rainbow? Travis was attired solely in black and bright, blood red. He was wearing a bright red button-up underneath a black suit with matching pinstripes. Shiny black dress shoes were on his feet. He had a single red rose in his top buttonhole. But not just any suit. A zoot suit. That's not retro; it's an antique. Over the top much?

I mean, sheesh, is he trying to be typecast as a gangster or a pimp? The only thing that's missing is a hat. A big wide-brimmed one with a huge feather in it. Or a walking stick embedded with diamonds if he wants to be a pimp. I rolled my eyes. "Why am I not surprised?" I muttered, polishing off my own drink. I looked at him directly. "You'd make _any _girl want to kill herself." Like Hitler! Damn, you know, I really shouldn't have kept that brilliant comment to myself. Travis glowered at me with eyes full of so much vitriol that I was almost scared. But then I remembered that he'd already done pretty much all he could do to me, and Tommy was there to intervene, and that I could punch him in the nuts and call it self-defense. Plus, Joan totally said she'd go Lorena Bobbitt on his crazy ass if he so much as looked at me funny.

I snatched the glass of punch out of Travis' hand this time, downing it thirstily. I smirked at him becomingly, throwing the empty cup back at him. I snorted again, wanting to smack him in the chest. Seriously, who was he kidding? I wondered for a moment why he was so silent. And then I noticed. "Especially her." I saw Joan moving through the crowd. She looked absolutely amazing, of course, luminous and all that. I'll discuss the dress later, because I didn't pay much attention to it then. I rolled my eyes. What did I say? Predictable! I gestured to his threads. He looked furious, probably about that flip comment about Joan. "What, Travis, are you gonna whack me? If you are, you sure seem to be missing an appendage," I exclaimed mockingly. Man, that is a dirty statement. Kind of has a dirty sick little undertone. That sure got his attention. I rolled my eyes, glancing down briefly and deliberately. "No, not that one," I said dully. I know he's got that one, the stupid dick. "Your Tommy gun."

Wow, I am the master at accidental double entendres. All I was trying to do was say he looks like a gangster.

Travis shot me a sidelong look. His eyes narrowed at the mere name. "I don't need anything to do with Tommy. Plus, he's here already. I saw him. That was some nice maneuvering you did, though, to get him out of my way," Travis snarled nastily. I shrugged but felt my heart race nonetheless. Damn it. Now Travis knows Tommy's here, but Tommy doesn't know Travis was here, and it should be the other way around. Travis' lip curled in revulsion. He accidentally crushed the cup in irritation. "So, are you two, like, _dating_?" He questioned, adopting a valley-girl tone.

So unoriginal. Tommy's even asked me that before. Although it was about Mason. Seriously. In that same mocking tone and all.

I gave him a look. Dumbass. Why does he even care, anyway? Revenge? I decided wisely to change the subject. Let him wonder! "Seriously, what's up with the outfit? You're like... a mask and a cape away from being the Phantom of the Opera," I snarked back, rolling my eyes at him. I failed to mention a severe disfigurement to A. insult his looks because his ego's that frickin' huge and B. Someone with a personality that ugly has to know that it effect his looks. In a bad way. He sure has the ugly disposition and propensity for creepiness. And musical prowess, but Tommy's so much better.

Travis made sure to shoot me a particularly murderous look. "You are such a chick," He muttered, turning his head away like he didn't even want anything to do with me. I rolled my eyes. Blame Kat for that. She's a total fangirl sometimes.

I would really hope I'm a girl, though. I mean, seriously. Obviously I don't want to be an actual bird. The kind that flies, not the British kind. I could've rhymed my insult with his, but that would've been too easy. "And you're such a creep!" I bit back in disgust. So true. Once again, I decided to mock his choice in clothing. It was just so easy. I wonder if they rioted because they couldn't afford more attractive clothing. I'd sure riot if somebody stuck me in one of those! I gave him a look of particular distaste. "You look like you stepped out of The Mask," I remarked poisonously, turning up my nose at his outfit. If only he'd get some lime green dye to match his crazy eyes, shave his head, and he'll be set. He'd look like Jim Carrey's clone. What is up with that guy playing green and/or hammy characters? Before Travis could make a retort, I interjected once again. "I always knew you were a rat, but becoming a member of the Rat Pack is taking it to the extreme. Now why don't you go find Frank Sinatra, and see if luck is really a lady after all?"

If it is, he'd be striking out.

He glared daggers at me but refrained from commenting on my flattering gown. You just can't insult it. "And yet you couldn't want me any more if you tried," Travis drawled smoothly, moving closer to me. I scoffed and sent him a look. No, Travis, you only wish you're Judd Nelson in that movie, okay? Pah. He'd be lucky to be Anthony Michael Hall. "I wouldn't be so sure if I was you. Look at how close to me you're standing. And you supposedly _hate _me," Travis mocked. I felt myself flush, noticing he was practically at my side. He has a point there, damn him. But maybe I'm just magnetic like that. I moved away quite noticeably, but Travis just laughed. "Tommy's not the only one who's got a pull over you," Travis said knowingly. And I hated him so much because he was kind of right. I was still sort of attracted to the man, after all, despite my revulsion for him.

I would've rolled my eyes, but I figured I'd go cross-eyed if I did that anymore. "You wish, Travis. I do what I want," I countered coolly. Once again I noticed Joan flitting through the crowd. She was in this gorgeous pure white dress that was sort of flowy but allowed her to have a figure. The dress seemed almost pleated. It was sleeveless with a silver yoke-neck that included some studded beads or jewels or something. The dress was rather high cut, showing off her collarbone rather than her cleavage. The silvery-gray band went all across her neckline and across to the back, covering up most of her. The back, on the other hand, featured a keyhole and was open to a certain point. She was wearing matching open-toed pumps. Very vintage glam. Her dark hair, like mine, was done up in an updo, although hers was much simpler and prominently showed off the streaks of pink in it. I would've almost been envious if my dress didn't look better or equally as good. Plus Tom Quincy was my date.

"So do I," Travis growled, shooting a look at Joan. I snorted. Loudly. Obviously he isn't because he wants to do Joan, and she wants to chop his nuts off. He resumed glowering at me as Joan got lost in the crowd. I smirked.

Travis moodily grabbed another glass of punch. I could tell he was wishing it was stronger. My smirk turned to a scowl. Oh, sure! Get COMFORTABLE! I want him to go away. Very far away. Before Tommy gets back. Why can't this man take a friggin' hint?! "You know, if you want a virgin sacrifice, you're going to have to go after Joan. She's the one wearing a white flowing dress," I muttered irritably with a sly grin on my face. Travis smirked at the obvious implication there, but I am no whore. That I remember, at any rate.

He took a step closer to me with a menacing look on his face. "And what if I want a whore?" He said in a low voice, locking eyes with me. I bristled at his accusation and shuddered at his cool stare.

"Then you can look elsewhere," I retorted, pushing him back a bit roughly. "'Cause I **don't **see one around here!" My eyes narrowed. "Like at porn... or you could look up a prostitute. I'm sure you know a few numbers." I wouldn't recommend going after his students. He'd get jail time for that. Travis gave me a lecherous look, which I pointedly ignored, staring instead out at the dance floor. I've got to shake him before Tommy gets here. "Oh, hey, look! Is that a couple grinding? I think it is. Now, off, go chaperone!" I cried, gesturing to a couple on the dance floor. Travis glared, but he polished off his cup of punch nonetheless and scurried off to go his duties.

Mental pat on the back there. It was fortunate he was gone, because all of a sudden, Tommy was by my side with my wrap. I jumped a little bit, but he and Travis were wearing different colors so that I could better tell them apart. But then I plastered on a smile and let him help me into my wrap. I hate wraps, but I love Tommy, and I want to keep him safe and out of jail. Which is why I'm not dating him and keeping him away from Travis. "Hey," I whispered breathlessly. He apologized, telling me he'd been held up writing some autographs. Tommy smiled back and offered to get me some punch, but I shook my head, trying to push down the guilt. "Oh, no, babe. I've already had like two glasses, and it's kind of gone to my head a little," I muttered, trying to wave it off and be casual.

Tommy gestured to the dance floor, a mischievous smile playing at his lips. "What's say we dance, milady?" Tommy suggested flirtatiously, taking my arm. "Let's make every girl in the place jealous of you." Can't argue with that, plus that way I can distract him from any potential sight of Travis the Rover. Wow, makes him sound like more of a dog than he actually is. I grinned and nodded, allowing him to lead me unto the dance floor. Tommy was a regular Danny Castle, so I just went with the flow and let him do with me what he wanted. It's not exactly the place, considering that there are only four types of dancing at high school dances. These types are: group dancing with your friends, grinding, close slow dancing, and then awkward couple dancing. Generally all of these forms of dancing are somewhat awkward, but I suppose that's half of the fun. I like getting all sweaty dancing, so I was all over Tommy like a cheap suit for half of the time. I doubt you could've passed a tissue between us.

And man, you should've seen all the jealous looks the other girls were giving me! I was tempted to plant one on him just to piss them off even more, but I'm off Tommy. Damn. Then, of course, as if the awful hired D.J. had it out for me, a very familiar tune began to play. I would know that song anywhere. It wasn't only familiar to me, though, I ought to say. Tommy knew all the words by heart, better even than I did. When the opening chords started, I heard many a girl dreamily exclaim that she loved the song. Naturally, I agreed with the girls, but I wasn't about to say that. I couldn't, not with Tommy standing right there.

The song, of course, was "Walking Contradiction". Its wide-scale radio-play hadn't exactly escaped Tommy's ears. You see, it's become somewhat of a sensation as of late. Well, I suppose it was always one. The only difference is that it wasn't a number one single on both sides of the border before. Tommy shot me a rather reproachful look but pulled me closer nevertheless.

I was so close, in fact, that I could feel his breath on my ear. Goosebumps rose on my arms. "I believe I owe you for this," He murmured. So he knew, then, that I'd done it. I felt myself flush. The song had a pleasing melody. It was set at a moderate tempo, midway between fast and slow. In certain portions of the song, acoustic guitar rose to prominence, although electric guitar generally dominated. It wasn't anything fancy, maybe a riff or two... and otherwise it tended to remind me of "That Girl". Only I ought to say that it was much more complex, more of a layered sound, and with a harder, grittier edge. A bit of a paradox, it was. Tommy had done some wonderful work. In theory, it was the perfect love song: one that guys would hardly be shamed to admit knowing and one that girls would adore.

That being said, there was still that Tommy Q. factor associated with it.

It was so weird to be there on the dance floor, hearing Tommy's voice almost as if he was singing to me, while I was in his arms. "_These great sins of omission... You're complicated like nuclear fission_," went the record version of my date. I'd never said so, but the reference to nuclear fission impressed me. Who knew he even knew what that was? It reminded me of last year, and how I'd managed to wrangle Kat into working with Jamie on an extra credit project on that very subject. Sins of omission too... what a Catholic! "_When you separate me from myself, and I become __**someone **__else... only for you._"

Tommy and I swayed quietly to the music at first, close but not speaking a single word to one another. He might've been looking at me, but I was looking away from him. It felt awkward. It's never been so awkward and stilted before. Being with him's as comfortable as a broken-in pair of shoes most of the time... "_You're my favorite muse and my biggest critic, object of my love and my hate. You're my opposite, and I'm loving it! You always frustrate me, but somehow, I feel great... Because you're my walking contradiction._" Record Tommy said that with such genuine enthusiasm it was almost perverse to listen to him. I couldn't ever remember a time when he had been that excited, much less about a girl. Only it was weird, knowing the girl was me. I probably would've always known this subconsciously and denied it like I always do, but I would've known. So of course Tommy had to flat out tell me it was about me.

What torture was that! With that last line, something inside of me broke just a little, weakened just a little. Still, I stubbornly refused to look at him, at least for the duration of the next verse, which the both of us knew full well was the chorus. And the chorus was the most painful part of all... because it held the most truth. It summed up my relationship with Tommy in a nutshell, succinctly and in the world for everyone to hear.

Sure, the other parts had their little truths... Tommy said I made him want to be better, that he wanted to be the guy I saw him as. I guess that's kind of his way of saying he wants to be someone who he thinks I deserve. Someone worthy, as if he isn't. That is entirely not the problem. Tommy is different around me than others, and I see who he really is. I don't know if I'm complicated, but I suppose I must be, compared to all the _easy _girls he's dated. I mean that both ways, darling. Sins of omission, though... I suppose he likes to keep his secrets, and he doesn't tell me things like maybe how he feels, especially at the time he wrote this song.

Maybe I was his muse occasionally, and maybe I did criticize him where others wouldn't have dared. I really take a lot more liberties with Tommy than others would. I don't know anything about how or if I frustrate him, and we're not really that dissimilar at all. But I should stop applying this song to our relationship.

Because they're just words, and this is just a song.

"_'Cause I shouldn't be with you..._"

But words can hurt. A lot. Sometimes the truth hurts, they say. That was my least favorite line in the song.

Not going to look. Not even a peek. Looking at Tommy is bad, dangerous, maybe even deadly. I'm off him. For good. "_I don't wanna admit that I want it, but it's true... You're too young, and I'm too old... I'm too reserved, and you're too bold! Yeah, we're opposites through and through... But I can't help falling head over heels for you!_" I grimaced visibly, buckling a little under the pressure of all those expectations. Tommy had a lot of faith in me. A lot of trust in me. And there it was, a little summary of all the reasons why it couldn't happen.

I suppose the funny thing is that we're really not that different. He's a butt-shaking boybander. He flirts; he dances. He does many things with more grace than I could ever fathom. He's rich, and I'm... not so much. Still middle-class, even with the royalties checks. Me, I'm just a high-schooler singer-songwriter who got lucky. I'm learning from his example. I get attention from guys, but not the kind I want from the person I want. And there is absolutely nothing graceful about me. The music erases all the differences.

You know, I think I'm gonna need more of that punch to make it through this dance.

Only the catch is the fact that I can't leave. Not in the middle of the dance. Not in the middle of our song. I. Just. Can't. No matter how much I need that rum.

And I need it. Baaaad.

His arms tightened around me. My heart fluttered in my chest. "_It's not right, but it doesn't feel wrong..._" I heard his low, velvety voice murmur over the speakers. I felt all the breath go out of me. It had never been said in a truer way. I closed my eyes briefly, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. His embrace was warm. I sighed blissfully, letting myself relax and savor the moment. But only for that, a mere moment. It was still wrong, after all. "_It's not short, but it hasn't been long... You've got me spinning around, but my feet are still planted on the ground_." Then I opened my eyes, trying to ignore his warmth and his stupid blinding smile and the way everything about him was so perfect that it hurt my eyes to look at him. Trying to forget the way he smelled. I turned my head away from him. "_You're my walking contradiction_," The achingly familiar voice crooned.

It took everything in me not to cringe and pull away. Tommy was trying to look into my eyes. I could tell, but I studiously avoided him, keeping my eyes focused on the floor. My heart slammed against my chest as the chorus played again. "_'Cause I __**shouldn't **__be with you... I don't wanna admit that I want it, but it's true. You're too young, and I'm too old. I'm too reserved, and you're too bold... Yeah, we're opposites through and through... But I can't help falling head over heels for you._" He pulled me infinitively closer to him. Damn right he shouldn't. He might not be able to help it, but I can. I tried to hold myself above it, away from it, hoping to follow his example and be so aloof.

They call it an undertow for a reason, though. The second I caught a flash of his eyes, I was... pretty much drowning, transfixed. I couldn't look away. Tommy's lips curved downward, and I knew then that he was about to say something big. The thought made my blood run cold because it felt like that night in the limo all over again with him saying things I couldn't hear, things I didn't want to hear, not then and not from him. Sounds unbelievable, doesn't it? I wanted to stop him, but somehow I was frozen. And, worst of all, I hadn't forgotten, and neither had he. It was written all over his face.

Sometimes I wish that life was Eternal Happiness of the Spotless Mind (Or is it Sunshine?) or whatever that movie is where Jim Carrey falls in love with Kate Winslet and has them do a procedure to make him forget. Only he winds up remembering the whole damn thing. I'd like to do something like that, you know, sometimes... but then I think about what it would be like afterwards, walking around with such a hole in my heart and no reason why. All the passion and vitality sucked out of me, my marrow turned dry. I'd feel so void and empty, like a part of me was gone. Half of me, at least. There are times when him and me get so tangled up in my head that I can't tell us apart and I don't know who I am without him... and that terrifies me. It'd be impossible to erase him from my memory without killing myself.

Never love someone who can't love you back. It'll only eat you up inside. His eyes were contrite and focused. He'd pulled back enough so that I could breathe a little easier, but his arms were still loosely draped around me as we swayed to the sickeningly familiar music. His hand slipped down my shoulder, squeezing my hand. He was sincerity. "I'm sorry, Jude... Maybe I shouldn't have come." You think? Tommy looked down then, as if ashamed, but he carried on in a thin voice. I felt like I'd broken him. "I know you don't want to see me. You don't even want to hear anything I have to say because you think... you think I'll say something stupid, and I probably will," Tommy admitted awkwardly, playing with my fingers. He looked up at me briefly before my stare made his gaze once again drop to the floor, and I knew he was thinking of that night. I could hear the echoes of it in his voice, and brief flashes of it flitted across my eyes, dazzling my vision until the two seemed to blur together. "And I knew it was wrong, but Taylor begged me, and I kept thinking about you having to come all alone with no one to protect you... and I wanted to see you again. Because not seeing you... It's _killing _me," Tommy murmured, hurt heavy in his voice. And suddenly his face was so close to mine and I found myself actually believing him. Believing him!

Tommy exhaled just then, and I felt his breath on my face. We were standing too close, and it made me uncomfortable in my own skin. "I'm sorry I made you promise, Tommy. I..." I blurted suddenly. His eyes turned dark and murky at the mention of that forbidden night, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Travis in the crowd, watching us. Maybe Tommy was right to worry about me. I bit my lip anxiously. Then Tommy was grabbing my hands, and all of my attention was riveted to him once again. "I'm sorry I can't," I choked out in a voice that was barely a whisper. The look on Tommy's face spoke volumes.

He leaned down to whisper in my ear so that the people around us couldn't hear. "Don't be sorry. I'd have done the same thing," He assured me, but I knew it was a lie. He shrugged, placing his hands on my lower back and waist, pulling me closer. "Karma," He explained, "What goes around comes around, right?" I saw him force a little smile. So, basically, he had it coming and the bastard deserved it. Still, I didn't think the principle applied to Tommy. I shook my head, trying to shake free the thoughts.

"Tommy, I..." I began, looking up at him. He gazed down at me expectantly, but I faltered under the intensity of his stare. It felt like a weight on my shoulders. I licked my lips nervously and dropped my gaze to the floor. His eyes were questioning and curious, so I avoided them. I wound my arms around his neck, leaning heavily against him. I turned my head, just barely resting my cheek on his shoulder. I closed my eyes, sighing in contentment. He smelled perfect. "This is nice," I murmured distractedly, tracing circles on the back of Tommy's neck. My fingers brushed against the hair at the base of his neck.

If Tommy was surprised by this, he said nothing. Suddenly I felt very tired. Everything had sort of hit me, I guess. It was too much. The events of the past two weeks were finally hitting me. Almost sleeping with Chaz, enduring so much scorn and mockery, the new houseguest, the indignity of apologizing to Travis, the fallout of that awful awards show, the guilt of the break-up, the secret of that night in the limo, my burgeoning relationship, avoiding Tommy, having to keep him away from Travis, the whole awkward night, and worst of all, denying myself of the thing I wanted most... It had taken a real toll on me. My whole body felt heavy, and it took such effort for me to even stand up.

I was like a ragdoll in Tommy's arms. Dimly, I recognized my favorite verse beginning to play. I smiled faintly. "_You're the __**reason **__for my act of contrition... Girl, you keep sending me to confession._" You can so tell he's Catholic, right? For a moment, I wondered if Tommy actually did go to confession. It didn't sound like him. He's the kind to take a secret to the grave. "_Which totally ruins my practice of repression... Of these feelings I keep __**denying **__I have for you._" Getting Freudian, aren't we? That, at least, I could buy, even though he's more of a denial guy. Tommy's lips brushed against my cheek so lightly I could've sworn I imagined it. His kiss felt like butterflies' wings, fleeting. "_These feelings I can barely fight anymore... It's just like fighting the tide: pointless 'cause I can't win..._"

The breath caught unpleasantly in my throat. It was like a sign. At that line, my eyes shot open to meet Tommy's. He'd turned back to look at me, and there was a moment. His eyes weren't pleading, per se, but there was a persuasiveness in them, a sort of calling. He placed a hand fondly on my cheek, and I felt myself flush underneath the warm, familiar callouses. His whole being urged me to give in. _Give up_, he seemed to say. _There's no point in this. You're only torturing yourself._ My eyelids fluttered in distraction, eyes dropping hungrily to stare at his wet lips. He had me damn near convinced when the chorus cut back in again with that one skewering line.

"_'Cause I shouldn't be with __**YOU**__!_"The words crashed over me, drowning me. I heard Tommy singing along faintly, not sounding quite so strong or furious.

This time the tempo increased drastically. I felt that every atom in me was vibrating to the beat. My entire body was humming and alive to the electrifying guitar riff. The rhythm pulsed through my veins. I was bound to the music. Bound by the music. In the previous verse, Tommy's voice had been so soft, tender even. But now it was entirely different, like the voice of a stranger, jagged and hard and coarse, maybe even frustrated.

I remembered him telling me that he'd recorded three different versions of this song: one slow and soft and achingly-breakingly sincere, another hardcore, tortured, intense punk rock thrash-grind, and the final one a mixture of the two. The version we were listening to was the mash-up. The music boomed in my ears, making me want to join my classmates in jumping. I felt like maybe if I'd jumped I could've sailed away from all of this, straight up into the sky. "_I don't wanna admit that I __**want **__it, but it's true!_" Tommy growled. The real Tommy's voice was just a little less hoarse, and he smiled at me in a way so sweet it made me sick inside.

His voice rose a little with the next verse, and we seemed to have gotten closer. "_You're __**too **__young, and I'm too old!_" His voice sang out. I frowned and chimed in for harmony, "_I'm too __**young**__, and you're too old!_" He really is too old. Twenty-three and me not even seventeen. I can't drive. I can't vote. I can't drink. Can't even get married on my own. It took all I had to not push him away then, but that would've ruined it. And I could at least have this one moment, couldn't I?

I tilted my head to peer at him quizzically. He was still smiling. I felt hot, so I fanned myself with my hand, wiping at the sheen of perspiration on my forehead. "_I'm too reserved, and you're too bo-old_," Tommy warbled almost drunkenly. "_You're too reserved, and I'm too bold_," I harmonized, mimicking his voice. He just kept right on smiling, and I envied him for it. He leaned his forehead against mine, glancing down at me. "_Yeah, we're opposites through and thro-oo-ough_," We chorused, finishing the verse in unison, "_But I can't __**help**__ falling head over heels for __**you**__!_" I smiled at him sideways. "_Oh, oh, oh, yo-ou! Ye-e-a-e-ah, for yo-ou... for yo-ou... __**you**__!_"I added brightly.

The verse slowed a little. I didn't like this one as much, but it wound up the song as best could be expected. Tommy had either stopped singing along, or he was singing so softly I couldn't discern it. Naturally, I'd suspect the first, given that I could recognize his voice at any volume. Nevertheless, his lips were moving along with the words, and I was mesmerized by them. "_You're my biggest mistake and my greatest flaw..._" True enough, I guess... "_Yeah, you're the stick stuck in my craw..._" Admittedly, I despise that line. It makes Tommy sound like a farmer or a cowboy or like some country honky-tonk guy or, I dunno, even Jeff Foxworthy.

He looked at me curiously. I don't mean that he looked curious, but that there was something strange about it. It didn't make me feel wholly comfortable. It was a meaningful look, and I shivered as the force of that stare and his words washed over me. It sounded all too real. "_And you won't just go away, no, of course, you'll __**stay**__..._" It was a haunting verse. Tommy quirked a smile and leaned in, putting his fingers on my chin. "_My little contradicting anomaly, a conflicting paradox._" He mouthed it with such expression that I felt like his pet. Needless to say, I jerked away abruptly. "_You're two different ideas mashed together, my __**own **_antithesis... _Countering and checking and balancing my every move! Even though you keep on throwing me off __**track**_..." That's romantic, kind of. In a strange way.

Then, suddenly, I could hear Tommy's voice again. He rose his voice and got closer. I didn't retreat this time. "_You still are my walking contradiction... Girl, you are my walking contradiction_," He murmured softly, leaning in further. I didn't pull away. The way he said it, all rapturously and enticingly, so romantic... There was something credible about the passion in his voice. His voice so low, his eyelids fluttering closed. And I was hooked like a fish. The chords were dying out, and his lips were so close, and he was so beautiful that I just couldn't resist. Against my will and all common sense, I found myself leaning in to meet him.

I would've kissed him, too, but we were most cruelly interrupted.

Then came the sower of discord... or should I say the apple? "Ah, ah, ah! I wouldn't do that if I were you, Tommy." We whirled to face the sound of the voice. Travis had sauntered over to us while we were dancing, and suddenly there he stood at my side. I felt all of me go cold and rigid. He was, predictably, smirking. His presence was like a bucket of cold water dumped over both of us. Everything froze at the sight of him. It was like when you're playing the piano really well, and the music's beautiful, and then strange hands just come crash down on the keys out of nowhere, jazz-style, and it's the opposite of sync, of harmony, discordant, and disjointed.

My blood boiled, and Tommy groaned irritably. I'd turned so fast he didn't even get to kiss my cheek. I glowered at Travis. Way to ruin a moment. That was such crock too! He would, and he did! His eyes were bright and mocking, his lips jaunty, and his voice teasing. Nasty, isn't he? I gritted my teeth. "You would," I muttered under my breath. I felt slightly better when his smug grin dropped a fraction. Still, worst of all, I knew I should be grateful to him. Because he'd stopped me from giving in to Tommy, and I knew if I did... I would've been a total goner. I kind of am a goner, already, but I like to be optimistic.

I glanced at Tommy, who still had his arms wrapped around me. If it was possible, he was glaring at Travis even more intensely than I was. The look of death was in his eyes. He didn't dare to say a word, probably because he might've killed Travis if he had. Travis continued to grin. "I saw the way you were dancing with her, Tommy. A concerned educator might be obligated to report it to the courts," Travis quipped almost threateningly. Tommy's grip on my waist went slack, and I could tell he was afraid. Something about him thought Travis would actually do it. Which was probably the most hypocritical thing he could possibly do, since he's in an even bigger position of authority, and, thus, on shakier ground... Not to mention that he's a repeat offender. And practically raped me. Tommy was... not even doing much of anything.

So I knew I had to help Tommy and steer him out of this awful situation. I could sense that the longer I kept them together... the worse it would be. So I shot Travis a look. "Well, then, I guess we're lucky you're not a concerned educator," I scoffed, wrapping an arm around Tommy's waist and attempting to pull him away from Travis. Tommy didn't budge much. Clearly he hadn't loosened up.

Then something flickered in Travis' eyes. He knew he couldn't deny that, but he had an idea. Doubtless, it was an evil idea, and I knew I had to get him away from Tommy. "C'mon, Tommy... Let's get some punch. I'm tired of dancing," I urged, grabbing his hand and attempting to pull him off the dance floor. We'd somehow wound up in the middle, so I was having to dodge all sorts of other dancing couples and making quite a spectacle of myself.

And I could still hear Travis' whiny voice behind me. He wasn't that far away from me. "Retreating to liquor again, are we, Jude? I would've thought you'd learned by now that you shouldn't drink around me," Travis drawled. My heart flew up to my throat, and I tugged Tommy harder, stepping up my pace. It was all I could do to keep moving as fast as possible, lest Travis say something even worse. When I arrived at the punchbowl, my cheeks were hot, and upon seeing a glass, I picked it up and chugged it.

It burned on the way down, and I felt sick inside. Travis was right, and now Tommy would know something was up. It had been so hard to hide it from him before when Travis wasn't trying to make me suffer. I refilled my glass of punch to the brim and turned to face Tommy, taking a tiny sip. He picked up a glass and was staring at it contemplatively. I bit my lip anxiously. "Try it. It's good. With Travis here, you'll definitely need it. I know I do," I suggested, taking a healthy sip from my drink. Tommy nodded dimly and promptly downed the entire glass in a single gulp.

The girl manning the stand had left, so I leaned against the table heavily, staring moodily into the punch glasses. "So. That was just _smashing_, wasn't it?" I muttered irately, taking a deep breath. My heart was still caught up in my throat, and no amount of breathing could bring it down.

Tommy laughed weakly, downing another drink. "Smashing, all right." I turned around and saw the murderous look on his face. He looked like he wanted to take Travis' head between his bare hands and smash it. Hmm. You know, I wouldn't be entirely averse to that. Tommy actually looked kind of miserable, and he drank another. He frowned, staring at the drink. "They really ought to make this stronger. Not enough rum."

I laughed a little. "Sorry about that. I wanted to keep you two apart for as long as possible," I explained, flashing him a smile. You know, I don't even ordinarily like punch. Tommy shot me a remotely grateful look. He knows that's pretty much impossible.

His eyes were dark and intent, but he was staring off into space. "It would've happened eventually," He mumbled. "The bastard's damn determined when he wants to be," Tommy almost growled, tossing back his drink like it had a lot more alcohol than it really did. He was right too. Determined to make my life miserable and... do whatever to Tommy. He sipped at another drink more slowly, coolly even. "So... what the hell is _he _doing here?"

I gave him a look because that reply was really very moronic. Are you freakin' serious? I mean, seriously, why does anyone think a teacher's at a dance? I doubt it's because he wants to perv on his students... not tonight, at any rate. "I don't know, Tommy. Maybe it's because he's a chaperone," I retorted sarcastically, polishing off my drink. I liked my lips. I wasn't any less thirsty. Tommy shot me a look that suggested he was less than amused. We didn't get much alone time after that. Neither of us much wanted to dance anymore. Travis had ruined that too.

Why must he ruin everything? And then of course, the man himself finally strode over to the punch table. I glared at him and Tommy crushed his cup between his fingers in irritation. Fortunately the cup was empty. He grinned smugly. "Thomas, Jude. Figures I would find you two alcoholics here," He addressed the both of us. I rolled my eyes. Is he stupid or what? I said I was gonna get some punch. If the creep wanted to follow me, it wouldn't be hard to find me since I TOLD HIM WHERE I WAS GOING. Dumbass.

Tommy said nothing, but it looked like he was grinding his teeth. There was a dangerous look in his eyes. I didn't like the way Travis was grinning at me suggestively. Like he was going to tell Tommy everything. I gulped hard. Travis' grin widened. "So, Thom-ass, I heard you broke up with your girlfriend for this one. Doesn't look to me like that investment's paying off much," Travis said dryly, jerking his thumb in my direction. He raised an eyebrow in amusement. Ha ha. What a funny joke. "After all, isn't she still dating Taylor and, oh, that's right... You're not getting laid," Travis continued cheerily. He said it like he thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

If it was possible, Tommy's stare increased in murderosity. He couldn't keep silent after that. Understandably. "I don't see how my personal life is any of your business, Travis, much less what I do with Jude," Tommy stated coolly. Travis rolled his eyes, still smiling.

"See. You aren't getting laid. That's why you're pissed off," Travis pointed out gleefully. I had half a mind to tell Travis that he was pissed off because he was talking to him, in fact, but I didn't. I'm classier than Travis.

Tommy shook his head dully. "Just shut up, Travis, and get your nose out of my life. Can't you go bug someone else?" Tommy snarled, sounding weak. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, clearly tired. The two of us were, of course, in agreement. But I wasn't dumb enough to think he would. What Tommy meant, of course, was that the night was already awkward enough without him adding to it. Tommy turned to me suddenly and said, "You deserve a lot of credit for putting up with this clown five days a week." I smiled and nodded. So true.

Travis snorted. "Not really. You see, I happen to tolerate pretty much everyone else in the room. You two just make yourselves such easy targets," Travis declared dramatically. Note he said tolerate, not like. Although, one thing: who is Travis to talk about getting laid? I mean, he likes Joan and the girl's barely even kissed him. Hell, Tommy's gotten a helluva lot more action out of me. If he was using me for that, which he's not. Besides, Tommy's probably getting laid. I'm just not the one doing it. There was that awful word again. Target. Almost as bad as victim.

Well, I wasn't about to stand for that. "Oh, yes. How you relish _molestation _in any form," I remarked dryly, sarcastically. Travis glared at me, and Tommy perked up a little. But he didn't look that surprised. The implication was clear in my voice.

Travis might as well have said "it takes two to tango" with the look he gave me. I flinched. There would be retribution for that one. "You should be talking to Tommy. He's a professional, right?" He said sternly. His eyes flicked over to Tommy, who looked very uncomfortable with the accusation. His face was light red, and he was clutching his punch glass like a lifeline. He was stiff with anger. Can't say I blame him. Made me angry too, Travis having the gall to say that.

It's like the pot calling the kettle black, really, only Travis is far worse. He might actually be a pedophile, y'know, as opposed to Tommy, who really isn't... He's more of a situational, exceptionable type, Tommy, and that exception happens to be me, of course.

That's something Tommy really struggles over. So I did what I could to help him out. I stuck my hand in his right pocket, sidling up to him proudly. Then I shot Travis a particularly icy look. "You forget that it's only molestation if it's unwanted. I want Tommy... around," I countered, wincing at how awkward my latter words were. That was a little slip of the tongue, but it was true. Damn those Freudian slips. I really did want Tommy, and now both of them knew it. Great, just great. I sighed and passed a hand over my eyes. I was careful not to touch the make-up, lest it be ruined. Tommy was right. There wasn't near enough liquor in the punch.

"Way to state the obvious, Jude. I'm sure everybody in the room knows _exactly _how much you want Tommy. It's so obvious it's kind of pathetic, really," Travis remarked icily, grabbing a handful of candy from one of the bowls. He unwrapped a cherry-flavored candy, popping it into his mouth nonchalantly. I felt humiliated, and I was unable to even look at Tommy. No, my eyes were focused solely on Travis. I dimly watched him chomp down on the poor, defenseless little sweet, following his jaw motion. I had the nastiest feeling it would be like he was chewing me into tiny little pieces by the end of the night. And, indeed, as soon as Travis had finished working on the candy, I saw his Adam's apple bob. As he swallowed the bonbon, his eyes gleamed evilly. I felt deflated, but my whole body was cold and stiff, straight like a rod. "However, I don't think Tommy knows who else is on your little screw list. Perhaps I should enlighten him, Jude," Travis hinted menacingly.

I clenched my cup of punch, suddenly noticing that Tommy was far away from me when I reached for him. My face was devoid of all emotion. He's going to try and blackmail me... but how and why? The best defense is a good offense, as they say. "Perhaps, Travis, I should enlighten the schoolboard. I'm sure Joan and Patsy would offer some support, and then even all your pretty little words couldn't get you out of hot water," I replied frostily, not backing down. I didn't look at Tommy, but I could guess that he looked somewhat perplexed. I didn't care. At that moment, I didn't even want him there. Sounds suspicious, doesn't it. I calmly took a long sip from my drink, watching the expressions play across Travis' face. He had turned pink. "Oh, look, turning red like the stupid, cooked _lobster _you are!" I exclaimed with a malicious grin, tipping my glass at him.

Payback's a bitch, isn't it? You should've seen the look he gave me for that one, but it was just so true. If it was possible, his face turned redder still after that one. But Travis was not that afraid, and he did not back down. "Oh, but Jude, I can talk faster, and Tom's right here with a ready ear," Travis contradicted, clapping a hand down on Tommy's shoulder. Tommy glared at the hand and then brushed it off. He snatched the punch out of my hand, flashing me a particularly obnoxious smirk. "I don't think you should be drinking this, Miss Harrison. It's illegal for minors to consume alcoholic beverages," He chastised immediately before downing the damn thing himself. Hypocrite. I glowered at him, but he merely shrugged and threw the empty cup over his shoulder. "Can't have you getting too dependent on alcohol at such a young age. Wouldn't want you to wind up an alcoholic at eighteen like Tom, now would we?" Travis continued meanly. His eyes flicked over to Tommy for emphasis.

Tommy seethed silently, slamming his cup down on the table. Some punch spilled out and stained the white tablecloth. Just like that, the purity was gone. Like mine would be or already was. And I'd be forever tainted... I couldn't let that happen. "Better an alcoholic than a **lonely-**ass control freak _wannabe _**sociopath **who has to hurt other people so that he can live with _himself_!" I shouted back loudly, almost getting up in his face. I pulled back abruptly so that Travis couldn't hit me and then fled, grabbing Tommy's arm and pulling him with me. Within moments we were lost once again in the protective shield of the crowd.

I stayed close to Tommy, just barely swaying to the beat. We danced in silence like lifeless zombies. I didn't even recognize the song, though I should've. The words were like a foreign language to me. And I hoped to God, crossing my fingers and praying, that Travis wouldn't find us. The dance would be over at ten or nine or eleven. It was probably at least half over now. I just have to keep Tommy away from Travis for a couple of hours. It can't be that hard. I can do this. I think he tried to ask me what that was about, but I just ignored him and glanced feverishly around the room. All the faces started to blur together, and I felt hot. My heart was beating at a million miles an hour, and it was hard to breathe. I leaned heavily on Tommy, wishing I could burrow myself into his arms forever, wishing that I never had to come out into the world ever again.

Eventually, though, Tommy dragged me to the table where Kat and Jamie were sitting, along with Speed, Joan, and Wally. He sat me down and told me he was going to get me an ice water, nothing alcoholic. I nodded dumbly and watched him go, keeping a wary eye out for Travis. I didn't see him, but I could sense him, and that made my pulse pound. "Jude... are you okay?" Kat asked hesitantly, reaching across the table to grab my hand. I shook my head sadly, feeling absolutely exhausted. I think I'm coming down with something.

Jamie reached over, putting the back of his hand on my forehead. He frowned, pulling his hand back. His hand was cool to the touch and felt like heaven on my hot forehead. I closed my eyes blissfully. "I think she's overheated... or maybe she's sick," He pronounced. Then Jamie grabbed my hand, which was inexplicably cold. His frown deepened, and I couldn't help but notice how Kat pursed her lips at the innocent contact. I rolled my eyes and threw off Jamie's hand.

Speed's eyes widened, and he pointed at me like an idiot. "I think she's having an eye spasm!" He interjected idiotically. I turned to look at him and once again rolled my eyes. Idiot. "There it is again!" Speed squeaked, actually looking somewhat scared for me. Such concern from a loyal bandmate, eh? I couldn't ask for more. I shook my head and sighed, putting my head on my arms.

Joan and Wally also looked concerned. "Jude, what's wrong?" Joan finally asked. I sighed even more deeply. What wasn't? What isn't?

But for the more relevant problem... "I have to keep Tommy and Travis from killing each other, and Travis is totally threatening me, only I know he's gonna get Tommy alone so he can tell him about what happened, and I'm really not proud of it, and it's so awful, and Tommy's gonna wind up probably killing the both of us and then he'll go to jail and get butt-raped by some giant inmate named Dickie or something and it'll all be my fault!" I said in a breathless, panicky voice. I was trying to minimize my hysteria. Well, I guess my words blurred together or whatever, because they didn't seem to understand me. I scowled and turned to look at Joan. "Tommy plus Travis equals disaster. If he gets Tommy alone, he's going to taunt him, and he's going to tell him about you-know-what! And then they will fight to the death!" I exclaimed hysterically. I felt like ripping my hair out. So much for keeping calm.

I glanced up and noticed that some of my friends looked confused. Jamie and Kat, of course, understood, so they looked sufficiently alarmed, and Joan was scowling. Travis tends to do that. Especially to her, but then again he also tries to cram his tongue down her throat, and I didn't see her biting down on it either. Just saying. Plus Joan was the only one who knew exactly what I meant. Her eyes darkened, and she leaned across the table, looking more sober than I had ever seen her. "I'll distract him for you," She replied blithely. I blinked at her in disbelief, staring blankly. After what happened she's seriously volunteering? Joan flashed Wally a terse smile. "Travis, I mean," She clarified somewhat awkwardly.

Wally frowned. Obviously he knows something's up there. Everyone knows Travis is not your average teacher. Or, really, even a normal one, for that matter. But he really has no idea about the Travis/Joan thing. A particularly awful hip-hop song started playing, and Joan rose with a determined look on her face. After a moment, she looked expectantly at Wally. "Well, aren't you going to come with me? I can't exactly grind all by myself. I mean, I could, but that would just be _so _tacky," Joan replied, gazing towards the dance floor. Wally raised his eyebrows, just as shocked as I was. Apparently, so was everyone else. Joan frowned, placing her hands on her hips. "What? I've got moves," She assured us a bit defensively.

Then she grabbed Wally's arm, yanking him up from the table, and set out to prove it. I stared after her in awe. You know, for a second there, I thought she was actually going to grind on Travis, but him trying to pry them apart will be annoying. Joan's right out in the middle of the revelers, so he can't exactly miss her. Ah, friends. What would I do without them? Within moments, Joan was all over Wally, and poor Wally looked so flummoxed. Like he didn't know what had hit him. I wasn't really paying attention to see how long it would take Travis to notice, but it was halfway through that first song. I frowned. Tommy still wasn't back. I began to worry that Travis had found him and sunk his teeth right into him.

I rose to go investigate further when I noticed that Travis had spotted Joan and was coming after her. The anger and, to some degree, jealousy, was written all over his face. The jealousy was only obvious if you knew how he felt and such. So, basically, if you're me, Joan, Patsy, or some members of S.M.E. Joan was craftier than I anticipated, though, and she pulled Wally along with her, further into the crush of people. Naturally Travis pursued them. I felt a tiny smile form on my face. Joan was right. She did have moves. Had she been a spy in a past life or something?

I was keeping a watchful eye on the pair when Tommy arrived at my side. I jumped about a foot in the air and had to quiet a shriek. Tommy pretended not to notice and calmly handed me a glass of cool water. I smiled at him gratefully and brought the cup to my lips, taking a healthy sip. The water was refreshingly cold. Tommy cleared his throat, scanning the room with his eyes. "So," He whispered conspiratorially, "what are we looking at?" His face was so close to my head. I looked away in embarrassment and said nothing, since I obviously couldn't tell him we were looking at Travis.

Just then, the final chords of the song Joan had been dancing to died out... and then something very interesting happened. The D.J. was thrown halfway across the room by a mysterious force. Everyone's eyes were, naturally, riveted to the table. And then the force appeared: my dear friend Patsy! She plunked a record down on the turntables, starting it up. The song was old and dramatic, more than a little brassy. It sounded like someone had mixed in a healthy bit of sitar, too. It was the kind of music that called for a tango. I suddenly noticed Speed by the side of the tables, playing accompanying electric guitar, rocking it up. He was good. That being done, Patsy seized the mike and started running. When she had enough momentum, she leaped and landed on top of the turntables, legs outstretched. Patsy was wearing a short black dress made of lace and fringe. Patsy waited a few moments before launching into the song.

"_Co-o-on-QUEST!_" Patsy burst out, twisting dramatically. The fringe moved with her. Everyone's eyes were on Patsy, so no one noticed Travis ripping Joan away from her date and dragging her out of the crowd. Patsy's eyes, however, were obviously on Travis. They gleamed dark. "_He was out to make a __**con-**__quest! Didn't care what harm was done, just as long as he __**won... **__the pri-ize!_" Patsy sang in a hard voice, strutting forward. I suddenly noticed Travis and Joan. They were tangoing, and rather spectacularly at that. I was surprised no one else thought that was strange. Travis was in utter control of the situation, and he was treating Joan like little more than a pawn. He'd twist her one way and then back the other. He whipped her around casually, twirling her about and even throwing her around as if she was a rag doll. I realize that's not exactly what a tango's like, but think of it as a tango with swing dance influences. Joan might've been objecting, but Travis was so masterful that Joan couldn't take control of the situation.

I could tell from the look on her face that she didn't want to be dancing with him at all but Joan was trapped in the tango 'til the death. "_**Conquest!**_" Patsy shouted, bounding off of the table, skittering across the dance floor. Pats kicked up her heels, spinning around dizzily. She threw her head back, focusing her eyes on Travis and Joan. I watched, utterly riveted. "_She was just another con-quest._" Travis twirled Joan and suddenly dipped her dangerously low. "_Didn't care whose heart was broke. Love to him was a joke 'til he looked into her eyes!_" She growled, glowering at the crowd. Just as quickly as that, Travis pulled Joan back up and straight into him. Their eyes locked. Joan looked only slightly terrified. Both were breathing hard.

Joan pushed Travis away from her and moved to leave. Travis, however, caught her wrist. I wondered vaguely how no one had noticed this. They were taking up a lot of space and using flashy dance moves. Plus Travis is a teacher, and teachers aren't supposed to be that close to their students. He held her wrist tightly and the two circled each other, eying the other warily. Patsy shimmied particularly unwholesomely, sashaying around the perimeter. She strutted up to one poor freshman and hooked her finger under his chin, using it to bring him closer to her. I swear the kid's eyes damn near burst out of his sockets. He moved closer to Patsy instinctively, and she smiled at him coyly. "_And then in the strange way things happen... The roles were reversed from that day. The hunted became the huntress, the hunter __**be-ca-ame **__the prey!_" Patsy drawled suggestively. Her eyes flashed suddenly, and she twisted her hips.

Then Patsy pushed the freshman away so suddenly he didn't know what was happening. She threw an arm over her head, gyrating wildly to the beat. She rolled her hips and twirled around. "_Conquest! Now you know who made the con-quest... She with all her female guile led him helpless down the aisle. She had finally made a conquest!_" Patsy crooned. Patsy was always a huntress in my opinion. My eyes flitted back over to Travis and Joan. Once they had each achieved a half-turn (in opposite directions, mind you), they would change direction and go the other way. Every time they did this Travis would drop her wrist and grab the other one. Eventually Travis took to pulling her closer and closer. Joan struggled.

By that point, I found Patsy's words ironic, but I had clearly underestimated Joan. Travis suddenly reached across and grabbed both of Joan's wrists, crossing them. My heart went up into my throat for poor Joan, and I had serious thoughts of intervening. But I didn't have to. Joan surprised me (and Travis, I'm sure) but thrusting forward, wrapping one of her legs around his back. She pressed into him in a way I would've called wanton had I not known her better. His eyes closed briefly, and he ground into her, making it all too clear how much he enjoyed it. His grip on her wrists slackened, and Joan broke it easily. Her leg came down off his ass and then, just as suddenly, she peeled herself away from him and pushed him back. Checkmate. "_And then in the strange way things happen... The roles were reversed from that day. The hunted became the huntress, the hunter __**be-ca-ame **__the prey!_" Patsy exclaimed proudly. She winked at Joan.

Joan, for her part, smirked and twisted victoriously. Travis came back for more, trying to grab Joan's hand. However, Joan turned it around on him by jerking him around in an awkward spin. I giggled at the sight. She twisted the arm behind his back roughly, forcing him into a dive that almost sent him to the ground. She almost dropped him on his face. Then she abruptly pulled him back up, spinning him back around and then pushing him backwards in a single fluid motion. She raised her skirts teasingly, shifting them from side to side and then pivoted. Travis moved to come towards her, but she stopped him with a single look. Then Joan went and moved to dance with a random guy. However, Travis intercepted her and resumed the tango position. Joan led this time. "_Conquest! Now you know who made the con-quest... She with all her female guile led him helpless down the aisle. She had finally made a conquest!_" Patsy returned to her perch on top of the turntables and started kicking wildly like a can-can dancer.

"_CO-O-ON-QUEST!_" Patsy finished with a wicked grin, adding an extra shake of her hips. All that shaking made her look a bit like a hula girl. Once again she flounced off the table and skittered off into from whence she'd came so the authorities couldn't get her. A relieved look suddenly replaced the fierce grimace on Joan's face. With that, she bucked Travis off dramatically, breaking their death grip, and sending him back a good foot or so. Then Joan allowed herself a victorious smirk and turned swiftly on her heel, heading back to the table. She swiped at her sweaty forehead, flashing me an awkward smile as she flounced over by us. All this she did without a single look back at one very dazed Travis Quinn, left standing awkwardly in the middle yet also towards the fringe of the dancefloor. She plopped down in the seat next to me, reeking of exhaustion and looking immensely pleased.

I applauded, and Tommy stared at her in awe, impressed into silence. "He didn't know what he was in for," I replied gleefully. Tommy nodded dumbly. Joan managed a smile.

"I think I'm going to get a frosty beverage," She mumbled. She rose to her feet unsteadily, looking more than a bit dizzy, and made a face. I noticed her wrists were red and bruised. The bruises were the shape of Travis' hands, something I was more than a little familiar with, as I'd had similar marks on my body in the past. I frowned and shot her a grateful look. "Now I've just got to avoid him for the rest of the night." I nodded solemnly and patted her hand. "Give Patsy my thanks, will you? Um, at least I think so?" Joan muttered, looking somewhat confused. Then she practically flew out of the room, heading for what I could only assume was the bathroom.

Travis had regained himself enough to slink off the dancefloor, and I noticed he was eying her from a safe, dark corner. His eyes followed her out. I scowled at him and decided that maybe I needed another drink. "I'm going to get a drink. You want anything, babe?" I addressed Tommy cautiously, keeping a wary eye on Travis. I was distracted, trying to think of ways to shut him up. I wasn't looking at Tommy, and when I asked him that, he practically insisted on getting it himself. That, of course, he couldn't do. I wasn't about to let Travis corner him and confess my dirty little secret. No thanks.

I whirled to face Tommy then, shaking my head. "No. Cut the gentleman act, Tommy. I can do it myself. You just sit tight, okay? We'll dance after I'm done," I promised firmly, hoping he would listen to that. Naturally, being Tom Quincy, he didn't, so I had to physically push him back down in his seat... and if my hands slid a little closer and a little between his thighs, that was merely an accident. A convenient one, at that, that managed to effectively distract him so that I was able to get away. The table started laughing.

I strutted over to the table as if I owned the place and elegantly swiped a glass of punch. Travis took it upon his creepy self to approach me. He made a face, staring out at the crowd impassively. "Nice spectacle that was. A very excellent distraction, wasn't it? Served its purpose, right?" Travis growled. He turned to pick up a glass of punch. I merely shrugged. Jeez, way to be bitter about that. He ought to be happy. Joan would've never let him that close to her under normal circumstances. "Kept me away from Tommy for five seconds more, didn't it?"

"Really, Travis, I don't see what you're so angry about. I do believe that's the closest you've ever gotten to Joan... and probably ever will again... y'know, not against her will. Besides, she _volunteered_," I quipped irritably. It's also the only time Joan will ever volunteer to touch him. He should've relished it while he had it. I mean, do you see me not appreciating my Tommy Time? I don't think so. Travis glared at me over his punch, looking positively peeved. That made me happy inside, making him miserable and embarrassed.

He rolled his eyes. "And I bet you thought it was great fun making me look like an idiot," Travis hissed. Seriously, does he even need to ask? I couldn't help but smirk. Oh, please. He did it on his own. Travis is always practically asking for it. Ironic word choice, that. Nice to turn the tables on him, though.

"Babe, Joan had nothing to do with that. It was all you," I taunted, taking a sip of my drink. I raised my glass to him. "I must say, you made quite the spectacle out there. I wasn't expecting you to tango, let alone so well. You are a marvelous dancer, Trav," I drawled cheerfully. Travis scowled at me, and I grinned gleefully, remembering how he hated the nickname. Or maybe he just didn't like the reminder of his behavior. If you're wondering why on Earth I was being jovial and pleasant with him... I don't suppose I was really sucking up, just trying to distract him.

I was also relishing how out of his element he looked. I'd finally managed to see him caught off his guard. It was immensely satisfying. "Oh, shut up, you hateful wench," Travis sniped. I smirked at him. Travis' eyes flashed, and he suddenly snatched my wrist, pulling me close to his face. "I'll tell Tommy your dirty little secret, and then we'll just see if he ever looks at you again! You sure as hell won't be laughing then," He hissed. The smile melted right off my face, and I immediately sought a way of thwarting him.

"What makes you think he'd even believe you, much less over me?" I rejoined sharply, crossing my arms over my chest determinedly. I didn't move away but instead continued to eye him menacingly. "After all, I'm one of his closest friends, and you're his nemesis. You want nothing more than to destroy him. Why on Earth would he believe a word that comes out of your mouth?" I pointed out fairly, hoping he wouldn't. Tommy cared about me, after all, not Travis. He's not just going to drop me if he finds out that Travis...

Then again, if I'm really so sure that he isn't, then why am I freaking out about this? I wouldn't be freaking out if I really thought he'd have my back. It's just... Tommy gets so jealous and so angry sometimes, always when other guys are involved, and I'm worried that if he knows it was Travis... It'll be even worse! Maybe he'll judge me or something awful. I can't bear the thought of it.

"I'll give him so many vivid details that he couldn't even begin to doubt it!" Travis shot back smugly. My blood went cold as I remembered all his vivid details. A shiver ran up my spine at the thought. He sure could be... persuasive. "Haven't you learned anything, Jude?" I fought the urge to roll my eyes at him. Clearly not, given the fact that you're my teacher. Then Travis leaned in extra close, making me extra uncomfortable, but I wasn't about to show it. Ugh. The liquor on his breath is potent. I think I need a breathmint. I turned my head away from him diffidently. "I can convince anyone of anything! I'm better than a politician!" Travis exclaimed proudly. Sadly, he was, by no means, boasting.

Every word of it was true, and I hated him for it. But then I remembered something... I could always tell Tommy first, and then he couldn't say I hid it from him, right? Although I don't want to do that, but if I do, well, then, I could spin it my own way... only what if he takes it out on me? And... Well, it's none of Tommy's business anyways. It's not like we're dating or anything. Thanks to the both of us. And I'm not especially proud of it, and why does he even have to know anyways!? But... Well, why would Tommy even be mad at me? He couldn't when Travis tried to rape me. _Rape._

He's going to kill Travis for that. Obviously. Travis must know this, so why did he do it? Was he just trying to piss Tommy off, and he needs to tell him to make the offense obvious and painful? There's nothing to be gained by telling it, save to disgrace himself and shorten his lifespan and maybe ship the both of them off to jail. So, then, it must be part of his revenge...

But what if Travis tells Tommy how I... how I even... liked him before, before he tried to... Oh, I'll deny it to the end! That hateful man! He'd better not, but he would! I know it. He would! He has no scruples or morals, and all he wants to do is hurt Tommy. He wants to have something to lord over Tommy forever, and me wanting him, even for a minute, over Tommy (especially), would do it. Eternal ammunition, lifetime revenge. The perverse satisfaction it must fill him with! How can Travis even hold his head up high after what he did?! How?! What mother could stand her son if he'd turned out like that? But I'm in the right here, and Tommy will know that.

I looked at him levelly, trying to bely how nervous I really was. "And **I** know Tommy, Travis," I rejoined smoothly, polishing off my drink. Where can I find a breathmint? "Far better than you ever will," I added with a victorious smile. It was a glorious forgery. Then I turned around and tossed my empty cup into the garbage. Travis was suddenly right behind me. I could feel his hot alcoholic breath on my neck, and my throat went suddenly, horribly dry.

"Well, we can't all have carnal knowledge of him, now can we?" Travis retorted snidely. I whirled around abruptly, hating the feeling of his breath on my neck. I wiped at my neck. It felt damp, a little clammy. "I assure you, Jude, you are not the first and you will not be the last woman to possess such knowledge of _that _man." I bristled at his incorrect assumption, but mostly because he'd reminded me just how much of a manwhore Tommy was. And I didn't want him to be right. His mouth was far too close to my ear for comfort, and I was practically pinned against the trashcan. "What makes you think you have any more influence over him than the others? Clearly they couldn't keep him for even a second round, so really, what makes you think he won't just kick you to the curb?" Travis whispered nastily.

He was saying all sorts of awful things I'd thought in the past, and he had a bit of a point. I did worry about those things. But he seriously underestimated my relationship with Tommy, and, for that matter, my own sense. I pushed Travis away roughly. "Even if that were true, you harassing me and using me to get back at Tommy means that you concede that I am important to him and think that he cares enough for me that a betrayal on my part with you would result in heartbreak... so, dear Travis, you contradict yourself," I countered icily, feeling quiet proud of myself. Check and mate, philosopher. I brushed past him, shooting him a dismissive glance. "Your mind games aren't working."

Travis grabbed my arm and whipped me around to face him. My arm hurt, and I hoped he hadn't injured it like he had before. Abusive bastard. "Oh, but I won't need mind games. All I have to do is tell him what really went down, sparing no details, of course, and he'll want absolutely nothing to do with you," Travis hissed menacingly. A chill went down my spine, but I didn't show it. His threat seemed so realistic, and I could never really be that sure of Tommy's ever-changing affections, now could I? Still, he wouldn't believe Travis, right?

I merely stood there, frozen. He leaned in a little further, pushing the envelope. I ignored my discomfort. "And, doll, those weren't mind games. That was just me warming up. Trust me, you don't want to play games with me. I always win. Give me a minute, and I'll convince you that everything you know is wrong. Two minutes and I'll have you doubting the nature of reality. Three minutes, and when I'm done with you, you won't even be sure _you _exist," Travis growled, drawing back a bit to smirk at me. Who the hell does he think he is? The next Descartes? That depressing guy, um, Hume? Nietzsche? My ass. I'm an empiricist all the way, not a radical doubter. "But I'd really prefer to ruin you this way, if you don't mind. This way's much more painful and far less confusing for you," Travis continued airily.

Oh, I knew he wasn't lying. I knew that he could do it. But I didn't believe him any more than before. I rolled my eyes at him. Do your worst, I wanted to say, but that would be tempting fate, which is undoubtedly bad. "Oh, you won't _ruin _me, Travis!" I declared decidedly, fixing him with my worst glare. Knowing me, I'd probably wind up single-handedly ruining myself, what with that whopper I told Tommy. Travis took a step closer. It's like he wants to be creepy all the time or something! I continued staring at him defiantly. "You won't corner me, Travis Quinn! No, not again!" I proclaimed coolly. I meant it too.

This time I took a step forward, poking his chest with my finger. Travis looked nonplussed, which annoyed me. I wanted to affect him. "And even if you do tell Tommy, it's no victory of yours. Because he'll kick your ass all around the gym, and you know full well that he could beat you blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back. So before you make one more crack about my "honor", I'd like to point out that you're a pedophile... and, really, what grounds does that give you to talk about honor and chastity and fidelity like you know anything about it, you damn hypocrite!" I pointed out fiercely. I was so sick of that act of his, that fake superiority. Like I was to take lectures on morals from a man who cheated on his fiancée, tried to rape me, and had a one-day stand with Patsy in his classroom? That kind of shoots all that to hell, now don't it?

Travis smirked easily and was, I'm sure, about to say something smug, condescending, and oh-so-pleased with himself. I didn't give a flying crap, nor did I even want to hear it, so, naturally, I interrupted. I leaned in just a little bit further. "_If it wasn't for date rape, you'd never get laid_," I drawled viciously. His eyes flashed, and I jumped back just in time to avoid his grasp.

"Quoting Sublime, are we? Where are your horns, Jude?" Travis grunted. I suppose it wasn't a half-bad remark, but it wasn't a real insult. Especially since he's the cuckholded one here. He's the devil. I shook free from his grip. Like I said, if the shoe fits... Travis is just pissed that I got him pegged. Besides, that's kind of how it went down with him and me, isn't it? Only he didn't get laid. I sent him a look that reminded him of the way the song ended. I rolled my eyes at him.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll keep your big fat mouth shut. The secret ought to die with us," I snapped threateningly. I wasn't about to have him making my private business public. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've wasted more than enough time talking to you tonight. I have to get back to my date," I said shortly, turning on my heel and marching back over to Tommy. The residual anger lingered in my veins, keeping my back stiff and straight. I kept all my dignity as I strode over to Tommy.

To my surprise, my temperamental date was conversing seemingly pleasantly with my friends. Kat was smiling, and Jamie even looked remotely okay with Tommy's presence for once. Feeling somewhat playful, I snuck up behind Tommy and grabbed him from behind. He jumped and possibly would've killed me, probably because he thought I was Travis, but I spoke first. "Tommy, chill. It's just me," I said casually, removing my hands from his hips and putting an arm on his shoulder. I moved forward, closer to my friends. There was a strange, shifty look in Jamie's eyes which made it all too apparent that he and Tommy had finished a serious conversation about me. He looked guilty as sin. "So, what are we talking about?"

Tommy turned to smile at me charmingly. "How beautiful you look, of course," Tommy drawled romantically. He leaned over and kissed the back of my palm, and I found myself turning horribly red. Embarrassed, I smiled awkwardly and pulled my hand away, glancing over at Kat and Jamie, who were eying me with interest. Jamie gave me one of those looks, which made me feel a million times more embarrassed. Sometimes we forget we're in public, and that totally makes it sound like Tommy and me are actually a couple caught up in their love so they've gotta show it everywhere.

That is obviously far from the truth. I tried to shake off the hot feeling and turned once again to face Tommy. "So... Wanna dance?" I offered hesitantly.

Imagine my surprise when Tommy frowned. I felt somewhat affronted at first. Suddenly he had my fingers in his hand and was looking at me almost tenderly. It felt like that night all over again, and he seemed almost vulnerable. He gave me a pained look. "You know I'd love to, but..." Tommy's eyes flicked over to Kat, who blushed a little. He shrugged. "I promised Kat the next dance," He admitted. Kat looked almost nervous, but I wasn't. Strangely, I was completely at peace. Sure, Kat probably had a little crush on him, but Jamie loved me, so really I have no ground to worry here. Not that I am, really. "How about the dance after that?" Tommy suggested hopefully.

He sounded like he was afraid of offending me. I started laughing hysterically and waved the concern off. When I was able to regain my ability to speak, my smile widened. "Oh, Tommy... I'm not mad at all." Truthfully, I was just glad that he was getting along with my friends. That was, until I realized that he was just following the Spice Girls' advice. You know what I mean. "_If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends._" Which actually sounds really messed up, now that I think of it. Then again, he's a '90s popstar, so why exactly am I surprised? What did I expect?

But, of course, I wasn't thinking of that then. I smiled indulgently at Kat, surprised at the strange sense of ownership I felt for Tommy, someone who wasn't mine at all. "Go, go dance with Kat!" I exclaimed, eying Jamie with interest. I paused for a moment. "That is, assuming Jamie's okay with it?" I asked.

Jamie nodded, looking somewhat amused. He shrugged. I nodded, slightly confused, turning to Kat. "I'm just gonna talk to Kat for a minute, okay?" There were still a couple verses until the song was over, so I walked over to Kat, taking her aside for a moment. I escorted her safely away from our dates so that we could converse without worrying that they were eavesdropping. "So, Kat, dancing with T.Q.? Nice. What brought this on?" I said curiously. My voice sounded bubbly and too chipper.

Kat bit her lip and looked at me worriedly. "You're not jealous, are you?" I shook my head no, smiling at her nervousness. Just curious. Kat shrugged and didn't really look at me. "Well... You know I had a crush on Tommy back in the day..." I rolled my eyes. A crush is an understatement. She was slightly less obsessed than Sadie. And she only had that one poster. "Okay, fine. A big crush... Anyways... I dunno, somehow we were just talking about those old days. Tommy was wondering where you'd gone, and he was about to see you talking to Travis about whatever beef you have with him... I knew he'd be pissed, so I just suddenly blurted out that I used to crush on him. Tommy just ate that up, as you can imagine. And then I guess I made some comment about how you wouldn't even admit he was hot, much less that you liked him, so I told him that I kind of... convinced you," Kat rambled. She blushed.

I would've, but I wasn't embarrassed by any of that. Even the liking-him thing. Big deal. Not anymore, at any rate. So much has happened since then. "He just smiled and said he owed me one, and I looked like a schoolgirl. So then Tommy made some comment about you not being back any time soon, and would I like to dance with him? And then he asked Jamie if he was okay with it, and Jamie said he was... So yeah," Kat finished breathlessly. I smirked. Ah, what a charmer, my Tommy. He's gotten Kat all flustered. I think it's cute. I nodded, still grinning, and walked back over to the guys, just in time for the next song.

Tommy looked at me quizzically, and I motioned for him to go off with Kat. Then I turned to Jamie. "Hey, Jamers, let's dance!" I exclaimed cheerfully, dragging him on the dancefloor before he could protest. Tommy and Kat joined us, shooting us confused glances. I shrugged merrily. What, like I was going to sit there and, oh, I don't know, not dance some more? As if. Besides... I wanted to talk to Jamie. The song, ironically enough, was "Your Eyes." I think I flinched upon hearing it.

So Jamie and I were slow-dancing, and I was half-leaning on him because I was tired. My feet hurt. I waited a moment until Tommy and Kat were out of earshot. Tommy was completely showing Kat off on the dancefloor. I thought it was really sweet. "So, want to tell me why you let Kat go off with Tommy?" I asked calmly. Jamie pulled back a bit to look at me.

He actually looked somewhat amused by it, which I could tell by the way his lips jerked upwards a little. "Oh, I'm not worried. After all, he came here to steal you away from his own brother, not to take _my _girlfriend," Jamie remarked amusedly. I frowned and smacked him, but... "You can't deny it!" Jamie proclaimed triumphantly. He was right, of course. That's exactly what I was afraid of. So I changed the subject.

"What did you say to Tommy?" I inquired coolly. Jamie looked away determinedly and paled a bit. I pressed him some more, but he wouldn't say. I frowned at him, grabbing his chin and making him look at me. Our faces were maybe a little too close, but I wasn't thinking of that. I just wanted to find out what he'd said. "Jamie, c'mon... I'm not stupid. I know you talked to him about me while I was gone. I just want to know what you said, and I think I've got the right," I argued patiently, staring at him. We were just barely swaying to the music.

Jamie shook his head, looking down and sighing. I kept glaring at him until he finally caved as I'd hoped he would. "We just... talked about what he wanted from you. And I made it clear to him that I would kill him if he hurt you, you know, stuff like that," Jamie said almost distractedly. I noticed how vague he was being and couldn't help but wonder if it was more than that. Plus, the both of us knew that Tommy could easily snap Jamie's neck, so the threat was weak.

I looked at him gravely, placing my hands on Jamie's shoulders. I was dying to know what Tommy had said in response to that. Had he promised anything? Obviously he wouldn't tell Jamie much, but still... They were both guys, right? "And what did Tommy say to you?" I tried to keep my voice level, but my heart was in my throat. Really, I told myself I didn't want to know, but I did.

Jamie shot me a look that said he could see right through me and surprised me by spinning me around. At first he feigned indifference, but we stopped moving. He looked somewhat confused. "I shouldn't be telling you this," He mumbled, rubbing his forehead, but he glanced at me and did anyways. Like putty, this one. "Tommy told me that..." Jamie trailed off awkwardly. I could tell that he really did not want to tell me this, but I didn't care. "He's serious about you. Like, really serious. Now, I'm sure serious for Quincy is different than serious for me or Speed or his brother, for instance, but still... That's saying a lot. His intentions are actually, I don't know... honorable for once. And he promised he wouldn't hurt you," Jamie explained breathlessly, guiltily. But the way he said the last sentence made it plenty clear that he knew what Tommy's promise was worth.

We both did. I nodded and murmured a quiet, disbelieving thanks. I couldn't help but believe that there was something he'd left out. There are some things, though, that you don't need to know... Besides, Tommy had already told me everything. So Jamie and I danced the rest of the song in a relative silence. We exchanged some meaningless chatter, and I closed my eyes. A few moments later, the song ended and we returned to our dates. I was still thinking, though, over what Jamie had said, so I didn't notice when Joan came in until the girl practically barrelled into me. In fact, she stopped dead short of knocking right into Tommy's chest.

Joan looked up with those big, wide eyes of hers that Travis was so fond of, all full of accidence. "Oh, sorry. My bad," Joan mumbled. Tommy looked down at her curiously, which seemed to me to be a bit intimidating. After all, the two had never properly been introduced. Joan swallowed, perhaps surprised by the all-too tangible reminder of Travis right in her face. "You must be the broad chest I almost ran into." Joan seemed surprised at how much Tommy resembled Travis, which was strange, since she'd seen him earlier. Joan sighed. "And, on that note, you must be the infamous Tommy Quincy."

Tommy's smile turned into a bit of a frown at that. Joan continued calmly. "I've heard a lot about you, you know... from Jude... in music class. Good to finally meet you, I guess," Joan said, eying him from a bit of a distance now. Tommy shot me an anxious look. I hadn't told him who she was, really, after all.

"All good, I hope," Tommy remarked with a nervous smile. I bit down on my lip, and Joan rolled her eyes.

"Not so much, really. Travis had some rather nasty jibes to make," Joan replied. Tommy's eyes darkened, and I could see the anger flooding into him. Joan offered him a rare half-smile. "All lies, I'm sure." Travis doesn't really have a reputation for telling the truth. Tommy smiled back. Her eyes slid over to me, radiating amusement. "Besides, he doesn't like Jude much either," She added as if this was a great secret. I shot Joan an exasperated look, but Tommy was more affable.

He stuck a hand out, grabbing Joan's hand and smothering it between both of his. An enemy of Travis' is a friend of Tommy's, after all. "Charmed," He proclaimed. I was almost sure he'd plant a kiss on her hand, but Joan jerked her hand out of Tommy's grip abruptly. I saw Jamie smirk and shot him a reproachful glance. He snickered quietly, and, admittedly, I wanted to laugh too. It's like Joan didn't even realize how much she put them off without even trying. Joan still did not introduce herself, so I stepped in.

I was looking at her but motioning between the two of them. "Tommy, this is Joan Travers." Joan rolled her eyes and gave him a nod.

I turned to look at Tommy, who looked impressed. "Well, any girl that can leave Travis that distracted deserves some serious credit. I've never seen him so discombobulated. It was good to see that famous poise of his fly out the window, but it was even better to watch him literally pick his pride up off the floor," Tommy exclaimed, sounding very excited. Joan's thin smile widened into a full-on grin.

Her eyes shot over to me, almost as if asking a silent question. I knew what she wanted, so I nodded slightly, even though I was worried. I was afraid she'd make Tommy fall for her or get me back for the whole Travis fiasco when he... But I pushed that down and ignored it. "Let's see how you measure up, Quince. Better, I'm sure," Joan quipped, pulling him out onto the dancefloor with her. I tried not to mind so much, and then Speed asked me to dance, so I was effectively distracted. Hell, he was fun to dance with, so fun I almost didn't notice Tommy and Joan or how pissed off Travis was by how close they were dancing.

I did wonder, however, why Tom wasn't dancing with me. It seemed vaguely like he was doing it on purpose. Anyways, after that, Tommy got swept up in a wave of crazy fangirls, and he kind of disappeared from my sight. Honestly, I wasn't too worried. I found it somewhat hilarious. It was like they'd swallowed him alive. 'Sides, I figured I ought to share him. And Travis? Never even crossed my mind. He should've, though. Because, within seconds, he was about to rear his ugly head again and completely ruin things for me.

Well, not completely. I'm not that kind of girl.

I continued on obliviously, letting Speed twirl me crazily. I felt like I was going to fall over, but it was such a good feeling that I didn't care. Made me feel light and happy and actually relaxed for about two seconds. I'd been on my guard all night. And then I saw Tommy heading over to the punch bowl, excusing himself to get his "lovely friend" a drink. Apparently he broke through the crowd. Impressive speed, I must say. Isn't he going overboard with the flattery tonight? Of course, it was alcoholic, so Joan asked him to get her something else, but I think he was a little parched. Or thought a little liquor would help. I watched in horror as an unsuspecting Tommy walked over there where Travis was lurking, lying in wait. The punchbowl, however, was on the other side of the gym. A confrontation was inevitable, no matter how fast I got there.

It wouldn't have made a difference if I ran clear across the room. What happened next would've eventually ensued, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I realize now that it really had so little to do with me. What unfolded there started years and years ago. It had been brewing and thickening for a while. It was bound to explode sooner or later. I was nothing more than a catalyst. Sensing the insults brewing, I turned abruptly to Speed, pulling out of a rather scandalous dip. "Speed... I'm sorry, but I gotta go. Tommy and Travis are going to _kill _each other if I don't, and Travis is going to ruin my life, and, ah, I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown here!" I exclaimed, meaning every word literally. I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Speed nodded dumbly but cocked his eyebrow like he kinda didn't believe me. Whatever, his loss. I have to go save things here. I'd missed the first remark or two or maybe five, but from what I could see, Tommy was studiously ignoring Travis. He got Joan what she'd requested and slowly poured a drink for himself. I watched from nearby, but not right there. Okay, so maybe I was hiding behind a plant, but I had to spring out at just the right moment. Travis moved closer to Tommy. "Maybe you didn't hear me, Thom-_ass. _I said that I'm sorry, but your little girlfriend's not as faithful and loyal as you think."

Damn. Thought it was going to be exciting. I rolled my eyes. Seriously lame. I mean, what, am I a dog or something? Tommy's no model of fidelity himself, and Travis cheated on his future wife with me and Joan. And Patsy. Tommy shook his head and didn't even bother to look at Travis. Of course, he bothered to reply, which he did quite aptly. "I think I know Jude a lot better than you do," Tommy replied levelly. Now, see, the idiot just totally gave him an opening then, but luckily Tommy didn't pause so there was room for a comment. Sexually Travis might very well know me better than Tommy. "Besides, Travis, don't you think I know what she's doing? I know my girl," Tommy assured him coolly.

I felt a sudden rush of warmth for the guy. He hasn't called me that in ages. Probably because I asked him not to. I kinda miss that, you know. How it was back in the old days, when everything was so much easier and we weren't so exquisitely, _painfully _close, and Tommy wasn't with Sadie... and we never talked about anything and just pretended it wasn't there. And everything wasn't so damn complicated. I miss being that carefree fifteen-year-old... okay, well, the sixteen-year-old I was before going on tour this summer. Before Montreal. Before I found out he was dating Sadie. I had half a mind to pop out from behind the plant and maul him right there, but fortunately I didn't.

"Sure you do," Travis muttered sarcastically. Is it just me or is he seriously getting lamer? Is he tired or something? This is nowhere near the showdown I was expecting. Maybe I'm overreacting... Maybe Travis was just bluffing... Man, I bet Speed really hates me right now. I'll make it up to him somehow. Tommy ignored the threat in his voice and merely shrugged.

"Jude has a lot of guys in her life. Even you," Tommy admitted placidly. Hm, if he wasn't being so vague and diplomatic when I know he doesn't like them, I'd think he was calling me a whore. He did, however, shoot Travis a brief dirty look to accompany that last phrase. "And I know full well that there are a lot of guys who want her, but _I'm _the one she keeps coming back to, Travis." He shot Travis another dirty look after the first part and looked almost like he was about to repeat what he'd said earlier and openly include Travis himself. However, he was right. What he really meant, though, is that he's the one I want. Tommy knows that. I'm _always _going to want him more than any other man. I've accepted it.

Travis snorted. "Yes, Tommy," He replied dryly, "It is quite pathetic how obsessed with you she is." Travis paused, licking his lips. Tommy stared moodily at his drink, which was still full. I was surprised he hadn't found an out. Tommy told me later that they needed to have things out. He said it was long overdue, so that's why he stood there and took it. He didn't think much of Travis' insults because, frankly, they were lame. When Travis really wants to have it out with someone, he switches over to French, especially if his rival has a knowledge of the language. Or so Tommy said. "Nevertheless, she is quite easily seduced, isn't she?" Travis drawled with a smarmy wink.

I can tell you right now that that pissed Tommy off. Not because it was a slight to that honor I don't have or anything. Because it reminded him of that night, and, more importantly, how I hadn't been. He glowered at Travis and tossed back approximately half of his drink. I could've sworn that I heard him mutter under his breath, "Not quite." Travis apparently also heard it because he smirked like he'd won the lottery. Tommy's face was grim and not amused.

"Well, maybe it's something she reserves only for other men. Since, you know, you're so experienced... Your sexual past clearly intimidates her. Maybe she just feels better about screwing other guys since their expectations aren't that high. Or, you know, for practice?" Travis suggested mock-helpfully. Tommy's eyes narrowed in irritation. He knocked back the other half of the glass. Travis paused as if in contemplation. "Then again," He replied, shrugging helplessly, "maybe she's not sexually attracted to you."

Tommy scoffed loudly. "Yes, Travis. That's really why we can't keep our hands off of each other," He quipped sarcastically. Tommy rolled his eyes and refilled his cup. Jeez, how many is that? It must be very dilute rum. "You did _see _the music video, right?" Travis made a face and nodded. Tommy shook his head. I fully agree with him, actually. Duh, I'm attracted to him. Besides, Travis hinting that _he's _the one I'm really attracted to automatically means I dig Tommy. And the music video? Yeah, only half of that was acting. "It's called self-control. Look into it," Tommy advised with a bit more bite.

True enough. Only I have it. Tommy's lost it. Which is quite sad, really, him giving up the fight. It's very hot, I think. Tommy having self-control, anyways. I wanted him a lot more when he really, really didn't want me. Of course, I still want him, but whatever... Travis rolled his eyes. "On whose part, Tom? Your girl jumps into things without thinking... much like yourself, actually. She chases after you unashamedly. And you definitely aren't known for your vast reserves of self-control." Sad but true. Kind of.

Tom spared Travis a rather mild glare. "Well, unlike you, I can apparently say no to underaged jailbait, not make goo-goo eyes at them," Tommy responded a wee bit icily. Only once in a while, though, Tom, and not lately. He casually took a sip from his drink. "Like that girl, Joan, who had you staring after her? Girl worked you up into a tizzy. I've _never _seen you like that, man," Tommy continued, knowing full well he was starting something with his comment. "You're whipped." It was a good way to swipe back at Travis. Travis shot him a warning look, but Tommy ignored it and continued on. "She is a hot little piece of ass, though. I'll give you that," Tom remarked off-handedly.

He whistled, grinning mischievously. "And she is definitely more than a match for you... I get why you want to tap that, really, but you need to delay gratification. She's sixteen. Student or not, if you were in the States, it'd be statutory rape," Tommy muttered wisely, taking a sip from his drink cavalierly. You would think he was the older one. Now, to the untrained listener, my love might sound crude. This is untrue. Tommy was purposely putting it that way. Now, sure, maybe he is that crude among the guys. Especially when Boyz Attack! reunites every once in a blue moon. My point is that Tommy would not talk about me or my friend that way. He knows, for starters, that I'd hear about it, and I like to think he respects me enough not to. As for Joan, well, Tommy doesn't really want her. He's just saying that to piss Travis off.

Provoking the guy isn't really a wise move here, but I suppose I'm not one to talk, seeing as I frequently invite my own conflict with the guy. Travis' eyes flashed a glittering olive green. "Thanks for the advice, Tom. After all, you know all about seducing underage girls, now don't you?" Travis remarked pointedly. His fingers itched to grab another glass of punch, but he was already more than a little drink-addled. Tommy's eyes darkened, and I noticed suddenly their similarity to Travis'. It made me shudder.

Tommy shook his head in disgust. He seemed a bit offended, but Travis had said and would say worse things. I think he was just annoyed and fed up with it. He was here to have a good time, after all. But it is a little awkward for him, obviously, hanging out with a bunch of teenagers. I mean, okay, he's pretty tight with SME out of necessity, and, sure, he's okay being around Kat and Jamie. And my family. That's, disturbingly, part of the territory. Actually, this is all very abnormal and slightly disturbing, actually. Producers really shouldn't be this close to their, um, clients?

"This isn't worth it," He muttered, turning to leave. Naturally, of course, the master delayed him. Travis didn't actually put his hands on him. He didn't get his hands dirty like that, you know.

Instead Travis called out, clearly enraged by Tommy's provocation about Joan. "Il y a quelque chose que ta fille ne te dit pas! C'est important, et je pense que tu dois savoir... Ta fille, elle ne t'aime pas. Elle m'a embrassé avec tout la passion du tigre," Travis said cuttingly. He half-shouted it almost. He said it real fast but real slick. And he was wrong. Any fool will tell you that I love Tommy. And I did not kiss him with the passion of a tiger. Tommy stopped dead in his tracks.

He turned around slowly and addressed Travis in a cool, clipped tone. "Tu es vraiment fou. La seul passion qu'elle a pour toi... est la haine." This can better be translated as: You are seriously crazy. The only passion she feels for you... is hate. It's a gisted translation.

He looked like he was about to turn back. "Ben... pourquoi est-ce qu'elle m'a approaché? Pourquoi est-ce qu'elle m'a _cruisé_?" Travis taunted. I guess that means then... why did she hit on me? Or come on to me? Something like that. But I didn't. Except that one time when I was wasted. And when I thought I was half in love with him. Tommy looked somewhat annoyed, but he sought to remain cool.

He shrugged casually and did not turn around. "Probablement parce qu'elle était _ivre... _ou elle pensait que tu étais moi," He said almost immediately. The look on his face changed to something more sympathetic and a little sad. He spoke slowly. "Quelque fois elle me regarde, et je sais qu'elle pense que je suis toi. Et, alors, elle devient troublée et se dérobe devant de mes bras. Elle a peur de moi. Elle tremble... Si elle ne m'aime pas, alors elle dois te _détéster_." He paused, his eyes suddenly hardening. "En plus, je parie que tu confirmes l'idée... Tu probablement fais semblant d'être moi. Après tout, tout le monde sait que tu es bon acteur," He spat out the words like bullets.

His explanation was spot-on. Because I was drunk or I thought that Travis was Tommy. Tommy then went on to say that sometimes I look at him, and he knows that I think he's Travis. Which is kinda scary, honestly. And then I become troubled? I dunno... And, um, I do something in his arms? Oh, maybe I kinda shrink away. I'm afraid of him, and I tremble... also true. Tommy also said that, if I don't love him, I definitely don't love Travis. But I do. Okay, so he really said I should detest him, but whatever. Tommy finally said that he bets Trav corroborates that idea by pretending to be him. After all, everyone knows that he's a good actor... I'm afraid I don't understand that. I guess he lies. I might be missing something, though.

Travis smiled fakely. "Merci, Thomas... mais tu es trop égoïste. Tout n'est pas de toi. Le monde, il ne tourne pas autour de toi. Tu es poche aussi... mais tu étais toujours un idiot," Travis growled with a mocking laugh. Thanks Tom, but you're an egotist. Or basically, thanks, but you're hella cocky. Everything isn't about you. The world doesn't revolve around you. You're an idiot too, but you were always an idiot. Sadly, all of that is true. However, in this respect Tommy really was right. Tommy was used to this; it bored him to hear it. "Jude m'a emb... **baisé **derrière son dos!" He interjected suddenly. Weird. He was going to use the other word for kiss... And then he uses a verb that means to make a mistake?

I know that's what I'd be to Tommy... or what Travis would be to me, but I'm confused. Tommy stiffened, and I really hope he took that in the right way. Even if it sounds wrong. I know it's worse than that, but I don't know exactly what it means... I kissed him behind Tommy's back? Or did, I dunno. Okay, a little true, I guess. "Tu es menteur. Elle ne voulait pas te baiser. Elle ne coucherait pas avec un crapaud!" Tommy bit back contemptuously. Some of the punch swirled over the side of his drink. You are a liar, he said. She wouldn't want to kiss you. She wouldn't go to bed with a... I dunno. Maybe some kind of animal. I'll translate it as turd... because the word reminds me of crap.

Travis looked pissed at this affront, but he pushed it off quickly to reply. "Mais elle a couché avec toi," He interjected. But she slept with you. Petty and untrue. Tommy barely looked angry at the implication that he was... whatever. He didn't bother to correct Travis. I did wonder why Travis said that, though. I'm pretty sure he knows I haven't slept with Tommy. I'm always telling someone I haven't slept with someone, though, so it's hard to tell. It's usually Tommy, but if it's not him it's Chaz or Speed or some other friend or, heaven forbid, Travis! This "fight" is so stupid.

Seeing that Tommy didn't particularly care, Travis had to find something to say fast or else he would leave. "Tu es féru d'elle... Tu es un vrai mordu. Mais tu ne sembles pas miser... Il semble que tu t'en tape. Mais tu fais, je sais," Travis taunted, eyes lighting up briefly. I knew without a doubt that he was talking about me. He said something about how Tommy was crazy about me, I think, (wild, really) and that Tommy was, I dunno, obsessed maybe? Then he was trying to say that Tommy didn't seem miserable, but he changed it to say that it seemed like Tommy didn't give a damn. But you do, I know. That calm, idiotic assurance. Tommy did stay, though.

He shook his head slowly. "Ouais, je suis scotché!" Tommy retorted sarcastically, quickly. Um... I can't translate that one. Yeah, I'm Scotch? Yeah, I'm drinking? Yeah, I wear a kilt? I dunno. He rolled his eyes at Travis, and his face turned much calmer. "T'es toujours à me chercher des crosses parce que tu me reproches pour ruiner ta vie! Ce n'était pas ma faute. Tu a pris des décisions. Tu avais les choix. Ce n'était pas seulement moi. Tu jouais ton rôle aussi," Tommy replied quietly but intently. He enunciated his words carefully, eying Travis warily.

I wasn't sure quite what to make of it, but it seemed to be about the past. Travis was always trying to pick a fight with Tommy because he blames him for ruining his life. It wasn't my fault. You made the decisions. You had choices. It wasn't just me. You played your role too. Typical Tommy. But he does have a point. It's all how you look at it. If Tommy ruined Travis' life, it's only because he let him. I would know, wouldn't I?

Travis' eyes darkened. He was clearly pissed off. I assumed he'd bring me up again and wondered how long I could stand it before I went over there and did something stupid like punched him in the face myself. "Un coup de Jarnac, c'était, et tu veux me l'oublier? Tu étais mon meilleur ami! Me **fiais **à toi!" Travis shouted, suddenly losing his cool. His words were furious, like stinging arrows. The betrayal was thick in his voice. He seemed to realize this because he took a deep breath and continued, looking far less heated. The red drained from his face slowly, like wine from a glass. "Typique Tom. Tu ne prends _jamais _la résponsabilité pour quoi tu a fait! Tu peux crever," Travis spat icily.

Now, I don't know what a coup de Cognac or whatever is, but I think I get his gist. You want me to forget? Maybe it's something about betrayal. You were my best friend. I... I don't know what came after that, but it probably had something to do with trust. The last part I definitely knew except for that last bit. It didn't sound good. Typical Tom. You never take responsibility for what you did! Very true, by the way. Tommy frowned and set his drink and Joan's down on the table. Looks like someone's in for the long haul.

Tommy looked a bit peeved at that, but I think he knew that somewhere, deep down, Travis was generally right about that. Of course, it's not all his fault, either, like Travis seems to think. "Tu es comme un téléromain mauvais, _Trav_. Tu dramatises toujours. Moi, je ne suis **pas **ton problème! Ton problème est _toi! _Tu es un **zéro**, et tu me reproches ton échec! Tu es piteux, Trav, et je n'en ai rien à foutre!" Tommy rejoined. His voice was mocking at times, and so it was hard for me to understand him. He accompanied his taunts with hand motions.

You're like a bad soap opera, Trav (i.e. Transvestite). You're always overly dramatic. He sounded bored there. I am not your problem! You are your problem! Then he said a bit I couldn't catch, but I heard him call Travis a zero. Meaning that he brought up all these apparent failures of Travis', which probably included why he was a teacher in the first place. Then he said Travis was pitiful, and something else that was probably obscene. Damn, I really need to learn some good French swears.


	40. Walking Contradiction Part II

Okay, here's Part II. For now there is a part two because the site is being a bitch and won't let me upload the whole thing at once. And I've tried a hundred million times. So, here. ARGH.

"Tu m'as **chié **dans les bottes!" Travis was literally seething with rage. "Tu connais bien l'échec, n'est-ce pas? Un mariage _raté, _une carrière solo _ratée, _un album _raté, _un come-back _raté, _un label _raté... _et beaucoup des relations ratés! C'est une vie raté! Tout que tu sais est l'échec! Tu toujours remasses en beauté... encore et encore! Tu es seulement un jean-foutre. Tu n'es qu'un _raté!_" Travis countered viciously. Tommy's whole back went as straight as a rod, and his lips tightened, but he did nothing. White-hot anger pulsed through him nevertheless. Just like Travis, he hated to be called a failure.

You'd know all about failure, wouldn't you? A failed marriage, a failed solo career, a failed album, a failed comeback, a failing label... and lots of failed relationships! It's a failed life! Or, I suppose, you fail at life! All that you know is failure! You always, um, dunno that one. But I bet anything it involves failing always, and again, and again... You're a good-for-nothing. You are nothing but a loser! Harsh words, huh? At that I wanted to run up to Tommy and tell him that Travis was a jealous liar, but I couldn't. I was paralyzed, and I was sure that neither of us wanted him to bring me up again.

Tommy's lips curved up into a pained sort of smile. It was, rather, a sneer. "Non, _Trav._ Tu as oublié quelque chose... Je ne prends _jamais _une veste, comme toi." Tommy's sneer widened into a smirk. Travis turned slightly pink, and he suddenly looked very angry. Tommy was sure to become gloaty.

What he said was this: No, Trav. You forgot something... I never... (and, mind you, I only know this because I asked. At the time I was very confused as to what it meant. I mean, take a vest?) I never failed at seducing a girl, like you. I would've added something like... You always fail at that, but Tommy saw no need. Obviously they were then thinking about Kate, so Travis took the logical jump to me. Naturally, because he just can't resist.

So Travis' next response was predictable. "Je ne suis pas d'accord. J'ai séduit ta fille." I disagree. I seduced your girl. Tommy rolled his eyes, looking bored. He didn't believe a single word of it, and he wasn't mad at me. Maybe Travis was wrong, and I was right. What do I have to worry about? Tommy trusts me more than some guy. He trusts me more than Travis. God, do you think this means he loves me or something?

It's the only explanation I can really think of.

Ha, yeah right. Whoo! That was a good one. The thought of Tom Quincy ever loving anyone... is nothing short of ridiculous. Hilarious to boot. And sure as Hell never gonna happen.

Oh well.

My love adopted a rather menacing position, but he didn't look like he was anywhere close to hitting the bastard. He knew once he did that he wouldn't be able to stop. Can't blame him for that. "Tu penses que je crois tes bobards? Je _connais _ma fille. Je ne te laisserai pas casser la baraque de ma fille," Tommy snarled through clenched teeth. He was ready to go on the defensive... for me. Travis was wrong to think he wouldn't take my side, and I was wrong to doubt him. Who knew he had faith?

You think I believe your... I'm gonna assume that bobards are lies. I know my girl. I will not let you break...? Okay, I give up on that one, but whatever it is, he won't let Travis do or say something bad about me. That's all I really need to know.

Travis snorted a little, apparently finding it ironic. He made an elaborately fake bow to Tommy, insuring that it was extra low. "Mais tu l'as déjà cassée plus mieux que je puisse," He replied smoothly. He let the coolness of his icy words stab Tommy like little pinpricks, which meant that Tommy was actually guilty of this crime. Indeed, Tommy's face showed traces of discomfort. Basically, what he said was that Tommy already had broken it better than Travis ever could. "Tout le monde sais qu'elle est une vrai salope."

EXCUSE ME?! Everyone knows that I'm a huge whore?! What the hell? Okay, at that point, I almost snapped and went over there and hit him upside the head with the punchbowl. Okay, so I so imagined it! I suddenly noticed that Tommy was holding his hands out in front of him, staring at them. Tommy's fingers twitched as if he itched to use them to rearrange Travis' face. But instead he clenched his fists, pulling his hands down even when one finger crept out to point at his opponent. "Ne le dis pas!"

Don't say that? Seriously? That's the best he can do? Travis flashed the both of us a sickeningly smug grin. "Tu es une vrai pute! Il n'y a pas de mots... Seulment ceux: faire gaffe! Je t'ai dans le nez! Tu es une sangsue pourrie... et si tu dis un autre astuce vaseuse, une autre vanne, un autre mot mauvais de _ma _fille, je te _ferai_ payer. D'accord?" Tommy hissed, so furious he was at a loss for words.

You're a real scumbag! There are no words... only these: you better watch out! I've had it up to here with you! You are a... I dunno, a bloodsucker? Oh, a leech! So true. And if you say another, um, uh, another bad word about my girl, I _will _make you pay. Damn. He is **so **sexy when he threatens. Seriously, who says chivalry's dead? As far as I can tell, it's alive and well... Ah, my knight-in-shining armor!

Travis shook his head. "Non." Dumb. Ass. Move. "C'est pas une vierge pantoute!" Travis exclaimed sarcastically. "Ta blonde, elle est une sale pute. Elle ouvre ses jambes pour chaque mec qui passe," Travis said spitefully, disdainfully. Tommy made a move as if to strike Travis, and I could tell he wanted to by the way all the color rose up into his face... but he managed to somehow restrain himself. His jaw clenched. His eyes were like blue fire. Travis held his arms out as if daring Tommy to do something about it. I wanted to strike Travis too, but I didn't want to get expelled. I really don't think I need to translate what he said. It should be pretty damn obvious.

"Tu viens de signer ton mandat de morte," Tom growled, clenching his fists. His stance reminded me of a cowboy from a crappy spaghetti western like A Duel in the Sun. Excuse that... it's Taylor's influence, I'm afraid. You just signed your death warrant. Very much like a sheriff. Tommy would be a hot sheriff. I pictured him in an old-fashioned uniform to try and distract myself from the urge to kill Travis.

For his part, the mustachioed villain in this story wasted no time in continuing to tie me to the railroad tracks. Verbally, of course. "Tu es seulement fâché parce que tu ne reçois aucunes des avantages, mais tout du stigmate. C'est triste," Travis jeered, mocking Tommy with his actions. You're only pissed because you're getting none of the advantages and all of the stigma is what he said. He meant that Tommy wasn't getting any but he was getting all the blame. Travis did something corny like pop his collar. Tommy was rather irate, mainly because he was right. I wonder if that's why Tommy's been hitting on me lately... if he figures that, because everyone thinks he's doing it, he might as well do it.

All Travis was doing was basically reinforcing the fact that I hadn't had sex with Tommy. Erm, that I wasn't, since Tommy thinks we did. It must really be irking him because he doesn't remember when we actually supposedly did have sex. But that's his own fault as much as it is mine. That it hasn't happened. I mean, I pretty much offered him up to myself on a platter. On at least two occasions. One of which being after... Yeah. I'm glad he said no then. And the other one was the morning when I woke up in his bed. I offered like five hundred times. But no, he had to be pissy. Man. I should've just really had sex with him when he was drunk. But no, I had to have morals. I had to not take advantage of him. I mean, it would've bonded us, and he would definitely remember some of it. I probably still would've been there when he woke up in the morning, and it would've been pretty damn hard to deny it.

Tommy blatantly ignored what Travis had said. "Tu l'inventes tout parce que tu es **obsédé**...et _mal-baisé!_"Tommy countered with a sneer. I noticed he'd moved closer to Travis, but he wasn't touching him. He scoffed at Travis, looking him over dismissively. "Et tu ne peux pas ramoner une meuf si tu étais le seul homme sur la terre," Tommy concluded decisively. Especially in that get-up. "Tu dois poursuivre ton tailleur en justice!" Okay, you should sue your tailor. There we go. I was hoping he'd make some comment about him looking like a mobster instead. You're just making it all up because you're obsessed and... I dunno what that word meant, but it seemed to be some sort of high affront with the way Travis took it.

A cruel smile appeared on his quickly redding face. "Ben, je l'ai tringlée... ta precieuse. Elle n'est qu'une vrai guidoune, et tu ne peux pas le reconnaître!" Travis fired back swiftly. I... your precious, so something about me. And he just made me mad all over again, so I'm not gonna translate what he just said. Tommy's face turned graver. He moved still closer to his enemy. Travis' eyes sparked, and his lips kept moving. "Ta blonde, elle te déconne, et tu peux pas la domper! Tu es trop accro pour lui dire 'non'!" He continued sharply.

Déconner, I later found out, means to trick or jerk around. Clearly I wasn't doing that, and clearly Tom can't dump me since we're not even dating. I assume the rest was something about him being too whipped to say no. Tom shook his head jerkily, lips turned down into a perfectly pretty frown. "Je suis tanné de toi. Je ne te crois pas... et je _peux _pas! Tu n'as pas de preuve! Je suis comme Saint Thomas," A defiant Tommy insisted. I'm sick of you. I don't believe you... and I can't! You have no proof! And then... I'm like St. Thomas? I'm afraid I don't get that one...

This prompted a casual eye-roll from Travis. With all his talk about having sex with me, it made me wonder if he knew something I didn't. "Sois pas blasphémateur, Thomas Douteux!" Travis shouted. I glanced around, wondering how no one else noticed their quarrel. Especially Joan. Tommy had gone to get her a drink, and it had been at least ten minutes, if not more! Don't be blasphemous, Doubting Thomas. "Tu n'es qu'un p'tit saint," He pointed out plainly. I frowned. You're nothing but a little saint. What part of that is supposed to be offensive? The little part? 'Cause I bet that would piss Tommy off. Yet these insults seemed to roll off his back like raindrops.

He bowed low to Travis, glaring daggers at him, before unleashing a formidable string of profanity. "**Câlisse** de crisse de tabarnak d'ostie d'trou du cul de _viarge _de ciboire de testament de saint-sacrament!" He bellowed, smiling cheerily. That's how they do it there. That was mild in comparison. I know. I've been on . Nevertheless, Travis, being religious, or, at least, formerly so, despises these insults. Which is weird, 'cause I've heard this is pretty much how they speak. "Je préfère être un petit saint qu'une sainte nitouche!" I'd rather be a little saint than a... hypocrite? I dunno.

"Quel phraseur!" Travis quipped sarcastically, clapping quietly. Tommy did not appreciate being mocked. "Judas est pire." Judas is worse. He called him a traitor. And Travis knew that afflicted him because he was, in a way, right. Jude's his confirmation name, after all. And obviously there was a lot of backstabbing. So much that they could probably be mistaken for teenage girls or Gossip Girl characters.

Tommy nodded, conceding Travis' point. "Peut-être." Travis shot him a disbelieving look, moving closer to him, practically holding an accusing finger in his face.

"T'as fourré ma fiancée... elle était l'amour de ma vie. J'allais me marier avec elle. Et tu l'as ruiné parce que tu es crétin et égoïste! Tu as emporté tout! Je ne te pardonnerai _jamais _à ça!" Travis said in a quietly furious voice. He was literally shaking with rage. His eyes were wet-looking and glistening with pure fury. If looks could kill, Tom would've been a dead man. You screwed my would-be wife... she was the love of my life. I was going to marry her. And you ruined it all because you were stupid and selfish. You took everything. I will never forgive you for that!

I understood him better than I'd like to admit. After all, I wasn't about to forgive him for what he did to me. Big deal. Tommy screwed his fiancé. I forgave him for sleeping with Ruby. I forgave him for dating my sister. For breaking my heart. My point is, he can be forgiven. Besides, it's not like they were having an affair. It happened one time. Five years ago. And he's back with Kate now. Get the hell over it. Tommy actually looked chagrined by this. "J'ai entendu que vous..." Tommy trailed off, making an awkward hand gesture. "Félicitations," He managed in a somewhat strangled voice.

Travis nodded curtly. "Merci."

"Je sais que..." Tommy started promisingly, glancing at Travis and suddenly looking down. I know that... Like he's the type to chicken out? He paused for a brief moment, stuttering a little. I frowned. "Que je t'ai blessé. Mais tu dois pas inventer ses mésonges... pour me blesser aussi!" Tommy said with a hint of compassion. I know that... that I hurt you. Hurt him how, I wonder? The Kate thing? It sounds almost as if he was Travis' lover or something, which is clearly ridiculous. But you don't have to invent lies to hurt me too! Well, Tom, he's not exactly lying. "Il faut finir." It should end. It must end.

Travis' jaw clenched, and I knew I was done for. I swallowed patiently and watched as a tense Travis refilled his own punch glass and handed Tommy his. "Je pense que c'est l'heure pour porter un toast..." He said ominously, holding up the plastic cup expectantly. Tommy probably mistakenly figured it was intended for Travis' engagement, so he knocked his cup into Travis' politely. The water sloshed a bit, and Travis was the one that spoke. "Carpe omnias!" He cried, downing his drink in a blink. Tommy was confused because, obviously, that's not French. It's Latin, kinda like carpe diem, which means seize the day. Only it means "take it all." Travis told me... later. But never matter.

Ironic, considering what he said next. He went for the jugular. He smirked a little bit, motioning towards Tommy's drink. "Tu aurais besoin du boisson," He said coolly. You'll need it. Tommy shot him a puzzled look, but Travis went on smoothly. "Je suis désolé à te désillusioner, Thomas, mais je ne mente pas," Travis said in a mock-apologetic voice, putting a hand on Tommy's shoulder. Tommy stared at his hand as if it was a bug he wished to remove. Travis continued obliviously. "Je l'ai niquée, et elle l'aimait," He proclaimed proudly. He settled his gaze quite pointedly on Tommy, watching for a reaction. "Jude, elle est venue à moi. Elle pratiquement s'est lancée à moi."

I'm sorry to disillusion you, Thomas, but I'm not lying. Sorry my ass. I... she loved it. Gag me with a spoon. She came to me. She practically threw herself at me. Lies! He lies! Well, mostly. I think... I hope. Tommy snorted in disbelief but downed most of the rest of his beverage nevertheless. "Quelle tentative piteuse à te venger," He scoffed, shooting Travis a slightly murderous look. What a pitiful attempt at revenge. I mentally congratulated Tommy on the comeback. It wasn't at all working as Travis had plotted. "Tu es jaloux."

"Je t'ai promis longtemps... Rira bien qui rira le dernier," Travis snarled in a low voice. I promised you long ago... that I would get the last laugh. I assume that's what he meant, at least. Tommy sneered, rolling his eyes at Travis, who felt the need to continue, to convince my beloved to turn against me. "Baiser de chienne donne des puces," Travis recited, shooting Tommy a look. Tommy clenched his fists but did not swing. It was later told to me that that particular phrase is a proverb. Kiss a dog, and it'll give you fleas. Or, basically, don't trust someone who kisses you a lot. Or you'll get an STD, I assume. Hence why it offended Tommy. Roundabout way of calling me a bitch too.

His lips were tight, but he managed an answer. "Est-ce que tu es si obsédé avec la vengeance?" Tommy asked incredulously. Are you obsessed with revenge? Travis shot him a look that spoke volumes about how much of an idiot he was. Duh, you dumbass. "It won't solve anything," Tommy blurted out. He had a point. Even he seemed surprised about this lapse to English. Travis nodded slowly, glowering at Tommy.

He crossed his arms over his chest, tossing the cup carelessly on the table behind him. "Ouais, je sais. Mais je file mieux," Travis spat. Yeah, I know, but I feel better. You bet he does. He laughed cruelly, tossing back his head. "Ce n'est pas trop tôt... que je _t'ai_ pris quelque chose!" He exclaimed. It's about time that I took something from _you. _Meaning me. He didn't take me, though. I put a hand on my hip. And just when I thought things were calming down.

Tommy then proceeded to send him a look that said plainly, "Jude is mine. Back your skinny ass off, because I will kick it all the way across the Prairies and up to the Yukon." Travis rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Je parie qu'elle ne pensait pas à toi quand elle était avec moi cette nuit..." I bet she wasn't thinking about you when she was with me that night. Not entirely true, Trav. Tommy is always, always, always on my mind.

My darling looked pretty pissed, but he didn't hit him. He tried, diplomatically, to change the subject. Tommy thumbed his nose at Travis, furrowing his brow. "Tu changes ton nez depuis la dernière fois que je t'ai vu. Qu'est-ce que c'est, ton troisième nez?" Tommy remarked with some amusement. He touched his own nose curiously, gesturing to where Travis' nose once was (apparently it was rather large). He put a finger on the side of his nose, pushing it to the side a little. "Il est un peu de travers, mais... Il va bien à toi." It's a bit crooked, but it suits you. Was that a bit of a compliment? Weird, isn't it, how Joan's last name means crooked? And how it resembles Travis' first name, come to think of it.

Or it could be an insult reference to how crooked he is. I mean, travers does sound like Travis.

You would really think I could tell them apart, what with their noses looking different. Travis' was, I dunno, a little more delicate looking, maybe a bit thinner, and obviously a little crooked. Not in a bad way, though. Now, changing the subject to Travis' various rhinoplasty procedures was probably not a wise move, but it was a gutsy one. I wondered vaguely what he looked like before. Travis scowled. "Seulement parce qu'elle a cassé mon nez, ta fille. Presque comme quand tu l'a fracassé la dernière fois, mais ils ont fait moins de chirurgie réconstructive," Travis retorted defensively. Only because your girlfriend broke my nose. Kind of like how you shattered it the last time, only they had to do less reconstructive surgery.

Tommy smirked as if remembering this last thing. This was new to me, knowing that Tommy had broken Travis' nose before. Huh. Tommy looked quite proud of both of our accomplishments. He looked extremely gleeful, so much so that I thought perhaps the tables had turned. I thought he might've actually distracted our mutual enemy. "Oh, est-ce qu'ils ont utilisé ma photo encore?" He inquired in a tone that feigned politeness but was really sickeningly smug. Oh, did they use my picture again? Cocky as hell. But, so help me, I love him. Travis looked positively murderous at that comment, clenching his fists and whatnot. I knew he full well wanted to punch Tommy for it.

I frowned at Tom's implication. So the surgeons used Tommy's picture to fix Travis' face? Well, that would explain why they look so much alike. "_Déverminage _enfer!" Travis yelled, losing his cool. He was red in the face, oh boy.

Tommy snickered, not at all phased by the violence of the gesture. Nor its references to fire and brimstone. "On se calme. Deniaisie-toi," Tommy ordered tranquilly. Simmer down now. Deniasi... I don't know what that means. But it made the both of them laugh a little. I caught sight of what a moment of camaraderie between them was like, and I couldn't believe it. They were old friends again, almost, and I could see it. Then Travis shook his head stubbornly.

"Je te dis... J'ai mis ta fille. Elle était-" Travis trailed off, seeing plainly that Tommy still did not believe him. He pursed his lips and continued with a furrowed brow, thinking of a way to convince him. "Tu me crois pas? Tu veux détails? Oui, okay... J'ai enlevé tes bobettes noires. Je l'ai doigtée..." Travis continued descriptively. Damn Cheshire cat grin of his. Looks like he ate the whole damn cage of canaries. Tommy's eyes narrowed drastically. He took a step closer to Travis and barely resisted grabbing his suit. I didn't want to know what he said, so I'd prefer not to translate it.

"Tiens fume!" Tommy jeered. Have a smoke? Huh?

Travis laughed to himself, waggling his eyebrows. "Mais je dois pas. Je me souviens tout!" Travis said brightly, flashing a smile. His grin widened, and he resumed his previous topic. Bobettes are panties, just F.Y.I. And I realized with a sickening feeling that this, at least, Travis was probably not lying about. He had ripped my underwear off that day, and they had been black and skimpy. And I had just left them there. I shuddered at the disturbing thought. "Quoi, tu veux voir les bobettes? Parce que je les ai, tu sais..." Travis suggested seemingly innocently. Both Tom and I knew better, though. Tommy looked sorely like he wanted to punch Travis, but he refrained.

"Ta **gueule**!" Tom hissed, getting increasingly pissed off.

Travis was getting progressively more pleased with himself. He made motions with his hands. "Et je l'ai touchée... Je l'ai touchée beaucoup. Et ta p'tite pute, elle aimait. Elle m'a demande... Touche-moi, touche-moi. J'a râpé ses cerveaux hors! Elle gémissait mon nom. Elle a ronronné dans mon oreille," Travis taunted, mimicking a breathy voice I assumed to be myself. I'd never begged him to touch me like that. I'd never purred. Maybe I moaned his name, but that's it. Not all sleazy and exaggerated like that. Tommy eyed Travis warningly, barely resisting letting his fists do the talking for him. It is horribly tempting, especially with Travis.

"Tu délires! Tu dérailles!" Tommy growled. His lips curled into an unpleasant grimace. You're crazy! You're out of line! His lips were so tight with thinly-veiled rage that they were turning white. He was out of line. And he shouldn't have said those things about me. But Travis didn't listen and kept on talking.

He closed his eyes and sighed dreamily. He ignored what Tommy had said. Indeed, it was as if Tommy hadn't said a word. "Sa peau était _moite _et douce comme le sirop d'érable, et la chaleur de son corps m'a _brûlé... _Ses yeux merveilleux étaient troublés et foncés avec un _désir _fort. Ses mains étaient lisses et avaient des démangeaisons pour partir en exploration. Ses lèvres avaient faim, et elles me _plaidaient. _Elle a un goût de _besoin. _Elle goûtait delicieuse. Oh, la la... Je me souviens bien," Travis murmured to himself in half a whisper. His lips were pursed, his eyes half-lidded as if he was in deep contemplation. His voice was low, and it took on that sexy poetic quality that made my knees weak when I was feeling particularly vulnerable. With that voice, that soft, sweet, romantic voice, he could have any girl at his feet in an instant. Ah, Travis, ever the sensualist.

Too bad he doesn't use it properly. You would think he would realize its power and use it more often. It might compensate for his repellent personality. With that voice, he could cast spells, make women fall in love with him. He could do anything, control anyone, persuad... Hypnotic suggestion, anyone? He was even more persuasive than Tommy. But I knew the voice did not affect Tommy anywhere near the way it affected me, and not at all similarly. It merely got under his skin in that unpleasant way, not the way it did with me, where it slipped smoothly under my skin, cutting swiftly past my defenses before I was even aware of it. It was abrasive and annoying to Tommy.

Naturally, Tommy looked slightly disgusted at the thought of me being... intimate with Travis. Ew, it even grosses me out. But that was all a lie. Maybe a fantasy of his. Not the real thing. The real thing was me sweating, me clawing at his skin, me twisting my head away from him, my back against the glass, my wrists pinned to the wall, my legs forced apart, screams echoing in my head and out my mouth, buttons and switches pressing into my skin, him attacking me, him not taking no for an answer! I tasted of fear! I fought back! I refused. And then him trying to force himself on me, and Joan walking in and saving my life.

"Quel baratineur!" He remarked, adopting Travis' sarcastic tone from much earlier. "Même tu ne peux pas noyer le poisson cette fois." Even you can't drown the fish this time? Tommy looked a little ill at the pictures currently circulating in his head. Naturally, my nemesis took this as a personal victory. Asshole. "Jude _t'exécre. _Elle te déteste. Ta _vue _s'insupporte! Si tu penses que tout ça est vrai, tu pètes les plombs!" Tommy argued stubbornly. Jude hates you. She detests you. She can't stand the sight of you. If you think that all that's true, you're... um, okay, dunno. It's a crapshoot sometimes! Tough love, Tommy style. I can always, _always _count on him.

Travis put his hands on his hips. He looked a little like a girl. He definitely didn't look that straight. Or, for that matter, that upset. Then again, Tommy really hadn't insulted him. Not like before. He shrugged coolly. "Je me souviens," Travis repeated recalcitrantly. I remember. Wow, way to echo the Separatist movement there, what with the being defiant and reciting the motto of Quebec. "Je me souviens sa peau... si blanche éthéré, si laiteuse. Je me souviens les taches de rousseur en ses joues... ils étaient comme la cannelle. Je me souviens ses cheveux écarlates, aussi vifs qu'elle... comme un feu. Je me souviens la rougeur de sa peau... elle était plus jolie qu'une jeune rose. Je me souviens sa beauté incandescente... mieux qu'une mille des levers du soleil. Je me souviens son rayonnement... plus brillant que toutes les étoiles dans le ciel," Travis declared passionately.

I didn't know why he was wasting so much eloquence on me. It seemed so real, so real that the breath even caught in my throat. But I knew that he was just doing it to piss Tommy off. Still, it was weird. Why compliment me to piss Tommy off? I mean, Tommy's liable to agree with him here. All he has to do to make Tommy angry is to tell him what he did. Graphically. There's no way Tommy would forgive me for it.

Nevertheless, Travis continued. If it was possible, he got even more romantic. Had I been there, by his side, and had he been saying the words to me... maybe I would've fallen for it. But Travis had never said anything like that to me. To my face, at least. I memorized all the words he said, so I'll translate that little speech for you later. It goes on a while, and I had to look a fair amount of the words up.

Travis' eyes blazed emerald green, their prettiest shade. Tommy... I don't know how to describe what he looked like. He was standing at his full height, fully extended, so tense. He seemed so furious, so resolute, and, and something else... jealous. Terribly, horribly so. "Je me souviens ses yeux clairs et azurs... plus turbulents que l'océan, comme elle. Sa couleur était plus foncé et plus intense que tous les paons du monde. Je me souviens qu'ils scintillaient si lumineusement que tous les diamants sont devenus trop jaloux pour briller. Je me souviens que ses yeux étaient ne-m'oubliez-pas... alors, je ne m'oublie pas. Je me souviens comment je voulais la vénérer. Ses lèvres m'ont ensorcelé, l'espirit et l'âme," Travis continued with a low intensity.

If I was stupid, I would've closed my eyes and let the cadence of his voice wash over me. I would've absorbed his words, let the poetry of them wrap around me. Girls, don't ever date a songwriter. Or a poet. It's not fair. They can always use their words against you, entrap you. And eloquent men, well, they're dangerous. Life is not a Jane Austen novel. But I'm not that dumb anymore. I don't trust him anymore. Not that I ever really did in the first place, considering how quickly he betrayed his position of trust. The first day of school!

"Elle est un danger mortel sans le vouloir, exquis sans y songer, un piège de nature, une rose muscade dans laquelle l'amour se tient en embuscade! Qui connaît son sourire a connu le parfait. Elle fait de la grâce avec rien, elle fait tenir tout le divin dans un geste quelconque..." Travis recited faithfully, giving Tommy a daring look, almost as if encouraging him to do something about it. So Tommy rose to the challenge, cutting into Travis' monologue.

"Tais-toi, _Cyrano_. Tu es sot," Tommy sneered bitingly. He flicked the tip of his nose symbolically. Travis looked pissed now. Tommy made some mocking comments in a lower voice, but I couldn't hear any of them, although I am told that they were brilliantly scathing and in reference to his purloined words and poetic qualities. What I did hear was when Tommy raised his voice and began to talk about me. "Elle n'est pas _tienne. _Elle n'ai... Elle ne te veux pas. Elle ne te voulait jamais! Et, comme sa fiancée, elle _me_ préfère. Pourquoi voudrait-elle? Elle n'est pas pour toi. Tu as une fiancée encore et une petite copine aussi... Tu n'as pas besoin d'elle. Oublie-la! Ne tente pas prendre ma blonde, ou je prendrai la tienne. Jude... elle est la _mienne. _Ouais, tu comprends?" Tommy ordered in a relatively threatening voice. For him, at least. For an ordinary man this would've been quite threatening.

But Tommy is certainly not an ordinary man. He speaks with his actions. Not his words. Just giving Travis a warning is progress. What Tommy said was this: She isn't yours. She doesn't want you. She never wanted you. And, like your fiancée, she prefers me! Why would she (want you)? She isn't for you. You have a fiancée again and a little friend too... You don't need her. Forget her! Don't try to take my blonde (okay, so this phrase officially confuses me, as I am not blonde), or I'll take yours! Jude... she's mine. Yeah, you understand?

Unfortunately, Travis did not. The idiot went out and poked the bear that is my true love. "Elle est seulement une charrue!" He shouted spitefully. Tommy looked only mildly ticked at this phrase, which was, I assumed, a new way to call me a whore.

"Et tu appelles ça... panache?" Tommy scoffed, scowling at Travis. He shook his head in disgust and looked as if he was about to spit on the ground. "Pisseux. Tu peux pas le dit à son visage?!" He exclaimed, sounding almost incredulous. Coward. You can't even call her that to her face?! He couldn't, but he had in the past. He just says that more because Tommy's there, and the bastard lives for the sick pleasure of making me look bad in front of darling Tommy.

"Je n'ai pas faire ça," A defiant Travis proclaimed. I don't have to do that. "Elle sait qu'elle est." She knows what she is. Yes, Travis, I do! And I am not a freaking whore! I clenched my fists, and it was easy, so easy to forget about all the wonderful things he'd just said. I wondered if he'd even meant any of them, even in the moment he was saying them. Or if he was just shooting crap and showing off to prove he could BS like the best of them.

It was clear, however, that Tom wasn't thinking what Travis wanted him to speak. This personally surprised me. I mean, he went about it all wrong. He should've just told Tommy what happened, framing me to look bad. It's not like it'd be that hard with a tongue like his. I can't believe I'm actually talking about this. In my head. Well, considering they've both been calling me Tommy's girlfriend, maybe I don't. "Ouais, et elle n'est pas salope," Tommy remarked swiftly.

At that, something in Travis seemed to snap. "Oh, Thomas, mais je sais... J'ai fait quelques choses avec ta fille dont tu seulement penses," Travis hinted nastily. Oh, Thomas, but I do know... I've done things with your girl that you've only dreamed of. Tommy didn't see that coming, and hell, neither did I. And I knew the bastard was gonna say something like that. Tommy clenched his fists so hard I thought I saw blood bursting from his knuckles. "Maintenant... comme je disais..." He paused for a moment, as if trying to remember. "Je l'ai embrassée... sa cou, et ses joues, et sa bouche... et sa poitrine. Je même l'ai donnée une morsure. Et je me suis pressé contre Jude... et, je me lui suis plaqué contre la fenêtre. Et, alors, j'ai enlevé ses bobettes, et je l'ai touchée... Je l'ai doigtée. Elle m'a sucé... oh, sa langue et ses dents... Et elle gémissait, et, alors, je l'ai baisée bien dure, ta fille. Sa peau était souple et glissante, et si delicieuse, si precieuse..." Travis elaborated sleazily. He coupled this with rather explicit hand gestures.

I felt sick to my stomach. Forgive me if I don't want to translate that. "Elle était probablement si ivre qu'elle a perdu connaissance!" Tommy countered, still refusing to acknowledge what Travis was saying. She was probably so drunk that she lost consciousness! Tommy had a point there, however, he was extremely incorrect. Okay, sure, I'd made out with Travis a few times when I was halfway wasted, but I was fully cognizant that time he's talking about. At least I think. There was that one time when I blacked out that continued to haunt me. "Tu es un salaud taré... et un fils retors du putain! Arrête de penser de ma femme et va te crosser dans un coin!" Tommy ordered fiercely.

I smiled, rather proud of him. Okay, so I have no idea what half of it was, but still... Proud. You are one depraved bastard... and a twisted son of a bitch! And then stop thinking about my girl or... well, I'm not so sure what crossing yourself on a corner means, but there's a faintly obscene connotation there, methinks. Especially given the shocked and offended look on Travis' face. I could've sworn I heard him make a snide English remark about how at least people would pay him. I dunno. Didn't really get it. Travis took another step closer to Tommy. It was evident he wanted and expected Tommy to make the first move. "Mais j'ai Jude," Travis replied smarmily. So, basically, since he "has" me, why should he have to? Since he can then use me to get out all of his nasty little fantasies and such. Ickfest.

Tommy, I could tell, wanted to tell Travis that he didn't. Because, hell, if we're being honest, even Tommy doesn't have me. Not all the time, at any rate, and never in bed, plus Taylor's technically my boyfriend and all... I guess. I wonder if him getting stuck in 'Treal is really such an accident after all. Hmm... That Kathryn Mansfield. But Tom saw no point in being redundant. "Casse-toi," Tommy mumbled irritably. He turned away from Travis a bit, and he didn't seem as mad... He was, however, still clenching his fists.

Unfortunately for Tommy, Travis doesn't know when to say when. He cannot let things go. He's an asshole like that. Trou du cul as Tommy would say. "Tu n'as pas de couilles... ou tu n'as pas de courage. Ou, peut-être, tu t'en fous... Mais je sais que tu fais parce que tu me fais les gros yeux et broyes du noir comme un adolescent," Travis declared smugly. There was that challenge again. Travis just said that Tommy has no balls or no courage, which I don't know if he knows is actually the same thing. Or, maybe, Tommy doesn't care, although we all know that's not true. But I know that you do because you're giving me the fat eyes (translated that wrong, huh?) and brooding like an adolescent. I know that last part because hello, it's Tommy. And he did that as an adolescent.

Tommy merely shook his head, annoyed. "La bagarre ne me fais pas peur... et tu sais, mais... Pourquoi cherches-tu la bagarre, Travis? Je veux pas lutter avec toi. C'est stupide. Le passé, c'est le passé... Ce n'est pas maintenant. Ouais, je ne t'aime pas plus, mais... Il n'y a pas de valeur," A rather resigned Tommy said dryly. Not even in the funny way. His whole voice was just... dry. I'm not afraid to fight... and you know it. But why are you looking for a fight, Travis? I don't want to fight with you? Erm, I think. It's stupid. What's past is past... It's not now.

And then, as I mentally translated, I realized it got suddenly weird. I frowned, contemplating the words. Yeah, I don't love you anymore, but... It's not worth it. HUH? What the...? Okay, seriously, did those two at any one point ever have a somewhat homoerotic friendship? Because it all sounds very gay, and it makes me wonder... Man, Tommy and Travis. How hot would that be? Them just arguing is really hot. And I'm completely off-track here. Because, knowing them, they probably never did have anything going on, which is a tragedy and just so damn depressing. But hell, it's better than dwelling on all the hurtful things Travis has called me. Each one I understand is like a tiny knife. Really, and the fact that he said them to Tommy just makes it worse.

Why not tell my father, Travis, if you really wanted to go for the jugular?! Oh, right. He'd sue your ass and kick you out of your nifty molesting hole. And then you couldn't feel up your students. Damn it. I don't even get extra credit!

Travis' eyes were unrelenting, as is every aspect of his abrasive personality. "Je pensait que tu voudrait défendre sa pouffiasse... mais tu n'as pas bougé un doigt. Je vais inventer des autres mots pour dire "salope." Tu me déçois, Thomas," Travis explained coolly. I thought that you would want to defend your bitch... but you haven't moved a finger. I'm going to have to invent other words for "whore." You disappoint me, Thomas. Hurtful, isn't it? I really like hearing him call me a bitch. But I can't do anything about it.

And, honestly, I know this is bad... and I totally shouldn't feel this way... because it's bad. But I'm... kind of waiting for Tommy to give in and finally start whaling on Travis. It's bound to happen sooner or later. Probably sooner.

Tommy rolled his eyes, clearly unwilling to give him the satisfaction. I saw his eyes blaze, though, so I knew Travis was in for another quip. "Tu es toujours obsédé des choix de mots," An idle Tommy responded. You always were a stickler for word choice. There was a sort of irony in his voice. "Crapule dégueulasse!" Disgusting scum! Couldn't think of a better epithet myself, Tom. I suddenly noticed that there was a fair bit of distance between them again now. "Tu es aigri, et tu pâlis toujours d'envie." You're bitter, and you're always green with envy.

Evil Tommy... um, I mean Travis, glowered at his opponent. His jaw clenched. This is because Tommy's right, and Travis has always been jealous of him. Thank you. "Et j'ai encore fait plus avec elle que tu fais!" Travis crowed. And I've still done more with her than you have! Tommy scoffed in an understandable disbelief. Travis gave Tommy a quizzical look. "Eh, quoi? Tu l'as déjà fourrée? As-tu râpé elle, Tom?" Travis demanded. For a few anxious moments he waited impatiently for an answer that wouldn't come. Tommy's face was absolutely impassive. Of course he's not gonna answer that question. It's a freaking trap. He's asking Tommy if he's nailed me yet, and he's not doing it to congratulate him on tapping that fine ass.

Travis smirked, sensing his victory. More like trap. Asshole. Sure shut Tom up, though. "Ah... tu peux pas dire 'oui' ou 'non', n'est-ce pas? Si tu dis 'oui', alors tu es pédo... et je dois alerter les autorités. Mais, si tu dis 'non', tu es un enfoiré ou un menteur," Travis described, pleased with himself. Here's the damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don't sitch again. It's all very Catch-22. Can't say you did, can't say you didn't, can you? If you say yes, you're a pedophile, and I should alert the authorities. Yet would he, given that he's far more guilty of committing the very same offense? Hell, he might do it just do get Tommy in the slammer. But if you say no, then you're a dumbass or a liar. The grin on his face indicated that he thought Tommy was a dumbass anyways. I disagree. I think he's a liar anyways.

Oddly enough, Tommy cares less about his own honor than you'd think. Okay, so he has a complex about the pedophile thing, but Travis is definitely not one to talk, and his dad is just... demented. Not in reality, of course, since Theo's really nice and all, but... Seriously. Tiffany has nothing on Torie. Except a few less years and more annoying offspring. Not that Tommy and Taylor and that mythical older bro don't all piss me off. They're just fun at times, like when I'm making out with them. Duh.

"C'est une saleté! Tu es une **morue **sans-_coeur _et un pervers inhumain!" Tommy snarled back as a reply. Apparently Travis took the morue bit as a great insult. I think it's a type of fish. Or something. And Tommy called him heartless. And an inhuman pervert. All of which he kind of is, only he's in love with Joan. Which blows that theory. And the whole Kate thing, since he somehow managed to convince her that he was still in love with her. What-ever.

"Je me souviens une autre chose... Le façon qu'elle gémissait mon nom," Travis cut in wickedly, flashing Tommy an inhuman look. Satan, I thought. His eyes were evergreen and glittering with malintent. I remember another thing, he said... the way she moaned my name.

Funny, 'cause I sure as hell don't. Tommy stiffened as if he knew where Travis was going with this and wisely attempted to shut him up. "Ferme-la. N'en rajoute pas," He insisted. Shut it. Don't push it. An order, a command. But it was hardly strong, and barely a call to stop. Nevertheless, disobeying Tommy is stupid. Travis, of all people, ought to know that.

Travis snorted as if he thought it was funny and continued on ruthlessly. He's like General Sherman, I swear. "Le façon qu'elle tremblait sous moi." Upturned lips, crocodile smile, sleazy like a lawyer. I hate that grin. I hate him. The way that I trembled beneath him. Or shook. What the hell ever. Another thing I don't fricking remember!

'Cause that bastard got me drunk and took advantage of me! This time Tommy was more stubborn, more firm, but even that wasn't enough to stop Travis the Steamroller. "_Ça suffit!_" He growled. But there was still that foolish patience in his tone, and his rival took full advantage of it. Apparently it wasn't enough after all.

Travis adopted the sneer I was all too familiar with and looked down his nose at Tom. Like he had any right to do that. Tommy is better than he is. This time there was barely even a pause before he continued. The words just bubbled forth. "Son expression quand elle a _joui_," He drawled mockingly, knowing that it rhymed with his last phrase. Tommy clenched his fists so hard with that one I thought he'd burst a blood vessel, and for a long time he didn't say a word. He was, I realize now, attempting to restrain himself.

Travis moved closer, tempting him. Devil, like I said. He held out his arms, gesturing, but Tommy didn't give in. He gave Travis a look that fully expressed how sorely he wanted to, though. But his arms remained turgid at his sides. "BASTA!" Tommy roared like a lion. ENOOOOOOUGH! He could purr too, I remembered dimly. "Ne tente pas le diable, Travesti! Je suis game," Tommy warned in a voice laden with fury. Obviously, since he just said: Don't push your luck, cheap tranny hooker! I've got the courage to do something! By which I mean kick his ass. Did Travis listen, though? No. Of course not. Travis is above such warnings.

But he was about to get what was coming to him. A mischievous smile went all the way up to his gleaming eyes. I felt a cold chill running down my spine. The Travesti comment really irked him, so he was going to get back at Tommy big time. Forgive me for being slightly terrified. Who knew exactly what that hideous grin could mean for me? All I knew was that it meant trouble- Travis' specialty, sower of discord that he is! "Et je me souviens sa cramouille douce-" Travis proclaimed victoriously, proudly, sweetly, as if savoring the flavor of the word on his tongue, smirk stretching from ear to ear, wider and wider as he said it. If Tommy had let him go on like that, I'm sure he would've described in detail, including the word "fraîche" afterwards, no doubt.

"Ferme ta **putain **de gueule!" Tommy screamed, drowning Travis out. He said it so loudly that a good amount of people turned to look. Travis noticed, but Tommy didn't. Not that Tommy would care that he was creating a spectacle. Hell, Travis made it just as much by saying all those nasty things about me. But Travis did not listen to Tommy once again. Dumb-ass move, Brother.

"Elle a couvri mes doigts comme miel." She covered my fingers like honey. Wow, I really needed that disgusting mental picture. Thank you, Travis. Tommy also looked disgusted, like he wanted to spit. But he didn't do anything, even if his fists were clenched tighter than the sun. And, as if that wasn't bad enough... it got worse. Unbelievably.

Travis then proceeded to say the worst thing he possibly could. He had to know Tommy was going to kick his ass for it too, but the idiot lacks self-preservational instincts. Tommy-baiting: It's not just a sport; it's a way to die.

"Elle est juste une _**plotte! **_Une plotte _dosée!_"

At first, the accusation merely rang out in empty space for a while. All I could hear was it repeating endlessly in my head. My ears were ringing with it. Then it really sunk in.

And, predictably, my beloved Thomas was friggin' pissed.

He was red in the face and seething, literally shaking with suppressed rage. Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't just jump Travis right then. Instead he grabbed Travis by the collar and shook him like a ragdoll. "Je m'en lave les mains," Tommy got out in a strange, strangled tone of voice. It sounded faintly like he'd gone into a dissociative state. I wash my hands of this. I wash my hands of culpability. He made the accompanying hand gesture, letting go of Travis to do it. But Tommy didn't step back. It was very retro Boyz Attack! fight. Travis made a face at Tommy, brushing off his jacket. He looked vaguely incredulous, in disbelief that Tommy hadn't killed him for that.

He made some off-color comment about Tommy being more forgiving than me. Which is such a lie. I forgive that asshole for all sorts of crap. Tommy, at any rate. Then Tommy, who was dazed, panting, and deep in thought, suddenly realized something. "C'était **toi**!Tu étais l'homme qui l'a _violée!" _Tommy gasped in horror. Travis' smirk was more of an answer than any confirming word he could've possibly said. What that basically means is that Tommy suddenly realized that Travis was the one who almost... almost raped me. And Travis, being the idiot that he is, pretty much just confirmed it. If he didn't do it earlier, he just signed his death certificate.

"Tu l'as cherché!" Tommy hissed in a menacing voice. You asked for it! Which, to be fair, Travis pretty much did. Tommy moved towards Travis suddenly, without even thinking about it. It was just a natural extension. "Je vais te calisser une volée!" Tommy hollered, latching on to Travis' collar and shaking him even harder than before. I'm going to beat you up! Smooth, by the way, warning your enemy first. I guess it's courteous, though. Perhaps too courteous, though, since Travis responded by punching Tommy first. He managed to land a good right hook and thus incur Tommy's wrath forever.

Tommy flew back a few meters, but he responded quickly and with ten times more rage than Travis could've anticipated. Then again, Tommy had taken a lot of insults... to both himself and me. But he was free and clear of guilt since Travis had punched him first, so Tommy went at it with gusto, doubts erased. He charged back at Travis. "Va te faire **défoncer**!"Tommy snapped moments before he returned the favor. Travis fell back a little and Tommy used this opening to punch him hard in the gut. I grimaced at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and then wondered what I was doing still hiding.

I had to put a stop to things before they really got out of hand. I plastered a determined look on my face and stood up. No one else had really noticed the fight yet, which was slightly surprising to me, given how much attention the both of them garnered separately. I sighed and snuck out from behind the tree just as Travis dodged a punch, pushing Tommy's fist aside and getting a quick punch in on Tommy's side. "Oh, comme ils feront à toi... quand tu es dans la prison pour Jude." Oh, like they'll do to you, when you're in prison for (screwing) Jude. Ha ha. Funny, Trav. I stepped out from behind the tree and forced myself to walk towards them, even though I didn't really want to see either of them all that much.

It was a bad time, to be fair. As I started walking up towards them, Tommy groped out and knocked Travis back by hitting him in the chest. He didn't quite knock the wind out of Travis since his hit wasn't hard enough. Tommy was a little winded himself since Travis knocked all the air out of his lungs. For a moment the two stood apart, catching their breath separately. Then Tommy charged like some kind of puma, grabbing Travis. "Va _t'empaler _encule!" Yelled Tom. Travis shoved Tommy off of him and took a swing at him, which Tommy easily blocked. Tommy snatched Travis' fist and arm, forcibly twisting him around so that he couldn't move.

Unfortunately, Tommy didn't secure Travis' other arm, which swung up blindly behind his back to hit Tommy in the cheek. It was a rather direct hit that was sure to leave a bruise. It was also enough for Travis to get free, as Tommy loosened and eventually dropped his grip to feel around his face. He touched his cheek and winced slightly. Travis turned around, rubbing his reddening wrist. "Je t'emmerde," Travis muttered breathlessly. Tommy had barely a second to dodge him, but he ducked almost as if he had a sixth sense and knew where Travis was going to strike. Tommy slammed his shoulder into Travis' chest as he passed him, knocking him aside and off-balance.

Tommy whirled around and rose to his full height, catching his breath and staring at the stumbling Travis. Drunkenness does not help motor coordination, people. Travis was surprisingly fleet on his feet, however, and soon managed to regain his balance. He staggered over to Tommy, lurching out to hurt him. Tommy easily sidestepped the move, but his overconfidence caused Travis to hit home a second time, when he was standing up all the way. Tommy flinched and paused a moment before instinctively shoving Travis away. He rubbed his chest and continued after Travis, landing a punch sloppily on Travis' arm. "Je **t'haïs**!"Tommy shouted venomously. I hate you! Big shocker there. Travis had twisted free unexpectedly.

Travis somehow managed a sneer, though he was clearly in some pain. "Comme je m'en calice." Like I give a damn. He shook off the minor pain and immediately swung back. The punch hit Tommy square in the chest, sending him backwards. Tommy barely managed to keep his balance, flailing his arms. Travis pursued him but not quite doggedly enough. Tommy was easily able to evade his clutches while hitting Travis twice in the side. Travis was winded, to say the least, but he refused to back down and quit. Tommy wasn't, after all, really laying the hurt on him. Not then. He was mostly defending himself or trying to fend Travis off.

Knowing his strengths, Travis decided to retreat to the safe haven of name-calling. "Ta fille, elle n'est qu'une _plotte_!" He repeated belligerently, holding out his arms. This time Tommy pounced on him and was practically on top of him within seconds. He struck out almost blindly, so angry he was probably seeing stars. His fists were furious and, honestly, things of beauty. I almost didn't want to disrupt them. His hands went straight for the face, as I noticed by the dark black eye clearly blossoming on his opponent's face. He also seemed to have knocked his enemy in the side of the face, but not hard enough to really damage anything.

The look in Tommy's eyes was tantamount to murder, but Travis still refused to back down. He held his ground stubbornly, forcing himself to stay standing. In fact, he kept smirking like there was no tomorrow, which only enraged Tommy more. Tommy made to punch Travis in the nose and would have if the bastard hadn't turned his head at the last minute. Travis then, with a surprising agility, jerked around to resume the place he'd held before, once again resulting in Tommy missing. In a single fluid motion, Travis did that and hit Tommy straight in the kisser. Naturally, my man got a fat lip. "Aïe," mumbled mon precieux.

I guess you could say that the sight of blood was an awakening for me. It was definitely a sobering experience. Especially since it was Tommy's blood, and I don't like seeing my own injured (I mean, who does, other than Travis?). I sprung into action all of a sudden, before I had any idea what I was doing. All I knew was that I had to stop the violence. Since they were fighting over me, it, the fight... they... it was all my responsibility. And if and when it got truly out of hand, all my fault. So I charged over to them, picking up my pace. Neither of them had noticed me, no, they were too busy lunging and eying each other warily like cats.

A smirking Travis pulled his arm back slightly, just far enough so that I knew he was going to hit Tommy in the mouth again. Ignoring the tiny voice in my head telling me that it was a horrible plan, I marched right over to them and yelled at the first motion of Travis' finger. "GUYS, stop it!" Naturally, neither of them listened to me, although Travis was a little distracted, which allowed Tommy to easily slip out of Travis' grip. I stamped my foot in frustration, but nothing happened. They pretended as if they hadn't heard me. I'm gonna have to speak their language, then. Fine. "**Arrêtez**-vous!" I commanded loudly.

Tommy turned his head abruptly at the sound of my voice. Travis too the opportunity to slam his fist into Tommy's gut, and I hurried to dash in between them. I spread my hands out somewhat hesitantly, looking from one to another before finally turning to Tommy. He was still clutching his stomach, so I bent over a little to look at him properly. "Tommy, are you okay?" Tommy looked up at me and nodded, gritting his teeth. I flashed him a somewhat tense smile before whirling to face Travis. I put both hands out in front of me protectively and forced myself to look into those two green vortexes he likes to call eyes. "Okay, I realize that you're in the middle of a territorial pissing contest here, but the school gymnasium is really not the place to be going at it. I mean, picking a fight here... makes you no better than our football team and all those other stupid jocks, which ought to embarrass you, Mr. Intellectual. You gave Tommy a fat lip, some bruises, and a wounded ego. That ought to be sufficient for you, for anyone. So lay off and go back to doing your job," I sniped bossily.

Travis made a big show of rolling his eyes at me. "Oh, it's not even _close _to being enough. He needs to feel what I felt all those years ago," Travis snarled, glowering at Tommy over my shoulder. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I didn't even want to think about the look Tommy was doubtlessly returning behind my back. The utter stupidity of what he'd said. God, get the freak over it already! It was, what, five years ago?! MOVE THE HELL ON, MAN! I wanted to shake him and tell him all this, but I value my life... so I settled for setting him straight.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Well, don't hold your breath, Travis. Tommy will never feel what you felt, okay? And he will never feel it because he has never been in love before, much less with me!" I snapped, surprising even myself with the venom in my voice. Travis' lips immediately twisted into their favorite expression.

"Bitter much, Harrison?" Travis quipped. I made a face at him. He gestured to Tommy behind my back. "I've known him my whole life, and I've never seen him get so worked up before. All I have to do is say your name, and he gets jealous. He's either in love or you've turned him into Cool Whip, which is as good as the real deal." Tommy told me to my face he's not in love with me. Pretty much. He dated my sister for what, five, no, six months, maybe? Half the times I've kissed him, he's rejected me flat out. These are not the actions of a man in love. But I wasn't about to have this argument with Know-It-All over there.

Instead, I settled for a matter-of-fact statement. "I'm so sick of arguing about this with everyone. Tommy Quincy does **not **love me, contrary to what you may believe. He's my best friend and vice-versa. So he has every right to be pissed at you because you attempted to RAPE me, or do you not _remember_?!" I spat, getting slightly overwhelmed with emotion. Ironically, I moved closer to him in my anger, even though I thought of nothing but wrapping my hands around his neck until my fingers touched. Travis looked a bit surprised and, maybe, even a little guilty that I said it. He glanced nervously around the room, but no one seemed to have been looking that wasn't already. They had, after all, drawn a bit of a crowd.

Then... I don't know what foolish notion came over me, but I started slapping Travis. One slap across the face. I was just so furious that I saw his blood thick on the floor, red, red, more red! And another. The skin turned red and began to get inflamed. I slapped him yet again. Rage glittered in the murky depths of his eyes, reminding me of a sacrificial pool full of algae and death and poisoned, cursed treasure. So I hit him again, and still again, blindly. Harder and harder, as hard as I could. I could only think of all the awful things he'd said about me. One for every time he called me a whore. I figured it was only fair.

Then, after about the fifth time, Travis got sick of it and grabbed my hand before I could strike him, crushing my wrist. I could feel the bruises starting to bloom already as he clutched my wrist and bit down on my lip in pain. I tried to hit Travis with my other hand, but he grabbed that one too and held my hands together high up over my head, effectively paralyzing me. I tried kicking and wriggling, but none of that worked. He sneered at me before abruptly pushing my wrists back and letting me go so that I fell, fortunately, back into Tommy. This was a lucky coincidence; Travis had merely wanted me to fall. This angered Tommy greatly (he would've rescued me from Travis' evil clutches, but Travis beat him to it), who quickly made sure that I was safely behind him before pouncing on the offender.

I told you not to touch my girl. I could see it coming from a mile away. "Je t'ai dit ne toucher pas ma fille," Tommy hissed, grabbing Travis by his collar once again. His eyes sparked like blue lightning. I thought I was familiar with the look, but that much hatred had never been conveyed at me, especially not with those eyes. Resentment, sure, annoyance, yeah, anger... but nothing like the look Tommy was giving Travis. If I was afraid of Tommy, I would've gotten a chill down my spine. For a moment he stared at Travis fixedly before striking.

When I say striking, I literally mean it. Tommy's fist slammed into Travis' eye, sending him rocketing backwards. But the fight was a sick kind of dance, so Tommy followed. Before Travis could recover, as his eyes had probably rolled back into his head, Tommy punched him in the jaw. Okay, honestly, it was kind of in the chin/throat/neck sort of place. Basically, Travis' head was already thrown back a little, and that's where Tommy punched him, sending Travis' head flying back. Furthermore, Tommy was wearing a ring or two on that hand, so he scraped Travis up pretty badly.

Tommy was a flurry of fists from then on, and naturally, the sickening crack of knuckles on skin was more than enough to draw a crowd of new, inquisitive eyes. Who proceeded to cluster around the two in pairs, and generally the guys came first, although their slightly upset dates were more than willing to join in once they found out that the two hottest guys at the dance were duking it out. I was honestly surprised at Tommy's energy. He was seriously kicking Travis' ass. It was a wonder to me that the man even managed to stay on his feet. He was too stunned by the sudden barrage of hits to even attempt to fight back or hold his own, or even respond adequately.

I'd never known that Tommy, my Tommy was a lean, mean fighting machine. Okay, lean and sometimes mean, but more muscular... His energy for fighting knew no bounds. He relished injuring Travis, I could tell, from the bloodthirsty smile on his face. However, I thought he was entitled to it. Travis had begged for it. Who asked for it now, huh? Who asked for it now?! Plus, the asshole had said a lot of bad things, and Tommy had really controlled himself very well. And since, you know, the whole attempted-rape, and him manhandling me and practically hitting me, and all the times he'd elaborately called me a whore, well, excuse me for not feeling very sympathetic.

I fully thought the asshole deserved it and observed with glee that he was bleeding even more than earlier. I might have even grinned. But I knew, as I noticed Tommy edging Travis towards the crowd, face flushed and sweaty, that it had to come to an end... or else Tommy would be charged with assault and battery. So I dashed over to Tommy and attempted to pull him off Travis. He was way too strong for me. It did not work. I would've felt him up to distract him, but we were very much in public, so that wasn't an option either. I grabbed his shoulder instead, shooting him a pleading look. "Tommy, please, just let it go. Cut it out!" I begged. Tommy spared me a glance and paid for it a moment later when Travis' fist came up out of nowhere to knock into his face.

I jumped back reflexively, letting go of his shoulder. I was risking being hurt myself, and I knew Tommy wouldn't like that. He turned away from me to involve himself once again in the fray, twisting out of Travis' way. In a single fluid moment, he grabbed Travis' head and pulled him into a tight head lock, spinning him around so that he (Tommy) could talk to me. Tommy shook his head, panting from exertion. "I can't just let it go, Jude. This fight is between me and him, and I'm not about to back down. I _fully _intend to finish what he started," Tommy explained icily, shooting Travis a dark look. Travis thrashed against Tommy, reaching his hands up to push him off, but Tommy held firm like it was really that easy for him to maintain the grip.

"I don't think so! It's about _me, _and that makes me just as much a part of it as the both of you!" I argued somewhat irritably. Damn it, he's supposed to listen to me! Tommy scowled and gave me this really brutal look. Like, you have no authority over me. The look plainly said, "It's not like you're dating me. I'm not your little bitch. I don't have to listen to you or do what you say because I am not your dog." Such defiance with just a look, and he's fighting over my honor. If I tell him it's not worth it, then, well, it just _isn't!_

But it wasn't, of course, and Travis broke free eventually. Predictably, his first move was to charge at Tommy. His face was dripping blood, especially from his nose, and I wondered idly if Tommy had broken his nose yet again. His face was also livid with anger, and that seemed to possess him because he displayed a strength hitherto unknown, reaching up like a flash and holding Tommy's arms above his head, pushing him back forcibly. I suddenly noticed how close they were standing. It reminded me for a moment of that day, and how Travis had held my arms above my head, just like he'd done earlier. But I shook it off, and, since he was winning, His Nastiness had time enough to shoot me a mocking look. "That, Jude, is where you're wrong."

"This fight's been twenty-three years in the making," He said, shooting Tommy a positively murderous look. Tommy glared hatefully back and struggled to no avail. Yet I knew Travis would not have Tommy like this long. Tommy would inevitably get the best of him. Travis snorted. "You were just a catalyst," He scoffed. I felt as low as the scum beneath his feet. Because it was true. "A better, more interesting way for me to piss him off." And there it was. Unbelievably, I felt worse. I felt like the bacteria on the face of that scum on the bottom of his shoe. There had always been this rivalry, and Tommy had just finally snapped like Travis wanted him to. There it was, absolute proof that he'd just been using me to confirm every last one of my suspicions. But it didn't feel good or validating. It didn't even make me feel mad, just... depressed, I guess. It made me feel like a tool.

But wait, how has this fight been brewing since Tommy's birth? I frowned and looked up just in time to see Tommy kick Travis hard in the chest. How he'd managed it, I have no idea, but he shook off Travis' grip. Travis tumbled to the ground like a log. I fought the urge to cry "TIMBERRR!" He landed flat on his back and ass. I rolled my eyes and set off into the crowd, trying to find someone who would pull the two apart. My eyes alighted on Jamie and Speed. They wouldn't want to help me, I knew, but I had to try.

I swallowed hard and grabbed Speed first, a desperate look in my eyes. "You have to help me!" Speed looked at me with interest, motioning hurriedly for me to go on. "Travis and Tommy are fighting. Over me. And I can't stop them. I've tried just about everything, even tried to pull them off each other, and appeals... But nothing worked, and I don't know what to do, and I'm scared, and if you don't help me do something, they're going to kill each other and..." I pleaded in desperation, finally running out of breath and things to say. Funny, I hadn't realized I'd gotten so worked up. Either way, Speed certainly didn't look too happy about it. Great, just great. Now he's not going to help me. Of course, why would he? I started to absentmindedly wring my hands. Maybe I should've asked someone who wasn't in love with me. I sighed, finally putting my sweaty hands on his arms, waiting for him to say something.

Speed grabbed my shoulders and leaned towards me. "Jude, don't hyperventilate. Just... calm down." His voice was soothing, so I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to forget about the brawling duo I'd left behind. I focused on the sound of Speed's breathing, and then mine. Irregular puffs of air, just like the heart pounding off-beat in my chest. NOT HELPING. Realizing that only made me more nervous. My heart, if it was possible, beat faster. I felt like a timebomb, ready to explode, and I was sure it would if my heart got any faster. I swear I just felt it skip a beat. And another and another and... oy. Speed tightened his grip on my shoulders, and I opened my eyes. It was really not working. He exhaled, resigned, and finally nodded. "Okay. I'll do it. But only for you... I guess I can understand why they're fighting," He admitted reluctantly.

I looked at him in awe, surprised. Maybe I'd underestimated him. He smiled at me lopsidedly. "Some things are worth fighting for," He said in a softer voice. My heart skipped a beat at that, and I couldn't help but smile back. I knew he was referring to me, and it was nice. He's really much more consistent than my date. And, come to think of it, my boyfriend. Hmm, maybe I ought to reconsider... I embraced Speed with an impressive force, exhaling in relief. Man, he smelled good. We stayed like that for a while, until I remembered the urgency of my mission. Who knows, maybe Travis has figured out a way to make a shiv out of a paper cup by now and has stabbed Tommy with it?!

Oh, perish the thought! I smiled apologetically and pulled away from Speed, who had been savoring the hug perhaps a little too much. I instructed him to grab the guys as back-up, and Speed gave me a skeptical glance, voicing that they wouldn't be much back-up since they were even scrawnier than him. I countered that we'd need all the help we could get, and Speed agreed. Nevertheless, he went off to do it. But not before planting a kiss on my lips so intense that it made my head swim for a whole minute. Mm.

I shook my head, still dizzy from my encounter with Speed. I wouldn't mind it so much if he did it again. Nevertheless, I dashed off to find Jamie. I smiled apologetically at Kat before pulling him away abruptly. Jamie frowned and Kat pouted. I shot them both pleading looks and began to appeal to Jamie. "Tommy and Travis are really going at it, and I think they just might kill each other, so I need your help pulling them apart," I blurted, holding my hands together, eying him anxiously.

Jamie shot me an incredulous look. "Does it look like I have a death wish, Harrison? I doubt any man is insane enough to break up your two boyfriends," He muttered in disbelief. I pulled out all the stops, the puppy-dog eyes and you-know-that-you-love-me pout. Jamie sighed, glanced over at Kat, who nodded, even adding she'd go with him. "Okay, fine, I'll do it. But I guess I'll take Travis, since he's less likely to accidentally-on-purpose punch me." I suddenly noticed Joan too, who had walked over from Wally with a grim look of determination on her face. She nodded curtly, a briefly unpleasant look on her face, as if silently volunteering to distract Travis again. I smiled at them all thankfully and led the way to Tommy and Travis.

I could feel the dread settling into my bones more and more with each step, but I pushed and elbowed our way through the crowd to the foreground of the fight. Speed hadn't shown up yet, so we waited for a moment to register the scene in front of us. We'd arrived just in time to have a front row view of Travis grabbing Tommy's neck and promptly thrusting his head into the punch bowl, making sure to hold his head under the spiked punch. We were there to watch a frantic Tommy struggle, his hands lashing out blindly, his feet helplessly kicking at air. If one looked far enough, one could even see the bubbles of Tommy's last oxygen in the top of the punch.

I shot everyone behind me a desperate look, watching my worst fear play out. Tommy could literally die. It doesn't look particularly good for him right now. Damn it. How can I be a widow before I marry him?! I can't let this happen, but Travis isn't going to stop for me. What the hell am I supposed to do? That asshole is going to kill the love of my life. I'm sure I radiated distress. God! Why isn't anyone doing anything?! The longer we stood there, the longer it seemed. It seemed like an eternity had passed. HE'S GOING TO DIE! Somebody PLEASE do something!

But we could only stare at the two in shock and horror. I noticed the bubbles get fewer and fewer as Tommy stopped struggling. And I couldn't breathe. Then, suddenly, I noticed someone moving. It was Joan. She shot me a funny look before marching over to the men with an unrivalled determination. I stood there helpless and powerless, unable to help the man I loved, and I felt horrible for it. But what could I have done or said to make him stop? Nevertheless, I guess you could call it sympathizing... I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was suffocating. I tried to breathe, but I couldn't. I tried to keep my eyes focused on the two of them and Joan storming over to them, but I blinked and suddenly everything went black.

The last thing I saw was Joan appearing at Travis' side, glancing around anxiously before turning to do something.

It couldn't have been longer than a minute or two. Remember, Tommy can hold his breath for a very long time, as a singer. Anyways, when I came to, I was leaning against Speed, or rather, in his arms. He was looking down at me with concern, and I blinked, dazed. "You were only out for a few moments." The absolute first thing I did was push myself up a little in an attempt to get a better view. What I saw confused me. I saw Joan fiddling with the strap of her dress nervously, so anxious that her fleet fingers fumbled with the clasps. And then I saw Travis, slack-jawed and staring after her quite openly. But his grip had definitely slackened, so Tommy had moved his head up a bit, enough so that he could breathe again. I sighed in relief and felt my whole body slump against Speed's in breathless gratitude. I could finally breathe properly! Tommy was okay! Oh, thank God!

I prayed a merciful, wordless thanks. Joan walked over to us coolly, sending Travis a smoldering look over her bare shoulder. I swear the man was drooling. Tommy took advantage of Travis' distraction, bending down to grab the fallen ladle off the floor quietly. I noticed, but no one else did. Everyone else held their breath in silent anticipation. Tommy's grip on the ladle tightened, and I noticed him wait a moment, sucking in more precious oxygen before throwing his arm back and slamming it into Travis' face, bashing him in the head again and again.

Travis let go of Tommy's neck, crying out loudly in pain; Tommy had hit him in his already bruised eye, as well as in the fragile temple and on his brow, not to mention the head trauma. Tommy whirled around, still sucking in air like a marathon runner. The way he held the ladle, well, everyone in there was absolutely terrified of him. So menacing. Especially with droplets of red punch dripping down his face to mingle with the blood streaming from various places on his face. The punch dripped down, slowly ruining his perfect suit. Damn you, Travis. It should've been him breathing in the punch bowl. I shot Joan a very grateful glance, shaking off Speed's arms to run to her and hug her, but Joan rebuffed me. I had no idea what she'd done to distract Travis, but boy was I ever grateful!

"Joan, whatever you did... Thank you. A million times thank you. I literally owe you my life." Look at me equating my life with Tommy's. Well... it would suck without him. Okay, so if he were dead, I would be ten times more likely to hurl myself off the face of the planet, and I'd definitely do something stupid like marry his brother and have an affair with Travis just because he's the next best thing. Or jump into bed with Tim.

She shook her head, frowning, and messed with her neckline, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. She avoided my eyes, as well as everyone else's. "Last time I ever do a favor for you, Harrison. Seriously." The tone in her voice was a warning. She turned abruptly to Wally, shooting him a pleading look. "Can we go now, Wally? I want to go home." There was a tremor in her voice that let me know that something wasn't quite right, and for some reason, everyone else seemed to know what it was and shoot her pitying glances. For her part, she didn't look at anybody and walked over to Wally, who nodded wordless, grabbing her hand.

I couldn't help but smile. He really was adorable. Then I turned back to the two enemies, who were, once again, at each other's throats. I glanced to both sides of me, motioning for Speed and Jamie to get a move on. Both of them made faces, but Speed motioned to Kyle nonetheless. None of them looked particularly happy, but they walked towards the dueling duo. I followed them nervously, wringing my hands all the way. Jamie walked hesitantly over to Travis, while Speed and Kyle headed towards the far more pugnacious Tommy. Speed and Kyle each took an arm, pulling Tommy back. He was still slugging, but he fortunately hit neither of them. I sighed in relief, and Jamie grabbed both of Travis' arms, pinning them behind his back before he could dash after his archnemesis.

Travis growled and spat and hissed like a furious bull. He struggled against Jamie, who had to hold on tight for risk of losing him. Honestly, he looked like he could use some help, but I wasn't about to do it. Especially since he was extremely liable to smack me in my meddling face. Tommy, on the other hand, calmed down some. He wisely didn't fight back but instead bided his time, knowing he'd get a change to charge Travis again. For now, he merely exhaled and caught his breath coolly.

I quietly turned to ask Kat what the presently retreating Joan had done, and she shot a nervous glance at Joan's back before replying and telling me in great detail what I am now about to tell you. Apparently that look Joan gave everyone, well, it was to see if there was anyone in that direction who could see what she was about to do. I don't really think there was, because people weren't that close to them, and I'm sure a lot of people saw, since everyone knew what she did. Or guessed, I guess. She grimaced and made a face at first, but then she squared her shoulders and did what she had to do to save my lovely's precious little life. And I will be eternally grateful. I'll... I dunno, dedicate my next record to her or something, or, I dunno, try to repay the favor. Second time she's saved my life, you know.

At any rate, she hurriedly undid the clasps of her dress, undoing her collar and pulling it down, away from her shoulders. Soft gasps echoed in the silent hall as some cheesy pop song played in the background. "You Drive Me Crazy", vintage Britney.

"Hey, Travis, you want a peep show?" Joan shouted, knowing she had his attention. As predicted, he immediately turned to face her. Her eyes, however, were on Tommy, who was still slowly dying in the punchbowl. Travis' grip wasn't quite slack enough. She realized she had to act fast, so she plastered on a coy smile. "Well, then, feast your eyes on _this!_" She taunted flirtatiously, pulling her dress down below her breasts, pushing her strange, strapless bra towards her waist. I'm told it was "nude" (ironic) and had a very low back.

Naturally, Travis practically turned a full 90 degrees to gape at her. Perv. His grip slackened so that Tommy fell in the punch bowl a little without Travis to hold him up. But Travis didn't notice any of that. He was busy staring at Joan's breasts, practically drooling. Now, mind you, Joan is nowhere near big-breasted. I mean, Kate's like a C, and Joan's an A... Joan, I'm told, merely stood there, proudly, head held high, taking his stare. But she wasn't any of that, of course. She glanced at Tommy every now and then but mostly held Travis' intense stare. He started to reach for her slowly, as if he was in a dream. Joan didn't realize what he was doing until his hand was only a few inches away from her bare flesh, and naturally she jumped back, seeing his bloodied knuckles.

Mortification showing on her cheeks, Joan rapidly jerked up her bra to cover her breasts and pulled the top of her dress up to its rightful place, slipping her arms back in the sleeves and turning away from Travis. That's when I woke up. I'd fainted from stress and oxygen deprivation. And fear. She'd moved away and was coming towards us, fastening the clasps with shaking fingers and failing miserably. Travis stared after her in awe, mouth wide open, and I knew he'd memorized the image. Tommy, meanwhile, was sucking in his first greedy, hungry breaths of air before making his move. And that's what Joan did. She flashed Travis in public. For me. No one has ever done anything like that for me, excepting possibly Tommy. I owe her big time. How can I ever repay her? Seriously?

As if saving me from being raped wasn't more than enough? I stared after her worriedly for a moment, debating whether to go after her and thank her profusely before I was forced, once again, to pay attention to the two men. It's weird, though, because I can honestly say I would've done that for Joan. I mean, were the situations reversed, I would've. I should've done it myself, actually, but something tells me Travis would've been nowhere near as enraptured with my breasts as he was with Joan's. He might've looked over a minute, but he wouldn't have kept on gaping. Now, Tommy on the other hand...

What happened was this: Travis broke free of Jamie's arms finally and leapt at Tommy. Naturally, Speed and Kyle let go of him immediately, releasing him to fight Travis. My friends came back towards me, looking chagrined. All they could offer was a shrug. Eh, well, they did do the best they could. Tommy pushed Travis back, and clutching each other's arms, the two wrestled. There was mostly grunting and some French I couldn't for the life of me decipher. But at least the wrestling had made them stop swinging. And then, just when you thought it couldn't get any more embarrassing, it did.

Because my boyfriend suddenly showed up, flinging the doors open in a vastly dramatic gesture. Unfortunately, per usual, he was outshined by his more histrionic brother. Well, okay, Tommy's not that kind of a performer, but he's doubtlessly more dramatic on his own than poor sweet Taylor, who was, unbelievably, wearing the horrible tux his mother had told me about. But I didn't even notice Taylor at first. I just heard the doors open and barely glanced over, as Tommy finally wrestled Travis to the ground. Actually, I didn't even glance over. Tommy pinning Travis? HOT. Too hot for words. Like, beyond belief. Like I wanted to be in the middle of them, to have them make a Jude sandwich.

Hey, just because I hate Travis doesn't mean I can't think he's a hot piece of ass. I mean, I can still be attracted to him and all. It's just that the attempted rape repulses me more, you see. Plus there's Taylor and Tommy and Tim and Speed and Jamie and all that to consider. Doesn't leave him much room.

So, my boyfriend, feeling ignored, barges through the crowd like he owns the place. People part like the Red Sea because of his freaking ridiculous outfit. It's just barely shy of spangles and Day-Glo. Taylor has a strangely flamboyant fashion sense, especially for a straight guy. Only gay guys dress better and have better taste. It's really bizarre. Anyways, so my boyfriend comes charging through the crowd like he thinks he's a knight or something. Fortunately he was closer to me than the fray, or else I'm sure they would've distracted him. Anyways, Taylor walked up to me and said hello or something equally idiotic. I paid him no mind, since the Tommy/Travis fight was mind-numbingly hot. And I kind of wanted to jump both of them.

I think I made some dazed remark before an annoyed Taylor repeated himself. "Hello, Jude?! It's me... Taylor. You know, your boyfriend?" Taylor stressed in a somewhat irritated voice. At that, something registered in me, and I turned to look. I looked him over, taking in his ridiculous outfit... yep, there was the blue rose, just as I'd expected. Fortunately for me, he didn't have a matching corsage. I didn't care. Tommy had taken care of that, like he took care of everything. What a good brother and friend he is, the fact that he's trying to seduce me nonwithstanding. Then I noticed the snow in his hair and on his shoulders, and the way his bangs were damp and hung in his eyes. His lips were still trembling.

"Oh, hi, honey," I muttered, still dazed and keeping one eye on the absolutely riveting battle. Then I smoothly brushed the snow off his shoulders. I shot a glance over my shoulder to Jamie and Kat, gesturing to Taylor. "Guys, this is my boyfriend, Taylor Quincy," I said hurriedly, looking to see what their reactions were. "Taylor, these are my best friends, Kat Benson and Jamie Andrews." Kat looked somewhat surprised but nodded approvingly. She'd kind of already known who he was. Jamie, on the other hand, did not look so pleased. He shook his head at me, frowning a little, and sent me a look that plainly said, "This man is not your type, and he's not the brother you want. And we both know it, Harrison." Which was a roundabout silent way of him letting me know that he would rather I be with Tommy, which would be better for me somehow.

I dunno. Maybe he'd just rather it'd be the devil he knows. Or it could be the hideous outfit, since I really do have better taste. Or it could be that he's blond. I like brunettes. Jamie knows that. Either way, I snapped out of it to look at Taylor, who was beaming down at me and shaking the water from his hair somewhat like a dog would. I tried not to make a face at his uncouth. Taylor attempted to press a kiss to my lips, but I quickly turned back to the fight, which was still doing things to me inside that a touch, any touch from Taylor, would never, ever accomplish. He wound up kissing my cheek instead, softly. His lips were wet. "That necklace looks absolutely wonderful on you."

_You look ravishing_, Travis had said. _You have never looked lovelier_, Tommy murmured after gaping for a solid minute and a half. And all I get from my boyfriend is a lousy _wonderful. _And not even referring to me. Referring to how the necklace he got me looks on me. Not my dress or my hair or my face or anything else, but the bloody diamond necklace which probably would've looked good on anyone. Like I'm sure Travis was wishing it was the only thing I was wearing. I can just see him imagining that, the sick perv.It's a good thing he's cute. But I shouldn't be comparing him to them. They're not like normal guys, so obviously he's not gonna measur... well, at least he's not a pedophile, right?!

"It's too much, Taylor. Really, you shouldn't have," I said, easily adopting a fake, sickeningly-sweet tone. I was still watching Qs 1 and 2. Who were way hotter. Taylor frowned, finally noticing I wasn't paying attention to him. He was predictably annoyed, but what was I supposed to say? Yeah, Taylor, I'm just fantasizing a very fun three-way with Travis and Tommy, whom you've known since childhood and look up to immensely. And I don't even like Travis. I just want his bod. Seriously. Anyways, so my boyfriend asks me idiotically what I'm looking at and finally bothers to glance over at it himself. And then Taylor flipped out. He was personally horrified by the display. "Tommy? Travis?" Unbelievably, the two stopped fighting to look at him in sheer disbelief. Like everyone gasped and stuff. And wondered how he knew the two of them. As do I.

"TAYLOR?!" The two exclaimed simultaneously. Like I said, it always gets worse. Tommy looked mildly surprised, but Travis was floored. He missed the memo on how Taylor was supposed to take me to the dance. And maybe even the one on me dating the youngest Quincy. "Taylor, what are you doing here?" Travis gasped. Taylor managed a smile, even though the two were still in a fighting position. He slowly walked towards them, hands in his pockets. I shook my head, holding it in my hands. I knew it in my bones that this wasn't going to turn out all right. Hell, it wasn't even going to turn out good. I could sense the impending disaster, and I knew that blows were only a couple of words away.

The most embarrassing moment of my life, that was, quite possibly. I'm sure there are others, such as my disaster of a sixteenth birthday party, but that one pretty much takes the cake. Taylor smiled that sheepish, stupid, friendly smile of his. He really doesn't know any better. "I'm Jude's date!" He exclaimed with pride. I groaned into my hand, sensing Travis' remark. And I was not disappointed. He snorted very loudly. I suddenly noticed that he was standing. Tommy had definitely relaxed his grip to the point of their being none.

"No, seriously," A joking Travis said.

Taylor frowned in confusion and tried to explain. _"Seriously_, Travis. We're dating now. I'm so late because I had to wait until the roads were clear enough. Naturally, I came straight here." Damn him for sounding so bubbly about it. And really, Taylor, thanks for airing my personal business in front of the whole school. It's really appreciated. Asshole.

Travis started laughing hysterically, clutching his stomach. He glanced at Tommy with some surprise, clearly amused beyond all belief. "Oh, you were just a placeholder, then?" He asked casually, wickedly. Tommy's jaw clenched, but he didn't reply. At least at first. I'm told by Taylor that he made some comment about a placeholder/proxy date being better than a replacement. Which resulted in Travis mockingly calling him Cyrano. A somewhat confused Taylor looked between them and then asked the fatal question.

"Uh... guys... What are you fighting over?" It was such an innocent question... with such a horrible answer.

It was clear from his tone that he didn't approve of the fighting, and he made some off-hand comment about not wanting them to do this again. Or something. I wasn't listening, since I was covering my eyes in horror and wanting just to melt right into the floor. Because I knew that one of them was going to answer him and tell him why exactly they were fighting. Whether it was Tommy with a furious comment about what Travis had done to me, or Travis with a sarcastic remark, either way, it was all going to explode soon. And I really, really did not want to be there to witness it.

Nevertheless, I am curious by nature, so I peeked through my fingers with dread fascination. Travis and Tommy exchanged looks. Do you want to tell him or should I? Nothing seemed to be resolved by the look, at any rate. Ironically, they both looked away and answered, coincidentally, at the same time. "Comme d'habitude, qui es le meilleur, des autres choses... ta copine." "Il a essayé de baiser ma fille!"

Travis said it much more casually, despite the deadly pause. Tommy just spat it out, practically foaming at the mouth with jealousy. My knees felt wobbly in a very bad way and I felt rather than saw Taylor glance back at me, unsure. "Répétez, s'il vous plaît," Taylor responded in rusty, poorly-accented French.

I saw Travis wince and look to Tommy. "Je sais pas que son français était si mauvais," He exclaimed, plainly surprised. Tommy made a face and shrugged, forgetting his anger for a moment. He muttered something about living in the States and Theo never being that fluent. Taylor scowled, plainly embarrassed. His eyes demanded an answer, so Travis coolly gave one. "Your girlfriend, Taylor," He stated plainly in loud, clear English. It sounded weird, crisp and vulgar.

At first, my dumb boyfriend was confused. Then Tommy grunted something in rapid French that Taylor apparently understood. Whatever Tommy told him made Taylor pissed in an instant. He charged Travis none-too-subtly and practically stood over him. Naturally, Travis was easily able to escape my boyfriend's clutches. It wasn't, however, easy for him to escape Tommy's. Tommy grabbed him by the lapels of his ridiculous suit and threw him, literally flinging him onto the floor. He stared down at him in disgust, pausing for a moment, thinking of what to do. Travis, however, was craftier. He snatched Tommy's ankle and pulled hard, sending Tommy tumbling down too. Tommy, however, tripped over Travis, and thus landed next to him. Since the both of them had the wind knocked out of them, for a time Taylor was the last man standing.

Unlike Tommy, Taylor didn't hesitate to go after Travis. He leaned in as if to punch him before finally settling on using his feet. He put his foot on Travis' stomach, twisting his toe into the area just below Travis' sternum. Then he leaned all his weight on Travis' stomach, stomping on him. Tommy leaned over to shove Travis indelicately, causing his brother to stumble and nearly fall himself. Travis shot Tommy a grateful look and used Taylor's distraction to follow Tommy's example and rise into a standing position. Taylor, however, was not so easily deterred. Before Tommy could even attempt a slide-tackle, Taylor's fingers were around Travis' throat.

Loosely.

And there were still gasps. Even though Travis laughed. "Tu es juste un enfant," He snorted. You're just a kid. Truthfully, he wasn't even choking. He knew Tommy would actually do it, since he'd already tried to drown the guy. And then, still chuckling, Travis ripped Taylor's hands from his throat. He hadn't used enough force to even make a bruise. Taylor's really not that strong, you know. Okay, he has the muscles but not the stuff to back 'em up. Tommy saw his opportunity and took it, crashing into Travis, effectively making sure that both of them fell to the floor. Then they were wrestling again, and I was mesmerized. Taylor, not wanting to be left out, attempted to pull them apart.

The result was Tommy's fist flying into Taylor's face by mistake. Taylor pulled back, rubbing his check, clearly in pain. Tommy's fists are hard. Travis then decided to turn the two brothers against each other, rather than merely against him. He raised his voice. "Au moins je n'essaye pas voler ta copine." His voice boomed. At least I'm not trying to steal your girlfriend. He attempted to gesture to Tommy but wound up instead trying to push him away. They were a mass of struggling limbs. "Je l'ai vu. Il presque l'a embrassée," He insisted. I saw him, he asserted. He almost kissed her.

At that, Taylor stopped clutching his cheek, eyes wide with fury. Travis had just found his gooey center. Damn it. With an almost inhuman strength, he ripped Tommy off of Travis, jerking him upright and slugging him. "I knew it!" He shouted. The rest of what he said was illegible and possibly Franglais. It went probably along the lines of this: I knew you were after her! You just couldn't keep your hands to yourself, now could you? No, no, you had to steal my girlfriend! Tommy hit the ground rather hard and got up irritably, shaking off the pain like a cat. He was used to it.

"Sois pas furieux avec moi!" Tommy ordered, dusting himself off and gesturing at Travis frustratedly. Don't be mad at me! "C'était _lui_ qui voudrait la violer! Je l'aime au moins!" Tommy snarled, incriminating Travis with his words, wiping his bloody lip with the back of his hand. It was he who wanted to rape her! I at least... like her? I wanted to fall into a hole, and I glanced around and noticed more than my share of eyes prickling at me. That comment was enough to make Taylor pissed at Travis again, so he leaped at him. Taylor wasn't exactly subtle, so Travis managed to evade him with relative ease. And he was still smirking.

Tommy followed his lead and threw a couple wild, knock-out punches Travis' way. A few Travis managed to deflect, but not without injuries... namely in his sides, I think. "Ouf!" But Taylor once again interfered with business better left to Tommy by pushing Tommy aside. Tommy hip-checked Taylor perhaps a bit more violently than was necessary, and Taylor responded by throwing Tommy aside by the hair, thus messing up Tommy's perfect do and tugging on it. Tommy was not happy, and Travis, by that point, had managed to buck him off enough so that he could take advantage of the brothers' distraction by making a vicious comment. "Taylor... Ta copine... elle evidemment l'aime plus que toi. Elle le préfère. Elle veux le fourrer. Elle veux Tommy, pas _toi._ Et Thomas... il la veux aussi. Il s'en fout que tu sors avec elle. Il la veux pour lui-même seulement," He taunted, stirring up the flames.

The basic gist of that statement being that I like/love/prefer/whatever Tommy over Taylor. Duh. Didn't need anyone to tell him that, now did he? And I want Tom, not Taylor. And Tommy wants me too. Blah, blah, blah... He doesn't care that Taylor's going out with me. He wants me for himself only. Ha, I wish. He's just possessive as hell, that's all. Travis makes it sound like he's all that attached.

Taylor made a low growl, sounding like a dog or something and dashed at Tommy. Tommy deftly maneuvered out of his way, twisting and bobbing and weaving, adopting a protective boxing stance. Eventually, Taylor, out of fear for Tommy's fists, slowed his assault. Travis saw his opportunity, and, like a flash, he picked up the largely full punch bowl and promptly emptied its contents over the younger man's head. No one saw it coming except Tommy, who quickly backed away.

Next thing anyone knew, he was on Travis' side, while Taylor spluttered and rubbed his head, trying to extricate himself from the punch bowl. Tommy forced Travis to face him in an instant, punching him square in the chest. It kind of went off like a bomb. I've never seen anything like it before in real life, and only once before that in one of Jamie's favorite Kung Fu movies. I can't exactly describe it, only to say that they were standing very close and then, out of nowhere, Tommy shifted, extending his whole body into the punch. It was instantaneous, like a snap. He punched Travis with such force that it sent him (purposefully, I couldn't help but think) flying into the refreshment table several feet behind him, which crashed down and fell backwards from the impact and even collapsed in one structurally weak area. "Ouille!"

Travis was bleeding all over, especially from his face, his head, and a little bit from his neck. He was presently crumpled against the remains of the table, in extreme pain. His chest hurt so much that he couldn't even touch it. He definitely did not want to get up. Tommy, on the other hand, was bleeding from a cheek or two, as well as from his lip. He was smirking victoriously and panting a little from exertion, but he looked very proud of himself. Taylor shook off the red liquid as best as he could, although he was still dripping. He managed to get the punch bowl off his head finally and marched over to Tommy. He was scowling, looking down on Travis with pity. Ah, ah, ah, Tay-Tay, hasn't anyone ever told you that there's no sympathy to be had for the Devil?

"Tom, man, just end it now. You went too far." I bit my lip. Taylor was treading on dangerously thin ice. Tommy gave him a warning glance. He wasn't kicking Travis when he was down, now was he? Taylor's eyes were disapproving, and I realized suddenly, just as Tommy did, that he looked very much like his mother. Tommy grimaced, but Taylor felt the need to speak. "Sensei would not approve. In fact, you're supposed to resolve conflicts nonviolently," He lectured quite annoyingly. Tommy silently rolled his eyes, giving Taylor a look that said, "Seriously, bro, do you even know who I am?" Taylor continued yammering on until Tommy couldn't take it anymore.

"Ta gueule," Tommy hissed murderously, eying Travis. He was visibly checking the fallen man for signs of life and looked marginally pleased or relieved that his chest was still rising and falling in the normal way, only less. It must've hurt to breathe, I guess. Tommy was, I think, prepared to let it end there, but Taylor was stupid.

"You had no right to do that," He continued whinily, eying Travis sadly. Tommy scowled at him and barked at him to talk in French or not talk at all, otherwise he was just lazy. And probably denying his culture or something like that.

"Parle pas des choses que tu ne comprends pas!" Tommy dictated bossily. Don't talk about things you don't understand! Damn skippy.

Taylor still continued talking. And Tommy didn't want to punch him or anything. Taylor was just really pissing him off with his self-righteous attitude. After all, he'd gone after Travis too, hadn't he? He'd leapt right into the fight, barely even exchanging words with the two. And who was he to tell Tommy to stop? I mean, for crying out loud, his girlfriend's honor and sense of self ought to be important to him! Unless he didn't get the whole TRAVIS WANTED TO RAPE ME angle. As in he attempted it! Taylor continued to shake his head and pass judgment. "That's no way to treat your older brother, Tommy," He muttered in a voice that was loud enough to make me gasp. I'm not sure if other people heard it, but I definitely did. And I felt suddenly horribly faint.

Tom stiffened at the mention. "Je n'ai pas d'un frère ainé," He whispered vehemently in a voice so faint I could've sworn I'd imagined it. I don't have an older brother. But why don't I believe you, Tommy? There was a shaking, deep, throbbing hatred beneath his words. He immediately stopped looking at Travis, turning the full brunt of his glare on Taylor. His eyes turned that familiar ice blue, boring into Taylor like a sub-zero drill. I could feel the chill from across the room. "Il a essayé de _violer _ta blonde, et quoi? Tu t'en **branlé**!C'est **merde**!Il est un pervers sans vergogne! Si elle était _ma_ maîtresse, je ne le laisserai jamais la _toucher! _Je le même laisserai pas la _regarder! _Tu dois défendre quelle est la tienne... sinon il ne t'en resteras _rien _à défendre. Alors, **encule-**toi, connard!" Tommy snapped viciously.

He tried to rape your girlfriend, and what? Um, something really vulgar about not caring? That's crap! He's a shameless pervert! If she was my mistress... why do I get the feeling I'm translating that wrong? If she was my mistress, I would never let him touch her! I wouldn't even let him look at her! You should defend what is yours... um, unless? Oh, OR ELSE! Or else there won't be anything remaining to defend. Or else there won't be anything left to defend. Ouch. And then he accompanied that last statement with an obscene finger gesture, so I assume it means what I think it means. Which I obviously won't say here.

Taylor was understandably enraged, especially since Tommy was right, and he struck out at his brother without thinking, hitting Tommy in the same cheek as before and making him bleed this time. I turned to Jamie and Kat, who were watching with a mixture of awe and horror, rather like myself only minus the embarrassment. "What is this, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers?" I muttered under my breath, half to myself. Their fight was kind of like a sick sort of dance. Taylor punched Tommy again.

Apparently Jamie had heard me, and Taylor's little declaration or whatever, because he replied after a long pause, "More like one bride for three." I made a face at him, but the look on his face was so serious. "Seriously, Jude, are you into polyandry? I mean, I think you could get at least one decent husband out of those three," Jamie recommended in a deadpan. I snorted indelicately. Seriously, though, polyandry does happen. In Tibet. They sometimes even force a young girl to marry two brothers... or more. My life disturbingly resembles this right now. Dating Taylor, Possibly Screwed Travis, Loving Tommy.

Tommy didn't even flinch. He gave Taylor a look like he was going to walk away, but Taylor hit him again in the stomach. Tommy, feeling betrayed, violently shoved Taylor away, slightly breathless. This time Taylor hurled himself at Tommy, sending the both of them clattering to the floor. "ELLE EST LA MIENNE!" He screamed like a battle-cry. I was pissed at that. Because, hello, I do not belong to that clown. He does not own me. I am not his. I might be his girlfriend, but I have plenty of other options.

Options who don't make asses of themselves in front of my entire school, hereby ruining the already-ruined Winter Formal. Oh, and where the hell are all the other chaperones? Out for a smoke?! Those dumbasses let Travis dance with a student, let alone grind up on her! They also allowed for spiked punch, an impromptu musical performance, a flashing, and a fight that no one's apparently trying to stop. If I didn't know all of them, I'd do it myself. But they're fighting over me, so it's really just embarrassing. Before Tommy could make a far more accurate cry, I decided to settle things. Sighing, I briskly walked over to them, tapping them both on the shoulders before they once again came to blows. Both of them looked at me.

I addressed the two factions in a low voice, not wanting everyone and his granny to overhear. "Je ne suis pas la tienne! Je suis ma propre personne... Je suis la mienne! Tu ne m'as pas!" I am not yours! I am my own person! I am mine! You don't own me! Wow, look at that. I make more of an effort than my BF, who is Franco-Canadien. I said this alternating looks between the two of them, trying to convey the shame of it. But when I was done, they looked away. Taylor told me to stay out of it, and Tommy added in a much gentler tone that he would really prefer it if I was away from the violence, since he sensed it was about to get ugly. He was right, too, because just as I backed away, a lurching hulk bashed Tommy in the eye, giving him a proper _oeil au beurre noir._ Tommy moaned softly, clutching his eye, and Travis attempted to push him down.

Taylor, however, interfered with this. He grabbed Tommy around the waist and started doing a sort of Heimlech Maneuver. "Taylor, stop trying to hump me," An irritated Tommy quipped to my supposed date's humiliation. I didn't care though, especially since that's what it looked like. Even the badly bruised Travis managed a snicker at that before weakly punching Tommy in the shoulder in a flimsy attempt to find a pressure point. Taylor didn't stop immediately, though. He continued the idiotic gesture for a while. "God, Taylor, I don't want to upchuck!" Tommy cried seconds before tearing his brother's arms away from his delicious hips. Tommy wasn't free for long, though, as Taylor kicked his ass (literally, not really), causing him to fall to the ground.

By that point, we were all very annoyed with the personages falling onto the hardwood. Even though it was still hot. Travis was quick to wrestle with Tommy, and the two rolled around for a while. They alternated being on top, which makes it sound even more sexual than it looked. Seriously, though, the one with the upper-hand was generally on top. Tommy was on top when Taylor, feeling left out, jumped on top of him. Tommy tried to shrug him off, but Taylor was far too tenacious to be knocked out that easily. Tommy, on the other hand, was waging a fierce war of dominance with Travis, who was unbelievably still going, so he was understandably more than a little bit distracted. Especially when Travis rammed his fist hard into Tommy's gut, making him cry out in pain. It was close range, too, so it hurt even worse since he'd really hit home.

Tommy tried to buck Taylor off, which made it look like he was getting off on Travis or something, which was, admittedly, hot but very strange. Taylor didn't go easy, though. Tommy swiped at his face blindly, and Taylor responded by biting his ear. Tommy hissed and swore like any proper citizen of Montreal would, i.e. with a string of sacrés that easily put his previous display to shame. "Who the hell do you think you are, Mike Tyson?!" An enraged Tommy hollered, trying to stem the bleeding, feeling his ear to make sure it was there. Clearly he didn't want to wind up like van Gogh or anything. Oh, just talking out of my ass here and all, but isn't biting someone's ear like, vaguely erotic? Seriously, this whole fight is just so twistedly homosexual. Anyways... Then he flipped over, clutching his ear, literally sending Taylor flying... that is, before he landed face-first on the dirty boards of our smelly gym.

He grumbled silently to himself, carefully extricating himself from Travis. He did this by clutching Travis' throat until his grip loosened and then rolling out from underneath him. Tommy quickly rose to his feet, sensing the necessity of it. Travis was soon to follow. Taylor, who bruises like a peach, was being all pissy. When Tommy moved towards the swaying Travis predatorially, he took his opportunity to strike. He picked the glass punchbowl up off the ground silently. Seeing him do that, I knew immediately what he was going to do. And I had to stop him.

Next thing I know, I'm picking up the hem of my dress and rushing out into the middle of the fray. Taylor's still approaching Tommy from behind, and Travis is way too zonked out to notice much of anything, let alone say a word of warning to Tommy about it. He'd normally be striking, but, understandably, he didn't want to get in Taylor's way. Taylor slowly lifted the heavy tureen over his head as he neared Tommy, higher and higher. I really put a move on, seeing how close he was getting... within a meter or two. And I was running as fast as I could, but Taylor was closer.

So I stepped it up as much as I could, running for all I had in those ridiculous, painful, gorgeous stilettos. And then I saw Taylor raise it up even higher. He was only centimeters away from Tommy now. "Duck, Tommy!" I found myself screaming. Tommy looked to me, idiotically, and I saw the anticipatory glee on Taylor's face as he brought the punch bowl down. Since he hadn't heeded my warning, and I wasn't about to see him get bashed over the head with a tureen, I did what I had to do.

I leaped like a madwoman in his direction, propelling myself towards him like a tiny red-headed rocket, and rammed myself into his side. I pushed Tommy down so that he fell like a log, wanting to push him down head first so that he'd be better protected. He fell on his back, however, but he fell fast.

And me?

Well, the tureen smashed into me instead, namely my head. I'm not gonna lie... It was hella painful, and I was picking glass out of my hair for the next three and a half days. Fortunately, however, I was mostly protected by my helmet of hair, since most of the shards got stuck in the sticky, hard strands as opposed to getting to the brain and such. Nevertheless, the tureen broke over my head. Not as hard as it would've happened for Tommy, something or other about the angle, but it still shattered upon impact with my hard head, and in an instant, all of us were surrounded by a shower of jagged glass. I'm told it made for beautiful pictures.

The shower of shards hit me the hardest. Tommy was a little bit more protected since I pretty much wound up giving him a full-body tackle, quickly joining him on the floor. Actually, I landed pretty much on top of him, knocking all the breath out of him worse than Travis or Taylor ever had. Since the breath had been knocked out of me too, and I had already been breathless, I was slightly worse for the wear. I lied on top of him for a good, solid minute, catching my breath with him. Then I laughed. "And I fall for you again, Quincy," I mumbled ironically, smiling wryly, shooting him a look.

I glanced down and brushed shards of glass off the floor around him, placing my hands on the clean areas and pushing myself up. I continued laughing slightly hysterically. "Just when I think I'm done, I trip back into it!" I shook my head, stiffly straightening my spine in preparation for standing. God, my back hurt. Clumsy old me. Only not this time since I did it on purpose. "Why is it always head over heels at my own peril with you?" I asked myself rhetorically. Tommy looked like he was about to answer, but I stood up instead.

I hoped the glass wouldn't rain down all over him either, so I took a step back and brushed the fragments off as best as I could. Unbelievably, my dress was neither stained nor damaged. Erm, that damaged, anyways. And, okay, so maybe I was lightly bleeding a lot more than I'd like, and my head felt kind of mashed up.

Just when I say I'm done, they pull me back in! Almost as soon as I rose to my feet, Taylor was at my side. I was feeling woozy, so I let him hold my arm for a minute while I tried to regain my bearings.

Didn't mean I forgave him or anything. "What makes you think you can touch me, Taylor? You gave me a glass shower!" I growled. As soon as I'd done that, I jerked my arm free from his grip. If any one good thing had come of me having glass rubbed into my hair, it was that they'd stopped fighting. Hell, maybe they all care for me in their own ways. Or maybe I'm just an innocent victim, and those idiots finally realizing it. I turned around, bending down to help Tommy up.

A nebulous plan started forming in my head. I shoved Taylor in front of me, feeling fine about it since, for starters, he was the least injured. He'd also sent a glass bowl into my head, so maybe I was a little bitter. I grabbed Tommy's hand with my right hand, and, before anyone could register it, quickly snatched Travis' with my left. Yeah, this isn't bizarre or anything. Me walking out of this joint hand-in-hand with these two buffoons. Okay, so I had to practically kick Taylor forward, but the crowd parted to stare and accommodate us. I dragged them along behind me, feeling myself flush.

It's like my own personal funeral procession. And I feel like such a whore. I walked with them stiffly all the way to the gym doors. We walked in blank silence until the doors finally shut. I pulled them into a more secluded nook so that I could properly yell at all three of them. I let go of Travis and Tommy's hands as if I'd been burned and eyed the trio warily. God. They could so gang-rape me right now. At first, I didn't know where to start. And then Taylor spoke. "Jude, you didn't tell me Travis would be here." Squint and you can hear the accusation.

Funny, though. I would've thought I would've. "Well, he's my music teacher," I responded dryly. Taylor didn't look even remotely calmed by that, but I was sick of playing referee and putting up with the fits of jealousy for those moments when we're alone and he's all sweet and nice and crap. So I rounded on him. I was so pissed at him for the glass that he was tied with Travis on my List. "You know what, Taylor, you can cram it. I've freaking had it with your paranoia and your jealousy! You make an issue out of nothing! So either get the hell over it, or I'll get _under _someone else. We both know I have plenty of options," I retorted sharply. Seriously, sometimes I forget why I'm seeing this loser.

Travis snickered, and Tommy perked up more than a little bit. Yes, Taylor, some people are really jumping at the chance. Now, I realize that what I said kind of confirms Taylor's jealousy, but really... He thinks me not telling him Travis is my teacher means something. Yeah, it does! That I freaking hate Travis! And hell, I haven't kissed Tommy since that night in the limo, even if I almost kissed him twice tonight. Point is that I didn't, and I love him, and I would really, really, really love to. Hell, I haven't really touched him before today since that day, if that makes any sense. So really, me flirting is nothing he ought to be jealous of. Taylor's eyes flicked over to Tommy. "And we all know just how willing you'd be exercise them."

Low blow, Tay-Tay. Travis kept smirking, though my presence seemed to stop Tommy from doing what he wanted and ramming his fist into Taylor's guts. Here's a secret... I wouldn't have minded. "Well, judging by the way you fight, Tommy would be much more of a work-out," Travis murmured maliciously. I smiled, surprised that Travis had actually come to my defense. Tommy was too with the way he was gaping. But he did puff himself up a little bit too. Taylor even looked surprised.

I took advantage of this situation to regain control. "We need to get a few things straight, boys." My voice was as cold as ice. "For starters, I want to thank you for ruining this for me. Thank you for humiliating me in front of at least half my school. I really owe you for that one," I growled sarcastically. "Secondly, you all know better. I don't care what the hell your little Swami said... You two, Tommy and Travis, are adults. Neither of you have any business brawling at a high school dance... much less being at one," I spat venomously, happy Tommy was feeling so guilty. I turned to Travis, still grinning like a fool. "Don't think I didn't see you provoking him, Travis. You were asking for it, and you got what you asked for," I scolded, waving my finger in his face. I made sure to stress how he was asking it. Revenge and all that.

Finally, I whirled on my still-boyfriend. "And you, Taylor... You're the one actually dating me, yet somehow you manage to foul everything up just as bad, if not worse, than these two!" I exclaimed in disbelief. Seriously... He did everything wrong. Wrong clothes, wrong time, wrong defense, wrong person to hit over the head. I turned back to face them all once again. "Now I want some explanations, and I want them now!" I screeched, eying each of them in turn to see who would provide me with what I was seeking.

Taylor was pissed; Tommy was tightlipped as usual, and Travis just looked somewhat annoyed. I felt the urge to actually make them feel guilty about themselves. "It's the least you can give me, after what you've done." There were some innocent-esque looks, but none of them were that innocent. So I decided to spell it out. I shook my head. "Oh, I can take a lot, all right, but there comes a point... Like I'm accustomed to the whispers that follow me down the hallway, the gossip. I'm used to your fits of irrational jealousy, Taylor. I'm used to your insecurities," I began wearily. I shot Taylor a furious look. "But don't expect me to forget you putting my head through a punch bowl. That's **abuse**,Taylor." He finally looked chagrined at that, and I felt a small pang of victory. Tommy was giving his brother a look like he wanted to kill him, so I lightly put my hand on his arm. He glanced up in surprise; neither of the other two noticed. I wanted to keep it that way.

Next I turned my intense stare to Travis, who met my gaze with an equal intensity. I took a deep breath and said it. "I can almost even get past you almost _raping _me, Travis." The words sounded caustic, bitter on my tongue. Travis barely looked shamed. He was much better about bearing such things. Taylor's eyes went wide. But he'd known, all right. Tommy had told him. He just hadn't believed it until I said it right then. He moved to lunge at Travis, but an irritated Tommy pushed him away, making it clear that now was not the time. I continued on as if oblivious of this tension. "You're just another wannabe date-rapist. I can take your harassment... verbal, sexual, and physical," I stated firmly, if not a bit sharply. Travis flinched a little at that, but I thought he, of all people, could look at something and call it by its right name.

Finally, I turned to Tommy. Just because I love him doesn't mean I'm not still a little mad at him. "And I can deal with _everyone _thinking I'm doing you, Tommy," I continued bluntly. Tommy looked a little embarrassed, I think. Taylor stiffened. But on Tommy's face there was a kind of understanding, at least. And an apology. "I'm also used to telling them no every time they ask because that's the only acceptable answer." Travis looked up, interest written all over his face. He raised his eyebrows suggestively, because my statement didn't exactly indicate that it was the correct one. I carefully took my hand off Tommy's arm, feeling suddenly cold. "I'm so used to waiting around for you that it makes me sick. I can take every broken heart you send my way, and, more than anything... I can take you saying everything but what I really want to hear!" I exclaimed in a voice laden with frustration.

Now Tommy looked embarrassed, and Travis bore the smug grin of one who knew exactly what I wanted to hear. Taylor did not look happy. Tommy reached out for me, attempting a soothing gesture, but I didn't let him touch me. I would not be soothed. "Do you know how humiliating that was for me? Watching you fight, unable to stop it or do anything, knowing you were fighting over me? It was like you were a bunch of dogs, and I was your favorite chew toy. You treated me like I was some object to be possessed. And worse still, everyone else saw it too!" I shouted indignantly. I don't like being made to feel like some object to be used for their pleasure. No thanks. They didn't take too kindly to being compared to dogs, but I didn't care. It's what they were.

I whirled on Travis, remembering the awful argument I'd heard. But I'd expected it. That's why I wanted to keep them apart. "And then before, Travis, when you were saying all those things to Tommy. I heard every last word. God, what, were you having some sick kind of contest to see just how many different ways you could go about calling me a whore? You don't get to call me a whore just because I didn't want to screw you. Well, congratulations. You made me feel cheap and used. Thanks, at least, for having the decency to say all those things in a different language." I felt the bitter, furious words falling out of me against my control. Taylor hadn't. Dumbass had said everything in English. Even Travis, the mighty, proud Travis, looked somewhat shamed. He knew he shouldn't have said those things.

I suddenly noticed the look on Tommy's face... shame. And I knew instantaneously what he was thinking of. I also knew that I had to correct his thinking. I shook my head sadly. "Don't look so guilty, Tommy. I'm not mad at you for not fighting with him at first. I understand why you didn't jump to defend me, and hell, I definitely would've done the same thing. No matter what you say, I know I'm not worth the jail time," I murmured, especially stressing the last part. Travis smirked, and Taylor clenched his fists. Hell, he still defended me better than my actual boyfriend, not that I was dumb enough to say that out loud. Tommy shook his head, opening his mouth as if to disagree. But I couldn't let him do that. "I want answers," I repeated stubbornly.

Unfortunately for me, they weren't given right away, but I knew that eventually one of them would crack. So I decided to just ask Tommy what I really wanted to know. I jerked my head towards Travis and looked Tommy straight in the eyes. So he can't lie to me. Ha, yeah right.

"Is Travis your brother, Tommy?" I asked urgently. "Is he your older brother?" I saw the anger in the tense line of Tommy's jaw. I saw a flicker of rage in his eyes. I didn't want it to be true, but something in my gut just... Tommy just stared back at me blankly, not answering. The other two were equally silent on the taboo topic.

And then Travis spoke. "Yes. It's true. I am his older brother," He replied in an even, quiet voice. I can't expect he'd particularly want to own to it, given how much he hates Tommy. "A cruel accident of DNA if you will," He added with a hint of irony. Tommy turned his head to silently glare at him, making it clear that he didn't think he had an older brother at all.

I nodded somewhat numbly. It's funny, really. I should be more surprised, I really should. But it's like I was kind of expecting it all along, you know. Only I was pissed that none of them had told me. Okay, I get that Tom hates his brother, but you'd think he might've mentioned something. And Travis is my teacher, so his personal history really isn't my business... but hell, he's already been a little too personal anyways. I went out on a date with the guy for crying out loud! And Taylor, well, that was the most annoying one of all. He'd never told me he was related to Travis, just like he hadn't told me about Tommy.

Actually, I'm also kind of mad I didn't see it sooner. Like I was with the Taylor thing. It makes me feel completely stupid. Because obviously there's a familial resemblance between the two of them. Although not with Taylor. Is he like, adopted or something? And the two act so much alike, and of course Victoria is Travis' mother. They're so much alike it's impossible not to... And that's why Tommy refused to hit Travis. Because a part of him still looks up to his exemplary big brother. Even if he resents him more. That's why Travis really hates him, too. It's not just the popstar thing or stealing Kate. It's not just a jealousy of Tommy's career and commercial success. He's jealous of Tommy, period.

And he's tired of always being second-best, whereas that's the way Tommy feels in his mother's and father's eyes. Since Taylor's the favorite of Theo, and Travis is obviously Torie's favorite. And of course Travis rubbed that in, and I'm sure he made Tommy feel stupid. And I bet you anything he didn't shut up about their music, and how Tommy's was lacking in integrity. I bet you anything he made fun of him ceaselessly until Tommy snapped and started stealing his girlfriends. And fighting back, of course. Travis is sick of girls using him to get to Tommy or because he looks like Tommy. Because that way he never knows if they're really into him because they aren't... And that explains his trust issues with women. Oh. Makes sense.

"And that's why you hate Tommy and vice-versa." Both nodded.

And that's why it had to be me. Betrayal. They were best friends, literally brothers. It all makes sense. It makes too much sense. And now Travis is sick of himself, so he's trying to be like Tommy, only he's doing it wrong. He pulls it off with none of Tommy's charm. He's the one in the self-destructive spiral now. They even act alike. And yeah... Chaz said that Tommy's fallout with his brother was over a girl. I paused as the details came back to me. "So let me get this straight... You were in Boyz Attack!?"

Travis visibly cringed and looked like he would've rather been punched in the chest. He didn't say yes or no. I glanced over at Tommy, who looked vaguely irate, as he did with every mention of his old band. It was obviously a sore spot for the both of them. Something else clicked in my mind. "So the CD I saw by Quincy, T... It wasn't Tommy. It was you, wasn't it?" I asked breathlessly. Both brothers looked surprised at that, but Travis deigned to answer this one.

"Yeah, actually. I recorded two albums with the name I was born with. My first two. The first one was gold-certified. I had a fairly big hit single... but it was from the last one I did. After Tommy ruined everything," Travis explained somewhat calmly, shooting a glare at his brother. He looked relieved that I knew, actually. "You Think You Know Me, it was called."

Tommy smirked at this, turning to me with jesting eyes. "Yeah. He was a one-hit wonder." He was so very smug about it. I could see the steam practically coming out of Travis' ears. Amusing.

The pieces were still connecting. And, naturally, at the nadir of his (Tommy's) life, things got worse between the two of them. He was pissed at how his life was turning out, greatly dissatisfied, and so he took it out on Travis. I bet that happened before he met me. I remembered the limited details I'd been given. So Kate was the girl they fought over... duh. Travis lost it and punched Tommy first, like he did this time, and he was just a goner from that point on. I think he's gotten better. Tommy was whaling on him because he was frustrated with his life, and that's just what he does. Travis should've known better, but he didn't care if he lived or died because he'd just lost everything... and so was Tommy. Only difference is that Tommy somehow managed to find it again and stabilize himself. "So what happened... when you two fell out. I mean, I know it was bad. Bad enough to send Travis to the hospital, but..."

Travis was giving Tommy a death glare. He hadn't forgotten. It was definitely a sore spot, a low point, one of his many scares. I remembered something Tommy had said earlier about the doctors having to reconstruct Travis' face from a picture of Tommy. That explained a lot. Tommy was absolutely silent, but he didn't look particularly proud of himself. To my surprise, Taylor was the one who answered me.

"I was just a kid. A stupid, twelve-year-old kid. But I heard this commotion in the church, you know? So I ran to the source of it, and there they were, going at it. They'd obviously been going at it for a while... because both of them were covered in blood... mostly Travis'. When I got there, Travis wasn't even fighting back. I'm not even sure he was conscious, only that Tommy was beating on him like there was no tomorrow. It was a scarring experience, seeing that. Tommy would've killed him if I hadn't gotten Darius. After Tommy was through with him, Travis was half-dead," Taylor remembered, sounding simultaneously bitter and matter-of-fact.

Tommy closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories. Travis actually looked as if he was in pain all over again. It seemed so incredible, so hard for me to believe. He looked like he could've added on to what Taylor said but chose not to at the last moment. So Taylor swallowed and continued. "We didn't even know if Travis was going to live for a month. He was in a coma for two weeks. He had severe injuries... so many broken bones, cranial swelling, internal bleeding. He was so messed up that I couldn't even recognize him. He looked almost like he'd been through a meat grinder." I think all of us were simultaneously sick at the mental image. Tommy's face was a picture of shame and horror.

Still, Taylor soldiered on, filling in the other pieces of the puzzle for me. I was grateful. "Mom and Dad took different sides. Mom took Travis', of course, because he couldn't speak for himself, and she was so horrified by what had happened. And she'd always loved him best. Tommy never forgave Mom or Travis for that. Dad took Tommy's side because he knew it wasn't intentional, and Travis had started the fight. The constant arguing, well, it tore them apart. Tommy tore our family apart." He spat the last sentence, and Tommy flinched. But hadn't Travis done it too? Travis looked, at least, equally miserable. "Mom even went so far as attempting to press assault and battery charges against him, but Dad managed to talk her out of it somehow. He said our family was already damaged enough as it was without putting Tommy in jail for something he certainly felt bad about anyways. He said that would be better because if she did, then we wouldn't be a family anymore. So Mom dropped the charges."

That's true. If she did press the charges, he would've surely gone to jail. And that would've torn the family right down the middle. Irreparably. That was why Tommy was so careful to avoid hitting him. Because if he did, he couldn't stop. He knew full well his own horrible power. But it was still like that. Taylor resented Tommy for me, for breaking up the family, and for his fame. Travis hated Tommy for what he'd done to him and was sick with jealousy and revenge. For all the betrayals, for abandoning his family for Boyz Attack!. Tommy was jealous of Taylor for dating me and jealous of Travis for having his mother's approval. Jealous of Travis for always being so damn perfect. He hated Travis for reinforcing his own inferiority which he already so keenly felt. I nodded dully. What a sad story.

Travis later said he was in the hospital a little over a year. Rehab for two. That's a lot of time to develop bitterness. A lot of time to plan out your revenge. The teacher thing, however, was just a lucky coincidence. But then I remembered how absolutely miserable Tommy's childhood had been like that, sandwiched between Smart and Cute, and what was he known for? Being a troublemaker. That's what he did to get attention! I remembered how depressed he must've been, and what kind of best friend was Travis if he couldn't see that? Tommy had a really deep self-hatred too, you know, which isn't something even self-destructive Travis suffers from.

I remembered Victoria calling Tommy's older brother Charlot. Travis' first name is Charles. Why didn't I think of that? And ew. Ew, ew, ew. I did cross that line. Twice. Unknowingly. With Tommy's brother. As if being his enemy and rival wasn't bad enough? Great, just great. Now I've kissed every Quincy male except their dad. Way to feel like a slut. Suddenly Travis knowing those things when he pretended to be Tommy made sense... He thought I knew it was him. He thought I'd gone out with Tommy. He thought I was going out with Tommy to spite him. Oh. That explains a lot.

I suddenly remembered I'd never really told Tommy about that, so I turned to face him. Best to be honest now, right, get everything out on the table except that night we won't mention... "Travis proposed to me. He tried to get me to elope with him, and now I know why," I blurted out suddenly. Tommy's eyes widened in shock. His jaw dropped. Taylor practically fainted dead away. And Travis, well, he looked like he wanted to kill me. "He pretended to be you," I added, knowing how much that detail would piss Travis off.

Before Tommy could say a word, Travis interjected. "Well, it's not like I could get you to marry _me, _now is it?! You're in love with Tommy!" Travis yelled, irritation present in his voice. The color drained out of my face. Taylor looked absolutely furious, and Tommy... well, I couldn't even look at him. Travis continued to mock me. "Oh, yes. You're in love with Tommy, and that's why you can't marry me-"

I felt the need to cut him off there. "Tommy wasn't the only reason, asshole. You can't ever _be _Tommy, and we both know it. Besides, like I would marry you for what, revenge? I want to marry someone who, you know, actually loves and respects me! You fit in neither of those categories! It's not even legal, Travis! And hell, you're my music teacher and in love with Joan! Not to mention engaged to Kate! So you tell me why I would _ever _want to marry you unless you forced me into it!" I countered at the top of my lungs, fed up with him. Which he did try and do.

I paled even further, realizing I'd basically confirmed that I was in love with Tommy. Oh well. Like Taylor's still my boyfriend by this point anyways. Travis was feeling malicious, so he continued on as if he'd never stopped. "But you can kiss me like you mean it and let me feel you up. And let me remind you that you were the one who started it that day, Jude. You were practically begging for it the whole day and then you just couldn't commit to actually do it!" Travis pointed out traitorously. Fine, then. We're getting all that out in the open too? Fine.

My face felt hot, and I felt like a huge slut. "Things were moving too fast. I mean, I'd only thought you were a decent guy for not even a day. So forgive me for not wanting to screw you in the studio at my school," I sniped back. "Just because I might've been into it at first doesn't mean you had any right to go on with it after I told you "no" three times and fought you," I asserted, trying to defend myself. "You had no right to try and take what you thought was owed to you. You had **no **right to try and rape me, Travis!"

Travis rolled his eyes, covering up any potential shame, guilt, or embarras... okay, who are we kidding here? He feels none of those things. I could sense the other two brothers' anger. "Oh, please! Why don't we just say what the real reason is? Tommy. It's always Tommy with you. Always Tommy," Travis rejoined mockingly. Forgive me for being in love with him. It tends to do that to you. I was about to say something but Travis beat me to it. "Why don't you tell Tommy what it was that made you decide to say no to me when I asked you? Or how about Taylor? I bet he'd like to know," Travis questioned threateningly.

I knew he'd tell and twist it to his advantage if I didn't, so I did. "I asked him to kiss me," I admitted. Of course, I'd thought he was Tommy at the time. "He didn't kiss like you," I confessed, feeling somewhat embarrassed. I pushed on bravely, not daring to look at him. "And that's how I knew I couldn't do it. That's how I knew it was wrong," I elucidated. I didn't want to look at Taylor either. We were pretty much through after this. Before Travis could twist my words, I added, "I said no when he was still pretending to be you." Meaning Tommy, of course. All my words had been addressed towards him.

Tommy was silent at first, and I saw the glee plastered all over Travis' face. He looked like he knew Tommy believed him now. Great. Now Tommy thinks I'm a whore. Tommy, whose opinion of me matters the most. Then he spoke one word. "When?"

I sighed. Travis had turned the tables so that I was the one on trial. Even though they'd all been fighting, and I was just an innocent bystander. "The Friday after your birthday. You remember... the night I first went out with Taylor." Looks like I was wrong about that. Tommy really did own me that night.

I looked over at Taylor, who looked both pissed and hurt. What, like I asked Travis to propose to me? Then I looked nervously at Tommy, watching as something flickered in his eyes. "I asked him to kiss me like he did before," I whispered, hoping he'd get what I meant. I said it so Taylor couldn't hear. Tommy's eyes flashed, and he nodded slightly.

He looked up at me, finally, meeting my gaze. "That was the night that I..." Tommy trailed off expectantly, and I nodded. Tommy colored a bit at the realization that I would've said yes if he'd been there and had kissed me in the same way as he had earlier that night. Nevertheless, he smiled faintly, proudly. "I'm glad."

"I bet," Travis hissed. But I didn't care because I knew things were right with Tommy again. That was good enough for him. We exchanged a smile before Tommy turned back to face his brothers.

He looked a little bit ashamed, so he turned to Travis first. "I'm sorry, Travis. We shouldn't have fought. I won't do it again. I don't want to rehash those days." Travis stared at him incredulously, so Tommy sought to temper his statement. "But you had no right to say those things about Jude. Make your potshots at me, not her." His voice was stern enough so that Travis got the message loud and clear. Tommy then faced Taylor. "I'm sorry, Taylor. I definitely didn't mean for you to get involved, and I'm sorry if I hurt you. But I'm not sorry for Jude." I think he means what happened with me. Tommy held out a hand anxiously. "Temporary truce? For the holidays?"

I realized in a sudden panic that they would all be there, even though Tommy and Travis normally alternate. Because he's engaged, and it's been five years... and I'm coming. Travis nodded once, eying Tommy warily. "Just as long as you don't try to steal my fiancée again, Thomas."

Tommy nodded levelly. "As long as you won't touch my girl, Charles." Travis nodded like he thought it was a fair trade and grabbed Tommy's hand and shook it. Theirs was a death-grip. It was also a beautiful sight. Tommy turned to Taylor a few moments later, as did Travis. "Peace?" He asked pleadingly.

Taylor thought for a moment. "Don't go after my girlfriend, Tom-Tom, and we might have a deal." Tommy looked somewhat exasperated by this point, sick of promising he wouldn't touch girlfriends. Especially since he didn't want to promise that, and it's not like Taylor would notice.

But Tommy nodded nonetheless (surprising both me and Travis), a pensive look on his face. "I won't, as long as you treat her right, Tay-Tay," He answered finally, the threat and a promise implicit in his voice. Taylor almost didn't agree, but I gave him a look. The two brothers shook hands but did not embrace, which was good since Tommy was covered in glass. After that, Travis held out a hand.

"Same goes for you," Taylor warned. Travis rolled his eyes and nodded. Man, that was stupid. He should've had Travis promise to be nice to me. But the two shook hands nonetheless, and, thus, a fragile Christmas truce was born.

Looking at our motley crew, Tommy decided something. "You know, we should probably leave." Yes! So I don't get even more humiliated. Tommy glanced at me quickly before looking back at his still-angry brothers. He turned to address Taylor. "I'm going to take Jude home, okay?" He said, grabbing my hand and leaving school with me before my boyfriend could protest. I couldn't help but smile.

He didn't take me home, though. He took me back to his place where he carefully removed the glass from various parts of my body, disinfected, and bandaged me up. I did the same for him. But as I did it, I couldn't help but wonder if the truce would hold. I wondered what, exactly, the holidays had in store for me.

If I know the Quincy brothers, and I like to think I do... Something tells me it isn't exactly going to be peace on Earth and goodwill towards men.

- Loren ;

Okay, I don't want to hear any I-told-you-sos. Because, really, I'm the author. Of course I freaking knew. I planned it, and it was pretty damn obvious. It's not like I really tried to hide it. And, just for the record, in case anyone accuses me of being unoriginal or whatnot, keep in mind that I have had this planned for well over a year.

Also, if you want to understand some of the French parts that Jude misunderstands, just PM me or review and ask or whatever. I can give a literal translation, although Jude gets most of it, and what she doesn't get she pretty much gets the gist of.

Okay, link time! Remember, folks, just delete the spaces:

Jude's necklace (if the provided link does not show up, just search for Hall Sapphire Diamond Necklace)- dcpages. com/gallery/Hope -Diamond-National -Gem-Collection/HallSap phireDiamondNec klace.jp g.html

Anyways, reviews are greatly, greatly, greatly appreciated. I think this chapter merits them, now don't you?


	41. Here We Go Again

Okay, so here we are with another update, as fast as can be expected. Given that I finished June 1/May 31... somewhere in there. Okay, technically more June 1, so that's within a month, which is something when you consider that I graduated. But I've been doing this almost nonstop. And, so, just in case this is actually up later (due to me wanting to post the chapter when I was able to combine the last chapter as it should be)... Because, okay, for some bizarre reason the site won't let me upload documents over 40,000 words, even though there's a supposed limit of 9 MB for a chapter. It's so annoying when you do everything right and even resort to creative means and... nothing works. Hell, it wouldn't even let me upload this chapter. I had to cut and paste all of it. So, I guess I'm giving up. If I can change Walking Contradiction back into its full form, then I guess I will when I can.

The chapter turned out way longer and way less filler than I expected. The drama starts. And doesn't stop... And, frankly, there's this one development in there that I NEVER even intended to happen. A lot of those, actually. The chapter just kind of took over, actually. It was a lot more exciting than I planned. So it's... really crazy. That's the thing about the story, you know? It kind of just creeps up on you, and the story has a way of turning out into something that is so completely different from what you had planned that it kind of throws you. The story basically goes where it wants to, and I'm just the person putting in the man hours.

Hmm, it should also be noted that this chapter occurs a day or two after Jude's birthday, so it's a few days after the dance. The Holidays are four chapters, and, I must say, four fun and pretty damn important ones. So it should be around the 20th of December, this chap. The one afterward occurs a few days after this one, so think the 22nd or 23rd, whereas the one after that will compose Christmas Eve and Christmas itself. I think. It might not mention Christmas much.

This is a very good Jude/Tommy chapter, it should be noted. And I warn you right now that you ought to savor all those Jommy moments while you can. Take that to mean what you will.

Oh, as for the song in this chapter, in case you can't tell by the chapter title... It's a bit of a spoiler since it's a song from the fourth season. So, for the record, I do not own "Here We Go Again." It was just dying to sneak in there, and I've been singing it like crazy, so there it is.

* * *

I had no idea just how much of a disaster this would be when I signed on for it. But standing here, outside of the family car, in front of Tommy's ancestral home with Sadie by my side... I knew. And this sense of foreboding just kinda swept over me and made me shiver.

Then again, that could just be the cool Montreal breeze. Okay... the freezing wind laced with ice this part of the city's known for. You see, Tommy's house is in the heart of the oldest part of city and on top of this huge-ass hill. And it's magnificent, of course. I told you before that it's pretty much a castle. Lovely gray stone, damn near has turrets and buttresses.

But before we get to my parents' and sister's reactions to his breathtaking house... I was still stunned, and I'd been there before, but, of course, I had to be... or else they'd know I'd been there before. And clearly they couldn't know that. Anyways, as I was saying, before we get to that, we must talk about Tommy and me. Because everything ultimately comes down to Tommy and me in the end.

Tommy took me back to his place after the brawl of brothers. He was really sweet about everything, I guess because he felt he owed me or something. He was embarrassed about his role in the fight, and maybe he felt a little guilty or something. I remember we walked right into his apartment, which is practically my third home by this point (after home and G Major... school doesn't count), and the very first thing I did was ask Tommy to undo my dress. Trust me, that got me a weird look. Tommy quirked an eyebrow and smirked like he'd won the lottery or something. Well, sorry, Tom, but you're not that lucky, and you're not going to get lucky. Not with me, never with me... and not tonight!

"Didn't think I'd be getting you out of that dress so fast," Tommy quipped with that stupid grin, his fingers on the zipper already. I snorted, feeling slightly offended. He thinks my virtue is that cheap? Seriously, does he think I owe him something for making him dance? 'Cause Darius did that too, and he didn't get any. All Tommy got out of that deal were a few pennies. I felt him sigh as he carefully undid the tiny clasp at the top. His calloused fingers brushed against the skin between my shoulder blades. His hands were warm on my skin. "It's like prom night or something." I whirled around to glower at him, and Tommy pulled the zipper down deliberately slowly. He was totally relishing it, but I just wanted out of the damn thing.

"Tom-_my_!" I whined irritably. I didn't want him touching me anymore, making me all hot and bothered inside. I'm sexually frustrated enough already, thank you! "I've been suffocating in that dress all night and the tiny little pieces of glass embedded in it don't make it any more fun to wear... so can you just hurry it up already?!" I demanded. It was true. The dress was suddenly very constricting, and the little shards poked me unpleasantly. I hadn't been able to get all of them out, not to mention the ones in my hair that still fell out periodically.

His smirk widened. "You want it that bad, Harrison?" Tommy asked teasingly. The zipper was undone to the middle of my back, revealing the strapless sapphire bra I was wearing. It matched my necklace. I jerked around to face Tommy abruptly, forming a plan quickly.

I smiled at Tommy coyly, placing my hands on his shoulders. I leaned into him heavily and slid my hands under his jacket, pushing the ruined fabric off his shoulders. Pity, that. It fell to the ground with a soft noise. My hands remained lightly on his shoulders. The muscles flexed under my fingers; I could feel it through the thin fabric of his shirt. Mm. I almost lost control of myself for a minute. He was so warm, and his shoulders were so broad... and he was so alive and so perfect and so close!

Realizing I was quickly losing it, I shook my head lightly to clear it of the thoughts and leaned into him even further. I twined my arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to mine. Tommy's lips were parted slightly, pouty too, and I wanted to kiss him. But I knew I couldn't do that... Because Taylor apparently thinks we're still dating, so I guess we are...

Didn't mean I couldn't have some fun, though. Some harmless, vaguely sensual fun with his older brother.

I leaned in most of the rest of the way, so our lips were maybe eight centimeters apart or something. Tommy's eyes were dark, like the sky before a storm, and mystery swirled in their depths. His eyelids fluttered in anticipation, and he licked his lips thirstily. I knew without a doubt that he wanted to kiss me. And I couldn't say I didn't want him to... but I couldn't.

Instead of doing what I wanted to do, I turned my head at the last moment. He was getting more impatient, so he started to lean in. I turned my head and licked his cheek instead. Not one of the bloody parts, and there really were a lot of those... One of the parts by his mouth, but not too close. He tasted salty and sweet, a mixture of the rum-sweetened Hawaiian punch and sweat, maybe a little blood. Tommy made a soft noise and turned his head, forcing my tongue to follow him. My tongue swept over his upper lip. Erm, the area above it.

Suddenly his arms wrapped around my waist, crushing me against him. He brought his mouth down, and my tongue trailed across his bottom lip. It was like a tiny shock, so sudden that I drew back as if I'd been burned. He tried to kiss me, and our lips may have even brushed... But I couldn't do it. I'm not a cheater, not like this. I shook my head instead and pulled his hands off of me, moving backwards slowly. I affected an awkward smile. "I think that's enough of a taste for me," I muttered, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

Tommy reached out for me almost in desperation, clearly frustrated. I blinked back the wonderful mental image I had of his lips crashing into mine and stepped back. A part of me really did wish he just forced me into it. A forcible kiss, well, that I couldn't blame on myself. But Tommy isn't Travis. Which is why I haven't screwed Tommy.

Tommy groaned in irritation, running his hands through his unkempt, wrecked hair. His fingers came out glistening with slivers of glass and tiny slashes all over them. He looked at me directly, not even noticing his hands at first. "You know, sometimes I really hate Taylor. Especially when he has what I want and doesn't know what the hell to do with it," Tommy declared somewhat irately. The jealousy was heavy in his voice.

I was surprised by the vehemency of it. Taylor isn't someone Tommy should have to be jealous of. Almost makes me think he means what he's been spewin'. I felt like flinching at his words, but I didn't. Obviously he knew Taylor was the reason why we stopped. Or I stopped, really. Tommy sighed, leaning against the arm of his couch. "And the thing that gets me the most is that I'm not even sure you really _like _him all that much. I mean-"

The raw frustration in Tommy's voice was just too much for me. I had to reply, to defend him somehow, right? And I did genuinely like Taylor, even if he got on my nerves about half the time. With his stupid, petty little jealousies! Damn near has a complex, except he's too happy for that! Everyone likes Taylor. My parents would, Kat and Jamie do... so on and... Sadie and Chaz do, right, and all my other friends except Speed, but that's understandable. I mean, Taylor's the right guy. He's perfect, practically. He's young, cute, charismatic, earnest, and he's actually seeking affection. And he's so sweet. And, most importantly, age-appropriate. "Why do you doubt it? Because I **obviously **prefer you?!" I retorted loudly.

Why the Hell did I say that? Even if it's true. Why? I wasn't going to say that, damn it. I was going to defend Taylor and now it just went back to being about how much I want Tommy again. And how he's better. In every conceivable way. And he really shouldn't know that. As I hid my face in mortification, I saw Tommy smirk between my fingers. "Well, you have to admit that it doesn't exactly make sense, especially when you go around saying things like that... You know how I feel about you, Jude. I want to be with you, and you want to be with me too. Even Taylor sees it, and _that's _why he's so jealous, even if we haven't done anything. Those feelings are still there. You and I both know Taylor's never going to measure up. You can't make him into something he's not. So why not just dump him now before the kid gets too attached?" Tommy interjected stubbornly. Yet behind the rough words, his voice was full of a soft, sweet emotion that washed over me like honey.

I wouldn't be soothed so easily, however. I was not to be placated with soft words and easy smiles. "I can't **believe **you! You tell me not to hurt your brother and then go around and advocate dumping him to be with you! How can you rationalize that, Tommy?" I rejoined in a tone resonating with shock. It was just so hypocritical that I couldn't believe it. He told me not to and then was asking me to dump his brother, effectively hurting him. Reversal much? And all for his own sick pleasure! Because he selfishly wants me for himself! Tommy Quincy, of course, always has to have what he wants.

Tommy got in my face after that, clearly annoyed with the way this conversation was headed. He was livid, stiff with outrage. "Because I care about you more than he does, and I know you a hell of a lot better than he does, and you're _my _girl!" Tommy growled, sounding like a wild animal. Possessive much, Quincy? He turned away for a moment and attempted to collect himself. Clearly, he'd lost it- some of that oh-so precious control he likes to pride himself on having. "Better a little pain than living a lie. Besides, don't you think being apart is hurting us more? You don't want to be with him! You want to be with _me!" _Tommy shouted, making wide, sweeping hand gestures to accompany his words.

The intensity in his voice made me a little weak in the knees. I couldn't show it, of course, but I felt it all the same. Then there was the fact that he was right... about everything. That was another blow. It did hurt me to be apart from him, yes, but that was a pain I was used to. And as much as I wanted that, I couldn't hurt Taylor like that. Even if Tommy likes me better. But that's entirely the problem, you see. Tommy may never feel anything more for me than that. We both know he doesn't love me. "Funny, 'cause I don't seem to remember ever telling you that," I remarked diffidently, turning away from him. I crossed my arms over my chest, and Tommy moved closer.

He pushed his hips forward, moving away from the couch and coming towards me in a fluid motion. The sudden movement made me nervous, and then he reached for me. He managed to grab my hand and sent me crashing into him, but not hard. I swayed on her feet, feeling somewhat breathless, somewhat dizzy. I almost fell even, but Tommy's arms latched around my waist tightly, and I remained upright despite it all. I closed my eyes in shame, wishing I'd fainted instead. Maybe I just need... to catch my breath. "Falling for me again, are we?" Came that velvety low voice tickling my ear.

I stiffened and pushed him away. My eyes shot open. Tommy would not go so easily. It was as if his hands were affixed to me. No strength on my part could remove them, but I tried to squirm away. "No, you moron, I'm probably lightheaded from blood loss," I retorted somewhat irritably. That might actually explain the woozy feeling, I thought, not lovesickness or anything awful like that. It was really a bad time. I couldn't look at him. I kept struggling, kept trying to remove myself from his grip but never succeeding. I shot him a look this time, a particularly cold one. "Besides, I'm surprised you're not fainted dead away... what with all this talk of committed relationships." My voice was low with a cruel, sharp edge to it. Can't we do this another time?

Any other time would be better. But now? I wasn't in the mood now, no, not at all. Not for a conversation like this. It's late, and I'm exhausted. All I want to do is get cleaned up and get away. Boys suck, and men, if they can call themselves that, are even worse!

Tommy had grace enough to flinch, as well he should. I struggled less, and Tommy was so still I had hopes of finally escaping. But I was mistaken. Tommy's hands moved up around my forearms. His grip was firm, even a little tight, but it didn't hurt much. He pinched the skin a little in his earnestness. However, I refused to look at him, so with one hand he splayed his fingers across my chin, holding it up so that I was forced to look into his eyes. His gaze was like a hurricane but a contained one. "That's not fair, Jude. I can commit. You know I can," Tommy swore intently. It was more of a promise, though, but he always broke them, so I didn't believe it. I couldn't dare to, you see.

So far the only commitment I've seen from him is jealousy of any guy I'm with... and, now, these mysterious feelings he seems to have. It's weird, him not renouncing them for one reason or another. I'm so used to that. I know what to do then. It's easier to play the victim than the martyr, you know? Easier to be the one who cries foul, who... just cries, really... than to be the self-denier. It's hard on your heart both ways, but denying what you want has a way of slowly breaking you down, piece by piece. Sometimes I don't think I'm strong enough, not when we're like this, when we're like magnets.

This is why I didn't want to be close to him. This is why I've avoided it for as long as I could. This is why I didn't want to be alone with him.

"Tell that to Sadie!" I reared back from him like a spooked horse, slapping his hands away, damn near hitting him in the face. I had no thought for his safety, only escape. He was asking too much of me. He's asking me to believe him, and how can I do that? "Yes, it is, Tommy! You didn't break up with my sister _that _long ago! Why should I dump my steady, sweet, dependable boyfriend for you, who only _cares _about me?!" I found myself screaming. And there it was, the real issue. Why should I dump someone I could one day come to love for Tommy's unreliable affections? Taylor's feelings I could ascertain. Taylor's not gonna change his mind. But Tommy, well, look at what he's done already. He runs the gamut.

So how can I trust that he wouldn't change his mind like he changes his sheets, like he always does with women, or cut and run when things get hard? And they would, obviously, since it's him and me. He cares what people think. He doesn't want my parents to take him to jail. If someone, the right person, says one frail word, they could just as easily convince him otherwise! Even _I'm _not dumb enough to suffer from the delusion that whatever chance he thinks he has with me is worth jail time! Whatever affair, whatever dalliance we could ever have would be so brief and so exquisitely painful that it wouldn't be worth it to have.

Oh, hell, who am I kidding? Of course it'd be worth it. Every agonizing second of it would be worth all the breath in me. If only for one moment, one night... I could die a happy, fulfilled woman. Pleased to go, even. That would be enough. Enough for me, but not for him.

It's my responsibility to look out for him, to make sure he doesn't get himself back into trouble. I need to do what he can't. I have to take care of him, to know what's in his best interest. It's what you do when you love someone, even if it hurts. And I love him more than anything or anyone. More than any one person in this world ever will. So I can't be selfish. I can't make myself happy. Not because of what it'll do to him. Nobody will ever love him better and he probably knows that, but I am not what's best for him.

I am _not _what he needs.

I'd like to say what I told Travis, you know, quoting Bob Dylan and all that, but it's more tragic than that. _I'm not the one you want, Babe. I'm not the one you need._ Tommy's never mentioned need. We don't always want what we need or need what we want, you know. And just because you want something doesn't mean you have to get it. It'd be better to quote the Stones, maybe.

Tommy's nostrils flared. Yes, he was close enough that I could see that! He was furious and flushed. "Well, he damn well doesn't love you already! And I'll tell you why; you're **not **in love with him!" Tommy screamed, nearly exploding with the force of his fury. He was shaking with barely contained rage, and he was all up in my face. He was a little sweaty too, and his chest was heavy. It was a very dramatic proclamation.

Well, of course I'm not. That would be ridiculous, as I'm in love with you, and I've known him slightly less than a month. Regardless of the fact that it took me a week to fall in love with you. He's your brother, so I'd give it a month and a half, perhaps. I shook my head sternly and tried to remain as impassive as possible. It was hard, pretending to be so calm when really my emotions were swirling 'round. "I'm not leaving Taylor for you, Tommy! I'm not going to do that to him or to Sadie, especially not now!" I proclaimed defiantly, meaning every word. Getting with Tommy like that wouldn't be respectful to either of them, especially not in secret like he wants. And I know that's what he wants.

Tommy drew back, still burning with wrath. He managed, somehow, to suppress it better, and he at least seemed calmer on the surface. His anger manifested into bitterness, callousness perhaps. He took a breath, trying to slow his rapid heartbeat, his halting, hyperventilating breaths. "Oh, I get it," He mumbled after a while. "You're staying with him because he's the sure thing. He's the sure thing, and I'm... _what_, exactly? You really think I'm gonna flake out on you the first chance I get?" He muttered bitterly. His eyes were dark and accusing and so hard, so sharp, and so cutting.

I wondered why it had taken him that long to realize it. Now we've cut it to the quick. He knows as well as I do that that's always been the issue. Everything else was just an excuse, you know. I mean, sisterly loyalty, that has some bearing, but not so much now. Now it's just another thing to hide behind so we don't deal with the real issue, so we don't talk about that. Or... Or, I guess, how I can't trust Tommy. How I can't trust him with my heart, even if I'd trust him with my life, maybe even to catch me when I fall... But how I can't believe him or trust that what he's saying is true. That's why we can't be together, isn't it? Because I can't trust him. He's not reliable. Not at all. And I'm so sick of taking chances only to be let down yet again.

Not anymore. Not again. Not this time. Not now. Not when I know better.

And I'm sorry for that. But if he really, really, really wants me like he says he does, and he means it... He's going to have to convince me properly. He's going to have to win me over. He's going to have to work for my trust. He's going to have to _earn _it. And, most importantly, he's got to prove that it's for real this time.

I have to be sure that he won't change his mind. I need a reason, a compelling reason, to take a shot, to take that chance on him again. I need something to distinguish this time from all the other false starts. I'm sick of going at this in fits and starts like we've been doing. I want it to last. For good, if it can. I want the real thing, and I deserve it... after all this time, all this waiting. There has to be something different because I'm not falling back in that same trap of his making. And that's when I'll give in. If he can give me that, I'm all his for the taking.

But I think the problem is that I want him to love me. And that's expecting too much. He can't do that, not now, maybe not ever. He just can't. He's physiologically incapable of it, at least now. It's not in his power to obtain something he doesn't presently have the capacity to possess.

I shook my head stubbornly. "You rush into things, Tommy... You rush out of them just as fast. You can't even make up your mind half the time. So, tell me, how am I supposed to believe you when you're the King of Mixed Messages?" I pointed out, none-too-amused. Tommy opened his mouth to try and refute the statement, but I went on. "You'll just change your mind again, and I'll be left in the cold, per usual. And I'm so _tired _of being hurt every time you decide you don't want me." The voice that came out of me was surprisingly weak, surprisingly vulnerable. I hadn't wanted to be vulnerable. It's just dangerous around him.

"But I do!" Tommy declared boldly, so intently that I could almost believe him. Almost. But I couldn't forget the past. I might as well have said, "You do now, but will you want me tomorrow?" Because, silly boy, feelings can change in an instant. I, of all people, should know.

"But **nothing! **You _can't, _remember?!" I rejoined viciously, cutting him off before he could make any other promises. The mocking undertone in my voice made the earnest look on his face crumple. There's nothing like throwing his own words back at him. After all, what's changed since then? I'm back dating, and he thinks he slept with me. I wasn't even a year older, but he was, and none the wiser for it. More foolish, even, I'd say.

Tommy said my name in that pleading voice of his, but I ignored him and turned around, exposing my back to him. "Just unzip the damn dress, Tom. I don't want to hear about your _feelings_,"I mumbled grumpily. I didn't need to look to know just how much that pissed him off. But it was, admittedly, a little gratifying.

He charged over to me and jerked the zipper down so abruptly that I never saw it coming. It hurt, the way he pulled it down so suddenly. When I looked at it later, I was surprised he hadn't ripped anything. The dress fell to the floor immediately, hitting it with a loud thwap and a vague tinkling sound. I felt naked and horribly exposed. All I was wearing was my underwear, not even a slip. Tommy placed his hands firmly on my shoulders and whirled me around. "_My _feelings? You as good as admitted you were in _love _with me tonight!" He snapped poisonously, shooting me lightning bolts from his eyes.

His hands were ice cold, and his stare made me shiver. My whole body shook in a convulsive wave, like some kind of seizure. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I flinched too, because I was in love with him, and it was entirely too close to the truth. He couldn't know that! I couldn't let him have that kind of power over me, much less know about it. "Well, I didn't say I was, now did I?!" I countered fluidly, smoothly, not missing a beat. It was a defensive move, though, and I wondered if he could sense it. I tried to jerk away from him and his revolting touch, but Tommy held fast.

He stared at me hungrily, not even bothering to hide the forbidden desire in his eyes. I felt naked and ashamed of it, but I couldn't cover up. And then all of a sudden, I felt his lips in the hollow of my collarbone, on my cleavage, on my stomach, just above my bellybutton, on my abdomen. It was like a kiss of death because his lips were so cold and hard, and yet I felt all hot and flustered, and his lips were too low, and I was wearing way too little clothing. Tommy put his hands on me, and I squirmed, uncomfortable. Tommy gave me this look filled with that smugness. It was as if he was saying he knew that I do. Or something like that.

I tried to pull away in disgust, but Tommy's grip was unyielding. He pressed a kiss to my upper thigh. I winced and pulled away. Tommy pulled back, and at the same time we both noticed the giant shard of glass embedded in my thigh. Tommy released me, and I sighed in relief. It still hurt, though, so I let out a huge hiss. Tommy looked at me curiously, and I guided his fingers to the shard of glass. "How did you manage that?" He asked quietly, trying to calm down. I shrugged somewhat irritably and shot him a look, motioning for him to just take it out already. He nodded and abruptly pulled it out. I bit down on my lip.

The muscle throbbed and some blood oozed out, making me feel slightly faint. Tommy frowned. "I'm going to go get some bandages and antiseptic. I'll be right back. Make yourself at home," He explained a bit gruffly before leaving. I picked up the dress from around my feet and laid it flat on his coffee table before heading up the stairs to his bedroom to procure myself some clothing. I'd definitely left some of my own things there in the past, and I did keep extra clothes there just in case, but I didn't have time to look for them, so I went straight to his drawers and pulled out one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. Some girls would've gone for the boxers, but that's, well, all easy access and trashy, and, quite honestly, more than a little disgusting.

I mean, guys don't wash those things often! I didn't especially want to tempt Tommy or anything, and that's just a little too intimate for me. I dressed and hurried back downstairs. It was really fun but really dangerous sliding down the banister. I managed to plop down on the couch just in time for Tommy's arrival. He scowled at my choice of apparel, despite the fact that I was wearing his clothes. "What, girl, you don't trust me?" He asked with a hint of frustration in his voice. I gave him a look.

I tried to ignore the way my heart had skipped a beat when he called me by the old nickname. It made me feel warm inside. Makes me wonder, though, if he called me that because he couldn't remember my name or just to remind himself of my age... I shook my head and smirked. "Of course I don't trust you, Quince. I know you," I replied, only half-joking. Tommy shot me a dark look and came towards me. I shied away from him, and an exasperated look passed across his face.

"God, Harrison, I'm not _always _trying to jump you, you know," He growled, gesturing to my injuries. No, but you want to, I thought, and that's bad enough. He exhaled abruptly. "I'm just trying to fix you up. Now, I'm going to sit down next to you, pull out the pieces of glass, and then disinfect and put band-aids on your wounds," Tommy continued in a patronizing voice, explaining with mock patience so that I wouldn't second-guess him. He followed that up by doing as he said, taking hold of my arm and using tweezers to pull out the shards, which he set down on the table nearby.

I generally winced and this often disrupted Tommy's work and made it hurt more. Tommy was annoyed by this, but he tried not to show it. Then again, he did apply the disinfectant with particular relish. He was terribly careful, though, when he put the band-aids on. I sighed, wondering for a moment if it was wise to bring this up. There was a good chance that Tommy didn't even fully realize that there were other reasons why it was hard for me. I licked my lips and decided to just give it up. Might as well. "Tom, it's hard for me to trust you when your brother tried to rape me. Sometimes I see him when I look at you. And I trusted him too, for a while... until, well, you know. So it's hard for me, Tom. Harder than you realize," I explained quietly.

Tommy froze and looked so horrified by this revelation. He didn't want to be considered anything like his brother, but he was. I wanted to explain it to him but didn't think there were words for that sort of thing. But they looked so much alike, and they were so much alike personality-wise that they were hard to separate. A yin-yang kind of thing. But I couldn't explain it, and Tommy gestured to my sweatpants-clad legs with a wounded look in his eyes. "Jude, can I?" He asked somewhat breathlessly. I nodded briefly, and he pulled the sweatpants down.

I stiffened as his fingers brushed against my thighs. His fingers swept over my legs, carefully scanning the smooth flesh for any irregularities that might be bits of glass. He found a few and quickly removed them. I hated the flushed feeling and the way my heart kept beating. I hated how hot and bothered I felt, and how... disappointed I was, in a way, to pull the baggy sweats back up. I felt kind of empty, kind of bereft. I missed his warmth and his touch.

His hands skimmed my arms, briskly pulling out the shards he found there, bandaging me skillfully. He avoided my eyes and quietly requested for me to remove my shirt so he could check underneath it. I did so unwillingly, but not so much. It felt good, his hands running over my skin like that. Even the pain was only minimal. And then Tommy spoke, and it was like a shower of cold water fell down around my head. "I'm sorry for Travis, Jude. I... I just wanted you to know that," He said suddenly. I froze, and it became very hard for me to enjoy the feeling of his hands sweeping over my skin.

"It's not your fault, Tommy," I managed somewhat tersely. I sighed. Tommy's hands had stopped moving. I looked down, unable to stare into those eyes. "It's all mine," I admitted a moment later, remembering the moment with embarrassment. Ugh, those horrible moments. I almost cringed to think of them now. Coming on to Travis like that, whatever happened when I was wasted, ugh... Maybe he was right. Maybe I was practically asking for it. Maybe...

I glanced up when Tommy grabbed my hand. His stare was intent and regretful. "No, Jude, it's not," He countered swiftly. "It's his deficiency, his damage, his issue. You had nothing to do with it." I blinked, surprised. Why is he being so nice about this? I almost had sex with his older brother! Hell, for all I know, I might have lost it to him! But Tommy doesn't know that. Because I didn't tell him. Sometimes I have this feeling that all the things I haven't told Tommy are going to come back and haunt me someday. Knowing my luck, they will.

He sighed and leaned closer. "I feel responsible for what happened... I wasn't there to protect you, and he's _my _brother... I'm the whole reason he..." Tommy explained sorrowfully. I'm not gonna lie and say he didn't have a point. 'Cause he did. Travis is his brother... Wow, it's still really weird to say that. And Tommy might be a large part of the reason why Travis did what he did. He did it because he needs control, and everything feels out of his control... So he tried to control me. Controlling me is a lot like controlling Tommy, you know. If he could do it, he'd essentially have Tommy by the balls. Supposedly. And he also did it because he wanted to repay the favor, to take what his brother wanted most. It was his way of taking revenge against him. All because Travis thinks Tommy's in love with me; hurt the one, and you hurt the other.

But Tommy not being there to protect me... That wasn't his fault. "Look, Tommy... It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have stopped it... And Joan, she did," I stammered, squeezing his hand unintentionally harder to reinforce my point. I made myself keep looking at him. While I told him. I didn't want to tell him. I really didn't want to, but I kinda had to.

"I... I had an after-school deten-detention. And I was all over him, like... Like a cheap suit or something. I liked him then, you know. I thought he was a decent guy, and I wanted... Oh, I don't know what I wanted! Something. Too much. I shouldn't... And everything was going great, or so I thought, but there was something wrong about it. And then I didn't want to anymore... I mean, we were in the studio at school, for God's sake! It was so dirty, and I didn't feel right about it. And I told him no... again and again and again, and I fought! But he was stronger than me... He overpowered me and pawed at me and bruised me and-" I trailed off in a fit of hiccoughs. Well, more like giant wracking sobs.

Tommy wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to him. How could he be okay with it? I basically said that I had been into Travis. But things were different then... Tommy was so unavailable. And so not an option. Not that he was really any more of an option now. "Jude, honey, it's okay. I get it." I looked up, still so embarrassed and shook my head.

"No, you don't," I said. I don't know why I so desperately wanted him to understand, or even why I thought he didn't. I thought it was because I wanted to let him know that I'd really had feelings for Travis. But that would've been stupid, right? I sighed, leaning my forehead against his. "He's just not you." It was true but not entirely what I meant. "And he's never going to be you." Wow, Jude, way to state the obvious.

Tommy looked up, a thin smile on his lips. "Just like Taylor," He muttered. And then, just like that, I shed the vulnerability, swiping at my eyes ashamedly. I shot Tommy a particularly vicious look.

"Now is _really _not the time, Tommy," I admonished quietly, wearily, pulling away from him.

I took a deep breath, running my fingers over my own flesh to search for blemishes. Tommy pointed to the back of my neck. I frowned in confusion. He lightly pressed his finger to the sensitive skin there. It hurt, and Tommy's finger came back bloody. Point effectively proven. "It's where... Taylor, um, hit you. I should really get that... It looks pretty bad, pretty mangled. It's a wonder you weren't hurt worse," Tommy explained awkwardly. I nodded numbly and Tommy moved behind me, asking me to bend down. My hair was heavy, and glass fluttered down from it. Which was painful and gave me more injuries. Tommy used the tweezers to carefully pull out pieces of glass.

He was so unbelievably careful, probably because he knew a fatal movement could mess up something. Like my spinal cord. It took damn near forever to get all that glass out. Oh, it stung like a bitch too. "By the way, I'm really sorry about that. I know Taylor was going for me, and what you did for me was... I won't forget it." Which is his lame way of saying that I actually saved his life. He so knows it. And he totally owes me. That was followed up by a healthy bath of antiseptic and then a smear of Neosporin, which was followed up with a large bandage across the back of my neck. Then after that we were faced with the joy of getting the glass out of my hair.

Incidentally, I still have the open sore on the back of my neck. It's bandaged over, though. But I have to get someone to change it every day, 'cause it's basically shot every time I shower. Clearly I can't walk around with greasy hair, you know? See, that's where all the fun romance of that night really ends. We never did really finish talking about Travis. Oh well. That'll certainly happen at another time. And, with him here for Christmas, I'm sure I'll be forced to face the issue head-on soon enough.

Now, on to my dear family's impressions.

"Ho-ly cow. What a house!" Sadie exclaimed, somewhat in awe. She and the rest of the fam were doing that whole lean-back and crane your head and stare all the way at it. She looked to me briefly. "We're staying there?" I nodded. Sadie frowned, puzzled. "Not in some guest house or anything?" I shook my head and pointed to the house in silence. Sadie looked impressed.

Dad and Mom merely exchanged stunned looks. "So that's actually their house?" I nodded dully.

"They actually live there?" Mom postulated, unable to grasp the concept. I nodded a bit curtly, sick of the questions. "But it's so big!" I nodded wearily. This is going to be a long trip, isn't it?

Dad shot me a look, clearly smelling something fishy. "Why aren't you so shocked?" He asked calmly. I was so sick of questions that I told him the truth without even thinking about it... minus a few details. Like when it was, for instance.

"Because I've been here before, that's why. Tommy and I went up here and stayed here once. For a weekend. So, yeah, I've been here," I elucidated succinctly. I decided to cut off any possible questions, seeing the looks on their faces. Oddly, no one ever did raise a question about that trip. Or its dates. Or the fact that they'd never known about it. Or that I hadn't asked permission... I pulled something out of my pocket, unfolded it, and held it in their faces. "It's their ancestral home, and here's a map." I presented the map to Sadie, who started looking at it eagerly.

Oy. I rolled my eyes silently and started to make my way up to the giant thing, since no one else was going to. It took me practically fifteen minutes to climb the driveway. I was staring at the front door, which was huge, trying to figure out what to knock or ring when suddenly someone grabbed me around the waist, whirling me around impulsively, and pulled me into a kiss. I was definitely not expecting it, and, truth be told, I was more than a little nervous, so I pushed the guy away from me rather abruptly. Since Tommy or Travis kissing me, and those were the two most likely options, after all, in front of my family is bad. "Get off me! Not in front of my family, you..." I yelled, wiping off my lips.

I hadn't even looked at the guy, but the fact that I really had to wipe off my lips should've been a sign. I opened my eyes and blinked. Taylor had kissed me. Wow. I freak when my own boyfriend kisses me. No wonder the poor guy's staring at me like I just shot his pony. Great. Thanks a lot Tommy and Travis for ruining my life. Really. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Taylor!" I said sincerely, abruptly stopping wiping off my lips. I moved towards him, feeling ashamed. "I just thought it was one of your br..." I just realized how that sentence sounds, so I stopped, because I could already sense him getting jealous, and well, he seemed pretty clueless about the Travis thing.

I forced a smile, blushing at my almost-slip. Taylor did not look amused. "My family's down there too, and they don't... entirely know about you," I confessed. And how weird would it look, some random guy just kissing me? I mean, I know it's Montreal, but still! Oh, great! Now Dad's practically running up the hill because he thinks I've been assaulted. Just what I need right now.

Taylor shot me a look that made me feel extremely guilty for not having told them. "My family knows about you," He pointed out a bit snottily. Taylor bringing that up only served to remind me of the many things I disliked about him. And how he had no right to kiss me in the first place! He was lucky I was still dating him after that stunt he pulled! And when his hot big brother is so into me! Okay, wait, why am I still dating Taylor? Let's be honest here... What progress can we possibly make in a relationship? It's not like I'm just gonna forget that he smashed a punchbowl into my head!

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. "Well, they knew about me before since your older brother apparently talks about me all the time! Tommy's my producer. Your mother was my lawyer, and your eldest brother was my teacher before I even met you! It's not exactly like you had to tell them anything about me!" I argued somewhat bitterly. I was really sick of all of it, you know. I could've pointed out that he knew next to nothing about me and vice-versa, but I didn't.

That would've been rude. And would've seriously messed up my vacation time.

Plus I fell in love with Tommy before I ever knew any of that... his favorite color, his middle name, whether he had siblings or not. I wish I still didn't know if he had siblings, actually. They've messed up my life more than enough. Taylor gaped, incredulous. "What right do you have to say that?!" Um, it's true? I could say I love your brother too, Taylor, but that would be tacky. "You pushed me away when I kissed you!" There's that accusatory tone again.

I glowered at him. "Well, maybe I wouldn't have pushed you away if you hadn't ambushed me like that! I thought you were Tommy or Travis!" I exclaimed, almost wincing at how high my voice got. Taylor flinched and stared at me with hate and jealousy in his eyes. Before he could make a comment, I swooped in. "You **do **remember, right? How Travis assaulted me. And you blame me for not being able to trust you?! Your last name's Quincy, and we all know the Quincy family track record. Your brother's a pedophile, your dad's married to an ex-popstar twelve years younger than he is, your mother's a lawyer, your other brother's a liar, a womanizer, and a heartbreaker, and you're an actor! You get paid to lie for a living. How am I supposed to trust any of you, exactly? If I can't even trust Tommy, then what on Earth makes you think I ought to trust _you?!" _I screeched without thinking.

Huh. I never realized how many trust issues I had. His mother's also a manipulative, neglectful bitch, but we'll save that for another day. Torie has her nice moments too, after all, and she's being so damn hospitable that I can't be mad at her. At least some part of my comment had the desired response, as his face went white, and he stopped talking. He suddenly pulled me to him in an unwanted embrace. "I'm so sorry, Jude. I had completely forgotten about that," He professed honestly.

I pulled back, feeling my irritation rise once again. "How the hell do you manage to forget that your big brother tried to rape your girlfriend, Taylor?!" I snapped, infuriated. ARE YOU A FREAKING IDIOT?! I wanted to point out that Tommy remembered and couldn't forget, and that he even felt responsible... Tom's a decent guy, but I didn't want to make the fight even worse. I could deal with this front, but not that one. The how-I'm-wronging-him-one. Ugh. Save it.

Taylor looked horribly guilty and attempted to reach out for me. I sidestepped him, watching him, waiting to hear his excuse. Oh, this better be good. I was already seething just thinking about it. Taylor scratched the back of his neck and looked down. "Well... It happened a while ago, right?" He stammered. I nodded but found myself infuriated he was going to take that route. The feeling of violation doesn't fade. "And you never mentioned it before..." So what, so it can't be that bad? Well, maybe I wanted to forget it, asshole! "And I know Travis, so it's really hard for me to think that he'd ever intentionally do something like that... Maybe he was just messing with you... and wasn't going to go through with it," Taylor rambled.

Oh hell no. He did NOT just say that. Oh, but wait, there's more idiocy! He should've quit while he was ahead. Well, Travis did. And he is a seriously sick individual, but even Travis doesn't try and sugarcoat what he did or euphemize it. "And you sure seem fine. I mean, you let me kiss you, and let Tommy, who looks just like him, put his hands pretty much wherever he wants..." Pause. He just made a Tommy allusion and made me feel slutty. Screw it. I ought to break up with him. No matter how sweet he can be, it sure as hell isn't worth this. Remind me again why I'm staying away from the one I actually want?

"And he didn't... didn't actually, um, you know... do it, uh, go through with it..." So, what? So it could've been worse, and I should be grateful?! Okay, well, I am... to Joan. "He probably didn't even know we were dating..."

Oh my God. Is that seriously all he cares about? He thinks I cheated on him? It's okay because he didn't know we were dating?! That's it! I've had it! He's going to get a piece of my mind, whether he wants it or not!

I struck out at him without even thinking, so incensed was I. "Are you socially handicapped, or is it just mental with you?!" I hollered in disbelief. I think it's obvious who did not receive the family intelligence genes. I can't believe any one person can be so blind. Much less an actor. Ever heard of empathy, asshole? Before Taylor could object, I pressed on. "For the record, it happened before we were even dating, before I'd even met your sorry ass! And, really, could you blame the victim any more, Taylor?! Oh, sure, _blame_ the innocent girl instead of the predatory peeping **pedophile**!" I interjected stubbornly. The words just came out without any thought, one after the other, as soon as I could breathe them out.

Not that it's any of his business anyways. Taylor looked somewhat shamed, but I wasn't done with him. I wasn't done until he knew how it felt. "You probably actually believe that line of crap, don't you? You think I brought it on myself, and that I encouraged it, and that Travis had the _right _to **take **what I didn't want to give him! Your only concern about the whole thing isn't about me at all... it's just another matter of possession with you! You don't care about my well-being, and you don't know jack about it! All you care about is how he didn't know we were dating... like that excuses anything," I continued confrontationally, holding out my arms outstretched, like I was daring him to do it. He couldn't even look at me.

It pissed me off that that was always all he cared about. Like he actually thought I was cheating on him. That's all he cares about. That I'm his or whatever. God, the whole point of Travis messing with me was the same thing! Because he thinks I'm Tommy's!

I firmly planted my hands on my hips. "Well, frankly, it _doesn't_,"I barked. "Just because it happened months ago doesn't mean that the memory isn't fresh in my mind. It doesn't mean that I don't have nightmares every night. It doesn't mean that I, myself, have stopped thinking about it!" I paused, running my hands through my hair and shooting him a dirty look. "God, you can't even remember it for a _weekend!_"

Taylor flinched, but I continued, moving closer to him. "It doesn't mean that the shame or the guilt or the utter humiliation or, worse, the violation has gone away. It still hurts. I'm **not **fine, Taylor! It's not just going to go away. Are you freaking blind or something? I can't trust people. I almost get a panic attack just looking at your brother some days... I-" I trailed off, unable to say anything else. I needed to catch my breath, so I paused for a brief moment. "I didn't ever tell you because it was none of your **damn **business, and it's not like I knew that bastard was your big brother! I didn't tell you because I wanted to forget it ever _happened. _I'm not going to cry to my supposed boyfriend over some guy trying to rape me. I know guys don't like that sort of baggage, so why would I unload it on you, whom I barely know?"

Taylor hung his head, knowing I had a good point. I saw the apology forming on his lips and cut him off, anticipating it. Why would he expect me to tell him, who's practically a stranger? I pushed his chin up, practically crushing it between my fingers so that our eyes met. "Just because I don't talk about it doesn't mean that it goes away. And even Travis manages to acknowledge it. He did it, and he'll own up to it. I don't know what the hell was going through his mind, but it sure as hell wasn't messing with me! Actually, I'll tell you. It was revenge and lust and need and desperation, okay, and maybe a little insanity and lack of common decency... human decency, really... thrown in the mix too! It _wasn't _a mistake. It was a deliberate action, not some kind of reflex or clerical error or a misunderstanding or some crap like that. He's practically twenty-six and my teacher. Trust me when I say that he knew what he was doing, all right," I explained bluntly.

I dropped his chin and gave him a patronizing look, moving away slowly. "I'd reenact it for you, but I think that would turn your weak little stomach. That scene would be just a little too _real, _now wouldn't it," I drawled mockingly. I realized then that I was going too far with it, getting too deep, too real, too personal... But I couldn't stop. Even if I was toeing the line. I could tell that I'd been right. Taylor looked queasy just hearing the words.

"It sure as hell would make me want to vomit up my lunch, and I was there," I bit out, pushing him back with a finger. Taylor literally squirmed. I was surprised he'd held my gaze for so long. "Just because he didn't finish the deed doesn't mean that it wasn't **done, **okay?!" I yelled so loudly it surprised both of us. I caught my breath, noticing the confused look on Taylor's face. Can't say I blame him. I'm probably not making much sense. I took a shallow breath and tried to explain myself. "Even an _attempted _rape is a violation." He looked uncomfortable.

I shook my head and pushed forward violently. I found myself moving closer to Taylor almost against my will. "When someone tries to force himself on you, violently, and you're helpless... can't do one damn thing about it for all the fighting in the word because he's got your arms over your head, and you're pressed between him and a harder place, and he's all over you, hands and fingers and tongue, and tearing at your clothes, and so damn strong... You _don't _forget it," I vowed, shuddering all over from the reminder. It was like I could feel him doing it again. This was a whole different kind of violation. I had accompanied my description with hand motions, holding my hands together over my head, like he had. I showed him the way I flinched away from Travis, the way I squirmed and tried to move away from him, the way I fought.

"It has pretty much the same effect, except I didn't have to feel him _wiggling _around inside of me like a goddamn worm afterwards. And I didn't have to handle having his **seed **inside of me and wonder if he'd given me an STD or knocked me up. And yeah, maybe he didn't even get his fingers right to the _sweet _spot, and he didn't make me get down on my knees and do his bidding, but it damn well left a mark on my soul. _His _mark. A stain or brand, if you will, on both heart and mind," I spat, letting him know the extent of my revulsion. I knew the language would gross him out, and he winced accordingly. But I wasn't done. I got caught up in the heat of the moment.

"I still had his cheap cologne smell all over me and his sweat cold on my skin, and the feeling of his hands on my bare skin, and his breath on my neck and his low, raspy, husky voice ringing in my ears, and his lust-filled, dark green eyes in my mind, haunting my every waking moment, and his taste on my lips for hours afterwards. And no matter how hard and how furiously I scrubbed, the dirty, shameful feeling wouldn't go away," I found myself spilling all of it like that. I'd never told anyone about it like that. Not really. It was strangely revealing, but Taylor didn't notice that. He just looked horrified. "So don't tell me it wasn't real because he didn't go all the way. It was real to me, all right," I rejoined searingly. I paused, finding myself breathless. "I live with the consequences of his actions every day. I haven't forgotten, and I haven't forgiven him either."

But time will pass, and eventually I'll do one or the other, maybe even both. Travis and I haven't exactly had a proper discussion about it yet. Maybe once we do, once he acknowledges it and accepts what he did... Maybe then I can get some closure.

I tried to put all of that out of mind nonetheless, switching with ease to the stuff about Tommy. I wound up telling Taylor things I'd kept back, things I have never wanted to tell him. But suddenly I just didn't care anymore about avoiding the fight. "You can **cut **it with the Tommy stuff, okay? Because I didn't throw myself at him or Travis. I'm not a whore like that." I suddenly realized that that was pretty much a bold-faced lie, but I didn't care. He didn't need to know that. Besides, Tommy told me it wasn't my fault. I think I can believe him. "I didn't bring this all on myself. It's just easier for you to blame me for wrecking everything than it is for you to realize that your brother is a molester and a sexual predator!" I added stubbornly, with the firm conviction that I was right.

"But back to Tommy because he's what you really want to talk about. Tommy gets it, okay? I told him, and he understood! And he didn't treat me differently or look at me differently, or say any of the idiotic things you just did. He stepped up like a _real _man and picked up the pieces. He took care of me. He apologized, even though it's not his fault, just because Travis is his brother, and they look alike! He feels bad about it! It makes him sad and angry and actually **feel **things! He actually has empathy for me instead of just running away like you do, you flipping coward! He actually gives a damn about how I feel, and he knows when I'm lying, and he definitely knows that I'm not fine. And, you know what, Tommy actually _cares! _He never forgot! More than I can say for you!" I declared passionately.

Was that maybe a little too obvious? It was all true, though. Tommy didn't forget. He was the one who figured it out! And he did all of that. He did, ironically enough, pick up the pieces. That, of course, made Taylor furious with me. I know, ridiculous, huh? Instead of saying a word about the entire rest of the speech I just gave him, he picks up on the one paragraph about Tommy. It's so typical. He was, however, more angry than I'd anticipated. "If he's so understanding, then why aren't you dating him?!" Taylor countered, clearly enraged. He was red in the face, but he just looked blotchy.

That's exactly the question I've been asking myself. I shrugged jerkily. "I don't know! I thought I saw something in you," I spat viciously. I paused for a moment in contemplation. "I thought you were... ha... more trustworthy. But you're all just one giant pack of liars, and I don't know why I ever bothered wast-" I continued bitterly, hearing my voice rise as I went on. We were interrupted by my cellphone blaring.

_I was adrift on an ocean, all alone! But you came and rescued me-_

My face burned, and I could feel Taylor's glare burning holes into me. If looks could kill. "Oh, what a surprise! It's Tommy!" Taylor exclaimed sarcastically. He clapped his hands mockingly. "Are you like number one on his speed-dial or something?" I rolled my eyes. Damn it. What timing Tommy has! I was just about to actually do what he wanted and dump his brother. Oh well. I'll just do it later.

"Excuse me," I remarked bitingly, "but I've got to get this. It's urgent." I glowered at Taylor and tried to focus on the conversation at hand. "Hello, Tommy. I must say that you have stellar timing. Taylor and I were just having a little discussion... about you and the nature of our relationship, among other things," I said coolly. Whose relationship was I talking about, though? Mine and Tommy's or mine and Taylor's?

Taylor was staring at me hatefully. "Um, okay... Sorry? I can call back if I'm interrupting anything important," Tommy said, sounding somewhat confused. I actually debated it for a minute. Instant dumping or Tommy time now? Hm. Tommy wins. Like always.

I shook my head, smiling sweetly. "No, Tommy. You don't have to do that. Trust me, it's better that you're interrupting. It was beginning to get a little ugly, actually." Taylor shot me a look as if to remind me that I was the one that made it that way. Well, I wouldn't have had to if he wasn't such a tool. And a moron. And so insensitive that he makes Travis look good. "So... what did you want to talk about?" I asked calmly.

Tommy waited a moment before speaking. His curiosity had clearly gotten the better of him. "What were you two fighting about?" I rolled my eyes. You. What else? Of course, I couldn't say that.

I kept the smile plastered on my face. "Well, the conversation was headed exactly the way you want it to," I hissed so that Taylor couldn't hear. I paused, deciding to be cruel. "In fact, I'd begun to reconsider my original position. I thought that maybe you were right after all, and that I should just... you know... rip the band-aid off. And then you called. I don't know, Tommy. Maybe I've changed my mind again," I replied smoothly, feeling my grin turn to a smirk.

That was code for before you called, I decided I was gonna dump Taylor. But maybe I decided against that too. Don't you want to know which I decided?

There's no doubt in my mind that I heard that sharp intake of breath on his side. My smirk widened. Wow, ew. Travis smirks. Gross.

I wondered briefly what Taylor was thinking about all of this. True to form, he looked vaguely confused. "Are you for real?" I rolled my eyes. No, I'm fake, Thomas. I'm just a damn illusion. I just about said that too, but fortunately I refrained. "I mean, seriously... Do you mean it?" Oh my gosh. Was that just a catch in his voice? How cute is that?

Pausing for a moment to make him sweat, I considered his question briefly before continuing. "Unlike you, Tommy, I keep my word... I'm considering it, at least. Now, _persuade _me," I said in a husky voice. It was an order, not a request. I waited silently, turning to notice my father marching up the hill. He had almost reached us, and, unfortunately, looked quite out-of-breath. What can I say? He's not as young as he used to be.

Tommy started to say something over the phone, sounding excited about the prospect I'd just thrown in his lap at first, but then he seeped to think better of it and stopped. "You're at the house, right?" I scoffed. House? It should be called a mansion, an estate... a castle! Besides, where else would I be? He knows I'm coming today. I nodded simply before I realized he couldn't see me.

His impatient breathing sounded in my ear and managed to distract me. "Yeah," I replied a moment later, feeling quite foolish. "I'm at the top of the circle drive, standing on your doorstep. Why?" I asked, somewhat puzzled.

I swear I could hear him smiling. "Let's just say I'm going to persuade you... one way or another. Trust me, Jude, you _will_ come to see my point of view before this trip is over," A gleeful Tommy remarked. I gulped hard. That was never good news. He sounded so sure of himself too. It was utterly sickening. And what's he mean, "one way or another"? It sounds a taste too Travis for me.

"If I was a betting woman, I'd ask you to make a wager on that." And wow, way to not sound like I'm flirting with him. A smile crept across my face, unbidden. I realized suddenly that I was pacing. The scowl, I noted briefly, seemed even more set into Taylor's countenance. Like I cared.

Tommy's smirk was obvious. "Being a gambler, I'd take you up on it. In a split second," Tommy flirted back. In a split second, huh? Talk about your deja vu. Had it been only a year ago when he'd said those very words to... well, not to me... but to Kwest, about me? Funny. It felt like it had been longer. It feels like I've known him forever. I've got the first letter of his name tattooed on my hip. He might as well brand me. And I might as well just give in to the inevitable. Let Tommy win that bet. Tom paused, letting out a small chuckle. "What I have to wonder, however, is what else you could possibly have to gain from such a bet, presuming, of course, that I lost. Which I won't... What could you possibly ask for?" Tommy mused.

Nothing, I suppose. By winning, I'd lose him. He was all I'd wanted for a really long time. The only thing I've wanted so badly and never had. I was too lost in my thoughts to answer him, so Tommy answered his own question. "You know I'd give you anything if you just asked, don't you? Even the world..." Tommy admitted with a surprising sincerity. His voice was soft and wistful.

I was speaking before I knew what I was doing. "And the moon and all the stars in the night sky too?" I inquired, feeling and sounding like a lost, lonely little girl. Was I really so starved for attention and affection? Man, I am seriously losing my grip here! And I'm not even looking at him! It's not like the night he broke up with Sadie, so why am I like this?

"Yes." And then he hung up. I turned my phone off, shutting it and feeling very strange all of a sudden. A cold shiver overtook me, and I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth. I turned around and saw Tommy coming from the other side of the house. He was walking towards me. Okay, so maybe it was more like running. Not running. Speed-walking. He looked impeccably stylish, too. And very, very good.

Naturally, Tommy beat my father to me. Taylor was distracted by something or other... Maybe a butterfly or something. Either way, he failed to notice Tommy pass him and sweep me up in his arms. Romantic? Hell yeah. Tommy pressed a kiss to my cheek before turning and doing the same to the other. Typical Quebec greeting, I thought, even though both times his lips brushed against the corners of mine. However, he didn't move away or let go, and I noticed his gaze go to the side, towards Taylor. Once he ascertained that my boyfriend wasn't watching us, Tommy crashed his lips against mine before I could do anything to stop him.

Not that I wanted to.

Then, just as suddenly as he'd slipped past my defenses (and slipped me the tongue), Tommy pulled away. He licked his lips almost like he'd savored the taste and then leaned in, pressing his lips against my other cheek, repeating the ritual. Brushing over the corners of my lips included. "Bienvenue." I was left somewhat dazed and confused by this, with little time to respond. He pulled away then, just as abruptly, and I turned around to notice both my father and Taylor staring at us. I felt myself flush, wondering how much of that exchange they had seen.

Sadly, my father looked more okay with it than did Taylor. I suppose this is because Dad kind of knows, so I guess he kind of expects it. Now, I'm sure he didn't expect Tommy to make out with me in public, but, hey, who ever expects that? Certainly not me! Surprisingly, my Tommy was as smooth as all get out. He walked right over to Daddy, smiling like you wouldn't believe! He held out a hand for Dad to shake. Dad took it, giving him a somewhat reproachful look. "Stuart, it's so nice to see you again! Are you and the Mrs. going to be staying with us this year? I'm sure my mother would be glad to welcome you into her home. She so longs for adult companionship... She doesn't really get much with all us kids in the house!" Tommy exclaimed charmingly, perhaps overdoing it a little.

My dad smiled at Tommy, pleased with him. "Always a pleasure, Tommy." There was genuine warmth in Dad's voice. Tommy looked relieved all over. I think he was just glad Dad didn't hold the mess with Sadie against him. Truthfully, the whole family, Sadie included, was pretty relieved that it was all over. Dad and Mom could never really keep things straight; the poor guys didn't know up from down, really, what with what the tabs were saying. Sadie's glad to be out of all the drama... And, of course, I'm just glad Tommy's all mine for the moment. Even if he has to share me.

"We're just here to say goodbye. Victoria and I have plans already... We're going to Tahiti for a second honeymoon," Dad explained happily. Tommy smiled back and congratulated him, making a rather flirtatious comment about my mom and how lucky he was that I don't want to repeat. Dad laughed, clapping Tommy on the back. "Besides, we figured the girls would much prefer it if we weren't here. You know, they'll have more fun without their old man spying on them," Dad added not very comically, sending me a wink. I rolled my eyes at him goodnaturedly like I was actually embarrassed of him.

Tommy's grin widened, as if he'd completely forgotten that his ex would be there. "Maybe next year, then?" Tommy offered slyly. Dad shot me a rather surprised look. I shrugged because what else could I do. My heart thudded unpleasantly in my chest. Does that mean what I think it does? It sounds like Tommy... but, oh, no, he can't possibly! It sounds like he's serious and making plans in the future and... wow. However, Dad managed to regain himself enough to manage a nod.

"That sounds great, Tommy." I couldn't help but smile. Tommy's actually serious. Maybe I should reconsider after all... Dad rested his hand on Tommy's shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. "Thanks so much for inviting the girls to stay with you and your family for the holidays. It means a lot to all of us," Dad continued sincerely. Man love. That's what that is. It's so cute the way Tommy and my dad get on, isn't it? I just wanna go awwww and pinch their little cheeks!

Tommy waved it off casually. "Really, Stuart, it's no trouble at all. I care a lot about Sadie and Jude, so of course I'd want them here. Besides, my whole family is very fond of Jude. She's almost one of our own, really," Tommy elaborated, smiling pleasantly. Is it just me or did he mean all that? His smile totally widened when he was talking about me! Ahh! My own grin stretched from ear to ear. Dad shot me a meaningful look, raising an eyebrow. I felt somehow embarrassed for overhearing all of it.

Dad suddenly put both of his hands on Tommy's shoulders. "Tommy, you know you're one of the family, right? Whether you like it or not. You're practically a son-in-law to me," Dad told him quite frankly. What he meant was that Tommy is pretty much his son-in-law by this point, although you could argue that he was referencing Tommy's engagement to Sadie. Either way, Tom paled and gave me a look when Dad wasn't looking. I responded with an equally confused look. Dad was also saying that he expects Tommy to marry me, which is, frankly, a bit much. Tommy did know most of this, though, so he eventually managed a smile and thanked my dad.

Dad pulled away from Tommy, clearing his throat. He and Tommy, however, exchanged a look that meant they would talk later. "Vic and Sadie ought to be up shortly. With Sadie's bags," My dad deadpanned. Tommy laughed, knowing about Sadie's packing habits. I laughed too. Sadie had brought seven or something. We could barely fit them all in the car. As for me, I had my backpack, my guitar, my bag, and my suitcase. And another bag full of presents. "Take care of my girls, Tommy," Dad said with some authority. Tommy looked surprised he was being bestowed with such trust, but he nodded solemnly and silently swore to do so.

Sensing the awkwardness in the air, I turned to Tommy. "When's Chaz getting here?" I asked curiously. Ruby's getting in in a few days. The poor girl went to visit her family again... and to collect the rest of her things. She's going to live with us until she can find a place of her own. It would be so ghastly if they arrived at the exact same time, wouldn't it? Tommy snapped to attention, turning to me and thinking of it for a moment.

"He should be here today. He's not really on speaking terms with his parents, so he just has to tie up a few loose ends in town. He had a session with Kwest today. G wants to get his album out by spring in time for the PR boost the telethon will give him, so she's trying to get as much done as possible before the holidays. The assumption is, of course, that we'll get some more writing done over the break and do some recording here. You're doing a double release, so yours is set for early to late summer," Tommy explained in a very business-like tone. I nodded. Tommy's eyes said that Georgia might be dropping in to check on us. His mother and her sister were good friends.

I suddenly worried that "Auntie Paulina" might show up to this family thing, so I sought to ask Tommy about that. "Your Aunt Paulina's not coming, is she?" I questioned desperately.

Tommy shuddered all over. "Don't call that woman my aunt." I couldn't blame him for being horrified. Tommy rolled his eyes. "As much as Mom would like that, she decided that she'd cause too much drama... Things are tenuous enough as it is with the family reuniting and you coming. Besides... Paulina's spending it with Darius," Tommy elucidated with disgust in his voice. I shivered myself at the mental picture and felt sorry for Georgia.

I wondered about her for a bit. "What about Georgia? What's she doing?" I wondered quietly. Tommy frowned, thinking about it. He shrugged.

"I don't know. Definitely avoiding Paulina... Maybe she's going on a trip? Georgia likes to go scouting around Christmas sometimes... She usually works, from what I understand. Last year E.J. invited her to spend Christmas with her. Hmm... Oh, I think G has a niece in town, maybe. She has a nephew too... Her dead brother's kids." I stared at Tommy in wonder, surprised that he knew so much. I felt somewhat better, as I'd been worried that Georgia would be all alone for the holidays. Tommy smiled a little. "And, of course, she'll probably drop in here for a little visit." I felt myself smile. Oh, good. Georgia was like an aunt to me.

Then Taylor stupidly interjected. "Oh, things are serious with her and E.J.? They thinking about getting hitched?" Taylor asked, thinking he was funny. Dumbass. I think he wanted us to remember he existed. Sucky job, by the way. Should've interrupted Dad and Tom's convo. I glowered at him and Tommy just stared at him, mouth wide open. I took it upon myself to berate him.

"E.J. is straight! I mean, seriously, you should hear some of the things she says about your brother! You wouldn't doubt that then! And Georgia! She's a friend of your family, and her lovelife is really none of your business!" I growled irritably. They were like family to me. Both Tommy and I owed them so much that the slight against them upset me.

Dad shot me a quizzical look, gesturing to Taylor. "Who's this, Jude? A friend or relative of Tommy's?" Dad asked patiently. Taylor glared at me. It was a look that plainly said that he wanted to murder me. He walked briskly towards me, practically shaking with suppressed rage. Tommy moved closer to me also, as if he felt a sudden urge to protect me.

"You didn't tell him!" Taylor ejaculated in sheer disbelief. I tried not to cower. How had I never realized that he had his brothers' temper? Jeez, Travis and Tommy look downright calm by comparison! But it's probably just his hormones that makes it this bad. I flushed and turned to my dad awkwardly, gesturing towards Taylor. I was slightly afraid he would throttle me.

"Of course I told him," I retorted sourly out of the side of my mouth. I paused. "I just didn't introduce you." Because you're an uncivilized beast, and I think I need to break up with you in a public place but not humiliate you. I forced a smile and gave Dad my full attention. "Dad, this is Taylor Quincy. He's Tommy's younger brother... Taylor, this is my dad, Stuart Harrison," I clarified somewhat nervously.

Taylor walked up to stand next to me, giving me a dirty look. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and I felt even more uncomfortable. "I'm her _**boyfriend**_,"Taylor interjected, once again giving me a dour look. He made sure to stress the word while glaring daggers at Tommy. Impressive, no? I never knew he could multitask like that. Dad raised an eyebrow as if to ask wordlessly if this was really true. He couldn't believe it. Not that I blame him. Taylor was, for some particular reason, that one being Tommy, not his usual charming self. He was jealous that Dad was so fond of Tommy and thought it was all his idea.

Dad, bless his little soul, was able to smile and find the irony in the situation. Once again he addressed Tommy. "Well, Tom, you really weren't kidding when you said the whole family was fond of her, were you?"

As if on cue, we all said the same thing in unison. It was friggin' creepy. "Oh, you have _no _idea." The brothers especially, Daddy Dearest. Dad gave us all a strange look, but we disregarded it. Taylor's arm slipped off my shoulder, and Tommy was suddenly on my left side, right next to me. I wished I could sink into the floor. Dad continued smiling kindly at my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend.

"I'm afraid we haven't heard as much about you as we'd like, Taylor, so maybe you could tell me about yourself?" Dad posed very considerately. I could've hugged Dad, but that would've seemed strange. Dad winked at me before turning back to Taylor. "I hear you're an actor, right?" I can't believe Dad knew that. I'm not sure I ever even mentioned the name Taylor Quincy. Well, Sadie knows him, I guess. Barely. From that awful night I won that award and Tommy dumped Sadie.

As if the timing could not get any worse, Travis stepped out from behind a pillar. Wow, creepy. Isn't that how I first laid eyes on Tom? He smirked at Tommy, who glared at him. "You really welcomed Jude into the family, didn't you, T?" Taylor stopped talking to glare at him. Inventive, aren't they? Travis' eyes were hard like flint. Tommy matched his stare, although he looked a little worried. Taylor apparently didn't yet know what Travis meant, but he was about to know soon enough. "Most ardent and amorous a welcome." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

My poor father stared on, puzzled by this sudden turn of events. I really didn't want to explain Travis to him. Really. Taylor turned to glare at Tommy then, because he wasn't stupid. "What is he referring to, Tom?" His voice was terse and stubborn. Tommy, however, was nonplussed. He shrugged coolly.

"Quebec greeting customs," Tommy grit out.

Travis laughed aloud, highly amused by this turn of events. "Bon! Tu as pris d'avantage notre p'tit frère naïf. Le pauvre bonhomme. Il est presque analphabète de la langue française, et tu l'as utilisé contre lui. Il n'a pas habité ici comme toi et moi... alors il ne sauriait pas que tes actions n'avais pas été une coutume québéçoise. Alors, il est trop stupide pour vivre si il croit que la frencher c'est le même comme dire bonjour! La honte à toi!" Travis drawled in rapid-fire French Taylor was sure not to understand.

Tommy told me later, reluctantly, that Travis had eventually said this: Great! Taking advantage of our naïve little brother's French illiteracy to pass frenching Jude off as a French-Canadian greeting custom! Then again, he's too stupid to live if he believes that making out with Jude is the same as saying hello! Shame on you! He meant it, apparently, with a kind of jesting spirit.

I assumed that meant Travis had seen us kissing. So how long had he been lurking there behind a pillar? I agreed with Travis, though. Seriously, how dumb do you have to be to believe kissing on the mouth is a greeting custom. However, it seemed that Taylor caught the gist of this statement, as he turned to Tommy expectantly. "So you greet all visitors with a kiss then, eh?" Tommy gave his brother a hard look before turning to Travis with a shrewd look in his eye.

"When appropriate," Tommy answered succinctly. I wisely took the opportunity to tell my father, loudly, that he ought to get Sadie and Victoria. He was distracted replying to me when it happened. Tommy, with his lips in a grim line, walked over to Travis and pressed a kiss on his lips. To say Travis was surprised was an understatement, but Tommy abruptly pulled away before Travis could do a damn thing about it (well, before he realized exactly what was going on), smirking at Taylor like, "are you satisfied?" I just about died. So did Taylor. But in different ways. It was so hot that I seriously fell over. OMFG. That's all that can be said.

Naturally, people scrambled over to help me, and Travis regained his wits. I giggled to myself. "Kissing him always does that to me too, Travis!" I whispered over my shoulder, laughing my head off at him. Travis' open mouth closed, stunned by the response. Taylor glared, per usual, and Tommy tried his best not to look shamed or embarrassed.

Travis wiped his mouth, putting on a show of being disgusted. Like I said, Tommy didn't try anything on him. He snorted, walking up behind Tommy and putting a hand on his shoulder to snarl in his ear. "Nice going, Trojan. You almost managed to turn me on," Travis drawled mockingly. Tommy tried his best not to squirm. Travis wisely moved away from his brother and came to join the circle around me. He smirked at Tommy, and I hated the meaning of it.

"Careful, Tom. Do that again, and Jude just might come..." Travis hinted suggestively. My jaw dropped. He just went there. In front of my dad. Great. Perv. Now how the hell am I gonna introduce him? I'm just lucky he didn't see Tommy kiss Travis, then he'd be really confused. Tommy's eyes widened, and I felt my own face flame up. Dad started to send me a concerned, nervous look. He looked like he didn't want me staying here anymore. Can't say I don't blame him. Tommy elbowed his brother hard in the side, jerking his head towards my dad. Travis seemed to understand. "Here. More often." He chuckled somewhat awkwardly. "Mom wouldn't be pleased."

Travis turned to me, smirking at Tommy. "Well, if it's tradition, might as well give you a proper hello," Travis posited, grabbing my arm softly and leaning towards me. Before either of his brothers could do anything about it, I pulled back and stepped away, dodging his would-be kiss. I forced a smile. Travis shook his head, frowning ironically. "Jeez, I was just going to say hello. Like Tommy did. I mean, that was what he was doing, wasn't it, Jude?" Travis proclaimed loudly, knowing full well that it would annoy Taylor. In a lower voice, he added, so my father couldn't hear, "You didn't used to be so choosy." He made sure to move in kind of close just to be obnoxious.

I shoved Travis away, clearly annoyed with him. Dad cleared his throat, a concerned look on his face. He's a smart guy, my dad. And smart to be worried. "Jude," He began pointedly, eying Travis, "Who is that man?"

Travis raised an eyebrow, still far too close for my liking. I scowled at him and turned to Dad, an evil idea brewing in my mind. Wanna know what that was? I told him the truth. I put this big, wide, victorious smile on my face, and I told him. "Dad, this is Mr. Travis Quinn, my music teacher. Mr. Quinn, this is my father, Stuart Harrison," I introduced oh-so-sweetly. I turned to see Travis' response to this introduction. I figured Quinn was his legal name. Maybe I wanted Dad to do something about it.

Dad's jaw visibly dropped and then tightened. Travis looked a bit nervous, to say the least. He'd been acting like Tommy's brother, not my teacher. Although, really, with the family resemblance? Daddy's not blind. Travis forced a smile and extended a hand for my father to shake. My father did this, shaking Travis' hand tightly. It could more correctly be described as a death grip. "You know, you have an oddly familiar relationship with my daughter, Mr. Quinn," My father stated almost accusingly.

Travis shot me a glare out of the corner of his eye before quickly focusing on my father. He smiled at me while simultaneously glowering at me. "We're very close." I could just see him biting down a remark about Tommy. But not as close as Tommy and your daughter. Dad raised an eyebrow. I couldn't exactly disagree with Travis, but I wanted to see him weasel his way out of it on his own. Travis took the opportunity to get his hand out of Dad's iron grip. "We help each other on compositions sometimes." Wow, this is awkward. And so hilarious. I couldn't help but snicker to myself, leaning towards Tommy.

Tommy put his hand on the small of my back, unbeknown to anyone. I let a smile curl on my lips. Tommy also smiled. The both of us were shaking with quiet laughter. Well, somewhat quiet. "Where's your silver tongue now, Trav?" I hissed mockingly. Travis turned around to give me a sharp look, but it seemed that comment made him improve in eloquence. Unfortunately for me and my entertainment.

"Your daughter's so far above the rest of the class that regular activities don't challenge her, so it's necessary to have a lot of one-on-one time to work on some aspects of her work that require more polishing. I have had the privilege of teaching few students with Jude's natural abilities. In fact, I'd say she's the most talented student I've ever had the pleasure of working with," Travis explained, laying it on thick as frosting. Dad didn't entirely buy it, so Travis elaborated. He gave Tommy a hateful look.

"And with the family ties as they are... It's only natural that we strike up a friendship."

Dad perked up a bit at this. "Family ties?" He asked curiously. I glared daggers at Travis' back. Of course, and he pulls the Tommy card. It cheered me up somewhat that I knew Travis was loathe to use it.

Travis managed a quite charming smile. "Oh, yes. I'm Tommy and Taylor's older brother. Makes it a bit difficult," Travis explained slyly. Oh, I hate him. Dad looked surprised for a moment before realizing the obvious resemblance. Obviously the next question Dad was going to ask involved what he was doing there. Before anyone could say anything, I decided to interrupt before my dad got fond of him.

"Travis, where is your lovely fiancée?" I inquired coolly. Travis shot me a look.

"Maybe you should ask Tommy," Travis retorted swiftly, bitterly. Well, clearly he doesn't know if he's here. With us. Tommy looked nonplussed. I supposed that Kate was either somewhere deep within the house's recesses or else meeting him there.

"Like I'd be that stupid twice?" Tommy rejoined, rolling his eyes. Travis clenched his fist. "If I knew you would harp on it for five years, I never would've laid a finger on her. If I knew it would turn you into this bitter shell of a man... or whatever you are now... I wouldn't have done a thing. But jeez, it was five years ago. Don't you think it's time to get the hell over it?" Tommy interjected irritably. Both of their muscles flexed as if ready for fighting.

"I think this conversation would be best continued over drinks," I interrupted snappily, grabbing Tommy's arm and physically pulling him away from Travis. I smiled politely. "After all, wouldn't want to cause another scene." I made sure all of the guys got the message with a look, especially Taylor. I smiled awkwardly at Dad and thanked God when Sadie and Mom showed up only moments later with the bags before Dad could ask any more questions.

Travis later berated Tommy for that, so I'm told, but it was amusing watching Tommy kiss practically all of his family members. He kissed Sadie too, thoroughly confusing her later on. But then Travis later said something like, "Oh, how apropros. Wouldn't be the first time you've betrayed me with a kiss, would it, Judas?" And then Tommy pointed out that Travis was hardly Jesus and that he was really quite tired of his martyr act. Then he cited the Godfather and Bugs Bunny for examples of "insulting" kisses and whatnot. Overcompensating much, aren't they?

Tommy, the apparent master of the house and our host, arranged for someone to take our bags up to our rooms. He also kindly described where they were. In private, so Travis and Taylor wouldn't know where we were. All three brothers were in separate wings. Apparently my room's in a tower. My room also happens to be in Tommy's wing. Coincidence, I should think not. Especially since only he and his mother know where it is. Then my loving parents said goodbye to us and headed back to Toronto to catch their flight. Then it was time for everyone to meet the whole family.

Unfortunately, since Tommy was leading the way, Travis was allowed to sidle up next to me. Taylor was still too angry to speak to me. He (Travis, that is) grabbed my hand and pressed a kiss to it. He smirked at me as I tried to jerk my hand free from his grip, pressing the ring I still stupidly wore. "Cute, you still wear my ring! Does this mean we're going steady, Harrison?" Travis exclaimed in a girlish voice, batting his eyelashes at me.

I glowered at him. "Shut up, Chuck," I snapped. Ha ha. Up-chuck. 'S what he makes me do. Travis made a face at me, and I felt somewhat pleased. "As I was saying, Charles, please remove yourself from my sight. You disgust me, although it was funny watching you make a damn fool of yourself in front of my father. You're just lucky he didn't ask what the hell you were doing trying to kiss me!" I ordered bossily, shoving Travis away from me.

Travis wisely took the hint, and a curious Sadie was suddenly at my side, staring after him. "Is that...?" I nodded grimly. Sadie's brow furrowed. "The one who came out of the house that one time?" I nodded, feeling shameful. I glanced ahead to see if any of them had overheard. They hadn't. Sadie's frown deepened. "And how is he related to..." Sadie trailed off, but I knew what she meant. Tommy. Remind me some more, why don't you?

I forced a smile. "He's his older brother." Sadie raised an eyebrow, clearly unaware that he even had one. I shrugged as she vocalized that. I didn't think it would be wide to broadcast the fact that I'd already known that. Or, for that matter, that Travis was my teacher. Then Sadie nodded as if that was why Travis stayed the night. No. "It's not what you think, Sadie, really. That night," I explained hurriedly.

Sadie gave me a skeptical look. Because, in her mind, there was only one thing that it was. Sex. Mind in the gutter, Sadie! She's thinking, oh, Jude just screwed that guy because she wanted my man. And that I even knew they were brothers. I wanted to say something, but Sadie cut me off by clearing her throat. She opened her mouth as if to say something, paused mid-mumbled-word and shook her head before saying something else entirely. "How old is he, then?" She questioned in a hushed tone.

I swallowed hard, seeing the disapproval in her eyes. Like she had any right after that crap with Tommy? "He'll be twenty-six in a month, Sades." Sadie's jaw dropped, and she looked at his back, astonished. While she was incapacitated, I sought to explain in a guilty whisper of my own. "Look, that night I was drunk. Drunk off my _ass, _**blackout **drunk, okay..._ incapacitated_, really...and he was nice to me. I don't remember what happened... And I didn't even know he was Tommy's brother. I thought he was a friend. He wasn't... some kind of replacement. It wasn't like that!" I murmured, growing progressively more hysterical as I went on.

Sadie looked contemplative when she turned back to me. The bitch clearly had not heard a word I said because she looked at me like I was a primo skank. I frowned, trying to remember why I'd stupidly consumed that much liquor around Travis in the first place. It was insanely idiotic of me. I know better than that. "He's a good kisser, isn't he?" Sadie gushed.

I rolled my eyes, shrugging. "Tommy's better." Plus Tommy doesn't repulse me. Sadie gave me this "are you sure" look. I rolled my eyes again. That's beginning to hurt. "He's a bit too forceful, and he tastes like raspberries," I confessed further, unwilling to share any more details. Oh, and he likes it rough. And he likes us younguns. The younger, the better, for all I know! Even though he only digs us teens. And he has no regard for my personal health.

My sister grinned victoriously, looking amused. Then the little silly grin dropped off her face. "I thought you liked raspberries," She mumbled, puzzled as to why I so clearly didn't like him.

'Cause he's a masher, Sades. My face turned to stone. "I used to." Before Travis ruined them for me. I'll get over that, though. It was raspberries mixed with stale whiskey and cigarette smoke with the barest trace of iron, not an altogether appealing taste. "Tommy does, anyways," I said, remembering his love of imported raspberry licorice. I allowed myself a small smile at that.

She jerked her head towards Travis, giggling a little at the sour look on my face. "Talk, Dark, and Bitter was totally flirting with you earlier! I mean, he gave you a ring?" Sadie babbled, grabbing my hand to look at the ring in question, which remained on my thumb. Ew, she mistakes Travis' snark for flirting? That was just him being a mocking asshole, per usual. Ick. Ugh, I wish I could just wash off his flirting. I still remember that tone of his voice and that look in his eyes and those stupid fluttering feelings. Ickfest. I really ought to take these off, you know. I shrugged her off as best as I could.

"Yeah, family crest and everything, so I'm told." Well, lookee there. A big Q. How hadn't I noticed that before? And a suit of arms or whatever, like they're royalty or something. I pulled my hand away from Sadie in much the same way I had with Travis. "I'd prefer not to talk about it," I uttered in a tone that left no room for argument.

Sadie sighed and pouted like a six-year-old. I didn't care, though. I was pissed off. She put a finger on her lip while I stepped up the pace to catch up with the brothers Quincy. How long had we been walking? Sheesh! I feel like I'm goin' 'round in circles. "Though, I have to wonder why you were talking to him like that..."

I gave Sadie a look, rolling my eyes. "Because I hate him." And he's an asshole who tried to rape me.

Silly Sadie continued to look confused. "But he spent the night... I don't get it," Sadie mumbled. I rolled my eyes again. Of course you wouldn't, Sadie. I shot Sadie a look of my own.

"I didn't hate him that night." That was, quite possibly, the one night of my life where I didn't hate the man this year. Sadie let out a loud laugh. It made all of the boys look, and, ooh, what a pretty sight they made with the sun shining down on them (courtesy of an expertly-placed skylight). I couldn't help but smile, even though I was pissed at both Taylor and Travis. I still felt dissatisfied, as I hadn't explained matters with Travis at all, really. But what was soon to be forgotten as we entered the massive dining hall where Tory and Theo were waiting for us.

Ironically, they were wearing matching clothing. And they're not married anymore? Victoria was wearing a festive red dress that looked fantastic on her, making her look otherworldly glamorous. Her hair was swept up in a fancy up-do, and she was decked out in some fine bling. Sadie was already intimidated about meeting her, but she really shouldn't have been. After all, I get the brunt of her aggression. And Tommy. She'll be so busy playing hostess that she won't have time for any of us, though. Theo was wearing a red sweater and black slacks, and Sadie's jaw dropped when she saw him.

He looked so much like his offspring, you know? Well, actually, facially he resembles Taylor a great deal. Theo has generally softer features than Tory or his sons, but there was a certain amount of hardness in his features. I can't properly describe it. What I could describe is the look on Sadie's face upon seeing him. "That's their dad?" She whispered, awed. I nodded. "He's hot," She breathed. I nodded. But he's nothing compared to his sons.

Tory deigned to smile at us politely, motioning me towards her. I grabbed Sadie, pulling her with me and headed towards Victoria, the Lady of the House. It's like we were approaching the queen or something! Queen V smiled and extended her hand. "I assume that this lovely girl must be your sister, then, Jude?" Tory asked politely. I answered in the affirmative, and Sadie smiled nervously. "Forgive me, but what's her name again?" She asked a moment later. I wondered if Victoria actually did know or was just trying to make my sister feel small. Maybe she was actually being courteous... maybe Tommy never said what her name was, after all.

I looked to Sadie, who took Victoria's hand slowly. "I'm Sadie Harrison." Almost Quincy. Thank God that didn't happen! I used this time to say hello to Theo, who hugged me immediately and warmly, gushing about how great it was to see me. He said we should definitely do lunch again sometime when he was in town and offered up some time for vocal training and tips. I thanked him and said I was looking forward to it.

Victoria nodded sagely and then surprisingly pulled Sadie in for a hug. She took the opportunity to whisper something to her. This is what she said: "My dear girl, I am so sorry about that fiasco with Tommy. I'm sure you would have been a wonderful daughter-in-law. Then again, both of us know my son... Commitment for him is unrealistic. Trust me, I handled his divorce papers! You saved yourself a lot of time, trouble, and pain in the long-run... And someday you'll be very glad you didn't marry him. Until then, feel free to make his life a living hell while he's here. Let me know, and I can give you some ideas." Sadie was stunned into silence and stiff to boot.

I was less surprised, remembering her fondness for drama and ruining things for Tommy. She had some good points though and diplomatically avoided mentioning me for the whole speech. Besides, I know she wants to get back at him. She'll do it too. Eventually. Sadie nodded like a mute, coming back to me, and I quietly introduced her to Theo. The two got to talking, and I turned back to Victoria, ignoring the brothers behind me. Tory chuckled. "You know, a lot of girls would give anything for the looks you're receiving from all three of my sons right now. I wasn't lying when I said they were extremely fond of you... especially Tommy. I've never seen him so seriously and assiduously interested in one girl for this long, much less one he isn't sleeping with," Tory remarked casually. I swear that's where Travis got that damn smirk from. Ugh.

Um, I think that was a compliment? I debated how to respond for a moment, but Victoria pushed on, not caring what I had to say. I didn't mind much. "So, when does this Joan girl show up? I hear she's a friend of yours? Travis has told me so much about her. I can't wait to meet her and tear her to shreds!" Tory practically sang out, sounding very excited at the prospect. There was a certain form of disdain in her voice when she asked, rhetorically, if Joan was my friend. Great. She loves scaring the newbies, doesn't she? It's no wonder all her sons are single! She's like a mother lioness. Admittedly, I almost turned around to look at Travis, unable to believe he'd talked about Joan to his mother.

In reality, however, I merely snorted. "Oh, she'll surprise you. Joan's not one to take things lying down. Hell, she can even make Travis lose it, relinquish his hold on his precious control... She's not someone to be taken lightly," I advised her. Man, Tory probably has no idea what she's getting into. It's not that Joan's insane or anything. But if someone gives her a word or two, Joan knows what to do. She throws it back like a bomb. But she's polite too... She seems to me like the type of girl Tory would actually approve of, but let's keep that a secret, shall we?

Before Tory could come up with some clever response to this, I continued. "Plus she's not into what Travis is offering. At all," I admitted bluntly. Victoria gave me a skeptical look, knowing how attractive and charming and WONDERFUL her son can be. Joan, however, has also seen his asshole side. Which prevents her from falling for it. I gave Victoria an exasperated look. "No, seriously, I'm not lying. Joan pushes him away... rather violently, actually. She always rejects him. Always... And right now, she's pretty much disgusted by him in general. She's seen the ugly side of him too, you know. Not just the charming bit. She doesn't like what she sees."

My explanation, however, seemed to fall on deaf ears. But I couldn't very well say, oh, she walked in on him raping me. Trying to rape me. Victoria would **really **love me then, you know. I could tell she still didn't believe me, so I used my trump card. "Did he tell you that she's his student?" I blurted tactlessly. "Only sixteen. _That... _is definitely not legal, even if it was consensual," I pointed out tirelessly. There was a hard, sharp edge in my voice that spoke of bitterness. My lips caught on that last word. I almost couldn't say it, definitely didn't say it right. Consensual and Travis don't go together, at least in my experience.

Finally the unshakable Victoria LaFramboise-Ruelle looked surprised. She turned abruptly to Travis, eyes blazing, and opened her mouth, fully ready to lecture him on the impropriety of such a choice in a girl. Travis was walking over to his mother in a flash before she could do a damn thing about it. I swear, the man must be psychic because he anticipated exactly what I was going to say. "Save the tongue-lashing, Mother. Tommy's just as guilty as I am. What he's wanting is just as _illegal, _not to mention the fact that she's his brother's girlfriend," Travis said in a voice that was almost a snarl.

Ha! And I thought he loved his mother. Travis gave me a dirty look, and I almost said that it wouldn't be the first time. True for Tommy, true for Taylor, and true for Travis himself. I scoffed instead, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. "Puh-_lease! _You and your brothers might as well pass girls around with all the respect you treat us with! We are not your playthings! You can't exchange one for another like that or pass her off to your brother or steal her from your brother like some kind of toy! You're not so innocent yourself, and neither is Taylor!" I argued perhaps a bit too sharply. But hell, I had the right. Travis used me to get to Tommy. Taylor lied to me about both of them, failing to mention that either of them were his brothers. Tommy went between my sister and me. And, God. Please tell me that's not what I'm doing with Taylor and Tommy. And, ugh, Travis. Please. I do not want to be Tommy.

Tory looked impressed by my spunk. That, at least, was a relief. I was worried she'd be offended. And then a look of profound pity crossed her face as if she'd anticipated some consequence I hadn't seen. Seems like that's all my life is. Responding to those consequences, making sure they don't spiral out of control. Travis smirked, and I knew that meant nothing good. "Well, Jude, maybe we pass you around because no one of us wants you for the long haul, but everyone wants a free ride," Travis countered nastily. My eyes stung. I didn't want to believe it, but he was so nasty and so mean. I somehow managed to avoid slapping Travis, although I sorely wanted to.

"You're calling me a whore? Me?! When you screwed **Patsy **in the classroom, tried to _force _yourself on me once again in school, and daydream about making love to Joan in _class?! _While all the while you have a fiancée! Bet there's been other girls too, right, on the side? And I'm the whore?" I rejoined irritably, raising my pitch to piss him off and so that other people would hear me. Travis, of course, managed to muffle the sound so that no one understood the crucial parts but the two of us. His face was red, and I was glad. His hand was over my mouth, so I bit down hard, tasting blood.

It was a repellent taste. Travis always is. I wondered why Tory wasn't saying anything. Maybe she was afraid of him. Maybe she wanted to see how far he'd go. Oh, he sure amazed her, that's for sure. He went further than anyone thought. "Yeah, that's _exactly _what I said," Travis growled, getting up close and personal. I was more than uncomfortable with his breath on my face like that. I reached a hand up to slap him, too slow, of course. Travis grabbed my hand and threw it back at me roughly. Then he got eviler, if that's possible. "Just ask Taylor." I stiffened. "I'm sure he'd have some fun stories to tell. The tabloids too. It's a mighty long list..."

Travis started to count off names on his fingers. "Tom, Shay, Chaz, the rest of Boyz Attack!, Mason, Spiederman, the rest of your band, Jamie, Taylor, that secret boyfriend of yours, Jeff the guitarist, me... and, oh, who else? Tom Cruise? Apparently Justin Timberlake wants a piece of the action too. You gonna give him a turn too? Oh, and those are just the guys, right?" Travis declared brutally. I felt my whole being freeze. I hadn't screwed any of them. I've only even fooled around with two guys! Okay, so maybe I kissed Tommy, Shay, Chaz, Mason, Speed, Jamie, Kyle, Wally, Taylor, Tim, and Travis. But that was it. And maybe some kids when I was in fourth grade. Then again, when you consider I'd never really kissed anyone that I remember up until I was sixteen, excluding those younger years and Jamie... I don't seem that bad.

It's like this. Guys are like ice cream flavors. You taste one to try it, decide whether you like it or not, and eventually you find the one you want. Every one tastes a little different. And kisses different, and smells different. You already know what Travis tastes like. Tim tastes mysterious yet familiar, always a little different, even a little foreign, kind of smoky, though. He never tastes the same, but I still recognize him.

Speed tastes like candy bars, all rich and chocolate-y, but milk chocolate, not dark chocolate, with maybe some nougat and cookie thrown in. Hence why I can't get enough. Wally tastes like bubblegum and rootbeer floats and green apple. Kyle tastes like chips, pizza, and stale beer. Which is bizarre, as all of SME has the same diet. Jamie tastes like Coke with a hint of lemon drops and strawberries. He's sweet, you know, sweet and bitter and familiar. But he's flat soda. He doesn't get my blood pumping.

Mason tastes like mint and margaritas and grass and something kind of wild. It's different and kind of free and tamed, a hint of country in the city. Ironically, no, he didn't taste like chocolate. Not even white chocolate, which isn't really chocolate at all. Shay tasted like cream, vanilla but not the French kind, something dilute, and tacky P. Diddy cologne. He tasted strange, and he took some getting used to. I didn't like the taste much, but I got used to it.

Chaz, well, he tastes different too. He tastes mostly like caramel, pronounced care-a-mel, not car-mel, smooth and sweet and sticky. But there's something overpowering it, you know? The taste would be just fine if it weren't for this other thing. The other taste is this terribly bitter dark chocolate that's simply awful. And then there's a hint of something mysterious, magical, dangerous... I like to call that lingering vestiges of his coke addiction.

Tommy... well, that's a whole different taste. There's nothing quite like him. I can't describe it, only kissing him is the best taste in the world. It varies. There's a whiff of his smell and all that, and then, so many other flavors mashed together that I can't tell them apart. He tastes like cherry flavoring and raspberries and cola and a handful of salt and soup and birthday cake and almonds and candy and champagne and flowers and all sorts of exotic fruits I can't name and hazelnut and creamy, rich chocolate and smooth caramel and lemon peels and grapefruit and sugar, sugar poured on top of everything, and red meat, extra bloody, and fresh apples and smog and frosting and nougat and red wine and the sea and musty books and sushi, raw and fishy, and sweet and sour chicken balls (one of my favorite foods) and imported beer and grass stains and gum and steamed, sticky rice and Wintergreen and spicy peppers and espresso and pasta and creamy sauces and gravies and milk and leather and gasoline and melted marshmallow and chlorine and cedar and his cologne and cigarettes and sweat and warm bread and pastries and take-out and curry and maple syrup and licorice, and he burns like alcohol, sometimes rum, sometimes vodka, sometimes liqueurs... And so many other things I can't even name them all. He's undefinable.

I proceeded on bravely, moving closer to Travis so that I could jab him in the chest. "Joan. **Doesn't. **_**Want. **__You. _Travis!" I paused as if trying to think about it, but I knew what she said. "She doesn't want you because you're too old, too immature, and too psychotic. She doesn't want you because she sees for who you really are, a sicko sociopath almost-sex-offender who should be locked up, and she hates you for it! She doesn't want to play games or second-guess where your affections really lie. She can't trust you. You disgust her. Didn't she tell you that she hoped God would strike you down? And that she hoped Tommy would hand your ass back to you on a platter, all nice and bruised up? Didn't she call you a lousy, two-timing, abusing, violent child molester? I know I didn't imagine all that," I ranted in a low, raspy voice. The words spilled out so fast and so acidly.

Oh, but I wanted Travis to hurt. I wanted him to burn with rage. I wanted him to suffer like he deserves to. I mean, doesn't he have a couple broken ribs? It's amazing he looks so good after that brawl. I could've sworn he sprained his arm too. Hm, funny. Travis' eyes narrowed further, darkening to that frightening shade I hated so. "Didn't she tell you to stay the _hell _away from the both of us... and you can kiss your manhood goodbye if you don't? If she doesn't get to you herself, I'm sure Tommy would be happy to do the honors," I hinted menacingly, glancing over at Tommy, who did look like he wanted to interfere. He was refraining because of the truce and because he could kill Travis and then his Ma would press charges.

His face went white, but his anger didn't fade, and he didn't back down. Indeed, he grabbed my wrist tightly and took another full step towards me. He snorted. "And what makes you think anyone would want you, Jude? What makes you think that anyone would want you with your ratty too-bright neon red hair and your stupid Prussian Blue eyes and your sickly pale, pasty, white as flour skin? What makes you think that anyone would want you for anything other than what they can get from you?" Travis jeered.

That supposed blow might've hurt more. If I believed it. I had several examples to confirm the opposite. "Well, the fact that you and your brothers were fighting over _me _the other night just might have something to do with it! And then there's all those nice things you've said about me in French when you didn't think I could hear you. So no, I don't think I'm unwanted," I commented furiously, tearing his hand off from around my wrist. It was harder than it looked. I paused deliberately, narrowing my eyes. "Now, you, on the other hand... Your whole life people have only wanted you because of Tommy. You think that's suddenly changed, Travis. Newsflash: it hasn't! You think anyone wants you for you? No! And you know why? Because they see _this _side of you, the sadistic one, and they can't genuinely care anymore. You ruin things for yourself!" I continued sharply, knowing how deeply it would wound him.

For a long moment, Travis was actually silent. I almost thought I'd won. He leaned in, though. "And what makes you think Tommy will ever want you and only you, Jude? I know that's what you want. And I know that's why you're with Taylor now. You don't think he can be a one-girl kind of guy. And you're right. Because Tommy doesn't _love _you. Maybe he just uses you for his own gratification, because he likes having someone around who thinks he can do no wrong and would do his bidding. Aren't you sick of him stringing you along already? It's pathetic." Those words, more of a whisper than a scream, hurt more than all his nasty utterances before about how no one would want me.

I was just starting to get used to the idea that Tommy wanted me. But I hadn't asked why, had I? Maybe that was really why he wanted me around. But hadn't he said he wanted to be with me. I was sick of being strung along. But I was used to it, and it was pathetic, but wasn't Travis worse? "Do you think I'm stupid? Of course I know he doesn't love me, although you seemed to think he did earlier. I don't expect him to. The way I see it, though, you've used me worse than Tommy ever could. You're the pathetic one here, not me," I responded quietly but intently.

Travis wasn't silent for long this time. All of a sudden, he grabbed my wrist even harder before, jerking me around to face everyone suddenly, as if he was trying to fracture my wrist again. He held our hands up in the air, presenting me to everyone. "Ladies and Gentleman, step up for a look at the girl who has kissed every male Quincy of the line except our dear father. Yes, Taylor, she's kissed all three of us brothers, quite a lot, I should say, and you were last! How's it feel to know that both of your brothers went further with your girlfriend than you have?" Travis said smoothly, in a light, mocking ha-ha I'm-so-funny tone, specifically turning to face Taylor and address the awful words to him. I didn't look at Taylor, but I felt his rage.

Travis smirked, rubbing my cheek with the back of his hand like I was his freaking pet or something! "She's just a toy we like to play with. When one of us gets sick or tires of her, he pawns her off to another one, and he'll have his fun with her before handing her off to the next one. And then if we're all done with her, we loan her out to our friends, sometimes for money. She's learned so many tricks by this point that she's a real treat. Good enough to eat, even, but I wouldn't. She's a little bit _soiled, _a little slutty, rather... **dirty **and cheap, I'd say. Maybe she's been overworked. Oh, but it's hardly a job for her, unless, of course... Well, you know," Travis announced loudly, grinning. He accompanied this already smarmy comment with the patented smarmy wink. His damn eyes twinkled and everything, so animated and amused and an asshole. Freaking sea-green. Seaform. That color.

He twirled me around him like a dancer would, quickly so I'd get disoriented fast. Then he bowed low and stopped turning me. I spun on my own, still attached to him and in pain and feeling awful and nauseous, confused and lost. "Ladies and Gentleman, I give you the Quincy Family **Whore**, la grande salope, la cramouille désespérée... our new (or, rather, used... she was ridden hard, you know) family bicycle, the sex slave to fulfill all of your sexual desires!" Travis promulgated bombastically, flinging me in the direction of his brothers. I had rarely, if ever, been so humiliated in my life.

Being myself and still dizzy and shaking with rage, I did the first thing that came to mind, which was understandably quite stupid. I dusted myself off, turning back to face Travis' parents and my own sister, who was staring at me, looking completely petrified. "Well, if I'm such a huge whore, I might as well act the part, right?" I decried not-so-brightly. I charged over to Theo, grabbing his face roughly and pulling him into a passionate one-sided kiss. At least, I think it was. It lasted a rather long while, until I pulled back, moving away abruptly. I glared at Travis, wiping off my mouth. "There! You satisfied?! Now I've kissed every last one of you!" I screamed before running out of the room and down one of the many hallways, running so fast, as fast as I could, and ducking behind things and turning randomly and then the tears were trailing down my face.

Four of them. I've kissed all four of them. And Tommy's still the best, not that he wasn't already.

Behind every slut, there are somewhere around ten sluttier men. Or above every slut, I should say. Or under, I guess. I have maybe one. That does not a slut make. Kissing slut, sure, whatever, not my fault entirely. But sluts are made by who they sleep with, by who slides in-between their legs and how easily. I am not easy.

I finally stopped when my legs gave out in front of this room. I sighed and got up, knowing someone was most definitely looking for me and went inside, turning the lights on and shutting the door behind me. Oddly enough, it was that room I'd stayed in so long ago. The room still looked the same as I remembered. I sighed and flopped down on the bed. It was like I couldn't stop crying. All the awful things Travis had said about me. And in front of his parents, my boyfriend, my sister, and my Tommy! They probably all thought I was the biggest whore in the world now. And I don't blame them.

Oh, right... I never said how Taylor tastes. He tastes like saliva and usually whatever he's eaten, sometimes a diluted mint. He has a bad aftertaste too, and he's so messy. And, now that I've kissed their father, I can tell you what he tastes like: black coffee and honey with just a hint of hot chocolate.

I really shouldn't know that. It's so disturbing. Just think of what Sadie must be thinking! She already thinks the worst of me. But at least now she won't like Travis. Although he can be mighty charming when he wants to be. But I doubt even he can talk himself out of that hole.

Then I heard the door creak open, so I silenced my sobs and hoped whoever it was would just go away. I was not so lucky. The door closed, all right, but with the person who opened it inside. I was, at least, fortunate that it wasn't Theo or Taylor or, heaven forbid, Travis. It was Tommy, of course. He walked over to the bed and got down on his knees, leaning across it to grab my hands. I didn't look at him because I didn't feel worthy. "Girl, come on, look at me," Tommy pleaded.

I didn't, so Tommy sighed and stood up, joining me on the bed. I turned my head away from him stubbornly, but he crawled over to me and wrapped his arms around me. I attempted to jerk away from him. "Look, if you want me to put out, you're going to have to wait. I'm not in the mood, Tommy," I managed, trying not to sniffle. Like he's been waiting. If it was possible, Tommy moved even closer to me. This annoyed me, but I didn't say anything. I was too busy trying to get it together.

"Look, I'm sorry about what Travis said. I'm sorry that he said that in front of everyone. He had no right to say that, and none of it's true. You have to know that," Tommy apologized, the very picture of sincerity. I shook my head but felt a little bit better. "If it makes you feel better, Mom wasn't happy about it either. She actually yelled at Travis, her perfect little favorite. She never yells at Travis, but she yelled at him in front of everyone too, actually stood up for you, even... which I honestly still can't believe," Tommy whispered.

Me either, given all the mean things she's said to me in the past. Well, maybe it's just her way to be blunt and matter-of-fact. She hasn't really been that bad to me. The last time I saw her she was actually quite civil. Still, standing up for me to her favorite child? I could scarcely believe it. She probably wasn't too keen on him being so publicly rude to a guest. It reflects bad on his upbringing.

Tommy laughed, surprisingly enough. "You have no idea how jealous she is that you kissed Dad! She usually has to get him drunk or contrive to get him under the mistletoe to accomplish that," Tommy exclaimed, clearly amused. He saw, just as most other people did, that Victoria had never really gotten over her ex. I wondered idly if she actually tried dating. It wasn't like I'd particularly wanted to kiss Theo. He's a hot piece, all right, but I have enough entanglements with older men as it is!

I sighed and spoke, finally trusting my voice. "It's not like I wanted to. He didn't kiss back or anything. I just did it because..." And then I didn't trust my voice anymore. It was hard to explain it. Tommy turned me over so that I had to look at him. I placed my hands on his chest, trying to push him away. Then suddenly our legs were tangled up together.

Tommy made a face. "I don't really want to hear about my dad's kissing abilities, thanks," Tom muttered, a dark look on his face. I laughed at the guy. Is he actually jealous of his dad? I just did that because I was pissed at Travis. "By the way, he wants to talk with you about that." I grimaced and groaned, not looking forward to that conversation. Ugh, bet he does it just like Tommo over there.

"Pft, you're a better kisser anyways. Taylor slobbers, Travis bruises, and your dad just doesn't respond." That being said, Travis is a pretty good kisser. Almost as good as Tommy in some respects, but he's an ass, which negates all those properties. As predicted, Tommy smirked. I rolled my eyes at him. Like he didn't already know that? There's a reason he's the seducer of women, after all.

Tommy sighed, pulling me closer. "You know we're going to have to talk about it." I nodded. And there it was, the big pink elephant in the room that we weren't talking about. I was lost suddenly having to think about it, about what Travis had said to me. I shook my head, really not wanting to have the discussion. I knew Taylor would think it was true, and Tory didn't think the best of me either, and even Tommy was jealous, and Sadie thought I slept with Travis...

He rubbed my side encouragingly. "I don't know what exactly Travis said to you, but it's not true." Oh, trust me, Tom, some of those things were very true. I shrugged, pulling away, and then Tommy asked me what Travis said. I was reluctant to admit it, but he forced it out of me.

Once again, I didn't look at him. I couldn't. "He called me a slut in every conceivable way and said... He said a lot of things about you, actually. How you'd never want me, stuff like that... And then that whole rant about how I was the family wh-" I choked on the word, unable to finish it. Tears streamed down my face anew, and I wiped at them frantically. Tommy grabbed me, pulling me into him.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my forehead. "Shh," He hummed soothingly, pulling me closer. His lips rested against my brow, his cheek on top of my head. Then he let out a dry little laugh that wasn't quite appropriate. "I think I've made it pretty clear how I feel about you, Jude. I want you. You don't need me to say that. And Taylor... don't worry about him, okay?" Tommy admitted quietly. I let out a tiny little laugh, knowing that he didn't want me to worry for a reason. He figured I was going to dump Taylor anyway, which, if he hasn't dumped me because of that little display, I'll probably do.

It wasn't that, though. I'm not a whore. I don't like people thinking I am. I'm sick of people saying nasty things about me. "Tommy... Do you all really see me as that, as some sex object that you pass around? Is that the only reason any guy will ever want me?" I lamented, almost in desperation. I wondered it he could My face was buried in his shoulder. At this comment, Tommy pulled away to look at me so suddenly that I felt whiplash. In fact, he almost shook me.

He shook his head so vigorously that it took me aback a little. "Of course not!" He interjected dramatically. Then, of course, he confused me by putting his hands on my thighs and sliding them up. And I'm supposed to believe that, what, that he didn't notice he was doing that? That he didn't even know he was doing anything to me? It made me feel instantly cheap all over again, and then I saw the enthusiasm on Tommy's face. He leaned in as if determined to prove to me that I was more. "That's not why I want you, Jude... If it was just about sex... I could get that from practically anyone nowadays, and I could get it a lot easier and a lot more frequently... and a lot more legally," Tommy tried to explain.

I let out a groan. Way to make me feel bad, Tommy. Way to remind me that it's not technically legal for you to touch me. Tommy looked into my eyes, calling me to come back to the world. "I want you because of who you are, Jude. Because I care about you. But more than all that... because I understand you just like you understand me. Because I _know _you, girl," Tommy breathed, radiating with honesty, sincerity, and affection. His eyes were like the world; no, his eyes _were _my world. My whole universe was there in those midnight blue depths swirling, and every little glimmer was like a newly discovered galaxy or a beautiful nebula of newborn stars.

The whole thing had the effect of taking my breath away.

Tommy moved in closer, and, being me, I managed to wreck absolutely everything. I sure do know how to ruin a moment. "Travis also said you were just... using me. For your own... grat-gratification," I found myself admitting reluctantly. I had a sudden urge to get him far, far away from me. So out comes that, which was... possibly true. I couldn't automatically say he wasn't unconsciously using me. I could say that Tommy wasn't cruel enough to do it on purpose. He jerked back then, as if a force had pulled him back and away from me with invisible strings.

Once again, he shook his head no. "No way!" Tommy declared. I gave Tommy a stern look then. He met and accepted my gaze but failed to elaborate. What I wanted to know was simple: how can you possibly know? How are you so sure you're not using me?

"I'm not saying that you're doing it on purpose... But maybe you keep stri-maybe you keep me around for some selfish reasons, that's all," I stuttered, wary of the words I was saying. Like satisfying your pride. It's not that bad to want someone who'll listen and love you unconditionally, no matter what you do. Tommy didn't seem to get that. I wasn't really accusing him of anything. He, however, seemed to think that I was, so he got on the defensive.

"Oh, yes!" He cried mockingly. "Forgive me! Heaven forbid I keep you around because I like your presence!" But what, you don't like me? Ooh, that one hurts, Tommy. His hands were still on my thighs, I noticed uncomfortably. It made me squirm. I fixed him with a serious look, and Tommy obliged me by at least attempting to be serious in response. He leaned in a little closer and made sure to look me square in the eyes. "You aren't a toy to me, Jude. You're not a whore either. You're a treasure," Tommy insisted, grabbing my hand.

A moment later, it was dwarfed by both of his. I was relieved to have his hands off my thighs, frankly. Tommy moved closer still. "Tu es ma meilleure copine, ma confidante, ma cherie, ma belle... ma contradiction, ma inspiration, ma raison, mon espoir pour le futur, tous mes souffles... Tu es ma petite étoile," Tommy affirmed softly.

You are my best friend, he said. My confidante. My dear, my beautiful one... My contradiction, my inspiration, my reason, my hope for the future, my every breath. You are my little star.

So I did what any girl in my circumstances would've done. I kissed the living daylights out of him. Next thing I knew I was lying flat on my back on the bed and pulling Tommy on top of me. I wrapped a leg around one of his. Things were getting pretty heated pretty fast. Tommy took off my sweater and pressed a trail of butterfly kisses across my face and down my neck while he unbuttoned my shirt. I ripped his t-shirt off in the interim as he kissed down my stomach. His lips were wet and warm, and it felt so good. I couldn't help but giggle.

I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans hurriedly, lest something ruin the moment. I noted with some satisfaction that Tommy had apparently removed his shoes upon entrance, so he was barefoot. Just another thing I didn't have to bother with. Tommy was slower, more deliberate than I was. He moved like he wanted to savor it, to remember it, to enjoy it. So did I, but I realized the urgency of the moment more fully than he did. I pulled him back up to me, placing my hand on his neck and kissing him fiercely.

Tommy groaned and put his hands on my hips. With some encouragement on my part in the form of mumbled, breathy commands, Tommy undid the button on my jeans. I have never been more glad that I wasn't wearing a belt. While he was doing this, Tommy was somewhat distracted kissing his way along my cleavage. He was agonizingly slow at it, and I wanted him so bad I reached down to do it myself, but Tommy swatted my hand away. He unzipped them himself and started to tug them down inch by inch. I smiled and ran my hands over his chest, relishing in how good he felt.

However, Tommy stopped midway and snaked his arm around my back, easily unclasping my bra. I sucked in a breath, and he gave me this look. His eyes lightened to a kind of transitional color, half aquamarine and half darker blue. I understood the silent question reflected back in them, and then I heard all the little whispers. Are you ready? Are you sure? Do you want this? Am I really what you want? Is this good enough? There was an unspoken warning too, a hesitation on his part... We can't go back from here. This is the point of no return.

It didn't take me long to answer him. "Tommy, please..." I murmured, kissing his jawline. "I don't want to wait." I made sure to continue to that area below his ear that drives him crazy. His eyes flickered shut as he moaned quietly. No question remained. My eyes, however, remained wide open. Hell, I wanted to remember every last moment in living color. I had a feeling I was going to need to save up these memories, to squirrel them away for a rainy day.

Tommy peeled my bra off my skin, throwing it carelessly on the ground and feasting his eyes on my chest. Honestly, I was a little disconcerted by the attention, although I shouldn't have been. The man's seen my breasts before, after all. Still, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up with the intent way he was staring at me. He stared like that for a while. There was some space between us, but most of his body was still right against mine. He just stared and stared like he couldn't believe it, and he was even a little breathless. Not from the kissing. "How did I _ever _pretend I didn't want you?" When finally he regained his senses and had his fill of looking at me, the warm skin of his chest covered mine again.

He kissed my temple, my cheekbone, my jaw, my throat, all the way down to my chest, which he kissed all over. Between kisses, he mumbled something before attacking my pale, unmarked skin with even more gusto. But his touch was light and slow and skilled, and I don't think his lips were hard enough to leave a mark. I felt tingly all over. "I've never felt this way about anyone before..." I was almost stunned still by that, but at that particular moment Tommy bit down on an especially sensitive part of me, and I let out a loud gasp, burying my fingers in his hair and pulling him even closer.

Tommy teased me some more like that, delighting in every strange new sound his touch produced. I could feel his words vibrating against my skin. "How did I ever go without? How did I ever convince myself that I felt nothing for you? How could I ever deny you? How did I ever live without _you_?" I wondered the same and felt myself smile. Who knew he was this talkative during foreplay? I felt this warmth spread from head to toe. My whole body was humming and pulsing with a strange new energy, and all of my senses were on overload. I think I must've glowed, glimmered, and sparkled like the star he said I was. He made me feel like... Like I've never felt before. I felt like some kind of goddess, like I was so special to be receiving this kind of treatment from him. I felt unique and so hopelessly, unbelievably perfect, and blessed among all women and so incandescently blissful, and a thousand other things. I felt beautiful and amazing and appreciated and precious and sexy and... loved. I never thought Tommy could make me feel like that, not like this, and I'd certainly never expected it.

We'd made out plenty of times, but it had never been like this. Not even when we were filming "Minor Liaison." It had been hot, nice, steamy, fun, sweet, cute... But never like this. It was like something had suddenly clicked into place, and this was how it was always supposed to be. I could feel it in my bones that this was what I'd been waiting for. I could feel my world shifting so fast and so suddenly; my whole life was changing momentously. And I didn't know why then, because everything was wrong.

We were at his family's house in an unlocked room on top of the bed. I was still dating his younger brother; my sister still wasn't over him, and his older brother had basically just called me the family ho. I hadn't forgotten about any of that, and neither had Tommy. I knew he'd been about to ask how Taylor kept his hands off me but bit it back, afraid just the mention of his name would make me stop.

But I hadn't forgotten. I remembered deep down... I just wasn't thinking about that. For once, I wasn't thinking about any of the many reasons why not. It was right somehow. Meant to be.

It was right because we finally met in the middle. Our minds were finally on the same plane, in the same place. The timing was right, perfect, _predestined. _We were truly simpatico, truly in sync. No one was fighting it. We'd both stopped pushing each other away. We had both given in. We were finally in agreement.

I smiled beatifically and pushed his pants down as quickly as I could. My palms were sweaty, though, and so my hands were slippery, but I did so enjoy getting to run my hands over his ass and down his thighs. I shifted my hips, making Tommy groan. I licked my lips, pleased at the sound. After all, it wasn't fair that he got to have all the fun. Tommy kicked his jeans off and pulled back. I whimpered at the loss of heat, but soon forgot it as he pulled my jeans off. As soon as he was done with that, I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, bringing him even more fully against me. I have never been more aware of any piece of fabric than I was at that very moment.

I strained to remember the music video and rolled my hips, brushing against him hard. Tommy made a muffled sound, so I repeated the action, crashing into him, dragging my nails down his back lightly. It was intoxicating to be so close to him. Our lips met again, and it was like lightning, a brilliant, searing flash. Now Tommy was in a hurry. He deepened the kiss even further, which I hadn't imagined possible, and he tried to pull me closer. This time he thrust forward. His hands slipped down to my hips, sliding down to the band of my underwear. His skin was hot and a little wet. His fingers rested there for a moment before beginning to push the fabric down slowly.

He was almost halfway there when I heard a noise, or, more correctly, a voice. At first I tried to close my eyes and hope I'd imagined it, but unfortunately I had not. The owner of the voice repeated herself. "Jude, is that you?" Victoria's ice-cold voice rang out. Truthfully, her voice wasn't that cool. It might've even had a trace of warmth in it, but my lust-addled brain didn't notice. My brain was quite annoyed with the development. Her voice washed over me, over us, really, like a bucket of ice-water, completely killing the mood.

In fact, Tommy and I fell off the bed. Surprisingly, Tommy was the one who lost his balance, dragging me with him. We landed with a rather loud thud on the floor which worried me immensely. I landed on top of Tommy, and, although breathless and in enough pain to let out a loud groan, he almost smirked at me. I'm sure he would've attempted a lewd comment had not his mother beat him to the punch. "Are you all right in there, Jude? Should I come in?" Victoria asked loudly, terrifyingly close to the door.

I tried to catch my breath and forced myself to sit up. "**No, **you don't have to do that! I'm fine! I just fell off the bed. Clumsy, clumsy me!" I exclaimed in a voice that was a little too high-pitched and quick-to-answer. I disentangled myself from Tommy, as I'd suddenly realized I was straddling him, and the both of us needed to get dressed. I stood quickly, pulling my underwear up to it's previous appropriate position. I pushed and kicked Tommy under the bed, hurrying to pick up his clothes and throw them under there with him. Tommy was confused at first, but he gave in after I snapped some orders at him. "If your mother finds you in here in this state of undress, she'll put two and two together and know exactly what's going on. And you can bet she won't approve! So just do it!" I hissed, scrambling to put my jeans on two legs at a time.

Fortunately, I managed to tug them up my legs, jerking the zipper up. I disregarded the button in favor of more important things. "You sure?" Victoria questioned speculatively a moment later. If I didn't know her better, I'd suggest that was concern in her voice. I nodded before realizing she couldn't see me. She paused. "You sound a bit out of breath." Yes. I just almost had sex with your son. What the freak do you expect, Bitch? Needless to say I was a bit testy.

I lunged across the bed, snatching up my bra and very narrowly avoiding colliding with the floor. I hurried to fasten it. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure! You just woke me up from a nightmare. My heart's still racing," I called back, accordingly breathless, hunting for my shirt. Aha! It was on top of the lamp. I spied Tommy's sweater on the floor nearby and kicked the thing under the bed with him, pulling my shirt on. Damn it, why had I worn a button-up today, of all days?

Victoria waited a moment, somewhat confused as to how to go on. After a brief pause, during which I tried my best to button my pain-in-the-ass shirt, Victoria cleared her throat and went on. "Oh, what was the nightmare about? Should I go get you anything? I mean, do you want anything?" Victoria inquired rather kindly. In fact, if I were not trying so frantically to get dressed, I might have marveled at how ill at ease she sounded or at how her usual eloquence and poise seemed to have vanished, leaving her fumbling for words. She actually did sound concerned. The thing with Travis must've really thrown her off. I might've enjoyed it, but I was too busy trying to button my shirt up all the way, and correctly to boot!

Blowing the bangs out of my face, I answered her as quickly as I could. "I was being raped," I replied succinctly. I didn't add the by your son bit at the end, and I realized with a rather sickening jolt that was actually scarily close to the consented act which had almost occurred, which would've been statutory rape. Although, really, is it my fault for loving a guy six years older than me? I'm a whole year older now, after all! This would be legal in New York. She and I were both silent for a long time after that. "I... I don't think I want anything. Some water, maybe?" I replied in a voice that was somewhat strangled. Or a cold shower, rather.

Shirt finally buttoned (and correctly), I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to straighten it so that I didn't have sex hair. I wiped off the smudged lipstick, hoping my lips didn't look as swollen as they felt. I crossed my fingers, praying that my cheeks weren't flushed. Fortunately Tommy hadn't left a mark on my neck, so there were no visible signs I'd almost done it. Ah, but I felt all hot and bothered and dirty. Hearing the door begin to open, I rumpled the sheets like I'd slept in it and sat down on it abruptly. "Get dressed," I muttered, directing it to Tommy. "Your mother's about to come in," I said warningly.

True to form, Victoria entered, offering me a smile. She headed straight for the adjoining bathroom and emerged moments later with a cool glass of water. I had a horrible reminder of the day Tommy got engaged, when we'd been in the bathroom, close to doing something... only my father showed up, and I had to sneak Tommy out of the bathroom via the window and the tree. I shuddered at the reminder, taking the glass from Victoria and downing it completely. The water was cool on my tongue, but it didn't quench the real thirst.

Victoria, however, took this to mean that I was actually cold. Her face was sympathetic. "Here, let's warm you up," She said, pulling the sheets up around me. I eyed her suspiciously. She must feel really guilty for what Travis said. She's never this nice to me. I pushed the sheets off, not wanting fabric to cling to my sticky skin. At least I wasn't that sweaty. Victoria gave me a concerned look, leaning in to feel my forehead. She frowned and grabbed my hand. Understandably, they would've both felt clammy and hot to her. It grossed me to realize that she'd just touched areas that had previously been touching Tommy.

"Jude, you have a fever," She stated plainly. I blinked, not wholly surprised. Victoria's frown deepened, and she made a small "tsk" sound, debating what to do. She paused, eying me curiously. I swallowed hard, hoping she wasn't on to me, that she wasn't going to ask me about Tommy. "Have you seen Tommy?" She implored casually. I forced myself to look at her, heart thudding even harder in my chest. I gazed into her eyes for a moment, but she gave no sign of being on to me, so I ultimately decided it was best to tell her a version of the truth. "Yeah... A while ago. He must've left when I fell asleep. Isn't that how you found me?" I admitted innocently, making pretty much all of that up.

Victoria shook her head slowly. "I wonder where my good-for-nothing son is. I was going to ask him to move you up to your room... since he insisted on being the only one who knows where it is," Victoria muttered a bit irritably. I tried not to blush. She was clearly not strong enough to do it on her own. I still wondered how she knew where I was. Did she hear us? The mere prospect _horrified _me. Horrified. A mild look of distaste appeared on her face. "Maybe he's off with your sister..." I swear I just vomited in my mouth a little. The thought of Tommy going back to Sadie after me made me feel physically ill. No, Vick, he's really under this bed, half-naked. What do you think about that?

I plastered on a smile. "Well, my temperature was a little high last night... Mom gave me some Tylenol. I really think I'll be fine. I mean, it's got to go away eventually, right?" I said in what I hoped was a brave voice, considering that was entirely a fabrication. Victoria gave me a skeptical look, but it's not like she had even stuck a thermometer in my mouth. She didn't know I had a fever. The prospect of having to associate with the rest of the family wasn't exactly a happy one, but I didn't exactly want to be holed up upstairs either. And if I can't face them, then Travis wins. I am not going to let him have that kind of power over me.

Besides, I can't just leave Sadie to the wolves. "That's really not necessary. I'll go to dinner. I'll do what the family does. Whatever. I'm not going to be hidden away. That's exactly what he wants. If Travis wants to say something to me, he'll say it to my face," I vowed, looking Victoria in the eyes. Her eyes widened, and a look of pride mixed with surprise passed over her face. After a moment, Victoria nodded gracefully. Her face was somewhat grim.

She paused, apparently thinking better of what she was going to say. Imagine my surprise when Victoria came and sat next to me on the bed. I silently apologized to Tommy. "You remind me a lot of myself at your age," Tory announced suddenly. I gaped, turning to her in astonishment. What? Me, like Tory?! Is she blind? Victoria sighed, letting out a bitter laugh. "Of course you're horrified. I'm old, alone, bitter, divorced, and going nowhere. Even my own sons don't love and respect me," Tory acknowledged, leaning back into the pillows. She looked suddenly so depressed and tired that she seemed to be a completely different person. She looked her age, even.

I was confused as to how I was like her, though. She didn't seem like she could've ever been like me. But unlike Victoria, I was used to dealing with issues like this. I hesitated before putting a hand on her shoulder. "You know that's not true, Victoria. You could easily have your pick of the eligible bachelors... You're just staying away because you're still in love with Theo," I said knowingly. I knew what it was like to be in her position after all. The only difference is that Tommy and I have never even dated, let alone been married. A light blush appeared on Tory's cheeks, like she was embarrassed for being so transparent. I continued, "All of your sons love you, Tory. All Taylor's been talking about for _weeks _is spending more time with you. And Tommy... did you see the way his whole face lit up on his birthday when you gave him that watch? He wears it every day, you know. And Travis... as much as I hate to admit it, he loves his mother very much. You can't be too bad of a person if you love your mother."

Victoria looked over at me with glassy eyes, clearly thinking it over. As hard as it was to get those words out about Travis, I realized that they were true. He couldn't really be that bad if he loved his mother, and she loved him back, right? She was obviously horrified by his previous behavior, which eclipses anything Tommy's done. She almost looked like she wanted to hug me, but she didn't. Victoria isn't really a physically demonstrative person, probably as a result of her cold and emotionally distant father.

"Besides, you're far too strong to sink into self-pity. You're the matriarch of this crazy family, after all. You're the one who holds everything together. That's not something just anyone can do." I thought of my own mother, who was far from achieving that with my own family. This other Victoria, who was divorced, managed to somehow keep her vast extended family together, to offer protection to all her kin. I admired that about her. She protects her own. That, finally, was enough to make her crack a smile.

"You know, Jude, you're stronger than you think. Not many women would go in there after what happened," She replied, a touch of admiration in her voice. I shrugged. Well, I'm not most women. I knew instinctively that no one had or ever could call her a slut. So maybe she did think a lot of me doing that, but I'm used to people calling me that. Doesn't mean I like it, though, and it doesn't mean I have to put up with it. That was why I was going to dinner. I'm going to watch Travis squirm. I'm going to make his life here a living hell.

I sighed, feeling my body begin to cool. "Look, Tory, just be nicer to people... especially your sons. You could learn a thing or two from them. After all, every one of them goes after what he wants. Why not do the same?" I advised somewhat plainly. Victoria shot me a look, and I remembered why she couldn't go after Theo. So he has some dumb wife and a stepdaughter. Big deal. That can be easily remedied. Either way she refused to be the other woman.

Then she laughed. "Oh, like Tommy?" She retorted dryly, grinning at me. I blushed just thinking of him. Honestly, I really didn't want to have this conversation with her now. I knew what she thought about me and Tommy already, to my great bewilderment. "Still hasn't gotten what he wants, though, has he?" Tory pointed out wisely. "Because there are things standing in the way," She remarked pointedly. It was obvious she was relating Tommy and me to her and Theo... with Taylor and Tiffany, respectively, standing in the way. Not for long, that's all I have to say.

Tory grew more serious. "I was rebellious like you, once. I know you can't believe that, but it's true," She said suddenly. I blinked in astonishment. When she spoke, it was hard for her. "My mother, Juliette, was an opera singer. She was so glamorous. I wanted to be a singer just like her when I grew up. But after she left, my father changed. He banned music in our house. Whenever I sang, he scolded me for being so much like her... so eventually I just stopped. He said he didn't want me to grow up to be a whore like my mother. We grew up in silence," Tory began reflectively.

That was easily one of the saddest stories I had ever heard, I thought. Growing up without music seemed to me to be one of the worst crimes that could be inflicted upon a child. They hadn't had computers growing up either, so it wasn't as if they could just plug in the headphones and listen to it quietly. That explained a lot about why Victoria was the way she was. She continued. "The minute I turned eighteen, I defied my father and ran away to New York. I sang in bars for a while until I landed a recording contract." She'd done it the hard way, then. A faint smile passed over her face. "It was the happiest time of my life."

I learned later that Tory recorded supposedly "timeless" music. When I heard some of it later on, I could say that it was actually good. You see, Tory hated synth, which is why the music isn't terribly dated. The smile turned dreamy. "That's where I met Theo. He was a senior artist, having already recorded three moderately well-selling albums. He was nineteen then and ridiculously attractive. I was so impressed. He was something of a teen idol, you know. My friends and I had listened to him in Montreal. He was in the studio the first time I sang. I guess it was his job to show me the ropes," Tory explained, sounding ridiculously lovestruck. I almost didn't know her, but I did notice that it sounded terribly like the way I met Tommy.

"He wrote songs for me and taught me everything about the industry, recording, even vocally... When I said no to synth, he fought for me and won. I was grateful, so I took him out to dinner to celebrate... and it all went from there." The smile dropped slowly off her face, and I realized later when given the details what had happened. It was a whirlwind romance. Things progressed quickly and were getting pretty serious... Then Victoria had gotten pregnant, and Theo surprised her by stepping up. They were married quickly. Travis was born, and then the young couple was forced to go to Laurent. Victoria got dropped from the label, went to college and then law school like her father wanted.

I could go on, but I'm sure you don't want to hear all of that. The point is that she knows what it's like, and I realized why she thought I reminded her of herself. I saw that Tory shared my passion for music. Tory got up, as did I, shooting me a smile over her shoulder. "This is hard for me to say, Jude, but... You're the best thing that's ever happened to my son. He's changed because of you... for the better. He's more responsible, more controlled, more dependable, more honest, less self-destructive, and approaching respectability, which, frankly, I never expected to happen within my lifetime," Victoria admitted softly with a wry smile, patting me on the shoulder. She looked me over. "Now, I'll show you to your room since my son is missing in action. You ought to freshen up and dress for dinner," Victoria declared, once again adopting her role.

Forcing a smile, I put on my shoes and waited for Tory to exit before informing Tommy to emerge from the room in ten minutes. Then I left the room and followed Tory upstairs. Along the way she gave me a tour, including the history of the house while simultaneously informing me that dinner was a bit of a formal affair. I had bought some formal-looking clothing, but I knew I would have to go shopping for dresses and such eventually, both for the New Year's Ball Tommy's family had, and the extremely formal Christmas Eve mass. I put on a nice pair of black pants, deciding that pants were better as a. Travis was in the damn house, b. people already thought I was a slut, so I didn't need anyone getting any more funny ideas about me, and c. it was freaking drafty. I also put on a new shirt, a blouse really, as the one I was wearing was sweaty and had I practically screwed Tommy written all over it. And, okay, so maybe I put on my do-me heels, but only Tommy knew that was their purpose.

I put my hair up, sprayed some perfume, and added a light dusting of new make-up, hoping it was more appropriate to do so. Annoyingly my cheeks were still ridiculously rosy, and my lips were so red and full I had to work a wonder with lip-gloss to camouflage them into neutrality. I was surprised but somewhat relieved/confused that Tommy didn't show up to escort me, but I didn't mind much. I mean, sure, I would probably get lost, but the thought of having to face the full room alone rather annoyed me. Nevertheless, reciting Victoria's instructions, I headed to the dining hall. I only got lost twice.

However, I was the last to arrive. They hadn't started eating yet, but there they all were, sitting at the table. When I opened the door, they all stared at me. I swallowed nervously and walked towards the table, sure to hold my head high. The only open space at the table was between Sadie and Tommy. I noted with some relief that Chaz was there, as was Kate, to control her man. Strangely, my sister was seated next to Kate. Victoria immediately ceased the conversation, bestowing me with a benevolent style. "Jude, how lovely of you to join us! I'm so glad you're feeling better," She exclaimed brightly.

I forced a smile out of a grimace and sat down between Tommy and Sadie. I avoided looking at Travis while Theo avoided looking at me. He (Trav) was sitting on his mother's left (Theo occupied the other side), Kate next to him, and Sadie next to her. I sat on Tommy's right, naturally. Chaz was on his left, which I found rather strange, as he had a thing for Sadie. Sitting on Chaz' other side was Kathryn Mansfield, in the flesh. She was seated next to Taylor, who was seated on his father's right. Taylor had never even told me she was coming. I felt a flash of anger but not quite true jealousy. The two were talking quite animatedly.

Victoria signaled for the servants to bring the food. Tommy understood my "ailment", but Sadie did not, so she bombarded me with questions. I had to beg her to talk to Chaz to be set free from her harangue on my well-being. Chaz attempted to reach across Tommy to hug me, which was awkward and hella amusing. We barely hugged, but the both of us were laughing. "This is why people think you're gay, Chazzie," I teased, in a suddenly good mood. After all, Chaz has my back. Tommy too.

They brought in soup first. It was something nice and chicken-y. I had just taken my first sip (bite?) when Kathryn Mansfield decided to make herself known to me. Being the second most famous person in a room must take its toll on her. I'm talking about Tommy, not me. I learned one valuable thing about Kathryn Mansfield: the fact that I could hate her. She was, in reality, a huge bitch. At least, to me. She smiled her mega-watt smile at me, and I actually attempted to like her. This was before I knew she was a bitch, like I said. "I'm sorry. I believe we haven't met. I'm Kathryn Mansfield, and you are?" She said, directly addressing me.

She was too far away to shake hands with, so I smiled politely instead, swallowed my soup, and told her. "I'm Jude Harrison," I said politely. I did not say the million other things running through my mind. Such as the first Instant Star, rockstar, Shay's ex, Eden's rival, Sadie's sister (although that would've been a good thing to say, actually), Tommy's "friend", or, more importantly, Taylor's girlfriend. If she'd ever heard of me, she sure pretended like she hadn't.

Kathryn nodded. Her mischievous eyes flickered over to Tommy. "Are you dating Tommy?" She asked, amusement clear in her voice. Tommy and I did keep stealing glances at each other, and before the food had come, he'd squeezed my hand under the table. I tried to tell myself it wasn't really cheating on Taylor. I was going to dump him anyways. I found, at the question, that I couldn't look at any of the Quincys, so I focused my stare on her. She was so pretty it hurt to look at her. It burned my eyes.

"No," I replied calmly. I let out a deep breath, glancing up at Taylor, who still looked angry and suspicious. I looked down guiltily. But boy do I want to be. Tommy was so close I could feel the heat coming off his skin. I was suddenly hyperaware of him. He'd put on more cologne, I noticed. Kathryn raised her eyebrows, and I wondered vaguely if she'd seen the tabloids, or if Taylor had perhaps mentioned anything about my relationship with Tommy. I heard Travis make a snide comment under his breath that merited a slap on the wrist from his mother and instinctively knew it had been something like: "Who isn't she dating?" or "Well, I wouldn't exactly call what they're doing dating..."

Kathryn sipped her broth serenely. "Okay, that's what I thought. I thought you looked a little too young for him, but I wasn't going to say anything... That would've been very rude of me. I was just wondering because of the way you were sitting... You know what they say... never assume," Kathryn said in a tone of voice that I (and Tommy) found very much offensive. The way we were sitting? Really? Next to each other? Well, by that logic, she's involved with Chaz, and Sadie and I are lesbian lovers!

"You make an ass out of u and me," Tommy muttered into his soup, finishing the phrase. He said it with a touch of irritation, making me snicker into my soup. He was clearly displeased by the reminder of my age, as, well, was I, and the implication that he was "too old" for me. Chaz also looked particularly uncomfortable, probably remembering his own Lolita-love. I was panic-stricken remembering that she was coming soon. He probably didn't even know.

She paused for a long while, as if debating which words to say. "Are you a relative? A stepsister, maybe? A cousin, perhaps?" I raised an eyebrow. Oh, yes. With my red hair, I clearly look like the dark-haired Quincy clan. I overcame the urge to roll my eyes and simply shook my head no. My mouth was filled with soup, so I evaded speaking. It sounded like Taylor had told her about Tammy, and she'd seemed to be briefly under the illusion that I was her. Queer.

After what seemed like an eternity, she asked an actually rude question. "So, then, what are you doing here?" I bit down the words threatening to come out. What are _you _doing here? I earned this right. I'm practically family. What right do you have? Much less to ask me that. I forced yet another smile, finishing off another spoonful of soup. My mouth burned, so I took a sip of water before answering her question. Tommy shot me a warning look, so I was forced to be polite. Well, civil, I ought to say.

Tommy's a bit of a negative influence sometimes, after all. "You could say I'm a close friend of the family." My tone was perfectly mysterious yet neutral. I shot her a look as if to prove just how close. I belong here, bitch, and you better get used to that. Kathryn frowned, as if wondering how. I decided I'd let her ask the question if she expected me to answer. I wasn't going to make it easy for her.

"Oh, really? You just seem so young. It hardly seems possible that you could know anyone here... at your age, of course," She observed, making a point to stress my age. I narrowly fought the urge to point out that she was only two years older than me, which would've come out snappy. I mean, what, is she jealous? Besides, I'm Taylor's age. It's not like I'm a baby or anything. I'm not that same fifteen-year-old-girl that won IS.

It was about to be check and mate for me, though. I smiled gratefully, thanking the person who removed my now empty soup. I drank a lot to stop the wench from trying to talk to me. "Well, it's not impossible, now is it? I think you meant that it hardly seems probable. You see, you're the _only _person at this table I don't know well, so I believe that means that I actually know more people here than you do," I pointed out primly. I caught an admiring gaze from Tory, who looked rather pleased at my spunk. Who's the outsider now, bitch? Kathryn's perfect smile fell just a little at that remark.

"Pray tell how you know everyone then," Kathryn challenged, as if she didn't believe me. I decided to go for the simple route, as it seemed to piss her off the most.

"Mostly through work... or mutual friends, you could say," I replied brightly, taking another sip of water. I quietly asked Tommy when the food was going to arrive. Taylor seethed with jealousy (probably assuming we were discussing when we were going to have sex... ha, I wish!) and redoubled his flirting efforts with Kathryn in an attempt to make me jealous. Like I cared. I was more annoyed, however, than envious. It's not like I could blame him for trading up. So was I. Any sensible creature takes better if it can get it. Kathryn was just so irritating. That was what bothered me. And so nosy! Did she really have to know everything about my private life?

Kathryn raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Really? But you seem so young to work. What **do **you do for a living?" Kathryn exclaimed, clearly surprised. I glowered at Travis before he could say anything, as did his mother. He'd probably have said something about me being the Family Whore again. That being accomplished, I turned back to Kathryn just as they set down the main course. Mm. A big, red, juicy steak. Tommy had told them just how I like it too! Medium rare. I smiled and attempted to cut into it. You would think the meat from a five-star kitchen would be more tender. Mine was delicious but just this side of gristly and rather tough. Tough old cow. Damn cook ought to have mashed it with the mace, a.k.a. meat tenderizer.

I sighed irritably and Tommy reached over wordlessly and started cutting it for me. I could've kissed him, I swear to God. Sadie gave me a knowing look which contained a bit of envy and I ignored. Kathryn eyed us with interest, and Taylor looked pissed, as was his way. I took that chance to respond. "I'm in the music business. I'm a singer-songwriter slash musician," I explained with an easy smile. The whole room seemed to relax, but that could've just been because almost everyone excepting Sadie was musically inclined. And, I suppose, Kathryn the Great. Sadie didn't feel excluded, as she'd almost married into the family and was accustomed to the importance of music in my life.

Kathryn nodded, looking rather green. "Well, that certainly does explain a lot." I smirked and thanked Tommy for cutting my steak. It made me feel vaguely like a child because he'd cut the whole thing for me. It was still sweet, though. Kathryn took a few bites of her steak, staring at it pensively. She seemed to look better once she remembered that she hadn't heard of me, so I must not be famous. But if I'm not famous, then what am I doing spending Christmas with Tommy Q's family, I ask? I am totally famous now. "I'm afraid I haven't heard of any of your work, to my knowledge... Can you name some things you've done? Maybe I'd remember then?"

What, does she want me to sing for her too? I find that hard to believe, considering I've had two number one mainstream singles this year, not to mention the fact that Taylor is supposedly my biggest fan. And I was on a nationally syndicated TV-reality show, thank you. I respectfully swallowed the piece of meat I was chewing and answered her promptly. "For starters, I won Instant Star. As for my songs... There's "24 Hours", "Waste My Time" with Shay, "Dirty Old Man", "Too Sexy Sadie", and, of course, "Minor Liaison." The last two were number one hit singles," I enumerated with a self-satisfied smile. Hmm, Tommy and I only share song-writing credits on, well, precisely none of those. How sad.

'Cause Shay wrote his piece... And Jamie's credited with me for 24... And Travis co-wrote the... oh, wait, Tommy changed the lyrics on "Minor Liaison" just a bit, so I guess he's going to be credited for that. Hm. Tommy looked up from his meal. "Don't forget about the licensing. Final Fantasy Three used "Fade to Black", and this romantic comedy paid for "Glow," He added coolly before reaching over and spearing my broccoli, which I'd left for him. Some of the others regarded this with interest, but Tommy and I do stuff like this all the time. And I do hate broccoli. Tommy's a freak. He loves it.

"Oh, I suppose I have heard some of your music, then. Taylor's quite a fan... I guess I just never put the voice with a name." She looked unhappy about this. I smirked victoriously and took Tommy's carrots. They were glazed. Good for you, Taylor. I smiled at him, and he looked greatly surprised. "So how long have you been in the music business?" She asked in a voice that plainly said it couldn't be that long. I told her a little over a year, ignoring her triumphant look. Actually, I asked Tommy if he knew in months since the whole date of my entrance was rather cloudy for me. He did, creepily enough.

A look of distaste passed over Kathryn's face... not at the display with Tommy, but rather at me being in reality television. "Instant Star was a reality television program, was it not?" I nodded, knowing where she was going with it, basically. "Strikes me as a bit invasive... is it? I could never subject myself to living a life like that. All those barbarous camera people stalking you all the time... Plus the reality is always so contrived, you know. Really, they're just an excuse not to hire decent actors or writers," She proclaimed very decidedly. This irritated me only slightly, but it was so fun to have a witty riposte.

I swallowed the fruit concoction carefully. "Let's put it this way... You don't see me on a reality TV show nowadays. But I'm grateful for it. Without that show, I wouldn't be where I am now. I owe everything to it. I'm really very lucky to have caught a break that way. Most people aren't that fortunate," I elucidated quite clearly. I was so grateful for it. I smiled over at Tommy, putting my hand on his shoulder. "And if I hadn't done it, I wouldn't be sitting here. I never would've met Tommy. I'd still think he was some cheesy boybander with the depth of a kiddie pool," I replied, staring at Tommy. Tommy smiled back goodnaturedly, laughing a little. His eyes sparkled with a similar thankfulness.

"I believe you called me a corporate pop mega-poseur. Or something to that effect. And everything you hate about music. And you thought I was going to suck huge, remember," Tommy chimed in fondly. I shot him a look at that remark, and a few people laughed, muttering that, yes, Tommy did. Travis made a snide comment about how I _would _know. Or that Chaz would. I was remembering the first time we'd kissed, that awful awkward time, and I wondered why Tommy had brought all that up.

Kathryn rolled her eyes. "Aww, how cute." Taylor responded similarly with equal sarcasm. Kathryn's eyes lit up as if she remembered something. "Oh, yeah! I forgot that I actually watched that show from time to time while I was filming The Dominion. Only I voted for Eden Taylor," Kathryn ejaculated suddenly. I hated her more after that. Well, obviously I won. So suck it. Besides, is she deaf? She's heard Eden's high notes, right? The Dominion was a popular film (in Canada) about its early days. She played the Queen, I think.

Two can play this game. "So, which little slut did you play on Degrassi again? Was it Emmie, Mandy, or Payge? It's so hard to keep track when everyone sleeps around. I remember feeling very sad when they sent your character off to the mental asylum. I thought it was rather anticlimactic after the abortion, crack addiction, bisexuality, teacher hook-up, and crazy backstabbing scenes. Like, oh, when your character got back at the guy who gave her gonorrhea by tying him up to a tree in the middle of the woods during hunting season and painting an animal on his groin. Or when your character drugged and raped Craig... or was it the gay guy? Or when she seduced those gang members and convinced them to stab the girl who became captain of the cheerleading squad instead of your character? Pure genius, I'm telling you! And such a dull end!" I chirped, trying to remember as much as I could about her crazy bitch character.

Kathryn did not look amused. I, however, was. Very much so. First round Jude. Tommy silently applauded while trying to steal a raspberry from my dessert. At first I fought, cramming it in my mouth, but then I tasted it and remembered Travis, so I let Tom have the rest. I didn't even call her a skank or anything. Her character, on the other hand... Taylor came to her defense, actually scolding me. I coldly replied that we needed to have a conversation after dinner. The conversation in general became less heated after that. However, the conversation after dinner was not to be, as it was then time for a very awkward conversation with Theo.

He sat me down in one of their random living rooms. Tory did not look happy about it, but she permitted it. Tommy ignored my pleading eyes. I was surprised how close to me Theo sat, actually. I thought he was scared of me. But I was used to older men fearing me. "Dirty Old Man." Enough said. Theo leaned over and actually tried to grab my hands, which kind of creeped me out (so I didn't let him). "Jude, honey, I'm a married man. This can't happen." If he hadn't been serious, I would've laughed my ass off. He went into some meandering comment about feelings. And oh my God he sounded so much like Tommy that it made me a little sick inside.

I interrupted him mid-rant, rolling my eyes. "Okay, I'm going to ignore the fact that you sound like you've done this before... And that you sound so eerily like Tommy that, frankly, it kind of creeps me out a little. Relax, Theo... You know I just kissed you because of Travis, right? I was upset. It didn't mean anything. It's not like I'm actually into you or anything, no offense. Don't get me wrong... You're hot and everything, but you're just not my type. I have enough problems with older men already, namely your sons, without adding you to the mix. So let's just go back to the way it should be... You being a father figure-type," I rambled, trying to explain.

Theo looked somewhat puzzled. I dunno. He had a weird look on his face. Maybe he's not used to that response. I'm only thirteen years younger than his wife, and I'm dating his son. And almost slept with another one just this afternoon. After that, we reached a mutual agreement and the talk was quickly concluded. By then it was at least nine-thirty, maybe later. I was suddenly a bundle of nerves, remembering that Tommy and I would soon be alone again. I knew he would show up in my room.

However, I learned from Sadie that there was a jam session going on in the wing of the house that had the studio. Fortunately, we two lost girls met up with Chaz, who led the way. As a performer, I was expected to be there, naturally. Sadie was just going for the lack of entertainment. Plus I guess she wants to get to know her would-be family better. Whatever. We arrived just in time to see Travis finish a ridiculously sappy love song to his beloved. But I knew the song was really about Joan anyways. Sadie thought it was the cutest thing ever. I choked on the falseness of it all.

And there was Tommy, sitting on the couch next to Kathryn M. Chaz understandably went for the seat between them. Taylor was perched on a chair at Kathryn's side. Sadie sat next to him, and I was left the armchair between Travis and Chaz. Travis' eyes lit up with that evil green glow, and he passed the guitar over to Tommy. "How 'bout a duet between you and the Missus, T?" Travis challenged, shooting his brother a smirk. I was embarrassed, but nowhere near as much as Tommy. I'd forgotten his habit of calling me Mrs. Quincy. Tommy and I exchanged a brief look, and I nodded, communicating with my eyes that I'd start out the song.

Tommy checked the guitar to see if it was tuned properly before starting to strum a tune. At first it varied a little before it established itself in Tommy's mind, or, rather, fingers. I smiled and opened my mouth, thinking of the words. As usual, my mind was on matters of the heart, or expressing what was presently on my heart. I've never been one to hide it. Tommy nodded at me, and I started out the verse. "_Am I heading for disaster_?" I began somewhat haltingly. What is he after? Do I really know what I'm getting into? Is this all going to blow up in my face like always? Can I trust him this time? His eyes flashed warningly. I shook my head. "_Am I forgetting what I __**know**__?_"I continued, feeling the worry express itself. After all, I _know _Tommy. I know what he's like. I know our history. I paused. "_Or am I __**afraid**__...__instead of letting __**go**__?_"The words flowed off my lips like a sudden epiphany. Maybe I was afraid.

He strummed a little more before diving right in to the verse. I scooted forward in the armchair, now seated on its edge. My eyes were focused only on him. When I'd been singing, I was looking everywhere but him, but not seeing anything.

"_Are we __**dangerous **__together?_" He asked rhetorically. Oddly enough, our eyes met at that precise moment. Are you kidding? Tommy's dangerous on his own! He's a car crash waiting to happen! The look in his eyes softened; he wasn't so dangerous anymore. "_Are we pretending to be __**sure**__?_" He sang softly, tenderly even. He communicated so much with that look. Are you really sure? Is this really what we want? What we should be doing? Maybe I still have doubts. Maybe I'm not sure about this. My heart went up into my throat. Hell, I wasn't even sure I was really sure, but it had felt so... right. "_Are we walking into that storm? __**Ohh**__..._"Tommy bellowed suddenly.

I knew what he was really asking: Are we _really _doing this? Are we really going to subject ourselves to that? Are we really ready for this? Can we handle it? Can we weather the storm... together? Do we know what we're doing or what we're getting into?

Tommy's final word blended into the chorus, which we somehow sang together. It was as if our minds were one. I was looking at him in the eyes, staring at him, and he was staring at me. "_Here we go again... Back to where we've __**never **__been! Take it from the _end... _Start over and make it __**better**..__. __Here we go __again!_" We chorused with soft smiles on our faces. I wondered how that had happened. Were we really that in sync? Tommy and I rarely ever composed so completely like this. The words fit, though. We'd never been as close as this, as close to really having an actual relationship. We've done the beginning... maybe it's time to try something new. To make our relationship something better, something deeper than a friendship.

He surprised me by taking over the next verse. "_**Is **__this what we always wanted?_" Tommy drawled, shooting me a lazy smile. Yes, Tommy. This is what I've always wanted. I tried to communicate that with my eyes, but I've never been good at that type of expression. I think it comes with age. I let myself get lost in his beautiful husky voice. "_Is this a __**beautiful **__mistake?_" He wondered aloud, having stopped looking at me. There goes that stupid fluttering again. I don't want to be a mistake. Even if I'm a beautiful one. Tommy's eyes found their way back to mine. "_Is this the way two hearts are bound to __**bre-a-ak**__?_"

Tommy's fingers picked up the tempo. I'd been left kind of speechless as a result of that. His heart tied in with mine? His heart breaking as a result of me? When had that ever even been possible? Nevertheless, Tommy nodded at me encouragingly, and I found myself going on in spite of what he'd just said. "_**Show **__me a _part _of you that's __**different**__! Show me that you know what I need... Give me something we can __**believe **__in!_" I sang pleadingly, pouring all of my different emotions into the verse. Show me that you're not that same guy, the one who's broken my heart so many times. Show me that you can change, that you can make a commitment. That you can be _that _guy. Show me that you understand. Give me a reason to believe you. A reason to say yes. To finally make that step.

"_Here we go a-gain... Back to where we've __**never **__been. Take it from the __**end**__! __Start over... and make it __**better**__! Here we go __**again**__..._"Tommy and I finished in unison, effectively ending the song. Yes, indeed. I wondered if we would get some resolution after all. When Tommy and I finished, there was this long quiet spell. For what seemed like an eternity, no one moved. And then someone started applauding and soon everyone was applauding. Tommy and I suddenly remembered there was a world beyond us and looked around the circle. My cheeks were red with embarrassment, and I made sure to scoot back into my chair and away from Tommy, who had also moved towards me.

Some people gave me smiles. Others did not. Sadie's smile was a little strained, and Kathryn's smile was a little too smug and knowing for my liking. Taylor wasn't smiling at all, and Travis was, of course, smirking. Kate was a bit teary-eyed (being a romantic), and Chaz looked happy. Tommy and I weren't smiling; our faces held curiously blank looks, as if neither of us could believe that actually happened. The moment seemed so surreal.

"Well, you two have never been very subtle, now have you?" Travis remarked. He thinks he's so witty. He held up a hand, smirk widening. "If I had a flute in my hand, I'd toast to your future happiness." He paused, putting his hand down. "But I don't, and, frankly, you won't be happy. Together, at least," Travis announced. I glowered at him but couldn't help feeling that maybe he was actually right. Tommy was scowling.

Suddenly, Taylor jumped up from his seat. He was steaming. "Could you **be **any more obvious, Jude?" He snapped. Me? What about his brother? We've established this already. I am not really a subtle or particularly secretive person. I wear my heart on my sleeve. Why is he surprised? Could you be any more of an ass, Taylor! "It's one thing to know you're doing it behind my back, but you have to flaunt it right in front of my face too!" He exclaimed loudly.

My eyes narrowed at the implication. Aside from what happened with Tommy today, I haven't cheated on him. Well, with Tommy, anyways. That's the first time I've kissed Tommy in... well, since things with Taylor started getting a little more serious. I've kissed Speed a few times. Tim's just... He's acting weird. We're both friends right now but kind of not into the romantic side, even though we go out. It's confusing. He doesn't even know I have Taylor either. We haven't spent much time together lately, me and Tim. I rose to my feet, beyond tired of people accusing me of being a whore. I don't open my legs for everyone, you know. Hell, I haven't even screwed Tommy!

I strutted over to Taylor, ticked off. "I'm not doing anything, stupid, and I don't appreciate you dragging our problems out in front of everyone like this," I stated tersely. I didn't want everyone to hear us arguing, but Taylor opened his mouth and started repeating himself, so I cut in. "But if you want to humiliate me, then go on ahead. Bring in your parents and make the public embarrassment complete, as if it already wasn't bad enough!" I snarled, making sure he remembered all the things Travis had said about me. Travis seemed to have a powerful sway over my boyfriend's weak mind. Thank God Tommy's not so easily led, or he'd have been turned against me ages ago.

Taylor leaned in a little closer. "You're lying! Everyone sees how you feel about Tommy! You're having an affair with him, and I know it! I'm not fricking stupid, Jude! You bring the humiliation on yourself by putting yourself in these positions," Taylor shouted at me, deliberately disobeying my polite request to please be quiet and not make this public. I was determined to make him pay for saying that in front of everyone.

I took a step towards him, possessed by fury. "It doesn't matter if I'm telling you the truth because even when I am, _you _think I'm lying! You think that just because you're my boyfriend you deserve to know every last detail of my life! Well, you don't! I don't have to tell you everything. You _sure _don't tell me everything, so why should I? You don't even trust me!" I retorted angrily, throwing my hands in the air. Judging by the surprised look on Kathryn's face, he didn't even tell her we were dating. Asshole.

His face twisted into a sneer that reminded me of his eldest brother. He moved closer. "Can you _blame _me? You and Tommy are practically joined at the hip, and he loves to steal his brother's girlfriends! I don't trust _him! _But really, why _should _I trust you? Every other girl just gives into him in the end, and you're obviously so far gone already that you're no different! You haven't given me one good reason to believe otherwise!" Taylor countered furiously. He was practically foaming at the mouth. Although he did have a good point... I was frustrated. He'd known all that. And he wasn't much for honesty either!

I wanted to slap him, but I stopped myself. I'd regret that, maybe. I still wasn't entirely sure I wanted to just throw Taylor away like that. "Stop acting like we're married! You and I are not Travis and Kate. We haven't even been dating for a whole **month **yet! You can't possibly be _that _attached! Don't say you love me! You don't even know me! So stop acting like I've hurt your feelings and your pride! You're just pissed because you're not getting all my attention. You're like a little kid who's mad he has to share. Maybe you would get my attention if you were... oh, I don't know... actually _around. _You're 502 kilometers away in Montreal while I'm in Toronto! I just don't see you that often!" I rejoined furiously, frankly. What claim did he have on me?

But I wasn't done yet. "Tommy is my best friend. I've known him a _hell _of a lot longer than I've known you, and yet you seem to expect me to give that up! For **you**! You might as well be a _stranger _for all we know about each other! For **God's **sake, we met at _his _birthday party, and you wouldn't even tell me you were his brother for this very reason! You don't get to act like you've been blindsighted. You knew where I stood before you even _met _me! You knew what you were getting. You were warned... And who are you to lecture me about him anyways? You didn't even tell your costar that you have a girlfriend!" I shouted back, feeling somewhat relieved afterwards. It felt good to get all that out.

Taylor glanced over at Kathryn, who did not look amused. I was, however, only slightly. Then his eyes snapped back to my face because he was too much of a coward to really look me in the eyes. "That doesn't change the fact that you have feelings for my brother," Taylor replied quietly. Newsflash, I've had feelings for all of your brothers. Have. Oy. I couldn't very well deny that, so I had to think of a way to get around it and fast.

"Whether or not I do or don't has nothing to do with you, and, frankly, it's none of your business. After all, I'm dating _you, _aren't I?" I pointed out rather sharply. It was the best I could come up with, really. "Our problems go beyond him, okay, Taylor?! If it weren't for your insane jealousy, we wouldn't fight at all!" I continued rather irately, feeling the need to make that clear to him. We had problems of our own. Our argument had quieted down, though.

Taylor rolled his eyes at me. "Maybe I wouldn't be "insanely jealous" if you weren't all over him! If I didn't know you'd already slept with him!? How the hell am I supposed to compete with _Tommy? _You think he's practically perfect in every way! You damn near worship him! I know when I'm out of my league!" Taylor argued somewhat mockingly. His voice rose an octave, and I winced. I don't worship Tommy. And you know, he just sounded so much like Shay there that it repulses me even more! Plus I haven't slept with Tommy. And he feels the same way about Kathryn!

I crossed my arms over my chest. "You know what, I'm sick of you and everyone else assuming that I sleep around. Or that Tommy and I have some "friends with benefits" arrangement going on where he can just screw my brains out whenever he wants to. I'm not a _whore!" _I snarled viciously, jabbing Taylor in the chest. I whirled around to glare daggers at Travis before he could contradict me. My eyes softened as I turned back to Taylor. Deep down he really was a nice guy, and I really did want to help him. "You want to know how you can compete, Taylor? Be yourself. I like _you. _I just don't like the monster your jealousy turns you into," I said softly. It was true. But I knew Taylor wouldn't do it, so I turned my gaze to Tommy, trying to tell him that there really was no competition. Taylor doesn't stand a fighting chance the way things are going now.

Taylor shook his head. "No matter what I do, I can't compete. I can't make you forget about him, Jude. You can't even deny being in love with him!" Taylor blurted. His words were pathetic yet dripping with envy. And true. But I'd never said I was in love with Tommy, and Taylor had never asked. I felt my cheeks burn. This is not the place to have this out.

"Never said I was either!" I snapped back. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. How can he care about an emotional affair? Okay, try and calm down, girl. This argument needs to end soon.

When I opened my eyes, Taylor was sneering. He'd moved closer to me, and he was suddenly all up in my face. "Well, are you or aren't you?" Taylor demanded. All the color drained out of my face then, which was worse. He had to go there. Well, I didn't want him to. I replied faster than I ever imagined, catching my breath and pushing on.

"You have no right to ask me that. You really want to know what our problems are? Let's start with the fact that you smashed a punch bowl into my head at my school dance, okay? The only reason I don't have brain damage or something is because of all the hairspray. You could've _killed _me! And who took care of me? It sure as hell wasn't you! I didn't even get so much as a FREAKING apology from you!" I screeched, getting progressively more irate as I thought about it. The wrath was building up in my veins. I hadn't gotten an apology either. That made me mad. I almost added that Tommy took care of me, but he'd find a way to blame that on me too. And I didn't want to add even more fuel to the fire.

I turned around to show people the large bandage on the back of my neck. The stuff underneath was even nastier. I needed to change it soon. "Well, you just **had **to _save _Tommy, now didn't you? You can't just stay away from him. _You _risked your own life!" Taylor hollered back, coupling the comment with stupid hand gestures. A Quincy trait, I think.

No longer on the defensive, I put my hands on my hips. "And if I hadn't, you might've killed your own brother! It's good that someone cares about him! If you'd had half the sense God gave a brick, you would never have joined in on that fight in the first place and wouldn't have even been in that situation!" I countered viciously, trying to make him feel guilty like he should. He still hadn't apologized.

Taylor rolled his eyes. His gaze flicked over to Travis. "I was defending your honor... what little of it there is."

I stiffened. "Or _was, _I ought to say." And he wonders why I go to Tommy? I'm sick of putting up with this crap. He is _so _definitely Travis' brother. But Taylor wasn't done yet. He turned to Tommy, pointing the finger at him. "And you! You're my brother! You promised me you wouldn't go after Jude!" Taylor whined accusingly. I rolled my eyes. He doesn't have to. At this point, she's practically running to him. Away from you, Taylor. Ugh.

Tommy looked up at Taylor. His eyes were a steel blue and unrelenting. He was unafraid of my pitiful boyfriend. In a fight. He just sucks. "I promised I would... _if _and only if you treated her right. Clearly you're not treating her right," Tommy replied coolly, offering his brother a shrug. This is your fault, he was saying. Basically. And it is. I'm not satisfied with Taylor. With a lot about Taylor. I didn't even talk about his dreadful kissing!

He cleared his throat. Taylor didn't back down, so Tommy continued. "If anything happens, it's your fault, not mine. Because if it does, it's because she's not happy with you. And frankly, why would she be? You insinuate that she's a slut regularly and in public. You don't trust her and are, accordingly, always jealous. And you suck at kissing and romance. Ah, the perfect trifecta! No _wonder _she's dating you!" Tommy explained calmly, if not a bit icily. He was definitely being heavily sarcastic, not that I blame him.

Taylor finally turned back to me, looking betrayed and even more pissed off. I knew he was going to take it out on me so I decided to beat him to the punch. I grabbed his hand, forcing myself to come down. "Look... Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all, Taylor. I don't think this is fair to either of us, and it's not... It's not doing either of us any good. We're just making ourselves miserable, and we always wind up arguing. So maybe we should just take this vacation as a... _break. _As a time to think things over and figure out what we really want. We're both new to this, and the both of us need to learn how to make this relationship work. So let's just... think it over and decide if this is really what we should be doing," I explained as diplomatically as I could.

I forced myself to look him in the eyes, trying to comfort him. It still hadn't dawned on him, what I was doing. "We can still see each other, of course. Just maybe not so much... I'm going to leave if you try and pick another fight with me. I'm tired of putting up with that, Taylor. I want to get to know you better, Taylor. I don't want to see this side of you anymore. I still want to know the real you, the guy I said yes to almost a month ago... Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to bed," I announced finally, before turning on my heel and heading back upstairs. I exhaled deeply. Thank God that's over. Maybe I shouldn't have let him down easy... maybe I should've just dumped him flat out.

With some luck and finger crossing, I eventually made it back to my room. I pulled out my pajamas, putting them on quickly. After that, I went to the bathroom, washed my face, and brushed my teeth so my breath would be minty fresh. By that point I figured that Tommy wasn't coming, so I turned off the lights and got in bed. Normally I would've written a song, but I was just so tired and emotionally drained. A lot had happened to me that day.

I was just starting to drift off when I heard the door open and close. The door squeaked a bit. I knew it was Tommy, but I said nothing. He walked over to me, and I felt him slip under the covers and put his arms around me. "Jude, are you awake?" He whispered, moving closer to me. I took a deep breath and turned to face him, giving him his answer. He pulled me closer, and I let him. Surprisingly, Tommy was just as dressed as I was. I was wearing an old band t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He was wearing a baggy t-shirt and pajama bottoms.

There were two or three reasons for this (1. It was hella cold, and he had to walk to my room, 2. Tory probably has a rule against it, 3. He doesn't need any less clothes coming to see me; it's dangerous).

My breath caught in my throat with the way he was looking at me. He didn't expect anything after what almost happened, right? It somehow didn't feel right having him in my bed right after going on a break with Taylor. But I owed it to myself, didn't I? To... experiment with this idea of Tommy and me, what I'd always wanted. There was that uncertain look in his eyes, that suggestion that we should probably talk about it. But even if he raised the subject I wouldn't know what to say. "Hi," I breathed.

He smiled, moving his hands to my hips. His thumbs rubbed circles on the area behind my hips. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but I placed a finger on his lips. Puzzlement filled his gaze. I smiled back, shimmying closer to him. "You remember my birthday last year, Tommy?" I murmured, dropping my hands to rest on his cheeks. There was a guarded look in his eyes. It was a sensitive subject between us, almost taboo. Even the party itself or what had happened with Shay was treading thin ice because it all led back to that damned kiss that never happened. Nevertheless, Tommy nodded just barely.

I kept smiling, and I think he took that as a positive side. Either way, he gave no warning for me to stay away from it. "I never told you this... but I heard what you said to Kwest that day," I confessed softly. Tommy groaned, but I kept on smiling. I grabbed his hand warmly, thinking back to what he said. I took to imitating his voice. "Look, that's not even what this is about. Kwest, man, you think I'm _okay _with this? Huh? That the **coolest **chick I know, the girl that _gets _me the most, is _**six-**__teen? _Give me a break, man. She's out of bounds, and I'm not _that _guy," I recited, mimicking him. I looked over at Tommy, who was embarrassed.

His hand was over his eyes. I pulled it down. What did he have to be embarrassed about? "Thanks for reminding me of that," Tommy muttered sarcastically. What, is he annoyed that he's changed his mind? Is he having second thoughts? Is he ashamed he said that or ashamed he's changed his mind? I thought it was sweet. "Not one of my finer moments." Please! The little half-smile/half-smirk was totally hot.

"And that's when I knew you were into me," I replied smugly, smirking at him. Tommy rolled his eyes at me, and I tempered my statement. "Okay, fine. That's when I knew you wanted me," I corrected. The kiss was when I knew he was into me. It didn't matter now, though, since he'd practically admitted he was into me. I mean, okay, so he hasn't said the words exactly, but he out-and-out said he wanted to be with me. And isn't that worth more than a declaration of feelings because it shows intent and acts on feelings? I remembered with some glee how I'd gabbed to Kat about it so happily.

I winked at him. "You know, Tom, for a girl already in a relationship and supposedly in love with him, I was extraordinarily excited by your little revelation. Just ask Kat," I added conspiratorially. Tommy smirked at that. I could just picture him saying "I have that effect on women." I grinned. It was really a big self-esteem booster. I was practically jumping up and down. I mean, before Kat showed up, I was singing "I'm in Love with My Guitar" in the shower at the top of my lungs, if that says anything.

He rolled over on his back, so I put my head on his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Good. The jealousy was driving me insane. It was like he was all you could talk about: how great and perfect he was, how much you adored him, and how you couldn't wait for him to come back... You were so _enthusiastic, _and I was stuck being the best friend and confidant. It got on my last nerve," Tommy decreed, sounding as frustrated as he must've been back then. His frustration, however, was muted from the length of time that had passed. I cringed, remembering how I was back then, exactly as he'd described me.

Tommy continued, feeling the need to explain. I let him. I knew how he'd felt. Hadn't I played that role too? Hadn't I done the entire first year we were friends, not that he ever told me much? Hadn't I done that when he was dating Sadie? It was cathartic to hear.

"To make matters worse, we were always together, practically attached at the hip. You were lonely. You wanted someone to talk to, and I was there. With Shay gone, I'd become your surrogate boyfriend or something. It was like... the more time we spent together, the more out of control I felt. The more I got to know you, the more I liked you, the more I started to have these... feelings for you. I thought I was going to lose my mind keeping it all inside, holding back like that. It's not in my nature to hold back... I just couldn't deal with it anymore, you know?" Tommy confessed, surprising even me with the force of his admission.

That was exactly how it had been. I'd spent every waking moment with the guy. I was right; I had been spending too much time with him. Tommy had been there with me every step of the day. That whole day, there were only a few times were Tommy and I weren't together or at least in the same place: when I went home to sleep that morning, when I was trying on dresses, and when I was getting ready for the party. Oh, and when I went outside to talk to Shay, and then... The time before Tommy found me, and the time after he made me leave... and then after I left him there. But really only two of those count since he was pretty much always in the same place as me.

Why couldn't I see it? He was so whipped! I took him shopping with me. The man fed me most of the time. We fell asleep at G Major more nights than I'd care to admit (when I started perfecting the art of sneaking into my house in the middle of the night). He drove me around like he was my own professional chauffeur. It was so obvious!

It just goes to prove that Tommy was and will always be my first love. Not that I can tell him that. There's that L-word I've got to shy away from. I nodded quietly. "I know." I ran my hands through his hair, playing with the ends of it. It never failed to surprise me how soft and wonderful his hair is.

Tommy spoke suddenly. "I'm not sorry." His voice had a hard edge to it. I looked up at him expectantly, feeling confused. Not sorry for what? But I couldn't help but wonder if he was talking about this night. He had to be, didn't he? Tommy cleared his throat, looking almost shamed. "For kissing you. I'm sorry about the way I handled it... The things I said. That was the _real _mistake," Tommy added a moment later, clarifying his previous statement. There it was, the real apology I'd always been waiting for from him... for that.

All I could do was nod. I needed a way to break the tension building up between us. Things were suddenly too serious. "You know, that was a real hot smooch you and Travis shared earlier," I remarked with a giggle. Tommy gave me a look, rolling his eyes at me. If only there was tongue involved.

"You're just jealous," Tommy muttered under his breath. I snorted. Of him or Travis? That's what I almost said. Why should I be? I've made out with both of them. I swatted at his chest lightly. He laughed. "I think everyone knows how much you enjoyed it."

I gave him a sour look. "Well, I love me some hot guy-on-guy action," I replied cheerily. "And that, was... hot..." I paused, deliberately licking my lips. I was unable to think of an appropriately dirty-yet-hot analogy to fill the pause myself. "Think of whatever adjective you'd like to fill the space," I mumbled huskily, flashing a wink at him. Although with their resemblance and relation... it's a bit disgusting. Tommy made a face at me, but I went on talking. "If only it had gone on a little longer..." I mused dreamily, knowing just how riled up all that talk was getting him.

He wasn't falling for it, though. Not tonight. I saw it in his eyes. There was something so terribly seriously about him then, and I knew immediately that he was going to ask about what had almost happened with us. "Jude, about earlier..." I shut my eyes in preparation. What good words can possibly come after that beginning? I'm sorry, but I can't... It was nice and all, kid, but you're not my type... It was a mistake. "I meant everything I said to you, and I'd say it all again," Tommy said a moment later. I felt his breath on my face. My eyes opened in disbelief.

But there was that nasty problem. I had no idea what to say. Tommy spoke for the both of us, pressing his lips to my fingers. He tried to say something, but his lips trailed up my arm and then he just kind of forgot to speak. It was pleasant, but I wasn't in the mood. I was emotionally drained, and it seemed like if I did anything with Tommy tonight... I'd just be justifying what Taylor said, and I didn't want to prove him right. I pulled my arm away from his lips, frowning. "I'm sorry, Tommy, but I'm not really in the mood," I said as diplomatically as I could. I was scared he wouldn't want me anymore after that... or even after... after having sex with him.

Plus I really wasn't in the mood.

His face fell, and I naturally felt like gum on the bottom of his shoe. I thought he was disappointed with me or unhappy, and I hated to let him down, to make him unhappy. "Don't hate me," I begged. I almost apologized, but Tommy stopped me by placing a finger on my lips.

He shook his head. "I don't think I could ever hate you, girl," He murmured. His lips brushed against my forehead. His fingers brushed back stray strands of hair. Tommy pulled back a little to look down at me. His eyes shown with sincerity in the darkness. But soon a frown was upon his lips. "Jude, I told you... That's not important. Sex isn't an issue. Been there, done that, had my fill..." Tommy said dismissively. I almost gagged at that last comment. Ew. He even sounded a little upset that I hadn't trusted him. I guess I don't blame him. He'd said that before, just today, in fact... But can't you see why I'm a little mixed up? That's why Shay dumped me. Dad cheated on Mom. Travis tried to rape me... All because of the need for sex.

"I want you and everything that comes with that... Just you. I want an actual relationship, Jude, not sex. I respect you too much for that," Tommy vowed, sliding his hands down my sides. He slipped his hands up underneath my t-shirt. The sexuality of the gesture escaped him. My heart fluttered like a baby bird, scared and hopeful at the same time. I knew he respected me, but it was so strange to hear him committing like that. The words took my breath away. "Frankly, Jude... I don't care when it happens. All that matters to me is that it _means _something. Some things are worth waiting for... especially you," Tommy swore.

And I believed him. I hated myself for doing it, but it was just so easy. I smiled faintly. He was just so perfect, so sweet, and I completely didn't deserve him. It made me want to cry. Tommy pressed a kiss to my cheek, and I turned my head halfway so his lips wound up on mine. It felt so good. I pulled him closer, hands on both sides of his face. He tasted like heaven. His lips melted against mine, and the world seemed to dissolve around us. My insides turned to goo, but a molten kind, like lava. I wanted more of him, so much more, so I opened my mouth further, kissing him deeper, more hungrily. Before I knew it, I was straddling him.

As good as it felt, though, tonight wasn't the night. I sighed and pulled away from him, flopping over on my side next to him. Tommy was staring at me, absolutely incredulous, but I didn't look at him. I was still breathless myself. Why does Taylor always ruin this for me. "Unfortunately, I think you're going to have to wait a while longer. I'm **not **going to be the Céline to your Réné, Tommy... I want _you, _Tommy; I really do, more than I've ever wanted anything in my life... but I need time. I just have to make up my mind about some things and decide if there's really anything worth salvaging with Taylor. My head's so mixed up right now... I don't want to rush into anything too fast. And I _don't _want to get you in **trouble! **Besides, I owe it to Taylor not to betray him so soon. I don't want to prove him right, not when I haven't even properly broken up with him yet," I responded nervously, at times a bit forcefully, shooting Tommy brief side-glances.

He looked somewhat hurt by some of those remarks. His lips flapped open like he was going to protest, but the words seemed to die on his lips suddenly. He was struck mute. I'm so young, you know? This is all just a little much for me. I still have to get used to the idea of Tommy even feeling the way he does! I need to learn how to trust him again with my heart. I need to be sure, and we need to work all the details out about how it's going to work if it's going to work. And what we do if it doesn't work. And figure out what the hell I do about Taylor because it's got to be done just right. I gave him a pleading look. "Can we take things slow?" I implored, grabbing his hands. Tommy thought it over for a moment before nodding. I sighed in relief, and he pulled me close.

"As long as we go down that road together," Tommy mumbled tiredly. "Now, come on... 'S bedtime," Tommy yawned. My head resumed its comfortable position on his chest, my body half on top of his. He pulled the covers up closer around us. The night was cold, but Tommy was so warm. His arms tightened around me, once again around my waist and lower back. His hands rubbed the bare flesh there above my waistband. The small of my back tingled like pins and needles. I placed my hands on his chest.

He bent down, lightly kissing on my forehead. "Night, Jude. Sweet dreams," Tommy drawled, voice already thick with exhaustion, hinting at an imminent slumber. His head sunk back into the pillow. "Can't wait to wake up to your face," He murmured sleepily but uncharacteristically earnestly. It was so sweet. I couldn't wait either.

I did him one better, craning my neck to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Night." It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt so nice I could've easily stayed like that forever. Tommy sighed, pleased and relaxed, before burying his nose in my hair. I felt his muscles start to slacken, and Tommy was soon snoring quietly. It was so cute that I let out a tiny giggle. I hadn't moved my head, so I was still staring at his face, watching him sleep. He looked so beautiful, so angelic, so perfect, and so utterly adorable that I couldn't tear my eyes away.

Tommy slipped into a deeper sleep, and I felt my own eyelids start to grow heavy. I tried to fight it, but like Tommy, sleep had an irresistible pull (and control over me). So I turned my head, and, when I was sure he was sleeping, said what I'd wanted to say for a small eternity but held back to myself. "Love you."

Those two words were the last words off my lips before I drifted into dreamland. I couldn't help but wonder if maybe he'd heard them somewhere deep inside.

- Loren ;

Please review.

As for Tommy's house, well, there aren't actually very many castles in Canada (gasp), but here's some castles or castle-like estates, or chateaux, to imagine it as (look on Wikipedia! Each one has its own page!):

Château de Chaumont

Château Frontenac

Château de Pierrefonds

Château de Rochechouart

Château de Hattonchâtel

Château de Vitré

Place Viger

Saginaw Castle Museum

Biltmore Estate

Carey Mansion

Hartley Castle


	42. Worth Waiting For

For starters, I can't believe I was able to upload this. I totally thought I wasn't going to be able to do it, and I was like, going to leave. It was kind of intense there for a sec. But just because this is a double update doesn't mean you get out of reviewing BOTH chapters. Now, I don't mean to nag or anything, but last time none of you reviewed Chapter 39. And, given that that ENTIRE chapter was originally supposed to be chapter thirty-nine, and, in fact would be, if the site would let me... But alas, it won't. ARGH. Anyways, since none of you care about my problems or probably read this, I'll go on to what's relevant about this chapter, then.

Oh, have to say that it would've been a triple update too, but I've been out of town for two days, and I didn't get any writing done yesterday, and the Christmas Eve chapter has a lot to go. And I'm kind of hoping it won't be over the invisible word limit (THANK YOU, SITE. Really. Thank you for all your pain-in-the-ass exception errors and flat-out refusals of documents around 40,000-ish words and up. Thank you. I really appreciate emailing Support every day and getting no response. Thank you for letting me know what you really think of me. Can you tell how frustrated I am? I've been trying to upload this chapter since maybe the sixteenth?), but I think it's gonna be a long one and, so... check my profile if no update seems to be forthcoming for that.

Okay, so I totally owe the fight sequence below to Wikipedia. Which is how I learned about various fighting styles. And damn, there are a lot. Just about every country's got one. And they all have different rules and styles and so on. But Wikipedia taught me a lot about all the different ways of striking and especially kicking (who knew there were so many different ways to kick? Side-kick, roundhouse, jumping, flying, and then straight kicks). Well, as much as you can get from reading. Reading and then trying to apply the reading with my body was... interesting. I might've pulled some muscles. But hell, I learned some cool ways to kick. Oh, and just for the record, though it is kind of implied that they're doing a karate style sparring-match, they do incorporate things from other martial arts such as Muay Thai, Judo, Aikido, Sambo, Karate, Jujitsu, Jeet Kun Do, Krav Maga... whatever. But most of it is Muay Thai, Karate, and a bit of Judo/Aikido type stuff since I'm not fond of grappling. Or writing it, at least. Just saying that because I don't want to hear anything about how elbowing isn't accepted in karate or whatever (although, ha, that would require both knowledge of karate and actually reading the story). The dueling duo happen to be masters of multiple martial arts, but it should be noted that neither of them is trying to do significant damage as they are just sparring. For kicks, not to actually hurt each other. Lol, for kicks.

Oh, and flying kicks in fights are definitely not that common and generally rarely used... But remember that they're trying to show off for Jude. They're trying to win her AND do some damage, well, and knock each other to the ground. A kick, especially an aerial one, is a very good way to do that.

Oh, on a fun note, see if you recognize any girls in the list Jude gives of girls Tommy's dated/screwed... ;) Threw some names in there for kicks and giggles.

I apologize if my knowledge of Canadian geography is spotty. As much as I love the country and want to adopt it, I've never been... Sigh. Anyways, I was listing the cities in order by actual distance they were to each other, but then I just got tired of doing that. So, yeah. Anyways, that part's eh... all right, I guess. I'm also not too fond of the ending, so let me know what you think of it.

Let's see. I don't own "Worth Waiting For", "Deeper", "Just the Beginning", "White Lines", or "Where Does It Hurt?". And I think that's like, a personal record for most song bits in a chapter excepting maybe that one where she does the medley. so I'm slightly proud. I like to think it all works really well together, and especially with the way Tommy is.

* * *

"I never was engaged," I decreed, eying the others sprawled around the table with beady eyes. Jackpot. Kate and Travis shared a smile, clinking their glasses together before downing a shot. Sadie and Tommy followed them, neither one looking even half as happy. Sadie winced at the way the whiskey burned going down. Chaz merely looked melancholic as he tossed his back. He was obviously missing Ruby.

Sadie sighed, messing up her bangs. She paused to think it over, grinning triumphantly. "I never sang professionally," She declared just a bit dramatically. She'd had a few shots already, more than I had. I scowled at her and threw back the shot at the same time as the two boybanders, Travis, and Kate. I'd forgotten that Travis and Kate had met on tour. I wasn't the only one glaring at her, though.

Chaz looked contemplative and quiet. He was a bit of a depressed drunk. He shrugged, refilling his shot glass. "I never acted," He mumbled. All three brothers groaned and slurped another one down. The prim Kathryn Mansfield also did likewise. She was, unbelievably, more of a bitch in her state of inebriation because she started to brag. Not that she needed to. And, okay, I realize this is hypocritical of me, but she was holding Taylor's hand the whole time. And he's _my _boyfriend still, not hers!

Technically. But we all know how he's licking his wounds... Or rather who's doing it for him. Kathryn's only to happy to lap up the attention, after all.

Travis smirked, issuing Tommy a direct challenge with his eyes. Great, just great. "I have never kissed two people of the same family," He admitted, holding his glass high in the air. Kate looked down, clearly ashamed, and threw the drink back fast, like she wanted it to be all over with. It was a kind of punishment for her. Tommy and Travis. Chaz joined her in consuming his with a bit of an amused smile. Sadie and me. Although there might've been others. Tommy and I looked at each other, held up our glasses as if to toast each other and slurped down at the same time. He had the Mills sisters and us Harrisons. I had, well, every male in his immediate family.

Kate smiled a bit, throwing her arm around Travis. "I have never fought with my sister over a guy..." She said before suddenly stopping and scowling at the brothers Q. "And brother over a girl counts too," She said sternly. I didn't think that was a good one to say, since Travis would remember which other girl he and Tom had fought over, but I kept that to myself. Sadie and I sighed, miserably polishing off our shots. I was gracious and apologetic enough to pour Sadie's next one. She offered me a tired smile. Naturally, the Brothers Quincy all drank again. If they hadn't, I would have called them on it, and that would've been very embarrassing for all parties involved.

Taylor, still bitter, scowled at me. In fact, he'd been glaring at me for a while, and in my somewhat tipsy state, I hadn't noticed. I reached out drunkenly to grab Sadie's hand, leaning against her shoulder. She seemed to know I needed support as she wrapped her arm around me. "I never made out with my boyfriend's dad," He growled, glaring at me until I sucked down every last drop. Feeling vindictive, I made sure it took a while, going extra-slow. That was, after all, below the belt.

When it was over and done with, I slammed the glass down, narrowing my eyes at him. "Aww... Cute. You have a boyfriend and never told me? And you say I keep secrets from you!" I hmphed quite dramatically, bursting into a fit of giggles. Travis and Tommy both laughed themselves silly, and most people let out a snicker or two. It was a way of taking the pressure off me. Taylor only looked angrier, but I didn't care. I'd gotten even.

Kathryn put on her dumb smile, the smile that really said she knew exactly what she was doing but was going to pretend to be an innocent about these things. I winced in anticipation. She was going to say something mean and get me drunk. I could just tell. "I never made a music video," She replied coolly, looking on with glee as the musical majority knocked back a shot simultaneously. I giggled, a vision of the famous "Pick Up the Pieces" video in my head. Tommy and Chaz looked somewhat annoyed, like they knew what I was thinking of, and the two shuddered at the exact same moment, as if afflicted by the same unpleasant memory.

Tommy was next, shrugging. He'd had more liquor than just about anyone else. "I've never been punched unconscious," He proclaimed proudly, as if saluting the losers. It is a a rare thing, though. Travis and Chaz scowled, having probably been punched unconscious by Tommy, but finished their drinks anyway.

Joan smiled wryly. The shot glass in front of her was entirely full. She hadn't taken a sip because, well, she hadn't done much of anything. "I have never gotten drunk," Joan said evenly, an anticipatory smile creeping across her face. I couldn't bring myself to hate Joan for doing that. I knew she'd make me get drunker. Everyone else drank, ironically enough, becoming more and more inebriated. I wanted to laugh at the irony, but I was fast on my way to being plastered.

I thought over what to say for a minute before deciding to repay Travis. "I never tried to rape a girl," I snarled in a low voice. For a moment there was silence. I didn't care about whether or not statutory rape counted, Chaz. All I cared about was bringing Travis to justice. So I stared across the table at him with death in my eyes. He didn't break down until I jumped up, leaning across the table and grabbing him by his collar. I pulled him up roughly, leaning in extra close to make my point extra clear. My eyes were slits. "Do I have to pour the drink down your throat myself, or would you prefer that Tommy pour it down your nose?" I growled menacingly before releasing him. Travis gritted his teeth but did as I'd asked.

Feeling triumphant, I flopped back and wound up falling down into an ungraceful heap. Sadie looked over at me and started helping me. The two of us were lost in a hysterical fit of laughter. I laughed so hard I cried. "I never cheated on a significant other," Sadie professed quietly. I couldn't help but feel guilty at that one. Tommy drank the shot awful quickly. Great. Thanks for reminding me that you'll cheat on anyone and that you're not at all picky about it. A guilty Travis followed him, and I wondered why Kate hadn't realized that he meant he'd cheated on her. I supposed she was too busy wallowing in shame for the thing with Tommy which had happened five years ago. So she moped into her shot. Big deal. Kathryn Mansfield stiffly threw the shot back, as was her way. I felt Taylor's eyes on me, and I knew that technically I had... But of my real boyfriends (to me Taylor had not yet reached this level, and we'd been having problems), I'd never been with anyone else.

Oh, I was frighteningly single in my addled mind, and I didn't want him to be right. Tommy's eyes were on me too, but I didn't drink. I noticed him frown and felt worse, but that was the way it had to be. Chaz laughed mirthlessly, mumbling something about never besting Tommy in a fight. No one else had either. So Chaz instead cleared his throat and replied that, "I have never kissed Travis." Kate tossed hers back first, clearly happy. I sighed filled with shame, holding mine and wishing I could fade into the carpet, but I drank until the glass was empty anyway. Travis' beady eyes were focusing on Joan, who had surprisingly not done as we did. I eyed her carefully but wisely refrained from calling her a cheater.

She told me later that she hadn't drank because he'd kissed her every time. It was a technicality, but I supposed she had a point. I was surprised Kate hadn't seemed to notice my admission. Or, if she did, she wasn't upset at all. This concerned me.

Travis, even more determined to get Joan drunk, continued along a similar line. Remember, his goal was also to humiliate me. Like he's been doing all vacation. "I never kissed a Quincy on the mouth," He confessed, grinning like a madman. Naturally Kate finished hers with relative ease. The drink went down my sister's throat with a cough and a bitter smile. Kathryn (Or Kathorn, I ought to call her) Mansfield swallowed hers with practiced ease. Chaz even laughed and chugged his, to Tommy's dismay. I followed their lead and did the same, but Travis was vindictive. "One for each one of us, Jude," He chastised, watching with glee as I was forced to slam down three more. My own glass, Joan's, and then Sadie's.

My throat burned, and I whimpered a little. Tears came to my eyes, and I wiped them away. From the strength of the drink.

His eyes burned into Joan, staring at her pointedly, obviously. Kate didn't seem to get it, but Tommy understood fast enough. Travis was waiting for Joan to finish hers. She had poured herself a new drink, all right, but she had no intention of consuming it. Looking up to see Travis' look and everyone else's confusion, Joan answered smoothly, so smoothly I was proud of her. "First off, I didn't kiss a _Quincy, _Quinn." Tommy smirked and applauded, looking quite impressed with her. Travis looked pissed and put off. I was beginning to doubt Kate's sanity. I mean, that was pretty obvious. Even Sadie said something to me about it.

I remembered something. "Hey! You're a liar! You have **so **kissed a Quincy on the mouth! Tommy kissed you, you asshole!" I cried suddenly, scandalized. There were many gasps after that. Tommy buried his head in his hands, but not before glaring at me. Taylor laughed. Tommy's glare was nothing compared to the one Travis gave me. I shot him a lopsided grin. "Drink up, Chuck!" I proclaimed cheerily, patting Travis on the shoulder drunkenly. He did as he was told. I giggled merrily.

A nervous Kate managed the next one, clearly sensing that something was wrong. "I never loved Tommy." I felt my heart drop down to my shoes. Bitch. I reminded myself that it was lov-ed. E. D. Loved, past tense. That didn't mean I still did... Even though I do. Sadie drank first, looking so sad and bitter, and lonely, too, when she realized she was the only one. I put a soothing hand on her shoulder. I'll be there for you. I know what it's like, Sades. Ignoring the feel of Taylor's eyes burning into my neck, or the smug I-knew-it-grin resting on Travis' lips, I threw the drink back hard. I opened my eyes to look at Tommy. He was smiling like a dope, and that made me feel good. I didn't have to look to see Taylor staring back at me with hate.

In a pointed effort to piss me off, Taylor played the let's-make-this-game-a-personal-hell-for-Jude-game. The one that he learned from Travis. "I never cheated on my boyfriend with his brother," He remarked pointedly. Kate's eyes filled with tears. She was the one in the personal hell. Travis glared at her, hating the reminder. I didn't drink and pretended not to notice Tommy's questioning gaze. Taylor stared at me, clearly incredulous. I bristled and held my head up high. He hadn't really specified. I don't consider it cheating.

I forced a smile on my face. "So, honey, when do I get to meet this little boyfriend of yours? I've been hearing so much about him tonight... I'm just dying to get to know him better!" I asked amusedly, trying to make him uncomfortable. Taylor scowled, clearly bested. Ha. Point to Jude.

Kathryn had that stupid grin on again. She's so smug and self-important. "I never was a pedophile- convicted or otherwise," She drawled, shooting Chaz a knowing look. Oh, that smug bitch! I'm going to kick her ass. I reached across the table to do it too, but Sadie pulled me back.

Joan didn't like Kathryn much. I could tell even she didn't approve. The silence in the room was deafening and awkward, so Joan was the one to break it. Clearly no one wants to admit to being a pedophile. "You might want to define it," Joan replied icily, glaring at Travis, the biggest one of them all.

Kathryn rolled her eyes, faking a grateful smile. The dislike was mutual, but it was a good idea, so she acquiesced to Joan's suggestion. "An older male who preys on _children, _including preteens and teenagers," She defined with malice glittering in her eyes. "Drink up!" Just by the way she worded that, I knew Trav would disagree. After all, he's an ephebophile. Chaz sighed and downed the drink slowly and guiltily, thinking of Ruby. Tommy sighed, wanting to soothe Chaz but unable to do so. He drank too, eyes flashing with shame. He was thinking of me, I knew, and how he's supposedly slept with me. I felt guilty.

I motioned to Sadie to comfort Chaz, who really looked quite upset. She rubbed his back, and he leaned his head on her shoulder and then, later, her breast. She snaked an arm around him and let him stay like that, offering me a sad smile. I looked away and next thing I knew I was standing up again, glowering at Travis. "Oh, **drink **the damn thing already! _You, _of all people, should've downed that thing first. Teenagers are still freaking children, you molester!" I shouted, half ready to douse him in the stuff and light him on fire. Joan rose to put a calming hand on my shoulder. I shrugged the hand off violently, getting in his face. "No, Joan. He made his bed, damn it. Now he has to publicly accept responsibility for what he's done. Now drink before I make it so you have to eat through a straw," I snapped venomously before Joan pulled me back down. Joan joined in on the glaring, wrapping an arm around my waist, and Travis drank.

Ah, the sweet taste of victory. Tommy was next with murder in his eyes, which were directed towards Travis. "I never made a girl do anything she didn't want to do." Travis snorted but did as he was bound to do. Tommy, however, was too busy glaring at Taylor. I tried to think of what Taylor could've made a girl do. I knew he meant me in both cases, but the only thing I could think of was him kissing me against my will a few times. Ugh. Taylor sighed and finally cracked. However, he only downed half the drink. I was confused.

Joan was next with a grim smile on her lips. Her eyes were dark and wicked. I thought it fitting, given what she said later. "I never tried to make out with a student and succeeded," Joan announced primly. Her eyes flashed in a way I'm sure Travis would've been very proud of if he wasn't so pissed. It was obvious she was addressing him. After all, he was the only teacher there. Travis' hand was slow to move to his glass, so Joan followed his example. "Ah, ah, ah... One for each kid, Trav. And Patsy counts," She taunted, upping the ante. Travis glared at her briefly, but it lacked the intensity of those awful looks he always sent me. Her eyes flashed warningly, and she scoffed. "You're lucky I didn't make it one shot for every time you tried, Buddy."

True enough. How high is that number anyways? He did her bidding, slamming down one shot after another. Three were gone. Oh, so it's just me, Joan, and Patsy? Well, isn't that strange. I would've thought it was higher. It seems that it's just a Canadian thing, then? Nevertheless, I was smiling. Kate finally realized, that, oh, wait... My boyfriend messes with his students? Well, hey, if Joan knows... Then maybe she's one of them, and maybe that explains why he acts that way towards Jude, and, OMG, maybe that means he's cheating on me! She slapped Travis across the face. "What the **hell**,Travis?! You're mackin' on your students?! You are aware that you can go to jail for that, aren't you?" Kate shouted somewhat drunkenly, waving her hands about and smacking him some more.

I rolled my eyes and fought back a snicker. Mackin'. Ha. Of course he's aware. His mother's a lawyer. I smirked, though, deciding to interrupt their little argument. "Well... Actually, he can't go to jail for Patsy. She's eighteen or nineteen. That's perfectly legal. That's consensual sex right there," I corrected, unable to resist. Kate gasped and turned to slap Travis. I resisted the urge to grin like a madwoman. Then I made a show of widening my eyes and clapping my hand over my mouth. "Oops! I wasn't supposed to tell Kate that, was I, Travis?" I exclaimed, faking mortification. He glared daggers at me and Kate continued smacking him. I shrugged. "Gee, must be the alcohol loosening up my tongue... I wonder what other incriminating things I could let slip about you." I shot him a menacing look.

Travis got the message. I held up my glass. "I never impersonated Tommy," I admitted, shooting Travis another look. He glowered at me before emptying his glass once again. He looked like he was getting tired of being picked on. Nice to turn the tables, isn't it? Now he knows how it feels. I glanced over at Tommy, who looked amused by this admission.

Sadie shook her head. "I have never fallen for a fake Tommy," Sadie said quite decidedly. I reached over and shoved her, downing the drink. Damn Travis. Why must they look so much alike? It's really annoying sometimes. Travis was feeling vengeful, so he dodged Kate, holding up two fingers.

"You did it twice," He pointed out, reaching across the table and refilling my glass. It was obvious he meant that one for each time thing. I rolled my eyes at him, shooting him a death glare, but drank it anyways. I was pissed, though, that he'd brought that second time up when it was clear he wanted me to forget it. Weh-heh-hell... If he went there, then I'm gonna do it too. I made out with him both of those times, too. Ugh.

"I have never been married," Chaz murmured sadly, wrapping his arms around Sadie's waist. There was a heartbreakingly sad look on his face. I felt bad for him, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder. Poor guy. Tommy was the only one to drink, screwing up his face as he remembered that disastrous marriage to Portia. Travis eyed Chaz somewhat dismissively, like he thought he was pathetic. I made a face at him. Jerk.

Travis did go after me, as was to be expected, but not in the way I thought. I thought he'd say something about me being a ho. "I never thought Tom Quincy was the love of my life," Travis proclaimed dramatically, batting his eyelashes and adopting a girly voice. Sadie groaned, reaching around Chaz to attempt to pick up her shotglass. I picked it up instead, handing it to her. I held up my glass too, and we clinked them together before simultaneously downing them.

No one was surprised at Sadie, unless they hadn't known about the engagement. Me, well, I was in a bit of hot water. Tommy looked at me with surprise written all over his face. I'd never been a rabid Boyz Attack!er, and he knew that. I knew Taylor was going to be ready to kill, so I just avoided looking at him. I suddenly noticed that Joan was holding her refilled shot glass, staring at it contemplatively. Travis was staring at her, naturally, with this horrid jealous, utterly possessive look written all over his face. I imitated a whip. Tommy chuckled. Tension broken, just like that. Sometimes I really love Joan. But, seriously, Tommy and I are so gonna wind up talking about all of this later, aren't we? Man, I hope he's too wasted to remember this... "What are you doing, Joan?" Travis practically growled.

Joan smirked. "Thinking." Travis gave her an incredulous look. She shrugged, meeting his stare. "What? I'm thinking about it... Who knows? Maybe Tom's the one for me! It is possible, after all... I can't see the future!" Joan remarked somewhat irritably. Tom cocked an eyebrow, eying her with thinly veiled interest. I rolled my eyes, knowing he was giving her a rather... provocative once-over. They're just doing it to piss Travis off. I could've sworn, though, that I heard Travis mutter that maybe _he _was the one for her.

What he said a moment later, however, was not that. "Not if Jude has anything to say about it," Travis countered, annoyed with her. Joan still held her glass up and was staring at it. He shot me a look, trying to see the same jealousy reflected on my face. I wasn't jealous at all. Besides, if Joan's impervious to Travis' charms... Well, Tom and Travis are two different beasts entirely. Honestly, Tommy knows better than that. He's not going to really mess with Travis' love again. Plus Joan's my friend and definitely, definitely, **definitely **not into Tommy. Taylor looked both relieved and confused at this.

However, Joan eventually tired of her little game and set the drink down. She turned to Tommy, patting him on the shoulder and looking deliberately sad. "I'm sorry, Tommy... but you're just not my type. Better luck next time." Tommy pouted, and it was the most adorable thing ever. I let out a loud guffaw, and he turned back to Joan, seriously trying to make me jealous. Please. The man dated my sister. The only worse thing he can do than that is go up, through my mother and grandmother. Or Ruby, but, you know, he's already done that...

"I feel so unloved," He cried dramatically, clutching Joan's hand. "Oh, please, please, please reconsider! I'm hopeless without you! I must have you! You must be mine... I'll change! I'll do anything you want... Just, please, give me a shot!" He mock-pleaded. And just like that, I was jealous. He hadn't told her anything he'd said to me, anything he'd meant. But he had said that word. The C-word. Change. He never said he'd change for me. The smile fell off my face.

"Don't believe him, Joan. He doesn't know how to change," I said dispassionately, returning to stare at my drink. I removed my hand from Chaz' back. I could feel Tommy's eyes on me, and I knew he wanted to say something to me, but I ignored him.

Kate coughed and interrupted the silence. "I have never been divorced." Tommy threw back the drink gratefully. He needed a drink after that, I guess. After our public little fight. I wanted an excuse to drink too.

I glanced up when Taylor spoke. "I never stole my brother's girl," Taylor hissed, with such hatred in his eyes that I had to look down. Travis shook his head, looking irritated. Tommy's face looked remarkably similar, and it looked like both of them wondered why he had to bring that up. Nevertheless, both downed the alcoholic beverages quickly. Travis said nothing but sought me out, silently informing me that I was the aforementioned girl. But he didn't really steal me. He sure as hell tried, though.

Tried to steal something else from me too...

"That's a damn lie, and you know it!" Tommy yelled, almost grabbing Taylor and shaking him. Taylor's eyes flicked over to me too, and I felt suddenly uncomfortable. I knew I was what Tommy meant. Or, rather, who. I buried my face in my hands, feeling terribly embarrassed.

Taylor wasn't quite drunk enough to be as angry as he was, but he was pissed anyway. So apparently he lacks his brothers' high tolerance to the hard stuff. He's a bit of a lightweight, really. He was in the mood for fighting, though, so he contested Tommy. "So what if I did?!" He interjected, gulping back the shot anyways. "You stole her back anyways. It's not like everyone doesn't know that she broke up with me for **you**," Taylor retorted bitterly. Okay, remember what I said about alcohol loosening up your tongue? This is just ridiculous.

If it was possible, my face turned even redder. "I didn't break up with you, Taylor. We're on a _break. _And not because of Tommy. Because of our problems," I replied calmly, unable to look at him. But it annoyed me, him speculating when he damn well knew the reason. He's been kind of nasty lately, actually, spending all his time with his mother or Kathryn. I can't say I mind much, except when Tory complains about Taylor whining about me all the time. And when Kathryn makes bitchy comments.

"Which revolve around _Tommy_!"Taylor rejoined, clearly furious. I shook my head. This is neither the time nor the place for this.

"I'm tired of arguing with you about this, Taylor! All we ever do is argue! You're the one making Tommy an issue here, not me!" I objected, fiddling with my glass. I mean, jeez, he has a similar relationship with Kathryn Mansfield, and I don't say a word about it. At least I make an effort not to talk about Tommy when we're on dates. Well, not excessively. I try not to, you know. He's an unavoidable part of my life, just like Kathryn's an unavoidable part of his. I don't object to that. It's not like I tell him to stop being friends with her and bring her up every time we argue. Taylor does not realize that Tommy is not the source of all our problems. His own security is.

"Try and tell me that you're _not _constantly comparing me to him!" Taylor hollered. I forced myself to look him in the eyes, but I said nothing. I had to do that, even if I was. I do that, okay. That's a problem. I'm in love with Tommy. And that's a problem too. But that's _my _problem. I'm in love with Tommy. I technically shouldn't be dating anyone. And knowing that Taylor's his brother only makes it worse. But it's not like it's exclusive to him. I compare every guy or boy, really, I know to Tommy except, like, my dad. And grown-ups.

Because every guy's just a boy compared to Tommy.

Kathryn Mansfield placed her hand on his arm, effectively calming him down. I was grateful, but I knew I couldn't have that effect over him. I thought what she said was going to help matters. Of course, it did not, but I was not a victim of her stunt. "I never had sex with a Quincy," Kathryn drawled, thinking she could trap me into drinking. For Tommy, I assume. Tommy wasn't the brother I was wondering about... I didn't remember what I'd done with Travis, but it didn't look good. But then again, I hadn't known he was a Quincy then...

So I didn't drink, and Kate did. Kathryn looked defeated, and quite a number of them looked surprised. And they all think I'm a tramp. Gah. Joan went next, completely skipping Tommy. "I have never gotten in a fight over Jude," She said with a sly grin. What is it with this one and making me drink? Oh, she won't get in a physical fight, but she'll flash someone for me? Sadie, Chaz, and all three brothers downed a shot. After some deliberation, I downed mine. Ooh, that burns. Sadie had to pour the drink down Chaz' throat.

I smirked. It's time for payback, Travis. "I never asked myself to marry me." There were blank looks all around, and no one drank. I felt put off, but two of them had, and I was going to make them admit it. Tommy would get some weird looks because of who he is, but no one would think he was serious. "I never asked Jude to marry me," I stated louder, glaring at the both of them. Tommy shrugged, holding up his drink first. But ultimately, both of them slammed the drink down at the same time. They looked eerily identical and equally embarrassed.

Well, okay, that's not true. Tommy, being Tommy, was less embarrassed. But both of their cheeks were flushed... maybe from the whiskey, come to think of it. The only real difference was that Travis was glaring daggers at me. Kate slapped him. "You proposed to **Jude**!! Jude Harrison, as in your student... and your brother's girlfriend?! What the _hell _is wrong with you?!" She screeched, blindly striking out at him.

Which brother does she mean? Disturbingly, I think she means Tom. Can't blame her for hitting the bastard. He totally has it coming. I forced a smile. "Oh, did I forget to mention that it was while he was already engaged to you?" I replied helpfully. Travis gave me a look of absolute death. Kate hit him with renewed vigor. I merely kept on smiling, rather pleased with myself. However, Taylor was glaring at Tommy. Oh. Right. He knew about the Travis proposal. Joan looked even more stunned than everyone else. Okay, I get that. But what to say to her?

"I never had a wedding," Sadie interrupted, breaking the awkward moment. The bitterness was evident in her voice, and Tommy downed another, staring at her with sorrowful eyes. Kate and Travis paused their fighting to do the same. After that was done, a slightly more inebriated Kate continued to hit Travis. Sadly, her aim was drunken and thus, not what it ought to be. I thought that was a shame. I agreed with Sadie's depression. Chaz' whole face fell too. Proposed to twice but not for the right reasons, and after I tried on those wedding dresses. Ugh, horrendous.

Chaz attempted to sit up, but he was still leaning heavily on Sadie. She seemed rather fond of him, I noticed suddenly. "I never screwed the love of my best friend's life. I never even tried," Chaz slurred, his inability to speak properly half a result of the alcohol and half a result of his momentous loss. Tommy tossed back his drink in a flash. Still, something bothered me about that statement, and I could tell it bothered Tommy too, from the way he was looking at Chaz with eyes full of murder. Chaz glared back, or, at least, attempted to. Tommy opened his mouth to say something, as did I (turning to face Chaz), but the both of us ultimately stopped short... upon realizing the exact same thing.

While Chaz had come perilously close to having sex with me, I was not the love of Tommy's life because he was most assuredly not in love with me. He's never been in love with anyone, though... So, I suppose, maybe I'm as close as it gets for him? Tommy closed his mouth, confused, and said nothing. So Chaz couldn't say he never tried. Travis' eyes narrowed as he rose. "Little Tommy Screw, you nail his girl too?" Travis asked in a voice that lacked any of his characteristic eloquence. However, to my great amusement, it did rhyme.

Tommy rolled his eyes at Travis. "Well, what other reason would I have to drain that shot?" Tommy muttered irritably. Travis' jaw dropped. He looked incredulous and gestured over to his long-suffering (and not so beloved) fiancée, who reddened like a flower. Tommy looked over to where Travis was gesturing and, surprisingly, looked genuinely confused. He blinked dully, pointing towards Kate. "Whoa, you think I... _slept _with Kate?" He kind of whispered the word like it was dirty, making me suddenly aware just how close to wasted he must be. Uh oh. This game needs to end soon.

Travis nodded, annoyed with Tommy. Hadn't Tommy always made comments about sleeping with Kate? Albeit... vague comments. He had to know that's what Travis thought. Tommy frowned and shook his head. "I never screwed Kate, man," He mumbled so innocently that it was hard to believe him. Travis gave Tommy an incredulous look, turning back to Kate, who looked pale and equally confused. Whoa, so she thought she slept with Tommy too? Who's lying here? Drunken Tommy? But doesn't alcohol make you tell the truth?

"I kissed her on your wedding day, yeah,... I wanted to, you know, test her. I wasn't that much of an ass back then, not enough to deliberately ruin your wedding day. So I snuck up on her in the confessional because she'd have to be honest there, right? I wanted to make sure she wasn't like all the other lying, golddigging bitches you dated. Well, she pulled back and told me no, but I tried it a second time, hiking up her skirt and all... Kate had pulled back and was just about to tell me to go fly a kite when you showed up and, as always, assumed the worst. My pants weren't even undone. You just thought I was doing her because her hair was messy like that for the wedding, and I'd rolled out of bed in the same rumpled clothes from the rehearsal dinner," He explained calmly, if not a bit more loosely than he would normally.

Then Tommy cleared his throat, as if he hadn't just cleared up that whole thing all of a sudden. He poured himself another glass, looking at Travis with a look of repugnance on his face. "Seriously, Travis, you have the worst taste in liquor. You know better than this. If you're going to get whiskey, find some nice Scotch or buy a bottle of J.D., don't go for the cheap and nasty. At least pick something that doesn't have a rotten aftertaste," He grumbled. I smiled a little, and a befuddled Travis walked over to Kate.

He asked her why she seemed to think she had slept with Tommy. Tommy had an answer for that too. Well, the day pretty much sucked for her. So she just accepted your version of events and kind of blocked the day out. Or something like that. Poor thing. She'd been so guilty about it. Travis apologized to her for that. His whole main reason for revenge and a crappy life was pretty much shot, so he was kind of suffering an identity crisis. Tommy just shrugged. "Well, some of us don't go around trying to force ourselves on people." Travis flinched as if stung.

I explained to Joan quickly why Travis had proposed to me, but I was afraid the alcohol made my words thick. She seemed even more shocked afterwards. Not that I blame her. It still surprises me. As if Travis couldn't believe what he'd said, he said it, "I never nailed Tommy." Hmm, I wondered briefly, have I ever nailed Tommy to anything? Nope. Surprisingly, no one drank. I was slightly floored. What are the odds of being in a room where no one's banged the guy? Slim to none. There's those incredulous looks again. Gr-eat. Travis sighed, correcting his question to one I abhorred. "I never fell out of love with Tommy Quincy."

I turned to Taylor, curious. "Has your brothers' relationship always been this homoerotic?" I questioned, intrigued. Taylor made a face and shook his head. Well, they kissed on the mouth, and Travis is still in love with Tommy. Hee Hee. So why isn't that homoerotic? Is today National Be Gay with Your Brother Day or something? Ooh, that rhymes! I like that. Hehehe.

Taylor didn't answer, but Travis compelled me to. "Stop trying to distract the drunken fools from the question, Jude. No one falls in love with his brother," Travis ordered snappily, making me raise an eyebrow. Sadie threw hers back quickly- too quickly. She was lying and so totally not over him yet. Travis should've said that he never got over Tommy Quincy if he really wanted to nail me to the wall. I debated whether I should drink or not. If I did, I was lying, and there's a fifty-percent chance Tommy will be upset. If I didn't, I would be telling the truth, but then everyone would know I was still in love with Tommy... and there's a one-hundred percent chance that Taylor will be pissed.

Choices, choices... But I was saved from having to make that choice, fortunately, as I remembered something. Remember when Tommy and I locked eyes and got each other? Yeah. I was like, whoa, I love this guy. And then, mere moments later, I was like, no, you dumbass, that's fricking crazy! And then there was the whole stupid kiss thing and all those moments where I totally forgot I had feelings for Tommy. I mean, okay, I had like, only the most obvious crush this side of Ontario, but it was just a crush... And Tommy and the friends and Sadie were the only ones who saw. So yes, I have fallen out of love with him. Technically. Many times. I've just also fallen back in love with him a million times more. I smiled and downed the shot.

I got a couple surprised looks, and an extremely doubtful one from Travis. Tay-Tay just looked relieved. Tommy... His face was inscrutable. And I didn't wanna look. I could go over the last questions, but they were boring, so I'll paraphrase. Kate said she was never pregnant. Chaz drank, and we all thought he was a tranny for a second before we remembered Ruby. Taylor said he never got anyone pregnant, and Chaz drank again. Everyone gaped at Tommy, but he was pissed. Kathryn tried to play the smooth card by saying she never wanted something she couldn't have... but hasn't everyone, at some point?

Tom, Travis, Chaz, and I all drank to that. And how sad that all the others wanted the teenage girls. Creepy, no? Tommy confessed that he'd never wanted to be famous, which I'd uncovered when looking over the track titles for his new album. One of them was called "Never Wanted This Kind of Life" or something like that. Oh, no, "What I Never Wanted", I think. It sounded very Kurt Cobain for Tommy. Haven't heard it, though. So pretty much everyone but Joan and Kate drank that round. Oh, and Sadie. Even though she does want to be famous. Then Joan said she'd never wanted revenge like our crazy teacher.

I closed the game by admitting that I'd never gone on a date with Tommy, double-dates included. Tommy intruding on my date with Taylor... not included. Sadie, Chaz, Kate, Travis, and Taylor all drank. I felt victorious. That launched a bit of a Sadie/Tom bickerfest, so I left.

And this is where I have to start explaining everything. A little late, I know, but you'll deal. The drama kind of died down a little after the first day, and then Joan showed up. She's leaving the day before Christmas Eve because, understandably, her parents want her with them for the important holiday. Plus, dude, they're lonely! They're not from here! They have no friends! As for Ruby, well, she kind of chickened out. Okay, so she technically said her parents wanted her a while longer, but I really wondered about that. Then again, if they know Chaz is here, then they really might want her there. They probably don't like the Quincys all that much, after all.

Tommy and I are kind of... involved. At least, I think that's the word. No one else knows, and we've been really secretive about it. Careful too. To be honest, I kind of try and avoid him because I just don't know what to do around him anymore. Plus I wanted to stay away from him anyways. Back when Taylor and I had a stronger relationship, for that... And now with Taylor scarce, anything can happen. That's why I brought Joan and dragged Lily down here a couple days earlier to keep Tommy busy helping her. I still feel guilty about the Taylor problem. Worse, actually, because he gives me these hurt, hateful looks. Naturally, Tommy and I see each other plenty.

I just try not to make out with him too much or... I dunno. I'm so screwed and so in over my head. And so dead if anyone finds out. I hate this secret relationship stuff. It's not exciting at all! It's nerve-wracking and stressful, and I feel guilty, damn it. We still sleep with each other every night... platonically. It's really nice, you know, and I've never slept so well. The only downside to it is that one of us invariably has to sneak out in the wee hours of the morning just in case. So Tommy generally comes to my room, as he's the only one who knows where it is aside from his mom (who's not likely to barge in on me). Plus Tommy actually knows his way around. The one time I snuck out of his room, I got lost for two hours.

Anyway, the day after that tumultuous game, I woke up wrapped around Tommy in his bed with a killer migraine and little clothing. I was wearing one of his shirts and my underwear, and he was wearing his boxers. I did, however, get that lovely view of his chest. I keep forgetting how much I missed his chiseled form. When I opened my eyes, hands instantaneously going to hold my head, Tommy was awake and already staring at me. "Stalker," I muttered, shooting him a smile. But I love you anyways, I replied in my head while trying to express that sentiment with my eyes so Tommy could see. His eyes were bloodshot, and he definitely looked exhausted, but there was something so tranquil about him. He smiled at me too radiantly for a hungover guy with morning breath, leaned over, and pressed his lips to mine chastely.

I wanted more, so I let Tommy pull me on top of him and trail those kisses down my neck. I knew I was a mess, but that special glow in his eyes and the smile on his face made me feel beautiful and so painfully special that I was doomed. I had no recollection of what had happened after the disastrous game, but I assumed we'd come back here, made out a bit, then stripped and passed out. Romantic, huh? I straddled Tommy's hips, intentionally rubbing against him. He groaned, reaching up to grab me and pull me down with him. I let him put his hands on my waist, but that was all.

I refused to move down, close against him. I was enjoying having all the power over him. I leaned down, however, running my hands down the plane of his chest, liking very much what I felt there. Then I bent down, holding myself up on my hands, and kissed his face, his throat, making sure to pay particular attention to the area that drove him crazy. He tasted so good. He grabbed my ass, sighing happily. I almost jumped but returned the favor by sliding my fingers down his warm, pounding chest, over his abdomen, and tracing the waistband of his boxers teasingly with my index finger. I grinned, feeling the muscles flex underneath the edge of my nail. I enjoy tormenting him like this.

Tommy scowled at me and pulled me off of him, throwing me down by his side. I raised an eyebrow but snuggled into his arms anyways. It's amazing how easy a hangover can be forgotten. "Morning, girl," He murmured softly. "I should wake up like that more often..." He said, giving me a suggestive smile. I smiled back, shaking my head.

"Yeah, Tom. I'm sure my dad would be real cool with that. I practically live at your place as it is," I muttered sarcastically. I realized with a bit of a jolt that it was kinda true. I spend the night at his house all the time. Luckily I've learned to keep clothes there, or else they'd have lots of walk of shame photos. Nowadays they usually snag one of Tommy driving me somewhere. But we fix that by leaving early in the morning sometimes. They can't say much salacious stuff about that. Well, okay, they can say that we're "living in sin." Stuff like "Tommy Q's Live-In Girlfriend."

I've been upgraded to his girlfriend now. "Just Friends?" That's another one they like to use a lot. "Guess Who Spent the Night with the Big Q?" That one made me snort. "Tommy's Teen Sleepover." They assume, that, just like a real sleepover, there was little actual sleep done. They think it's the jackpot when I wear his clothes. "Little Tommy Q Ready to Settle Down?" No. Although he is relationship-broken, it seems. "Tommy Q and His Little Woman." Stuff like that. It depends on the time. Those have been the ones after I sleep there and they catch me.

There were some more eye-catching ones when he and Sadie were engaged, and there have been some ones of him with other girls in-between all of this. But I'm rambling here.

It's funny. I can't remember the last time I was this happy. Tommy pulled me closer, pressing me against his chest. He laughed, and I giggled at the rumbling feeling. "Your dad likes me." That he does. The music thing. You know, sometimes I wonder why my dad wasn't a musician. But then I remember... he can't sing. I like that Dad likes him, though.

"But he likes me too, and he likes me more," I argued softly, rolling my eyes at him. "I'm his baby girl," I proclaimed proudly. Tommy brushed his lips against mine and murmured against my throat that I was his girl too. There's those butterflies again, and that flush of warmth. This is why. Moments like this. This is why it's worth it, all the sneaking around. I remembered what Dad had told me about Tommy, realizing that he probably hadn't heard. I smiled up at Tommy. "You know... Dad said he wouldn't mind. If we got..." I forced myself to say it. "...together." Tommy turned to look at me, propping himself up on an elbow, raising an eyebrow.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief. Obviously he thought Dad would hate him after the Sadie fiasco. Well, I guess Dad can't blame Tommy for that. He jacked things up, sure, but Sadie's better off this way. Sadie knows it too. I nodded. He broke out into a wide smile, pulling me closer, pressing his lips to my forehead softly. "That's good," Tommy whispered, sounding happy. "So he'll let me date you." I let my sleepy eyes close, even though that statement should've been enough to jolt them open, as I rested my head on his pillow. Tommy pulled the blankets over us, and, I assume, closed his eyes too.

I was just beginning to drift off when I heard someone knock on Tommy's door. He has a buzzer too, though. His room is massive. "Who is it?" Tommy barked in a garbled voice. I stiffened upon hearing a very familiar and hated voice. It was Travis. Tommy shook me, and my eyes shot open. I scrambled out of Tommy's bed just as Travis asked to come in. "Hang on a second!" Tommy shouted, grabbing me and steering me into his closet. "Stay in the shadows," He hissed. I knew better than to question him.

Travis couldn't find me there. Tommy also tossed my clothes into the closet with me, shutting the door as quietly as he could before unlocking the door and flopping back into bed. What, is he afraid Travis is going to kill him in his sleep? There was a short conversation between the two brothers. Apparently Travis was asking for an article of clothing. I grabbed a robe I discerned to be red in the darkness (to blend in with my hair, duh), wrapping it around myself before I indelicately hopped into Tommy's laundry hamper. Ew. It was, however, fortunately empty. Mostly... I also threw my clothes in with me and closed the hamper.

The lights flooded on. My heart sped up, and I heard his footsteps padding down the expanse of the wide hallway. He hunted around in Tommy's closet until he found what he was looking for, grabbed it, and left. I sighed in relief, and Tommy eventually came in and fished me out. That was good, because it was damn narrow, and I couldn't have gotten out of it on my own. This sneaking around is annoying. After that, I put on some sweats (and my bra underneath the t-shirt), kissed Tommy goodbye, and snuck back to my room.

I showered in my room, changing my clothes. I wound up lost later and wandering through the house's many rooms. I just so happened to stumble upon Tommy sculpting. Clay, not stone or any such thing. That's a bit too delicate, and he likes getting his hands messy, and, well, that's more direct, isn't it? Anyways, Tommy had this huge block of it, and for a moment I just stood there in the doorway, watching him. Tommy marked lines in the block with his nails, slowly poking the bits out and removing them. He took the clay, warming it and squeezing it.

Bit by bit he added on to parts of the block, sometimes using tools to scrape away at it. He also slipped and scored pieces on quite often, periodically spraying and dousing the block with water. I saw him smooth the sides of the figure, rounding it and flattening the plains of it. He shaped arms and shoulders, thinning and thickening them. I realized suddenly that his sculpture was a person. The head was a vague blob. I watched as he brought an arm across the figure's chest, down to its hip. The figure, I realized, was a woman. The hips were well-defined, the waist slim, the abdomen trim, and the chest well-enough defined, I figured.

The boobs weren't huge, which I thought was weird. Tommy likes his breasts very much. Not his actual... he has pecs, not breasts, duh. Next he turned his attentions to the head, smoothing it, rounding the edges. He pressed the neck, thinning it a little. He pinched the bridge of a nose onto the face, sculpting the tip. He hollowed out eyes, making holes for retinas and scoring eyelids on top of it. The figure's eyes were half-lidded. He added hair, making little bits of fringe, adding bangs. I realized with a shock that that was my hairstyle, and those were my cheekbones he was presently sculpting! And the figurine was naked too!

Outraged, I stormed over to Tommy. "What on Earth do you think you're doing, Thomas Quincy?" I yelled. Tommy turned around and wound up smearing a smudgy clay handprint across the abdomen. Walking closer, I grimaced. It was lifesized, and, while not finished, looked disturbingly like me naked. Tommy smirked like he'd just eaten a canary, or, rather, since he's Tommy... Like he'd just taken someone's virginity. Oddly, he left the handprint on the stomach and resumed sculpting my bellybutton.

"What's it look like, Harrison? I'm making a Christmas present. They say the best ones come from the heart," Tommy drawled, wiping his cheek with his arm. He fooled with the hair, forming it into waves and curls, mussing it. Tommy put water on his hands and ran down the sides of the replica. He looked up, busy tracing a line where the legs separated and quietly cutting some clay away. He added on bit after bit, smoothing it and rounding it out section by section, taking his time. And then, with his head at practically thigh-level, Tommy turned to me, grinning smugly. "Lifelike enough, huh?"

I rolled my eyes at him, not amused. "Yes, Tommy. Not the hands." Referencing the Christmas present bit from earlier. I'd been speechless before that. Tommy raised his eyebrows suggestively. I glowered at him. "Very funny, Tom. Who's it for? Taylor? You gonna remind him what he's missing and you're getting?" I retorted somewhat irritably, crossing my arms over my chest protectively. Hell, I was embarrassed. He was still smoothing my legs, thighs, and calves and half bent over doing it, so I got a particularly nice view of his ass rather than his face. Although technically he hasn't gotten any. But it is a disturbing reminder that he knows what I look like naked. Which Taylor doesn't need to know.

Tommy smirked. "No. That would be gauche. Besides, it's a from-me-to-me present. Everyone knows those are the best kind," He added cheerily. I was somewhat distracted, as he had his hands on my replica's chest, molding my breasts better and more realistically, I supposed. He would glance at me from time to time as if estimating my size and then return to his sculpting. Seriously, does he have a kiln, or is he just doing this for fun? Tom frowned. I realized suddenly that he was dressed more sloppily than I had ever seen him, in a gray t-shirt and dirty jeans. He was barefoot, too. It was the first time I recalled ever seeing him look anything less than immaculate. His hair was messy, and his bangs hung down into his eyes.

Mm, hot and dirty. My, my, don't we have it all? Tommy decided he was finished feeling up my counterpart and smoothed the muscles on the clay-me's arms. He tsked. "I would've done porcelain, but they couldn't get it here early enough, much less over the holidays... And, well, I haven't done ceramics in a while, so I figured it would be best to start a refresher course with this," Tommy explained, biting his lip as he moved, grabbing some small pieces of clay and forming lips. "Porcelain's... difficult to work with. More like your skin, though," He muttered distractedly.

I felt my cheeks burn. What am I supposed to say to that. He wanted to practice before doing it for real. Wow. I can't think of a better way to define our transitional relationship than that. I found myself hoping none of the family saw this. They would get the wrong idea and assume I'd posed for him or something. Not that I need to. I'm sure he has an image of my naked body engraved in his head. Permanently. Tommy went around to the statue's back, which he had neglected. He began to turn it into a back, going so far as to form the bumps that made up her spine, the indentations in the lower back, and the merest hints of ribs.

He fleshed out the shoulders, curving them, smoothing them, carefully forming the shoulder blades and carving the hair in the back. Then he went to the butt, coming out to stare at mine and then the backs of the sculpture's legs, making the ankles and separating the toes, giving them nails. He also did this to her hands and fingers. Finally, he came up to her face, pinching her lips and forming them into a pout, showcasing the flash of teeth behind them. I say her because I couldn't say me. He did it all so unbelievably fast. And then he started to do, well...

I left at that point, not particularly wanting to see him carving out my privates. No thanks. Or tried, at any rate. Tommy noticed I was leaving out of the corner of my eye and ran over to grab me. I shied away from his dirty hands but stayed in the room. "Will you stand for me?" I scoffed and gave Tommy a look. No. Besides, he remembers what I look like naked. Tommy pouted, but I still shook my head. "Will you lie down for me?" He murmured suggestively. I shoved Tommy away, rolling my eyes at him. No. Tommy smiled, rolling his eyes at me. "Fine, be difficult... but don't blame me if it doesn't look like you," He muttered a bit huffily. Damn, he got me to smile.

Tommy smirked. "Now, c'mon, gimme a kiss before you go..." Tommy requested, motioning for me to come towards him. I blinked, surprised. That was new. I didn't realize we had that kind of... actual relationship. Needless to say, he didn't need to tell me twice. I walked over to him slowly, and Tommy put his hands on my cheeks, pulling me into a kiss that left me flustered, wanting more, and weak in the knees. Tommy pulled away and laughed lightly. My eyes were still closed, and I was in a trance-like state. The worst part is that Tommy knew I was like that. He moved back, gave me a wave, and walked back over to the sculpture, but not before sparing a look over his shoulder.

Trying to snap myself out of it, I shook my head, smiling victoriously. "Just remember which one of us warms your bed at night, Tommy," I replied almost warningly before turning on my heel and finally leaving. That'd be me, Quince. It would do you well to remember that. I'm the real one, after all. I was still shaking my head at him. Why does he need a sculpture when he's got the real thing? Damn it, I know I'm better than a hunk of mud! I was still shaking my head in disbelief when I suddenly wandered into a library. The door was slightly ajar, so I slipped inside.

I had heard voices, and well, curiosity is a major part of my personality. I ducked behind a bookcase and listened. Both of the voices were female, and I peered behind the books and was able to discern the figures of Tory and Joan. Both of them were seated, Joan on a couch, and Tory in the armchair next to her. Joan's fingers were still buried in the pages of a book, so I assumed she must've been reading. Oh, I suppose I should tell you about their first meeting.

Joan arrived the day after I did. She walked in, and I was there waiting, naturally, as was our lovely hostess. I greeted her with a hug and told her just how grateful I was to have her there. She gave me a knowing look because, duh, I wanted anything to distract me from Tommy which is why I asked her ages ago... before I knew Travis was his brother. And would be there. I introduced the two, eying Tory with concern. She was just about to open into my little friend when Travis strolled in to ask his mama a question. Travis' jaw dropped, and he actually took me aside and said it was the best Christmas present he'd ever given me afterwards.

Since I knew she'd be pissed, I promptly explained and apologized, telling her that we'd try and keep them from having alone time. Joan actually turned white upon seeing him, whirled around, and attempted to walk right out the door. Victoria pointed out that that was rude, and Joan retorted that, as a lawyer, she, of all people, should be able to see the wisdom in not putting a teenage girl under the same roof as a child molester. Victoria flinched and pointed out that I was here, and she cared about me like a daughter or something. Travis obviously doesn't. Joan countered that I had his two brothers to defend me, especially Tommy, who could single-handedly kick his ass. I privately agreed, but it sucked anyways.

Joan had a comment for pretty much everything Tory said. But she toed the edge of politeness, as she had to be nice to Tory, even if she wanted to be asked to leave. I could tell she'd won some respect with Victoria. You see, she respects and likes you if you do one of several things: 1. Show her proper respect, 2. Stand up to her, 3. Love her sons and have their best interest at heart. Sure, she likes me because I remind her of herself, and I've got spunk, and all that stuff about who I am and how I live... But the thing that made her like me was when she realized that I really care about Tommy. Tommy is, by no means, her favorite son... but she still loves him, just like I do.

Only a lot less because loving him kind of takes up my whole being.

It was when I was planning Tommy's birthday. I called her up because Chaz or Tommy had told me how she never celebrated it and bought him lame last-minute cheapo gifts. I told her about my plans, personally invited her and all that jazz, and managed to ask her to invite all the rest of the family... She was stunned when I'd told her about my present... The flight and rented cabin in Vermont for the week, as well as vacation time, the massive party, the song I'd written for him... Didn't tell her about punching Travis as that was an added bonus. Still, she was sufficiently impressed. She just couldn't believe someone would do all that for Tommy.

She actually asked me if I was secretly married to him and made a comment about how I was too nice to go out with him or whatever. Or he's too old. Whatever. I told her to buy him something nice and pointed out that he was dating my sister, thanks. Still, she knows how much I care about him. More than she thinks Tommy deserves, and she obviously thinks the feelings are mutual. So she likes me or approves because she thinks Tommy's improved... she thinks he's changed because of me. I don't know how true that is, but she thinks I'm the one for him, apparently. I guess that has to mean something, right?

Victoria's voice was cool and calculating. I could so see her being a villain. "I have to admit, Travis was always my favorite," Victoria confessed, steepling her hands. I rolled my eyes. Tell me something everybody else _doesn't _already know. I want some juicy gossip out of this. "And I'd like to make sure he gets taken care of _properly_,"She said in a somewhat menacing/ominous tone. Way to sound like a mafia don, V. But what does that really mean?

Joan shrugged defensively. She wasn't the type to take care of someone, especially not a man like his little wifey. Kate would be way better for the job. "Why are you telling me this? Shouldn't you be telling Kate? I thought you loved her or something. _She's _going to be your daughter-in-law..." Joan asked defensively before trailing off. I knew what she was going to say. Not me. The girl had a point, though. Victoria was very fond of Kate, and she'd been very hostile to Joan at first, to test her. Was it just me or did Joan sound a little bitter about that? However, she doesn't know Tory, which is where that logic comes into problems. Tory does not do things without a reason.

Victoria shrugged. "Maybe." She paused deliberately, leaning forward a little, to appear earnest or something like that. She's a lawyer, though, and anything but that. "And I do... but Kate already knows. And, as much as I love the girl and don't blame her for what happened, she hurt my son in such a crippling way. It completely ruined him. He hasn't been the same since," Victoria explained carefully. I could just picture that flinty look in his eyes. I knew instantly that she was talking about Tommy. That... thing. I forgot that Joan didn't know.

Which explained the look of surprise and confusion in his eyes. Regardless, Victoria was right. Travis had changed after Kate's perceived betrayal. I mean, I might love Tommy and everything, but I obviously don't believe everything he says when he's drunk. Now, I can say he might not have intended to sleep with Kate or anything, and that he wouldn't have crossed that line on that day... And maybe he didn't even want to... But he's the kind of guy who's hard to say no to. Which is why I get my answers mixed up sometimes. It's just so tiring saying no all the time to what I really want. So my answer's yes. You give him an inch, and he'll take a mile. It would've happened eventually. Kate's will is not that strong.

Now, Joan's, on the other hand? She has a will of steel. Plus Tommy wouldn't mess around with her, although he technically could... He just flirts with her to piss Travis off. And 'cause I don't really mind much.

Joan shook her head. "Why me, then? Why not Jude or somebody? He looks so... happy with Kate," Joan said in a softer voice. Now, that got my attention. Why not me? Has she _met _Tommy? I don't need or want to get involved with Travis again. Plus he tried to rape me. Why'd she say that?! She knows how much I hate him. And happy with Kate? I don't think she's too happy with him. While it's true that prior to that mess of a game, they were sickeningly lovey-dovey, so much that you didn't want to be in the same room with them... Looks can be deceiving.

A relationship that seems perfect on the outside can really be a mess. Or hell.

Victoria shook her head. "He might look happy, but he's not. I know my son... and it's not really Kate he wants, now is it?" She hinted, shooting Joan a look. Travis is not happy. He might never be happy. And she only knows that because Travis told her. She's not supportive of a relationship between them anyways, but hell, I guess a student beats a girl who's messed with his brother. Even though that's not exactly true... I'm not really one to talk on the subject, since I've messed with Travis more than Tommy.

I could've sworn that Joan flushed, but it could've been a trick of the light. She seemed surprisingly calm. "I don't know what you mean," She replied evenly. Joan shrugged. "I won't pretend to guess at what Travis wants." I couldn't blame her for that. How can anyone know what he wants? He doesn't even know himself. Victoria gave her a skeptical look, straightening in her seat.

This ought to be good. "Then I'll be blunt." You weren't being blunt before? Victoria scooted forward so that she was closer to Joan. "Let's get to the point then." Still waiting for it, V. Victoria put her hand firmly on Joan's knee. Wow. I would be hella uncomfortable if I was here. "You obviously care about my son. Don't tell me you don't, because I'm a mother. It's my job to know. You've scarcely even glanced at either of his brothers... and Tommy doesn't even register with you. In fact, even all of Travis' formidable charms seem to fall flat. I can't intimidate you. No matter what anyone says, once you've made up your mind about something, you're set on it. So, taking all of that into account... You either have a boyfriend and don't care... or, there's the more likely option: you're in love with Travis," Victoria proclaimed quickly, summarizing all of the information.

Wow, succinct. But she forgot the possibility that she's a lesbian. And the Tommy crap, well, that could be because hello, I'm totally into him, and she knows that. Actually, she knows I'm in love with him, doesn't she? And she knows I'm dating Taylor, so logically she wouldn't go after that, not that she could with Kathryn there. If she does give Travis a second glance, it's to glare at him. She resents him, I think, as much as she feels for him. Joan's not exactly open about her feelings. Maybe she feels that way because of the teacher thing. That line should never be crossed. Still, I couldn't help but respect Tory just laying it all out there. Except she didn't say that Travis is in love with Joan. Though I doubt she'd believe that.

He sure doesn't act like it sometimes. Plus he's an asshole in general. Joan snorted. She waited a while before responding, maybe a little too long... But when Joan did, she was so calm. "That's ridiculous." She shook her head.

Tory let a rare smile grace her lips. "No, it's not. That's the strange part. It should be, but it isn't," She replied in a strange, tranquil voice. Her smile spoke of her years of experience, of all the things that she knew but Joan did not. Victoria stiffened a bit, clearing her throat. "Not that I approve, per se. You're still his student, after all. That's a legal hole even I can't get him out of," She added swiftly. Her tone was ice cold.

Joan's eyes flashed. Was she offended at that? I mean, Joan thinks the same thing about it, doesn't she? She doesn't want to get Travis in trouble, but she believes he should get in trouble for doing it. "What are you trying to do here?" Joan bit out, suddenly a whole lot less calm. She was transformed into a woman on edge. "Even if I did feel that way about your son, and I don't... He's happy with Kate. He loves Kate. He's going to marry Kate. And I'm not going to ruin that," Joan retorted tersely.

I smiled. So quick to say she didn't. What she said struck me, though, because I felt like I'd heard it before. Like I said it before. Actually, I said pretty much that exact thing to Tommy. A month or so ago. To Tommy, right after "Minor Liaison" premiered. Hadn't I said something like that to Sadie? I didn't want to mess it all up for them.

Victoria stood up and shook her head. "Did it ever occur to you that Travis is blinded by his former love for Kate and imagines it to be stronger than it really is? A lot of time has passed, and they've both changed. It's not like it used to be. Travis can never look at her the same way. He changed after she broke his heart... and maybe he likes the _memories _of the man he was around her better than he really likes her. Maybe he's just settling," Victoria pointed out a bit sharply. Interesting. I'd never thought about it that way, but she had a good point. Travis is with Kate because of the history. He's changed too much to still be able to feel that way about Kate. You can't love someone you don't trust.

That might sound hypocritical coming from me, but I do trust Tommy, deep down. I'd trust the guy with my life, my music, and my CD collection... I just have trouble trusting him with my heart. I want to, really, but it's so hard! It's hard because of his track record, his past, his history. It's hard because I want to be his one and only, and I'm not used to being either. There have been so many other girls that it's hard to believe that I'm the one he wants. He's had better, and he's just thrown them away, cheated on them, dumped them, and divorced them. And then there's the mind-boggling fact that the guy I want to be with has screwed countless women, and I'm not okay with that.

I know I don't talk about it a lot. Or, well, at all... But it's still there, and I can't change it. I can't change the fact that he's been with Portia and Ruby and Sadie and Paris Hilton and Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera and Mandy Moore and Jessica Simpson and Madonna and Kate Moss and Courtney Love and Pam Anderson and Katie Holmes and Michelle Williams and Jennifer Love Hewitt and Sarah Michelle Gellar and Lisa Marie Presley and Jessica Alba and Posh Spice and Baby Spice and Ginger Spice and Scary Spice and Sporty Spice and Sheryl Crow and Alanis and Naomi Campbell and Jennifer Aniston and Shirley Manson and Giselle and Charlotte C. Preston and Cassandra Hayward and Noelle Celeste and Laura Heath and Vera S. and the Stephanies and Tecca Crosby and Vivien G. and Melinda and Andrea Wasse and Lauren and Linda and Angie and Fatima and Jessie and Karen and Kaden and Paula and Genna and Zoie Palmer and Sara S. and Camille and Terra and Lindy and Cory Lee and Sasha and Leanne and Kathleen and Tessa and Vanessa I. and Emily and Shelley Peiken and Tracy and Cherrie and Laura V and Summer and Suzi Rawn and Katy B. and Jody Colero and Damhnait Doyle and Valerie Poxleitner and Diana T. and Ella S. and Katrina Matthews and Nancy and Jann Arden and Tara MacLean and Lindsay Robins and Jeen O'Brien and Eliza Wolfe and Colleen and Rachel and Sandy and Laiken and Shernold and Alexz Johnson and whoever the hell else he dated/screwed. But that's a huge turn-off.

Victoria looked quite grave and serious, like she was entrusting Joan with something precious. Like Travis. Ew. "If there's one thing I want for my son, more than anything... It's not to settle. He doesn't deserve to settle for second-best. He deserves the best. And I think you just might be it for him, my dear," She admitted quietly but convincingly. I think that surprised all of us. Joan might well be what's best for Travis, but she's also way too good for him. Hmm... wonder what Kate has to say to him today. If she has any sense she'd dump his sorry ass.

There was a certain sense of pride in Victoria's voice too. What, is she passing the torch or something? This is seriously disturbing. I thought fathers were supposed to have this conversation with their prospective sons-in-law, not mothers... and daughters-in-law. Hey, wait, does that mean that she thinks...? That I'm going to marry her son or something? Well, I guess I'm most likely to be related to her, out of all of them.

"Why do you think that? I'm not... I'm just his student. If he did anything, it could ruin his career. Don't you care about that?" Joan questioned, sounding somewhat upset and confused. Careful, Joan. They don't call her Victoria for nothing. She will break you.

She stiffened, resenting the accusation. "Of course I do," She replied quickly. "But I believe in patience and self-control. There is such a thing as waiting," Tory amended. I smirked at that. Story of my life. Only Travis can get in trouble for any inappropriate touch, and he's already done that. I knew she cared about it. It didn't mean she approved, but... "I wouldn't disapprove if it were to happen at a later date." Wow. She as good as stamped her approval.

Joan shook her head no hard, vigorously. She was getting agitated, I could tell. "Travis doesn't. He doesn't have them," Joan swore vehemently. Her eyes darkened just thinking of him. Ah, reminds me of Tommy.

Victoria sighed and definitely did not look happy about it. She tried to regain her cool, forcing herself to sit down calmly. "He did, once. You could make him remember... Besides, he never wanted to be a teacher anyway. I'm personally more worried about Tommy in that aspect," Victoria said dismissively. I raised an eyebrow at this. But the issue is really the girl, not the guy. Travis lost his control a long time ago. Now, Joan and I are two entirely different people. She has this iron will and I... I'm more vulnerable. I slip. Plus, if she knew what Tommy and I were doing behind closed doors...

She smiled serenely, and she looked ridiculously beautiful. I was envious. "I know my son. Travis respects you a lot... and for a good reason. You remind him of the way he used to be. You stand for things, and you do what is right," She continued. I thought that might be true, but I'd never known that Travis. It hurt, though, because it reminded me of how Travis had never respected me. He'd made that all too clear. I sighed. "A mother always knows. And I know my son is very, _very _fond of you. I'm glad Jude invited you," Tory said finally, offering Joan a more genuine, approving smile and a pat on the shoulder.

Glad I did too. I turned to go so it wouldn't be so obvious that I was eavesdropping and headed out the door only to run into Victoria herself. Great. Victoria gave me a rather sharp, stern look that asked me what I was doing there. I smiled. "I got lost. I was looking for the kitchen." Well, that's half true, and, damn it, I'm hungry! Joan looked a little embarrassed, but Victoria wasn't at all. She merely smiled and shook her head slightly.

"I'm sure," She muttered sarcastically. Then she looked me over, clearly finding something that amused her. Tory let out a little laugh. "You aren't aware that you have mud on your cheeks, are you?" She asked after a moment. I'm not sure whether I turned bright red or lily white at that statement, but either way I was horrified and mortified. Call it hortified. Damn him. Damn that Tommy Quincy. I hurriedly tried to scrub the clay off my cheeks.

It didn't work well. I would need to wash them. Joan was eying me with amusement equal to Tory's own. "I ran into Tommy. He was sculpting," I muttered irritably, licking my hand and trying to wipe off the all-too visible handprints on my cheeks. Tory gave me a look, as did Joan, but she wisely said nothing to ask how I'd gotten them.

"Well, of course you did. He's always been into ceramics. He's the only one of my sons who likes getting his hands dirty," Tory exclaimed cheerily, leading me out of the room. Strangely, I believe that. But then I wondered if she was calling me dirty, which made me feel cheap. Joan and I followed her, as we were actually lost without her. She turned around to look at me. "You know, he paints too... I'd bet he's dying to have you sit for him," She remarked idly.

You have no idea, V. I laughed. Don't I know it. Or stand. He wants me to do that too. "Actually, I think he'd prefer to have me lying down," I replied airily, smirking. After all, I am quite used to lying for him. I made sure the dirty implications were pretty obvious with that statement. Joan openly gaped at me, and Tory suddenly stopped, turning all the way around to look at me, as if to discern whether or not that was what I actually said. Then she let out a loud laugh.

"You're right, of course." Although Taylor would prefer me to do neither. Joan was still gaping at me, as if stunned I'd been so suggestive/crude. She led us down a long stream of hallways until we arrived in the foyer. I suddenly noticed she was gesturing to something, and there it was... There was a giant painting of the whole family hanging on the wall. It was one of the room's few adornments. Obviously the family was much younger, as Taylor was a toddler, Tommy was a preteen, and Travis was in his early teenage years. I was looking at a version of them that didn't exist anymore, them as a whole family, complete, undamaged... Victoria reached up and touched the gilded frame. "Tommy painted this years ago. Marvelous, isn't it? He was only thirteen, you know."

If I didn't know her better, I'd say she was bragging about him. I couldn't help but smile and gawp up at it in surprise. It was a professional-looking portrait, for sure. They had to have posed like that for him, hadn't they? Unless he'd painted it from a picture... It was truly amazing to think a thirteen-year-old had been that skilled. "Wow," Joan and I chorused. Joan looked to Tory, clearly impressed. "That's unbelievable!"

Tory let the barest of smiles cross her face. "Tommy's very skilled and very artistic. Creativity has always been his forte," She said proudly. I found myself wishing Tommy was around to hear her praise. I did agree with her, though. I'd seen first hand how good he was at sculpting. Too good. Tommy was good at making things (seriously, why hasn't he knocked a girl up yet?).

I smiled back. "Yes, and very good with his hands." Both of them turned to stare at me, and I flushed realizing what I'd said. I hadn't meant it like that, but it is true like that. He's better with his lips, though. I swear, he could probably sculpt something with his mouth too. I deliberately returned my eyes to the painting, leaving neither room nor interest for a conversation about what I'd inadvertently revealed.

Victoria stood at the center of the portrait as well she deserved, although she was not the family's real center. Strangely, Theo was on her left side, holding Taylor, where as Travis was on her right. Tommy stood in front of his parents, almost sandwiched between them. They were so tall that he almost looked forgotten by comparison, but he was also next to Travis. One of Victoria's hands rested proudly on Travis' shoulder, while the other was on the back of Theo's neck. I found it an interesting choice. The back of the neck is quite an intimate place to touch. Touching someone there means ownership.

Tommy granted her a radiant beauty she hadn't quite attained in real life, due to her personality and the fact that she rarely smiled. She was wearing an icy blue evening gown that was simple and stylish yet also complex. The gown was floor length, flowy, and in the style of a toga. The dress showed off her collarbone and jewels. I noticed that she was wearing the very necklace Taylor had "given" me, and it sent a strange chill down my spine. No wonder I got those weird looks. She was wearing matching sapphire earrings that were fairly large, as well as her wedding and engagement ring (which was huge yet classy) and a particularly lovely blue-violet sapphire ring on the other hand. Only the edges of these could be seen, however. Her hair was piled high atop her head with some stray curls hanging down around her cheeks.

It made her look like a goddess, a veritable Helen of Troy, which I suppose she is in her own right. She looked, if possible, even younger than she did now or very nearly the same. She looked ethereal and so absolutely perfect it was hard to believe she was a real person, let alone that I knew her. Her smile was cool, her eyes clear blue and serene, rather like an ocean or crystals. Her skin was alabaster, her lips pink, her cheeks rosy. You could see the way Tommy felt about his mother through the way he'd painted her; one saw her as he did. But it was a portrait that was too good to be true.

She was hopelessly idealized, painted through biased eyes that were adoring and worshipful. She screamed perfection, and she was full of pride with none of the aloofness she exuded in real life. However, in the portrait, she was looking down at Travis, and clearly that pride was directed towards him. Everything about her was regal, making her live up to her name. But there was still a hint of that aloofness in her. Her smile was rather enigmatic, after all, like that of the Mona Lisa.

Theo made for an equally striking picture. He was looking forward, towards the painter, which made him seem personable and direct, which he is. He was certainly admirable with sparkling, almost jesting navy-to-blue-grey eyes that I supposed one could compare to sapphires. His hair was dark, moussed, slightly mussed, and carefree. He suggested caprice. He was dressed smart, standing tall (and morally upright, I assume) in a blue-grey pinstriped suit that was just a few shades darker than his eyes. The suit was paired with a red tie and a white dress shirt, and it made for a beautiful contrast between him and his wife. A softness pervaded from him as well as kindness. Theo's smile was wide, genuine, charming as all get out, and incredibly magnetic. His teeth were as white as piano keys. Just looking at him made you want to be his friend. He seemed like such a fun, pleasant person.

He looked quite a bit younger and utterly, sublimely happy. This was a man who was fully satisfied with his lot in life. I don't think I've ever actually seen anyone look that happy before, although I'd seen the shadows of that look flicker across Tommy's face from time to time. Theo was holding a very young Taylor close to him, and I remembered that Taylor was his favorite. Taylor had grown up with Theo, so the man was obviously a good father. I supposed it made sense. Theo has a more flexible schedule and less demanding job than Victoria, plus he isn't always moving around like she is. In short, Theo was a noble man, the white knight type. He was the kind of guy you could count on, that mythical perfect gentleman. You could see that Tommy respected him and idolized him and wanted to grow up to be just like him.

Well, he and his father share some things. I was, however, disappointed that Theo didn't apparently rub off more on his youngest son. Taylor's far from charming when he's accusing you of nailing his brother. Hmm, maybe he got that irrational jealousy from Tory? This family has an unbelievable jealous streak. On second thought, let's attribute that to evil grandpa Laurent.

Taylor was scarcely a babe. He was dressed in a white sailor suit type of get-up with navy accents. He had unbelievably curly golden locks, tan skin, and cheerful golden brown eyes that reminded me of molten honey. Travis' eyes sometimes looked like that, only with a lighter greenish tone. That made me shudder reflexively. Taylor was happy like his father and playful. In fact, he was grabbing at his father's arm, trying to play with him. He stared up at his daddy adoringly, lips caught mid-giggle. You couldn't help but smile looking at it. Such a sweet child... but such a devil when you get to know him. I swear, it's like I bring out the worst in the guy.

Now we come to Travis. Looking at him was like looking at a stranger. The younger version I saw was so alien to the one I knew that I could've and would've sworn that the two were different people, did I not know better. He was tranquil, stern, and sober, Quakerish, even. There was something positively Puritan about the way he held himself- too upstanding, too self-righteous, too unnatural. The Travis I was familiar with was none of those things; he was, in fact, the exact opposite... to a degree. He was unrestrained, wild, tempestuous, flexible, unnaturally cruel and perverse and still somewhat self-righteous but now too low. It was as if his personality and style had done a complete 180.

His eyes even looked so altered from the ones I recognized that it was hard to believe he was who they said he was. His eyes were sea-green with a hint of mint and clear, not cloudy and dark as I was accustomed to seeing them. Truthfully, he looked more like Tommy than Tommy did. Though I was later informed that he was fifteen when the picture was painted, he looked like a mini-adult in a light blue Oxford and khakis with dull brown leather penny loafers. He really went overboard with the prep look, complete with slicked-back hair and clean-cut but bland-looking features. Goody-two-shoes much?

His skin was blemish-free, as, I suppose, was Travis' character. Who knew Tommy was into symbolism? He was facing forward like his father, but unlike the older man, there was something distinctly distant about Taylor. He seemed even more distant than his mother. Travis was the quintessential good kid. He radiated respect for authority and obedience. Intellect and intelligence gleamed in his eyes, as pride flushed across his face. The only thing I recognized about him was the hint of playful mirth I saw in his eyes, but it was only a shadow of the way he looked now. That and his smile. It was a small, self-satisfied smile, not the smirk I knew, but its precursor. He was caught up in the flush of youth and charming, though a bit moralistic for my taste. What can I say? I like 'em dark, twisted, and just slightly morally ambiguous.

Ahem... At least, that was Tommy's intent. It's painful and irritating to think of Travis as charming, but hell, he insults me better than Taylor. Taylor has no craft when it comes to insults, much like his kissing. He's very blunt about it... Oh, but I keep distracting myself from the painting itself. The hands that painted Travis idolized him perhaps more so than even Theo. Tommy wanted to be that golden perfect child, but he wasn't dumb enough to think he could be that kid.

After all, a leopard can't change its spots. Once a screw-up, always a screw up. Which brings me back to why I have trouble trusting the guy.

And then in comes Tommy in this picture to muck it all up. Unlike the rest of his family in their nice formal clothes, Tommy is clad in a classic black shirt and jeans. He looks out-of-place in the photo, as if he is the family black sheep (and I suppose he is). Worse still, the edges of him, of his features, are blurred as if sloppily or hurriedly done. He looks like a last minute addition to his own family portrait, which he was, Tory informs us, apologizing for the poor quality of his image. Clearly he wasn't there to pose in it, but still, he's not even wearing matching clothes. There's something sketchy about him, a lack of the minor details that make the others great. There is nothing particularly distinctive about him, and he does not belong with the others. Yet it is his face that truly captivates me; it is his face that resonates in me, not Goddess Victoria's or Lord Theo's or Prince Travis' or cute little Angel Taylor's.

He is in the middle, but he is alienated, which is how thirteen-year-old Tommy felt. No care is spared on his features, which seem just short of basic and rudimentary. But it is an interesting face in the way Travis' was not. His face is not curiously blank but painted with a full-out dark scowl and furrowed brow. He's not a child anymore but not yet an adolescent, and he looks awkwardly caught in the middle, somewhat tall but gangly and terribly, painfully thin. Unlike his father, his hair has no art to it; it is messy, tousled, and tangled. His bangs smother his forehead and hang down in his eyes. This is not the hair of Tommy; it is the hair of a person who cares nothing about his life or the damn painting.

Looking at it, I got a sensation of just how depressed he must've been. His eyes alone stand out, an intensely piercing blue, convicting and condemning and still, somewhere deep down, confused. Suspicious too. To a small degree, that smoldering gaze was familiar to me, but there was a darkness in it I had never before seen, no matter how furious or in the throes of passion Tommy was. The depths of his eyes are pitch-black. There is something isolating about them, those haunted, lonely, empty eyes of his. The corners of his mouth droop down even further, and I realize that he looks not just moody but completely despondent. He isn't just brooding. He's thinking deeply on life and its many mysteries and questions.

But even more than that, he stands there shiftless, slouching as if lacking in all real or perceived virtue. He thought he was worthless. He looks as unwanted as that boy felt, I'm sure, and he is so happy that it hurts me to look. Unhappy and ignored, the story of his life. I felt so awful upon seeing it that I wanted to cry, and I knew he'd held back... that he hadn't expressed even a tenth of his pain. When I finally tore my eyes away from it, Tommy was at my side. Joan and Victoria had left me there apparently. I glanced over at Tommy to find him scowling up at the picture. He looked a bit like the sad little boy who had painted it. "That picture's cursed," He spat, glaring at the painting.

He put his hands on my shoulders and physically removed me from its presence, steering me down the hallway. I gave him a skeptical look, but he had a reply for that. "You don't believe me?" Well, duh. Tommy sighed. "I started that painting the day Darius heard me and asked me to join Boyz Attack!. The day after that portrait was hung, I turned my back on Travis and stayed with the group. And we haven't had a decent conversation since. The whole family's broken up now... My parents are divorced, and all of my brothers hate me. Travis' life is ruined. Hell, I almost ruined my _own _life! Try and tell me it's not!" Tommy argued, explaining it all to me.

I took him by the hand in such a way that he was startled into silence. He doesn't just mess people's lives up. I shook my head softly. "Tommy... It's not your fault," I said, because it was the only thing I could think of. And I meant it, too. I squeezed his hand, at a rare loss for words. No words seemed to be good enough. "They love you, Tommy... They just... take out their frustrations for the way their own lives turned out on you." Did I explain that well enough? There was no doubt in my mind that Tory loved him, for instance. She just was mad at him because he wasn't part of the plan at all and her life felt so out of control already...

And Taylor, well, he blames Tommy for the fight, but his parents sure had other problems than him beating up Travis if it made them break up. Travis, well, he just needs to get over himself. He feels that Tommy betrayed him and chose the boys over him, but Travis had already made Tommy miserable before that. With the boys, he felt like he belonged. So why wouldn't he pick them? And then he's jealous of Tommy's success and upset at the way girls treat him. Tommy shook his head slightly but said nothing, and we walked hand-in-hand for a while. I found a bathroom where I washed up.

Funny, I hadn't realized that Tommy had cleaned all the clay off. Guess he must've finished then. When I emerged from the bathroom, I glanced down at Tommy's outfit for the first time. He was wearing a karate outfit, complete with a black belt. I blinked, confused. "So, Tommy, what made you decide to give up singing and become a Bruce Lee impersonator?" I quipped, still puzzled. Tommy rolled his eyes and started dragging me along with him.

Practically had to run to keep up with the fool. "Travis! He challenged me to a sparring match, offered up a kiss from you as the prize," Tommy muttered, dashing for what I can only assume to be their practice space? I stopped cold in my tracks when I heard that I was the prize, though... I mean, what the hell? And who offered me up? 'Cause karate or no karate, I was going to kick his ass. Tommy made a face at me and continued dragging me along.

"What, don't I get a choice?" I asked irritably, or, rather, rhetorically. Tommy didn't answer. He merely kept running, so, well, that was my answer. Gee, thanks a lot, Tom. Guess he'd have to amend that "never-made-a-girl-do-something-she-didn't-want-to-do" statement, then, eh? Fine. Since I don't have a choice, sure, I'll do it! Thanks so much for asking! "You better win," I huffed (and puffed). Tom turned back to smile at me. Well, he is the fighter, and Travis has a couple broken ribs. Fortunately, seconds later we dashed into a rather large room with padded walls and flooring as well as circles drawn on the ground. The Martial Arts room, I assume? Ha ha.

Seriously, though, this totally reminds me of the hockey game two days ago. Brother-on-brother competition is bad for everyone. Especially when it involves the Quincy bros. Tommy, Travis, and Taylor were all put on the same team, to, you know, attempt to curb violence. Ha. It's hockey, not ballet. So Tommy wound up being forward, because, duh, when is he not forward? And Taylor was a defenceman. Or whatever. Since he's the one who's supposed to keep the peace between them, so he's kinda used to it. Only he sucks at defending things. You know what I'm talking about. Like his fight over me. So Travis wound up goalie, which I found a bit ironic. Theo was captain and one of the midfielders or center forwards or whatever. Um, I dunno. Tommy was the main one, and Tory was like, always at his side. The guys in the middle, you know? Tory was the other forward because, well, I'll be damned, but that woman is fierce.

I was, unfortunately, on the other team. They bullied me into it, really, they did. Ours was the rag-tag team. I was stuck as goalie, which Sadie claimed was the easiest job (which is such a lie! The goalie is totally the one all the pressure's on! It doesn't matter if you're Wayne Gretzky if the goalie knows what he's doing. You're just not gonna score). I thought my dad or someone else who interrupted people's chances of having sex should've been goalie, but yeah, that was impossible. Sadie was defence/defense whatever person because she's played girls' ice hockey and thus knows what she's doing. Chaz wound up right winger by an unfortunate luck of the draw. The two Ks wound up as midfielder people or whatever they're call... Oh, wingers! I think. Well, maybe Kate did. Whatever. And the other did defense? And then, to balance the team out with testosterone, Tory's younger brother, who happened to show up early, was the center forward. See, he's actually a pro... Plays for the Sabres or something, I think. At any rate, he was the only pro there.

As if that would make up for the overall girly-ness of our team? Like it was fair that Tommy was charging down with Theo on his heels? I mean, okay, so maybe we had more people than they did, and a pro, but still... Hockey teams usually have more players anyway, and ugh... But at least all my team could skate. Taylor seemed for a while to have forgotten how to do it.

As I predicted, the game was a complete and utter disaster. There were no boards out there on the lake we were playing on, so people just fell to the ground, off the ice. Which was actually softer than boards. The goalie suit was freakin' hot, and I hate the damn mouthguard thing anyways. But, as if that wasn't bad enough... Tory, I told you, was a freaking beast. She totally mowed across the ice. I was actually surprised at how well she and Tommy worked together. If someone was going to tackle her or something, Tommy knocked them out of the way. Hip-Check! Now, Kat and Kate were pretty much useless. Okay, Kat was, but Kate had a few good moves and passes. She actually tried. She really wanted to score on Travis.

Sadie was ferocious. She totally knocked Victoria around like you wouldn't believe. Oh, and the way she went at Tommy, screaming and all?! She was a fearsome thing to behold! She knocked him over at every chance she could get and guarded the goal like a pro. Obviously Thierry, the brother, was our biggest asset. Unfortunately Travis took his job very seriously, even if Taylor sucked, so Travis saved a bunch of would-be goals. Plus Chaz kind of sucked as a forward, so us getting to the goal was mostly due to Thierry (who was totally hot, by the way, even if he was thirty... or twenty-nine). Thierry did managed to score on Travis twice, though. What can I say, he's no Fleury!

Not to mention the time when Tommy checked my sister, sending her sprawling, but Kate responded by ramming her shoulder into him, knocking his stick out of his hand so that he was unable to hit the puck. Sadie got up after that and knocked back into Tommy, sending him flying into the goal. He knocked me and the goal over. The worst thing, though, was that he still scored. I mean, not with me, but against me, even though he was on top of me. I totally felt like the Michelin Man all marshmallowed up like that.

There was also a brief awkward instant where my kind-of-ex-BF remembered how to skate and thought that discovery suddenly made him Sidney Crosby, so he attempted to take over Tommy's job with a few particularly nasty hip checks. Tommy initiated a fist-fight to get him away, giving him a nasty blacker eye (didn't he already have one black eye? I forget. You see, they all wear make-up to cover their wounds and whatnot). Taylor was like an annoying little gnat that wouldn't go away, though, so the two went all out. Taylor whacked Tommy in the back with his hockey stick, sending Tommy sprawling into a heap practically at my feet. Tommy slowly rolled over and was attempting to get up when Taylor came streaming towards us like he couldn't stop, just barely jumping over Tommy's head before skidding to a stop at the very edge of the lake. Didn't even mutter a "look out." Bastard.

He left a trail of blood behind him, since he'd sliced open Tommy's neck. Fortunately, it was in a way that didn't kill him or, you know, he wouldn't be here, and it was... partly superficial. But still, a skate to the throat? OUCH! Tommy bled pretty bad. He was friggin' pissed too! It was the second time in a week he'd tried to kill him, after all. I mean, I left the goal entirely in distress because I thought he was gonna bleed out. But we fixed it. God bless Thierry and his sports medicine training. Tommy just couldn't talk that well and muttered something about that being how he got another scar. It was horrendous. Poor guy was damn near choking and dude, he was coughing up some blood. I don't think he should've played, but Tom's a tough guy and his fam insisted. How he managed not to deck Taylor is beyond me.

Now me, I totally suck as a goalie. I always go the wrong way, and Tommy anticipates which way I go, and Tory's sneaky... and my team really hated me. Really. They scored about ten on us, despite Sadie's best efforts. Now, that's not what really takes the cake. What takes the cake is how, despite all being on the same team, Tommy, Travis, and Taylor manage to get in another fight. Tommy was helping "defend" the goal, while Tory was down circling me. He was trying to block his uncle. Supposedly. So Taylor shoves Tommy aside, not entirely because he's fighting for the puck, and Tommy goes flying straight into Travis and the goal, which went sailing off the ice and tumbled down the hill. On the way down, though, since Tommy just thought he was going to fall, he grabbed on to Taylor and took him with them.

The two engaged in a mid-air fist-fight. Fighting only merits badges of honor in hockey, you know? The only place where I have seen more violence in hockey was the Stanley Cup finals, triple overtime of Game Seven. And even that wasn't against members of one's own team. Or family. Tom broke Taylor's nose, and Travis wound up with more than his share of scrapes from the fall. Tommy dislocated his shoulder and reopened his neck wound, so he was bleeding everywhere... And Travis landed on the bottom, which broke another rib and kind of poked into his lungs a little. Yeah, that was another medical almost emergency. Point being: Hockey is dangerous, friends. Blood in hockey is bad. This is a note not to play hockey with them. These brothers make everything into a competition!

So I knew I was in for trouble, but, hell, I figured, well, at least it couldn't get any worse. I mean, it's not like they're fighting with knives. Sure, Travis can break some more ribs again... and maybe some other bones, incapacitating him further, or whatever. And Tommy can tear his stitches. But what else can happen? It's not like either of them can get shot or anything. So I was less worried. I was wrong to be, of course, but I was seriously hoping Tommy kicked Travis' ass quickly. The whole business was kind of dirty to be involved with anyways.

Travis was there, sneering per usual, in a black ninja-style ensemble. "Oh, Tom, you shouldn't have! You bought our lovely prize!" He exclaimed girlishly. I rolled my eyes at him, far from amused. Tommy gave his brother a look, but Travis didn't relent. "How 'bout we up the ante, Tom? To one _night _with Jude?" Travis suggested, waggling his eyebrows. To be even more smarmy, Travis flashed me a lewd and crude wink. "Or, rather, one night _in _Jude..."

EW! PARIS HILTON SEX TAPE!

That pretty much says it all, so I won't say more.

Tommy spoke up before I could, although I was dying to. He approached Travis step by step. "No way in **Hell**!"He snarled, hands balling into fists. Naturally, Travis looked pleased as punch by this response. What, I don't even get to have a say? I mean, sure, I don't particularly want to bang the guy either... Okay, so I would rather eat nails and kiss asphalt, but still... Shouldn't I say something? I think I've earned the right.

My enemy opened his mouth, a smug grin plastered all over his stupid face. "Well, I think it's a bit la-" Te for that. Another slimy way to reference that night I don't remember. Asshole.

I interrupted him before he knew what was happening. Seriously, does he think Tommy would loan out his girlfriend to his brother? I am not that disposable, thank you! "You know, Travis... There are lots of ways to spend a night with someone. A lot of them not so pleasant," I retorted menacingly. Travis still kept on smirking. I rolled my eyes at him. "There's a reason I didn't screw you before when I actually liked you. It's because spending the night with you would be the biggest mistake of my life!" I snapped vehemently, strutting forward.

Travis might've flinched like a wounded creature. I don't know. It was hard to tell, and I didn't really care. Maybe a bit revealing to say in front of Tommy, but I wasn't thinking of that. If he was affected, he recovered quickly. "Aw, Jude... I'm hurt. But I assure you, I wouldn't be your biggest mistake. After all, you're dating Taylor, and sooner or later you're going to take Tommy up on the offer I'm sure he's made," Travis drawled mockingly. And get your heart shattered into a million itty-bitty little pieces, he might as well have said. Don't I know it. Damn him too, for knowing. I was relieved he hadn't mentioned that I had, technically, already spent the night with him. Hmm... I wonder why he hasn't? He loves to embarrass me and make me look like a whore in front of Tommy.

Okay, maybe dating Taylor is a mistake... I can admit that it's not my brightest idea. And well, Tommy, who's really sure about that? I very well might wind up with egg all over my face because of that. What else is new? Sometimes in life, however, one has to take chances. But screwing Travis would be the biggest mistake of them all. Actually, trusting Travis was the dumbest thing I've ever done. Maybe. I dunno. There's Shay to consider too. But Shay isn't out to ruin my life like Travis is... And I spent the night with him already, and don't you think that's one of my biggest regrets? That was my biggest mistake, actually, since I don't know what the hell happened...

Except, well, except for lying to Tommy about having sex with him. I have the nastiest feeling that will come back to bite me in the ass someday. Especially with how well things are going between us now. "Lay off, Travis," Tommy seethed. I knew immediately that Travis was going to twist that statement. And they're not even actually fighting yet! It boggles the mind! Why do they always have to snipe like this? They make Sadie and me look like besties.

He chuckled. "Why, thank you, Tom-Tom. Laying Jude would get me off. How considerate of you to offer!" Travis exclaimed merrily, pretending to be grateful. Okay, I wanted to fly at him for that one. Tommy's whole body stiffened with rage. He strode towards Travis, static waves of anger radiating off of him. Travis pouted at Tommy, doing a perfect imitation of that brooding look that had won Tommy numerous female admirers. "Aww, what, Tommy, you don't want to share? After all the times you "borrowed" my girlfriends? _Shame _on you!" Travis whined mockingly, adding the matching hand gesture. There was a bitter undercurrent to his words. He gasped, feigning surprise. "Could it **be **that you don't want her warming anyone else's bed but _yours_?" Travis taunted in a hush.

Stupid drama queen. I rolled my eyes and tried not to bristle at what he'd said. Yes, that's actually exactly what it is. Tommy's a possessive guy. Now, albeit Travis has a point. Tommy's totally a hypocrite here, but did he screw anyone Travis actually loved? He didn't screw Kate, after all, so Travis ruined his life for nothing when it all could've been fixed by a couple questions. I shook my head. "Could you be any more of a pig, Travis? I am not a FREAKING object, or don't you get that?! You don't get to _possess _me, you asshole," I screamed. And I'm not going to screw you either.

Travis raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know you liked them feisty, Tommy." I rolled my eyes. He needs someone to keep him on his toes. Or else Tommy will lose interest. He needs someone who knows him, too, someone who gets it. The music thing. As different as that girl is from him, there's that current, that connection. If you can't understand Tommy, then how can you be with him and... truly love him? But let's not us think about what Tommy needs now.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "No, Travis, you do," I pointed out plainly. Like Joan. And me, for that matter. Travis shook his head, and I considered the conversation over. I looked to both of them. "Just get this thing over with, if you really must do it. But be careful about it. It'd be a pain in the ass to get either one of you to the hospital, and I don't want having either of your deaths on my conscience," I muttered irritably. Seriously, it'd be amazing if they don't wind up dead by each other's hand. Murderous brothers.

Travis snorted. "Well, considering your boyfriend almost killed both of us twice in the past week... I wouldn't count on it, Cherry," Travis replied sarcastically. I could only nod. I didn't particularly like that reminder, but it was true. Uck. Boyfriend. The word left a funny taste in my mouth.

Then, a moment later, it was as if someone had flipped a switch. Suddenly it was on. Tommy maneuvered me to the sidelines before walking back over to Travis. "Fifteen minutes. Whoever knocks his opponent down most wins," Tommy announced.

Travis narrowed his eyes at Tommy. "You know, little brother... We both have to agree to the terms. So fifteen minutes. Whoever incapacitates his opponent the most wins," Travis counteroffered.

Tommy rolled his eyes. "So we're out to hurt each other again?" He quipped, looking bored. Tommy shook his head. "We've fought that fight before, Travis. You know better than that. I always win that fight," Tom added a bit menacingly. Well, he warned you. I realized what Tommy was trying to do. He was trying to impose limits on their fighting so it wouldn't get out of control. An admirable goal. Too bad Travis doesn't appreciate the gesture. Travis shot him a glare.

"Maybe you won't this time, Tom." Fat chance of that. I watched Tommy kick his ass before. He'll do it again. Tommy rolled his eyes but conceded to Travis' terms.

Travis handed him something he grabbed off a table, one of the few pieces of furniture in the room (I was seated on one of the other pieces, one of a few chairs). Turns out he handed him a mouthguard. I totally didn't know that karate was a protected sport until I saw them. I found out later that they both had groin protection (ew) and chest pads under their robey-things. Because Travis had broken ribs, no doubt, so Tommy was wearing one too because it was only fair. The two communicated an unspoken message through their eyes, bowing to each other before assuming their fighting positions.

This position was essentially the same: hands up around the face, back straight, chin up, legs spread apart. The two circled each other warily, each one waiting for the first strike. Surprisingly, this time it was Tommy who made the first strike. He launched himself forward, sending a karate-chop Travis' way. Travis blocked it with a karate-chop of his own, pushing Tommy back. Pausing only a moment, Travis struck out at Tommy's stomach. Tommy turned a second before impact and spun to the side, hands ready. Travis charged at him, launching into an impressive flying leap. Tommy stopped him dead in his tracks with an equally impressive roundhouse kick.

For all intents and purposes, Travis should've fallen to the ground like a stone, but he somehow managed to recover his balance and turn in mid-air. Like a cat, he landed on his feet, albeit precariously. Tommy hit him in the stomach with the edge of his hand, knocking Travis back a step. Travis groaned. He teetered on his feet for a moment, swinging his palm into Tommy's cheek, turning his head. It looked like Tommy had been bitch-slapped. Tommy grunted and responded by forming a fist and ramming the base of his fist into Travis' stomach. Travis wheezed and dodged the repeat attack Tommy sent his way.

The furious fists continued, swinging like hammers rather than the way I was used to seeing the fists fly. Travis countered with the knife-like motion I'd seen before, blocking the hits by striking Tommy's wrists. Finally Travis got sick of it, grabbing Tommy's arm and twisting him around so that they were back-to-front. Travis smirked, winking at me, and he jerked Tommy's wrist forward, sending him sprawling. Tommy, however, somersaulted and managed to land on his knees. Travis lunged at him, and Tommy rolled out of the way. Both of them were panting, and suddenly karate wasn't the only martial art they were practicing.

Tommy did some unbelievable move, thrusting his hips forward so he wound up in a standing position again. Travis ran at him, jumping into a double side-kick. The first leg struck Tommy's side, but he grabbed the second leg and sent Travis crashing to the ground. Travis groaned and rolled over just in time to avoid Tommy stomping on his stomach. Travis leaned back and used the momentum to jump to his feet. Tommy anticipated this and swung a fist at him. The fist barely scraped his stomach, and Travis leaned to the side, effectively dodging the hit and twisting into a standing position. Wow, he's flexible for a guy with broken ribs.

Tommy jumped, whirling his foot around in a circle before using the momentum to propel his other foot into a powerful kick that sent Travis back several meters. He caught himself just before falling over. Travis groaned louder than before; Tommy's kick hit Travis in the middle of his chest. Tommy ran at Travis, suddenly leaping into the air. The height of his jump was unbelievable. Then he did a move that I have heretofore only seen in Jamie's kung-fu movies. You know the one I mean. The one where the person stays in the air and kicks down in a straight line, kind of like walking in air. The object is to kick the opponent in the face.

Travis' strategy was impressive. He brought his hands up above his head, crossing them over to block Tommy's kicks. Now, clearly Tommy started to fall, and his kicks did injure Travis, but his head was safe. When Tommy got lower, Travis' arms flung upwards, snatching his calves out of the air. Tommy's feet rested on Travis' arms for a minute before Travis flung him to the ground. He landed on his back. However, Tommy was amazingly resilient. He got back up to his feet and came out swinging. Travis met him with a maneuver of his own, slamming his palm into Tommy's injured shoulder. He let out a loud cry of pain (even though Thierry had popped the shoulder back into place, Tommy was still sore). Tommy's hit to Travis' side had been far less effective.

So then my beloved formed what looked like a fist. He jammed the fist into Travis' collarbone. I didn't realize it at the time, but Tommy had actually hit him with the knuckle of that one finger, using force to send Travis downwards. Pressure point. Tommy followed this up with a quick succession of jabs to Travis' stomach, swinging out with his other fist and knocking Travis to the ground. Though moaning, Travis managed to swiftly bring his foot around to kick Tommy's feet out from under him, sending him to the floor with him. However, being in less pain, although more surprised, Tommy got to his feet first. Tommy moved as if to strike Travis above, going so far as to bring his fist within inches of Travis' nose. Travis flinched, but Tommy stopped just short of hitting at him, smirking at his rival.

Tommy drew back just as suddenly, as if moving in reverse motion. He rocked on his heels, holding his hands upright in front of his face, tempting Travis to attack him. I glanced down at my watch. All that in seven minutes? Travis eventually stumbled to his feet, and I thought Tommy was very considerate to allow him to do that. Travis responded by rushing Tommy with an elbow to the forehead. He doubled back, repeating the gesture and causing Tommy to bleed. My love hissed but did not flinch, wiping the blood away from his eyes with his sleeve without even thinking about it.

Travis made a blade with his hand and brought it up to Tommy's face, but Tommy was more than prepared. He grabbed Travis' wrist, pulled him up, pushed at his side, twisting Travis' arm backwards, and threw Travis behind him. Travis landed hard and unhappily on the mat, but he was up quickly, dashing at Tommy, who still, stupidly I thought, had his back turned. Travis started running, taking off and sweeping his leg into a curving motion before bringing his leg straight down like one would chop wood. Only Travis was trying to do that to Tommy's head. Tommy turned around with lightning speed, reached up, grabbed Travis' leg with both hands, and spun him around in the air for a full revolution before sending him flying.

Fortunately, the bastard managed to land on both feet. Oh, wait, I don't like him. Tom charged over to Travis, delivering a powerful kick to his thigh before whirling away and out of danger. The strange thing was that the motion seemed to originate from his hip, and he kicked with his shin instead of his foot, knocking Travis off-balance. Tommy coupled this with a rather stunning kick that involved bringing his leg forward and across before striking with an impressive force, knocking Travis once again off his feet. Strangely, Travis was back up on his feet in no time. He did that really cool jump-up kind of thing that only the sickest martial artists can do, right, which must've been hell on his ribs.

He formed a fist and flung it at his opponent. Tommy easily blocked his attempt and lashed out with a chop of his own to Travis' shoulder. Travis made out like he was going to hit Tommy but leapt backwards before Tommy could stop him. Then he ran forwards, soaring into the air and sticking out a bent knee with a clever hip rotation. Tommy had been expecting a kick, which would've been easy to deflect, so he only had moments to turn slightly away from the collision, but those moments slowed down the impact. Considering that Tommy informed me later that that was the most damaging leg move in all martial arts and that it would've broken two ribs and caused internal bleeding and chest compression, it's good that Tommy was able to shy out of its way a little. He attempted to fall to the ground to cushion himself, but Travis was faster, quickly knocking Tommy to the ground.

Tom wound up on his back anyways. He let out a loud moan of pain but wasn't even able to get up, as Travis flew on top of him. And then they were wrestling or grappling or whatever. It was hard to tell who was the winner, but the occasional punches and strikes were used, and much more dangerous at close range. The two held on to each other for dear life, despite many attempted attacks. They were a mess of tangled limbs, so it was hard for me to see what they were doing. My biggest help was the different colors of their uniforms (they looked like a ying-yang sign). It was slightly hot but kinda boring too. Tommy jammed his elbow into Travis' stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Travis backhanded him in response, and Tommy slammed his knee into Travis' soft, unprotected gut.

Still, the two stayed locked in their warlike embrace, rolling around. I eyed the watch worriedly. 9 and a half minutes and counting. Tommy was on top now, and he twisted Travis' arms backwards. Travis groaned, feeling his arms on the verge of breaking, and his muscles becoming hyperextended. He put his knees together, swinging up to ram them into his brother's stomach, effectively flipping them over again. Tommy wheezed and loosened his grip on Travis' arms enough for Travis to become slightly more comfortable. Travis broke Tommy's grip, taking the opportunity to straddle his brother. You can bet I was paying attention then.

As if that wasn't bad enough for Tommy, Travis actually made him more uncomfortable. He slipped a hand under Tommy's neck and placed the other arm over it, clutching his own forearms to effectively choke Tommy by cutting off his air supply. Tommy struggled for a few moments, groping around for something on the floor, but he quickly decided that was fruitless and wrapped his legs around Travis, bringing him down flush on top of Tommy. At the exact same time he raised his head up straight into Travis'. The sudden pain brought on by the headbutt resulted in Travis losing his grip. Since Travis had pulled away, Tommy's legs were already around Travis' back. Tommy swiftly wrapped his thighs around Travis' neck, sticking one leg out, placing the foot on the other, and squeezing. We're talking lower thighs here, more knees, just so you don't think that Travis' mouth was that close to Tommy's genitals. Although that would be fitting after all those mean comments he makes about Tommy sucking.

Travis gasped for breath, and Tommy totally had him on his deathbed when Travis ran his fingers down Tommy's thigh. This action startled Tommy enough to make him start a little, but it didn't make him stop. Travis reached behind him, his eyes fluttering closed, and grabbed Tommy's foot. Actually, he tickled Tommy by getting the foot that was close to his head, making Tommy release the grip, squirming. The both of them were understandably breathless, and Travis was blinking back stars, I'm sure. Somehow the two brothers stumbled drunkenly to their feet. For a moment neither attacked, but when either did, they were sloppy karate chops that were easily deflected and blocked. It took Travis' longer to get his bearings back since Tommy had broken the hold within a few seconds, almost instantaneously.

Tom walked away from Travis a ways, running and then jumping into a flying back-kick. The kick was nothing sort of amazing to behold. The kick smacked across Travis' face, turning his head and making his nose bleed yet again. Tommy landed on the one foot and spun around to face Travis, who had been knocked to the ground by the hit. Travis groaned, swiping at his bleeding nose before scrambling back to his feet just in time to avoid a would-be tackle from Tommy. Tom pulled himself out of the tackle, turning so that he was facing upwards and then propelling himself forwards into the familiar fighting stance. Travis executed a low side-kick that Tommy jumped to avoid just in time for Travis to jump and slam the other foot into Tommy's groin/lower abdomen.

My darling barely grunted, although he remained hunched over for some time, clearly in pain. Travis used this time to knock his knee into Tommy's jaw and fire lots of karate chops, fists, and palms at his rival. Tommy blocked the majority of them but wound up a little worse for the wear. But only a little. Then, suddenly, Tommy straightened. His eyes glinted black for a moment before indelicately shoving Travis backwards. Before Travis could do a thing, Tommy started running, hurling himself into the air and twisting his body around to execute a stunning butterfly kick, kicking Travis in the face twice more. It was an incredible sight, even more so than the other kick. Tommy landed smoothly, and Travis fell to the floor. His nose bled more profusely, if that was at all possible.

Thirteen minutes, I noted. Trav swiped at his nose again, scowling particularly nastily at Tommy, sitting up quickly and rolling over to dodge the low twist kick Tommy sent his way. He had maneuvered into a crouch, so he easily rose to his feet, aiming two blows at Tommy's vulnerable shoulder. Tom successfully avoided the first one, but the second one managed to hit home. Barely sparing a second to wince, Tom lunged at Travis with both hands. Surprisingly, Travis launched into a back-flip, ensuring that his feet knocked into Tommy, sending him back several meters. Tommy swayed on his feet a little, groaning only slightly, but he was able to stay standing. Wow, never knew Travis was that flexible.

My evil teacher rushed Tommy, throwing himself into a highly improbable scissor kick, nailing Tommy once again in the chest two times. Travis also managed to wrap his legs around Tommy's neck, once again trying to strangle him. He was hanging half backwards off the poor guy, but Tommy easily grabbed Travis' legs and forced them into a kind of split. Unfortunately for him, they both wound up falling to the floor as Tommy lost his balance in the struggle. Travis got up, obviously in pain, at the same time Tom did.

Predictably, Tommy was the first to attack. He came close and struck out with a few punches. Travis blocked most of them, but Tommy managed to land a few. Travis came back fast from ducking one of Tommy's punches, thrusting his palm upwards as if to break Tommy's nose. Tommy saw this and attempted to take it on the chin, but he was a little too slow, and the base of Travis' hands slammed into Tommy's mouth. Lucky he was wearing the mouthguard, right? Travis winced, shaking off his hand, and Tommy's lip started bleeding again. Tommy didn't remain in shock long. He responded briskly with a chop to the neck, holding Travis' shoulder so that he couldn't move.

Travis had no choice but to take the hit, although he used the closeness to his advantage, jamming his elbow into Tommy's unprotected side and shoving him backwards with his forearm. Tommy was winded momentarily, but he recovered, running at Travis. His hand morphed into a fist and attempted to hammer into Travis' side, but Travis blocked the move smoothly with a matching fist. Tommy tried a knife hand, but Travis easily pushed the hand aside, snatching Tommy's wrist and holding his hand behind his back. Travis grabbed the other one too so that Tommy was trapped. Or so he thought, at least.

Tom attempted to ram the back of his head into Travis' face, but Travis jerked his head back and out of the way before he could make impact. It seemed as if distracting Travis was his goal, because he stamped down on Travis' instep, whirling as far around as he could to deliver a back-kick to Travis' stomach or abdomen. Travis was hopping on one foot for quite a bit, but I was proud. He'd injured an all-important foot. Tommy had been aiming for the chest, but it hurt Travis enough (the stomach blow) to let go of Tommy and move away, clutching his stomach. People have a reflex to move away from pain, you know. Tommy turned on Travis and began hitting every part of him he could reach with the edge of his hand, the heel of his hand, his palm, even his knuckles from time to time.

The Man in Black somehow managed to twist one of these moves to his advantage, despite sustaining rather painful damage. He managed to get Tommy into a headlock, "guillotining" him in an attempt to cut off blood flow and cause unconsciousness. Tommy swung his knee out into an area that was either Travis' groin or close to it. Travis' grip loosened immediately, and he let go for the barest of seconds before straightening his hand and bringing it down hard on Tommy's back and spine, sending him to the floor.

Surprisingly, Tommy actually didn't get up for a long time. I found myself worrying that Travis had broken his spinal cord and had just gotten up from my seat when Tommy struggled to his feet, narrowly missing a flying axe-kick Travis was about to lay down on him. He moved a bit more sluggishly than before, but he was still a formidable thing to watch. I glanced down at my watch. They only had a minute or so left.

But here's the thing about life, and especially sports... a hell of a lot can happen in a minute.

That much was true of this match. Travis latched on to Tommy's shoulders, and the two struggled, going 'round and 'round like a ferris wheel or drunken merry-go-'round. Travis made sure to press Tommy's injured shoulder, making the struggle somewhat unequal. I thought it looked like he was going to redislocate Tommy's shoulder. Tommy twisted around, jerking Travis' hands into an awkward position. Travis squirmed, trying to let go, but Tommy's grip was firm. Travis kicked the side of Tommy's leg hard, trying to knock him off balance. What Tommy did next was so masterful it made my heart pound damn near out of my chest. He feigned injury, pretending his balance was more impaired than it really was, and pushed Travis forward. He threw the full force of his weight behind the push, sending Travis hurtling to the ground with Tommy straddling his chest.

In fact, it was more like he slammed to the ground, crushed under Tommy's weight. Travis painfully wrenched his hands out of their death lock, distracting Tommy with one, and using the other to elbow him in the face with a sickening crack noise. Tommy's head flew backwards; he was, no doubt, somewhat dazed. Tommy fell backwards. He stood up somewhat dazedly, slowly, still holding his chin, but Travis was far faster and more clearheaded. He lunged at Tommy, locking his arm around Tommy's head and neck. Tommy straightened as much as he could and punched Travis hard in the chest. He had thrown the force of his whole body into that punch, and just as I recalled seeing earlier, Travis flew backwards an incredible amount of meters.

I could barely believe it, only I'd seen it before. Travis groaned and even moaned a little, getting up sluggishly. Determination flashed in his eyes. Wow. It's like Tom said. He is one determined bastard when he wants to be, now isn't he? Travis was shockingly fleet on his feet, and he dashed towards Tommy, whipping out an impressive stream of thrusting palms, flying fists, hard elbows, lightning-fast karate chops, and even a smarting backhand. He was a whirling tornado of pain, spinning around and simultaneously administering blows, I ought to say. Now, of course Tommy deflected the majority of the blows, but Travis was concentrating his hits on Tommy's head and sensitive shoulder.

The heel of his palm met Tommy's unprotected shoulder many times. The stinging backhand landed with a loud smack across Tommy's face, throwing his head backwards. His face was red. Travis had made sure to reopen the floodgates of the cut on Tommy's brow with a few well-aimed elbows. He had also managed to hit Tommy's nose, but Tommy had anticipated this and had seen it coming, so he moved out of the way just in time. That is not to say that Travis didn't hit Tommy's nose. But he only hit it once, and he didn't break it. It was just bleeding lightly. It was a trickle, really. Turns out Tommo didn't break Travis' nose either. But there was a lot more blood because his hit was harder.

Then they were grappling or whatever, and suddenly Tommy shifted, lowering his hip or something to allow him to grab Travis' arm or shoulder or whatever and throw him over his own injured shoulder. Tommy turned around fast so Travis couldn't sneak up on him, eying him watchfully. I could tell, though, by the way he rubbed his shoulder, that the movement had cost him too. Travis had landed on his back, once again jarring his ribs, as they were unprotected from behind. He made a low growling noise that indicated deep pain and foolishly attempted to get back up. However, at that very moment, as Tommy moved towards him, my watch went off. Tommy's shoulders slumped in relief.

I suddenly noticed how sweaty and bloody the both of them were. Tommy more so, given that he was bleeding from all over his face, and Travis was wearing black as opposed to Tommy's white. I quietly turned my alarm off. 15 minutes gone. Wow. My heart was still pounding. Sympathy stress, I suppose. Or watching arouses you, I think. Just something Sadie told me from her Psych class. Tommy slowly walked over to Travis, offering his brother a hand. Unable to get up on his own, Travis grudgingly took the proffered hand. Tommy gave him his other without question and pulled Travis up. He smiled at his brother, patting him on the shoulder. "Good fight, man."

The voice was warm with approval and respect. Travis nodded grimly, pounding Tommy's back. "Same to you, bro. Well fought on both our parts." Wow, was that just a bonding moment? I blinked. There's no way I really just saw that. Did that just happen? Travis wiped at his nose, shaking his head. Both brothers walked over to the table and removed their mouthguards. Ew. Tommy rubbed his jaw. "That's one hell of a kick you have there," Travis muttered, rubbing his lower back. Surprisingly, Tommy actually looked concerned for his brother.

No doubt a Christmas miracle. Tommy kept his hand on Travis' shoulder, carefully examining his brother. "Sorry, Trav... I tried my best to hold back. Are you okay? I didn't want to hurt you any worse," Tommy explained, looking worried. He gingerly touched Travis' nose. Travis flinched but shook his head, indicating that it wasn't broken. Tommy gestured to Travis' ribs. Travis shrugged indifferently, playing the tough guy. Again. What is it with those two?

Travis gritted his teeth. "Eh. It's all right, Tom. I'll be fine eventually. I've had worse." He gave Tommy a look that made Tommy turn absolutely pale with memory. My darling started to apologize again, but Travis stopped him, shaking his head once again. "Chill, man. We were just sparring this time. I can't be mad at you. I don't have the right to be mad after you... Not after finding out what really happened with you and Kate, and what I tried to do. You have every right to hit me as hard as you like. I know I'm lucky to be _alive _after what I did! If Jude hadn't stepped in the way she did, all of us might be dead right now," Travis stated plainly and clearly, cutting Tommy off. I noticed he'd put his hands on Tommy's shoulders.

Hmm, curious. Travis sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look, Tom... There's been so much bad blood between us for so long. And it's torn the whole family apart. You were right. It's about time we stopped. It's been too long, Tom... You're still my brother, and you're _always _going to be my brother. Neither of us can take that back, no matter how hard we try. Doesn't matter if you swear I don't exist or if I change my name. We **need **to get along again. There's a lot of baggage between us, a lot of things we need to get over... And it's not going to happen overnight. It's going to take some time. It's gonna take a long time. Some things we might never get over, but we _have _to get past what happened with us all those years ago. And it's not gonna be easy, and it's gonna require a lot of work on both our ends. We're going to have to work through our issues with each other and our own personal demons one at a time... And it's not going to be like it used to be. It can't be like it used to be ever again. We're not the same people anymore. We're not going to suddenly become best friends; we might never ever become friends again... but we just might become _brothers _again. I want that, and I know you want that too... Tommy, we need to do this. For our sakes. For our _family's _sake... Hell, even for Jude's sake! I don't even know if I can forgive you for what you did, and I'm never going to forget; I know you aren't either... But I'm willing to try if you are," Travis conceded quietly. It was the most honest thing I'd ever heard him say, and easily the most heartfelt speech I'd ever heard him give.

I felt a respect for him creeping up in me against my will. Tommy's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he simply stared at his elder brother in sheer disbelief. Then he snapped out of it, taking a hold of Travis' outstretched hand and shaking it. "Okay," Tommy agreed. Travis looked stunned that Tommy had agreed to his proposal. Tommy gave Travis a rare genuine smile. Given the fact that his lip was bleeding, and that he was in pain, it was a particularly sunny smile. It was not rare to me, of course. I get those smiles all the time. "I'd like that a lot, Travis. I've missed having a brother." For a moment I thought they were going to hug, but alas, that was not to be. Christmas miracle, I tell you!

Only what need was it borne out of? Just the fact that Tommy hadn't screwed Kate? Maybe the fight had made him realize some things, a la tough love? Or was it out of the mutual need to be there for Taylor, who was clearly in a bad way...? Or was it that Travis actually was getting his act together? Maybe he actually felt bad for that mess with me? He sounded guilty before, a little, at least. He acknowledged it and said Tommy had the right to hit him.

A moment later, Tommy pulled back, an apologetic look on his face. "Look, Travis... I might not have slept with Kate, but I was lying when I said I wouldn't have done it. I _was _just intending to test her a little, but I don't know how far I would've gone... I was still drunk from the night before. It was one of the worst times of my life, and I was steeped so deep in self-loathing and self-destruction that I was ruining my life. I probably would've done exactly what you accused me of once she finally gave in. And I'm sorry for that, Travis. I'm sorry for always stealing girls from you, but that was the only thing I ever did better than you," Tommy confessed. He sounded surprisingly vulnerable.

I guess that catered to Travis' vanity a little. Maybe he never realized that Tommy had those sort of deep-seated issues of self-worth. That all his egotism was really just a massive cover-up. Because if you don't have self-esteem, you basically have to make it yourself. Travis cleared his throat though and lightly patted Tommy on the shoulder. He puffed himself up a bit, clearly realizing that they were still in front of me, and not exactly looking that manly, what with all the feelings talk. Like I care if they look manly. "Ahem... Get your ass cleaned up, T. After all, you've got to claim the prize that our dear Jude is only too happy to give to you, and I'm sure she doesn't want you like that, sweaty with blood all over your face," Travis said briskly, shoving his brother a little.

Tommy gave Travis a look, assuming that he meant from experience. Well, he could've said it like that. But, really, I don't mind the taste of blood. Which Travis should know. It's not an aphrodisiac or anything, but oysters are, and I completely hate those. Unlike Sadie, Tommy, and my parents, who all love the nasty little things. My thoughts on that are... if it has a shell, it should stay in the damn thing. Anyway, back to my point... It doesn't turn me on, and I don't really like it that much, but there are worse tastes. However, Tommy took this into consideration.

God knows why, actually, since Tommy ought to know that I wouldn't care about any of that if he was kissing me. But Tommy followed his brother's advice, untying his belt and stripping off his shirty-thing in a fluid movement. He ripped off the chest guard thing, and I smiled. Tommy wiped his face off with the shirt-robe (he was wearing a white tank-top underneath it), throwing it to the ground. Travis snorted. Yeah, real subtle, isn't it? I stood up and started walking towards Tommy. He met me halfway and then literally met me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into a particularly amorous embrace. Okay, yeah, so we were making out pretty hot and heavy. With no regard for oxygen need.

Then, of course, the beautiful disgusting moment was ruined. By guess who? The Great Ruiner of Jommy Moments, also known as Spoiler of Tommy-Time... or, in other words, my sort-of boyfriend, T.O. Quincy. Not that I should be surprised by that, but, really, what are the odds that Taylor would walk in on me kissing Tommy? Or, for that matter, in the Martial Arts Room? "Well, if it isn't my _girlfriend _making out with my brother!" Taylor exclaimed bitterly, walking towards us with an irascible look on his face.

I abruptly pulled away from Tommy, wiping away the blood on my lips. Okay, so I couldn't help but lick my lips too. They were still tingling, and my eyes were still half-lidded because I wanted to stay there and keep kissing him forever. Wow, you know, I think I just realized something... I think I love Tommy more than music. And I never thought that was possible. But I just said I wanted to kiss him forever, right? As in there's nothing I'd rather be doing. So apparently I love him more than the common thread that bonds us together. Apparently. But it's not like I'll ever have to choose, right? And, plus, I'd have to go with music.

But see, I said that like there was absolutely no option, no doubt in my mind. Music and Tommy, and I pick music hands down. I guess it's because... music will never leave me. The music is always with me, always there to soothe me, to lick my wounds for me, to help me express myself and my feelings. Tommy's nowhere near that reliable. The music doesn't pick other people over me. And I'd rather not have Tommy than not have music. After all this time, I've definitely proven that I can live without him. Maybe not happily, but I can do it. Without music... well, I might as well slit my wrists now.

"Oh, yeah, Taylor... We were really going to get it on in front of Travis. The thought of him watching me and Tommy do it really gets me off. Even more than Tommy. In fact, I'm quite glad you joined us. C'mon over! Don't be shy now! The more, the merrier!" I proclaimed dementedly and dramatically in a voice that literally dripped with sarcasm. Tommy gave me an exasperated look, and Taylor eyed me with disdain. Jeez, does he actually think that's true?

Taylor smirked, but it wound up looking like more of a grimace. "I knew you liked all of us separately, so I figured it was only a matter of time before you went for the family orgy. Unfortunately, I don't want to catch something, and what with you, Travis, and Tommy already involved... well, that's too much STD for me to handle. So I'm sorry, but I can't screw you. You'll have better luck waiting for Dad. Everyone knows how much he loves a piece of underaged ass," Taylor rejoined viciously. He looked at me like I was nothing more than some common whore off the street. Now, what Travis said earlier was bad, but this was a million times worse. Travis had never been this crude. I was, however, impressed that my normally dull-witted boyfriend who fumbled for his words could whip out an insult like that. I was also kinda stunned that he would insult his father like that.

Tommy walked over to Travis, backhanding him across the face. "Don't you **dare **say anything like that about Dad! First off, it's not true. Secondly, he's the man who raised you and took care of your sorry ass. You should be _grateful _to him for what he did. He deserves a hell of a lot more respect than what you just gave him, and if you _ever _say anything like that about our father again, I will **not **hesitate put you in the hospital," Tommy snarled, jumping to protect his father. Tommy stared Taylor down, almost daring him to fight. Naturally, Taylor didn't have the nerve to do that. He wasn't _that _stupid, after all. Travis backed Tommy up on this, nodding his head solidly. He also gave Taylor a look sure to remind him of what _he'd _looked like the time Tommy sent him to the hospital.

Then Tommy briskly walked back over to stand by my side, making it even more clear where his loyalties laid. It was my turn to talk. Taylor was still glaring at me, giving me that look like I was a dirty whore. "You know what? I wish I _had _been screwing Tommy when you walked in! After all, if I'm going to get accused of doing it, then I might as well get a little _pleasure _out of it!" I retorted viciously, crossing my arms over my chest. Yeah, that was probably a stupid thing to say, but what else is new. Might as well do the crime and get the pleasure if that's what he thinks of me. Because I'd have a hell of a lot more fun being Tommy's dirty little girl than Taylor's girlfriend. Either way people think I'm a whore, so I might as well be happy and satisfied.

Travis raised an eyebrow at me and surprisingly refrained from a whore comment. He wisely chose to interrupt, walking towards his brother. "Chill, Taylor. He was just collecting on his winnings," Travis said calmly, trying to smooth things over. I was just the slightest bit grateful, but it was my damn battle to fight, not his. Taylor gaped at Travis, looking at him like he was so betrayed. "Tommy and I sparred. The winner got to kiss Jude, and Tommy won. It's no big deal, Taylor. I was here; I saw what happened. You could call me a chaperone for all I care, but I've seen way more indecent kisses than that one, okay?" Travis explained succinctly.

The boyfriend I still hadn't quite dumped yet wasn't about to buy that. Although, really, he had no reason to disbelieve Travis, who dislikes Tommy even more than he does right now. Or at any time, really. Taylor took his anger out on Travis, though, getting up in his face. "And what right did you have to offer up my girlfriend as a prize?!" Taylor growled, raising his eyebrows. He looked quite threatening and rather wolf-like, even. Uh, hello, does he not understand how Travis works? He never does anything if he's got the right to do it. He just abuses rights he doesn't have. "That's my right, not yours."

Why the hell is he so possessive?! We've been dating a month. THIS IS INSANE. I decided to speak up before Travis could. "Do you frequently abuse girls, Taylor? Is that something that runs in the family too?" I called loudly, challenging him in a way. Taylor's eyes widened, and he stalked towards me furiously. Tommy put his hand out in front of me to protect me. Taylor stopped just short of it. God, I **so **need to make him an ex-boyfriend already. I looked him over curiously. He could so kill me with his bare hands, assuming, of course, that he didn't screw it up.

I scoffed. He gave me this look like he was so innocent. Innocent my ass. "**What**, Taylor? Don't you think the pattern fits? We get into arguments about the stupidest things all the time! You're _always _jealous... You sure as hell **don't **trust me... You're _definitely _not cool with the fact that I hang around guys all the time... Especially my relationship with Tommy, which you knew about before you even asked me out! It's insane, Taylor! We haven't even been dating a whole month, for crying out loud! All of that because you're insecure!" I pointed out coolly, although my voice rose towards the end as I got increasingly angry. My temper's as fiery red as my hair, you know.

Shaking my head, I continued my tirade, glaring at him for all I was worth. I'm sick of this. He's not gonna treat me like this. "But that's not the worst part. The most disturbing part of it all is that you seem to think you _own _me! Well, you **don't**! I'm an independent, grown-ass woman, and I make decisions for myself. I _**don't **_need a man, and I don't need negative people in my life, Taylor. I'm _not _going to let you talk to me like that, you understand? And then when I don't act all repentant and actually stand up for myself, you accuse me of being a whore and anything else you can think of! That's a form of emotional **abuse**,Taylor! You just don't attack my self-esteem like a full-fledged abuser would! So tell me... How long will it take for you to hit me, huh, Taylor?"

I walked towards Taylor, knowing how furious I'd gotten him. I held out my arms patiently, holding them outstretched. Just to see if he'd try. Oh, sure, I knew he was mad enough to do it... I knew if he did, Tommy would step in. And I was okay with that. But even Travis can tell you that I've got a hell of a right hook. Then again, even Travis isn't like Taylor. Sure, he makes me feel worse about myself, but he's not possessive. And he doesn't really care, so he just says those things to hurt me. Sure, Travis attacks my self-esteem sometimes. But it's not like the way Taylor does. After all, Travis is a much nicer person in a relationship, I'm sure. I'm not in one with him. And the only time Travis was ever violent with me was... well, yeah. I can't explain how it's different, but it is.

When Taylor didn't hit me, I smiled and held my head up high, leaning in a little bit. "And, in case you've forgotten... We're on a _break, _asshole. I have the right to do what I want with _whoever _I want. Besides, you don't see me saying a damn thing about you and Kathryn, now do you? I don't owe you an explanation," I finished stubbornly. Except for that. But, please, he makes out with her for a job. Which, wow, sounds barely better than me and Tommy. But we were on a break, and whining about what happens on a break is very Friends. Breaks are best forgotten about, in my opinion, if you hook back up. If you don't, then it's worth the memory. Taylor's face twisted into a sneer, and he was very narrowly stopped from saying something that was, I'm sure, vicious.

Strangely enough, Travis walked over to his younger brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. Taylor looked surprised at the contact. But we were all even more stunned by what he actually said. "Taylor, you've got to get over it, or you're going to lose Jude. Don't you see that by not trusting her, you're as good as _pushing _her into Tommy's arms?! So they've kissed before. Big _freaking _deal. You're lucky she isn't screwing him right now. Hell, if I was your girlfriend, and you said something like that to me, I would've dumped you ages ago..." Travis interjected quite bluntly. He was right about everything, though. I was surprised there were no comments, though, about how in love with Tommy I am... I want to be with Tommy. I want to dump Taylor and quick. And I want to be in Tommy's arms, and frankly, I'd rather be having sex with him now than having this conversation.

"T.O., I know you're not blind. You _had _to see their faces plastered all over the tabloids! For crying out **loud**, man, they practically had **sex **on camera before she ever met you! You _had _to expect that, dumbass, and you can't be mad at her for what happened before she knew you since you knew about all of that and _still _chose her. You knew Tommy was going to be a problem, Taylor. You know just as well as I do that Tommy always gets the girls, and yet you _deliberately _picked one already involved with your brother. And you expect her to pick **you **over Tommy? I'm gonna give you some advice here... Either cut your losses, give up now, and pick someone else or get over yourself, stop being such an ass, and study up if you want to have half a chance. For now, I suggest just taking a break and thinking about it. You've only been going out for a month!" Travis continued, half-berating Taylor's choice.

Normally I'd be offended at that, but I wasn't feeling too fond of Taylor either at that particular moment. Plus, the man had a point. Girls and fighting, that's what Tom's good at. And yet both of his brothers continue to challenge him in those fields... I mean, sheesh... I _know _Tommy; I don't know Taylor. Tommy has slowly become my best friend over the past year; Taylor and I met a month ago. Tommy and I have things in common; Taylor and I have Tommy in common. Tommy and I are both musicians; Taylor and Kathryn are both actors. Tommy sees me every day; Taylor only sees me once a week or so. Tommy is a good kisser; Taylor kisses like a Wet Vac. Tommy is nice to me; Taylor picks fights about Tommy. Even when Tommy's jealous, which happens a lot, he's still nicer than either of his brothers.

But back to what I was saying. Taylor has no excuse. Tom and I were all over the tabloids, for sure, not to mention the music video and the stuff I'm sure Tommy told Taylor about me. He had to know how one of us felt. Probably me, since I suck at it because I'm so readable. Like a damn book! Why on Earth would I pick Taylor? Oh, forgot one! Finally...

I LOVE Tommy; I don't love Taylor.

That's basically it in a nutshell. Seriously, what part of break does he not understand?

Somehow Taylor was still in denial. God knows how. It's pretty damn obvious we're not meant to be or anything like that. He shook his head, red in the face with embarrassment or something like it. "Oh, _you're _one to talk!" He exclaimed with a sneer, referencing how he thought Travis wasn't attempting to move past the Kate thing. Well, he was wrong about that too. His brother gave him good advice. Pity he didn't listen. "For someone who claims that no man owns her, she sure as hell acts like Tommy does!" Taylor snapped, gesturing to me. His eyes were icy with disdain and empty save for hatred, really.

I rolled my eyes at him, irritated. Tommy doesn't own me. Now, see, the problem is that he owns a piece of me... a vital piece of me. He owns my heart. So I think that's a bond Taylor can't break. "That's because we're best friends!" Is what I said, but even I realized how lame that sounded. Tommy's my wingman, my partner-in-crime, my co-producer, my best friend, my other half, my soulmate... He's practically a part of me! I can't even express the full extent of it in words.

I sighed, trying to think of a way to explain it to him. "As strange as this is to say, I look up to Tommy. He's been my mentor, and I've been his protégée. He's always had the answers... Tommy is my _rock, _Taylor. As inconsistent as he is, as variable as our relationship has been... he's _always _been there for me, through thick and thin, regardless of what's going on between us, of who I'm dating, or what I'm going through. Even when I hated him and didn't want to see him... I always know I can turn to Tommy. I rely on him. I respect him. I trust him. I depend on him. I _value _him. And, most importantly, I _care _about him. You might not like it, but Tommy is an important piece of the puzzle that is Jude Harrison. I wouldn't be **me **without him, just like my music wouldn't be the same without him," I admitted quietly in a voice that seemed to me to be eerily serene. When I said it, I wasn't looking at Tommy at all but was instead staring off into space.

Clear enough for you, buddy?

Wow... Think that was too transparent? Travis looks like he thinks he was. I don't take him for granted. And, more important than any of that, I need him. I need Tommy to function properly, to work, to exist. My world won't fall apart without him, but it sure wouldn't be a place I'd like to live in. Hell, I came **alive **when I met Tommy. It's been a ride, but every damn second of it has been totally worth it. I wouldn't trade him for the world... for anything or anyone.

And dude, my music would totally suck without him. I wouldn't have survived the industry for a second if he didn't help me like he did. He's my guru, my savior, my dream guy, my inspiration, my encouragement, my teacher, my guide, my first kiss, my first love, and... absolutely _everything _to me. There isn't a thing I wouldn't do for him. In some ways, Tommy is the master of me, and I let him have this hold, this power over me. But I let him, and isn't that my choice? I have my own mind, and I make my own choices, like I said.

I do believe Taylor's jaw dropped. Travis gave me a worried look, as if he actually cared that I'd been so upfront. But then he just shrugged, although I could tell the depth of my feelings shocked him a bit. Not that I can blame him. They tend to do that. I have a very decided opinion and preferences for one so young. After hearing that, Tommy must be fuh-_llllip-_pin' out. Honestly, I was terrified to look at him, but I forced myself to do it.

He was smiling rather radiantly. He kept smiling for a moment before brushing past his brothers as if they were insignificant flies, walking right up to me and grabbing my hand. I blinked, stunned. You know, I'm starting to think Tommy likes it when I go on and on about my feelings for him. Maybe I can finally tell him after all... Then Tommy turned to look at Travis. "Inspiration's struck. We've got to go work on a song," Tommy whispered urgently. His face was dead serious. Travis gave him a skeptical look, and I'm sure Taylor was disbelieving, but I didn't much care as Tommy whisked me off after that.

It was all I could do to follow him. He led me to a slip of a room. It was more like a nook or a loft, kind of like an attic, or something clearly forgotten by the rest of the house. There were sheets over what furniture there was, and the room was lit up by a few windows. Tommy asked me if I had my notebook with me. Of course I did. I always take my notebook with me. He asked me where it was and told me he'd go get it since he knew his way around. Tommy handed me an old guitar and instructed me to get working on something. Oh, so apparently he wasn't kidding about that song thing? I just thought that was an excuse to make out.

And so did Travis, and Taylor. Actually... They probably thought it was an excuse to go have sex. I can so just imagine Travis saying, "oh, so that's what they're calling it nowadays?"

Nevertheless, I found myself strumming slowly. I had to tune the guitar first, of course, but there was something so interesting about the way it sounded. I started to hum, you know, a series of ohs and oohs... And then the chords started flowing out of me. "_If we don't talk, that's okay... 'Cause I hear everything that you __**say. **__You've got my heart tuned into you_," I found myself singing. There it was, the melody. Maybe I have something here, huh? I fumbled around for a minute, trying to repeat the words in my head so I'd remember them. I took a deep breath.

"_The _whole _of this hurt inside... It __**shows**__, __and you can't hide... but if we open up, we'll break __**through**__!_" I continued, getting into it a little. Where are these words coming from? I paused, forcing myself to sing the words again before putting the whole verse together. Hm, what next? I kept strumming, licking my lips, closing my eyes and just giving in to the music. "_You and I go deeper..._"

I was about to go on to the next verse when I heard some clapping. Almost immediately I blinked, and my eyes shot open, revealing a proud Tommy. How much of that, exactly, did he hear? He was smiling approvingly, pen and notebook in hand. Guess he likes it, then. I suppose he should, since the song's about our relationship. "Sounds like a good beginning, girl," Tommy proclaimed brightly. For the briefest of moments, I wondered whether he meant the song or our relationship... Then I dropped the guitar and ripped my notebook out of his hands without really sparing him a look. I tore it open, flipping to the first open page I saw and scribbling down the lyrics I'd just written. I made sure to add the chord progressions and notes above the words.

Suddenly, a whole different tune popped into my mind. It was the same theme, though. I was thinking about what I'd said to Taylor about Tommy, and the words just came to me. "_You are the __**mirror**__ I see myself in... Never thought I'd find so much __**within**__!_" I murmured, smiling to myself and writing the words down a ways below the ones I'd written earlier. These words were true, just like the last ones, but on a deeper level, if that was at all possible. The tune wasn't right at all, so I sang it over again and noted down a rough chord progression. After that, I looked up to see Tommy watching me, looking amused.

The music chose that moment to leave me, but it whispered a silent promise to return to me. And even if that didn't happen, I knew there was still Tommy to help me. He's always there to help me. Picking up the guitar, he smiled down at me and sat in the chair across from me. He reached over, pulling me closer to him until we were so close that our knees touched. He reached over and flipped pages in the journal until he found what he was looking for. I glanced down, noticing that on the page was a song I'd never seen before written in his handwriting. He gestured to the bottom of the page, which was strangely blank.

I looked up at him, full of confusion, but then I met his eyes and understood the silent instruction in them. Write down what I'm about to sing. It was the verse that finished the song. I nodded dumbly; I didn't even have time to scan over the words. He looked at me again, this time out of the corner of his eye, smiling softly, almost hesitantly. "I wrote that song for you... For the album," He told me quietly. I raised an eyebrow and attempted to glance over the words. Tommy stopped me, placing his hand over the words and notes he'd written. He looked a little frustrated with me. "Maybe you'll get what I mean..." He muttered, pulling the strap over his head, wrapping the guitar around him and starting to strum away.

Pen poised over the lines of the paper, I watched him in silence. He looked nervous, which seemed completely unfathomable. Then he licked his lips and started to sing. My fingers scribbled the words as I listened intently. "_Sometimes, you pull me back... Back from the __**e-edge**__!_" He breathed, drawing out the last word. I let myself smile at that. He did keep me sane, even if he was the one who almost sent me over the edge. My little knight in leather and denim. "_And I, I __**rescue **__you... back from the de-ea-ad!_" He continued sincerely. That one made me smirk. Squinty-Frown gets way too serious sometimes. He knows just as well as I do how empty and boring his life would be without me. Before me, Tommy was just so... empty. He didn't really care about anything.

Now he's a healthy, living, breathing, feeling boy. I guess I can see it the other way, though. I do stop Tommy from taking it too far, from going to extremes, from losing his mind... I talk him off the ledge, you know? Just like the way he saved me from a boring life of complacency or whatever. He knows exactly how to make me feel alive. I only thought I was alive before I met him, but he showed me what living was really about... technicolor daydreams and living in the moment and forgetting all my inhibitions and making my dreams come true and feeling things with an intensity I'd never imagined before!

A slow, lazy smile spread its way across his face, and it was like suddenly he couldn't resist looking at me. I smiled back shyly. "_We got lost along the way, but we got here in the end_," He drawled, giving me a suggestive look. I couldn't help but let out a little giggle. Lost is... um, an interesting way to put it. I would've said delayed or waylaid or distracted, but I guess this means that we've finally found our way? Our way to each other. You know, I really like the sound of that. Yeah, and now we're finally here! Isn't it great? It was his way of saying we'd end up together in the end, that we'd finish together, and that he'd always known it.

Unbelievably, his smile got wider and softer until I thought I was going to melt into a quivering mess of gooey love for Little Tommy Q. This time he didn't bother to hide his gaze. He focused his eyes on me intently, so intently that I had to force myself to glance down at the lyrics I'd written. My handwriting was messy, blurred, distracted. The words were scarcely even legible. "_And I know, I __**know... **__It was worth waiting for. It was worth waiting for. Yeah, __**you **__were worth waiting for!_" Tommy sang with such certainty, glancing at me only briefly. Then the words sunk in and completely took my breath away. He'd waited for me?

But he had, hadn't he? A whole year at least. It's been a year and six days. And now, only now were things finally all coming together. I threw the pen and notebook down quickly, but Tommy took his sweet time extricating himself from the guitar. He's trying to torture me, I swear! He was smirking like the smuggest thing I'd ever seen to boot. I scooted as far forward as I possibly could, wanting to do nothing more than get horribly, wonderfully, terrifyingly close to him. Our eyes connected. "I mean it, you know... You were worth waiting for," He whispered before leaning in, cupping my chin, and brushing his lips against mine. Mm. I was quick to deepen the kiss, throwing my arms around his neck and burying my hands in his hair.

Oh, it was so good. Every time it happens, it never fails to surprise me how much I've missed that feeling. I was completely drunk on the feeling, flying high, all that good stuff... It's like I'm free falling. It's an exhilarating feeling, and I'm on top of the world, but I'm also breathless and terrified, and the ground's so far away, and there's no support, nothing but him to catch my fall. And then Tommy pulled away so abruptly that I literally fell over and landed flat on my ass. I'd been half in his lap before, you see. Tommy laughed and reached over, grabbing my hands and pulling me up. I sat back down in my chair, gazing at him in confusion. What the hell? Tommy smirked. I guess I still looked kind of flustered. "C'mon, girl... We've got a song to finish," Tommy scolded teasingly, reaching over to mess up my hair.

I glowered at him, blowing the hair out of my face. "Thanks, Tom," I muttered sarcastically, fixing my hair. I was still breathless and pink in the face, I'm sure. I swear, Tom Quincy is the most **confusing **guy on the planet! One minute he's kissing you, and the next minute you're on your ass on the floor, and then he's giving you a noogie, practically... AUGH! As much as he swears that I get him, I really don't think I'll ever completely understand him. Guess it keeps it interesting. Tommy grinned and picked up the pen, notebook, and guitar. He tossed me the notebook, still grinning. I rolled my eyes. "Could you _be _a bigger tease, Quincy?"

Tommy gave me a look. "Don't even, Harrison." His eyes flashed a little, and I frowned. He pointed down at the notebook I was still holding. "You've been holding out on me, Jude," He said a little accusingly. Um, is this still about the sex thing, or a song? I'm... confused. 'Cause, you know, he's been holding out on me too. I've rather... been holding out for him. Tommy rolled his eyes at my bewildered expression and flipped the pages of the notebook 'til he found what he was looking for. I glanced down at the lyrics, remembering that I hadn't written much of anything good while on tour. This was the notebook I'd taken on tour with me. I hadn't used it since I first got back, actually, so the last song I'd written in it was "Illicitly Existing."

I knew nothing good could come of Tommy saying any song in it was gold because I'd already recorded the good ones. Albeit, I hadn't recorded "Illicitly Existing", but eh, it was just okay. Unfortunately, the song Tommy was pointing to happened to be "White Lines." I winced. Just the song I never wanted him to see. Just peachy. I feel so pathetic and helpless and mopey just thinking about the damn thing. I shrugged helplessly, plastering an innocent look on my face. "What of it, Tommy?"

"It's good," Tommy said. I shrugged. Not really, but if he says so, then I'm not gonna argue with him. He shot me a somewhat sharp look, jabbing at it. "Why isn't it on your album?" He demanded. Why do you care, Tommy? The song's not just there because it's so obviously about him and because I find it embarrassing. It's also not there because I'm not satisfied with it. The second verse is about this stupid dream I had, for cripes' sake! It's just not my best work, even if it is straight from the heart. It's gushy in a twelve-year-old kind of way that I like to think I've outgrown.

As a songwriter and as a person. I was still that sixteen-year-old girl mooning over him back then, sharing a bus with five guys. We were headed for Toronto for the tour's last leg. Shay and I had kicked the tour off in the States, hitting all the big cities before a brief stopover in Mexico and Brazil and some other countries I've forgotten. That week and a half was kind of a blur of illness for me. Then we went to do a few shows in Morocco, Monaco, and one in Cairo, I think, before making our way through Europe, (with some very excellent shopping done there at Big D's and Shay's expense) before hitting up Asia, including Bangkok, which was crazier than Amsterdam. We did India first, which was completely insane, and I got sick again. There were so many people in the crowd! I'd never even seen so many people before then!

After India came a brief stay in Thailand, as well as a visit to the Philippines... or was it Indonesia? I forget. Then we did China, which was kind of hard to get into, but we had a great time there... And then off to Japan. Lemme tell you, Jude Harrison is HUGE in Japan! I was totally more famous than Shay! And then it was back to Vancouver, where we began the homestretch, our trek through Canada. I met up with SME there. Vancouver for a couple days then Victoria, Abbotsford, Kamloops, Kelowna, Edmonton, Red Deer, Calgary, Lethbridge, and Medicine Hat (not to mention a couple reservations, which was so totally awesome!) before going to Saskatoon, Moose Jaw, and Regina. We stopped randomly to perform sometimes along the way; well, at least I did. I had my own gigs when I wasn't doing the Shay Tour circuit with my ex.

And after Saskatchewan (doesn't that sound like something you should chew?), we progressed through Manitoba, plowing through Brandon, Thompson, Portage la Prairie, and Winnepeg. and then, after ages, we finally got to ONTARIO! Whoo! We did a show in London, one in Paris (Ontario, although we did the European ones too), Barrie, Brampton, Mississauga, Kitchener, Hamilton, Oshawa, Ottawa, St. Catherines, Windsor, Sudbury, Kingston... so on and so forth. It took ages for us to get to Toronto!

Which is when I wrote the song. But it didn't matter because Tommy wasn't there, and I had no time to myself, and I barely even got to see my parents before we flew out to Prince Edward Island since we had to tour the city and the suburbs. We spent approximately a day and a half in P.E.I., did one show in Charlottetown and another in Summerside before jetting off to Newfoundland. We spent two days there, doing St. John's, Corner Brook, and Mount Pearl. Then it was off to Nova Scotia for a whirlwind two days of touring Halifax, Cape Breton, Truro, and New Glasgow. It was cool, too, how we stopped at fishing towns in between. Shay wasn't into that, but Speed and the rest of the guys totally were. It was way better than Newfoundland, because it was freaking cold and rainy when we were there. It was kind of like that in P.E.I., only our concerts were completely mobbed. I guess rockstars don't come there often.

See, Darius wants Shay to be big in Canada too. Never neglect the home front, he says. It's amazing how fun you can have touring your own country. You get to see so much when you're driving through it on a bus. It's really a big and breathtaking country, you know. Especially in the winter. Although it's freezing then, so that's not exactly ideal tour time. D planned the tour this way on purpose so that the weather would be best, since it's hottest in August. Smart of him, too. Anyway, then we went to New Brunswick. Fredericton, Saint John, Oromocto, Moncton, and then we finished off in Edmundston. There was this weird feeling of foreboding in me the minute after I stepped foot on the ground there, like something bad was going to happen to me there or in the future, but it was so crazy beautiful there despite that, so I tried to forget about it. Then it was off to Quebec. Quebec City, Gatineau, Sherbrooke, Saguenay, Trois Rivieres, then Montreal itself, which took us like, three days, including the final concert. Wow, my French got a work out then! And, well... I guess you know the rest.

Tommy shook me to snap me out of my pleasant memories. I scowled at him, looking at my feet. "It wasn't good enough. I hate the second verse, and I didn't want to rewrite it... It's so... idealistic," I explained somewhat awkwardly. I was still the same girl, sure, but I was a different version, the updated model. That person I was back then was almost a distant memory, and it was hard to believe I had been that naïve. The lyrics made me cringe. I'd hardened since then. That girl with the soft edges and wide eyes and mushy dreams had given into the pressure and emerged like a diamond, hard and sharp on the outside, with narrowed eyes and resignation. Tommy rolled his eyes at me; the explanation didn't satisfy him at all.

He was suspicious, naturally. "Since when is idealism a bad thing? What happened to the punk girl who walked in here with all those ideas?" Tommy asked coolly, trying to push me. You know what happened to that girl? She kept the ideals that worked and discarded the ones that didn't. She fell in love with you, Tommy. Falling in love with Tommy kind of kills idealism. Because you crash back down to reality pretty damn soon. I scowled at him, refusing to answer. Yeah, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing, but that kind of hopeless, insane, deluded idealism was. Then again, I'm with Tommy now, right, kind of? So maybe it's not that deluded...

I didn't want to look at him, so he made me, tilting my chin up. His gaze was quizzical. "That's the kind of song that sticks with a person, Jude. The kind of song I can't get out of my head and don't want to. It's the kind of song that makes people fall in love with you and your music, girl," Tommy murmured, punctuating his statement with a gentle poke to the chest. Before you freak, it was in that area where the cleavage kind of starts, if not a little above that. Still made me tingle, though. The voice he said it in was like velvet. He was really turning the persuasion on, that was for sure. I wanted to ask him if it was the kind of song that made people like _him _fall in love with me, but I didn't.

Or just him in general, really.

Tommy sighed, and I could feel his breath on my face. His index finger stayed right were it was, tracing slow circles on the skin that drove me crazy. "Everyone has felt like that at some point in their life, but you're the only one writing a song about it... And that makes you _special, _Jude. It takes a daring artist to put it all on the line like you did in the song, to be so _**open **_with your feelings... That's not naivety; that's **bravery**! You're _brave _enough to believe that's possible for yourself, to say what you mean..." Tommy proceeded passionately in a husky voice. He trailed his finger down, under the neckline of my shirt, tracing a trail along the flesh just above the lace that lined the top of my bra.

My breath hitched. My skin felt hot. He had complete control over me. I thought to myself when I regained my breath that Tommy was one to talk about feelings and openness like he didn't shy away from them and practically run in the opposite direction whenever they were introduced. Since when is wearing my heart on my sleeve bravery? Better I go around telling the truth than being like him, lying and not saying what I mean! Still, he had called me special. That had to mean something, right? "That song's gold the way it is. I guarantee it'd even have Darius weeping big fat tears! C'mon, Jude... Give me one reason why you can't sing it. A good one," Tommy challenged, boasting in his voice.

I shook my head and looked at him dead-on in the eyes, regaining myself. Tommy had wisely not opted for the sleazy option by removing his hand from my shirt/chest/flesh. After all, if he did that, he'd be an entirely different kind of person. "Have you ever felt that way about anyone, Tom?" My voice cut through the thick silence like a whip, harsh and sudden. I don't know what I was trying to prove. What about that song appealed to him? When could he, my worldly, jaded, experienced, cynical, been-there-done-it-all producer have ever been that naïve, that innocent, that much like a child? When had he ever been that idealistic?

Oh, I knew he saw his mother like that, and he saw the music like that in the beginning... But was that the example he was going to use? Because I didn't write this song about my dad. It's a song for the love of my life. Tommy doesn't have one of those. Hell, he's never been in love! So how can he sit there and tell me that it resonates with him?! It's so clearly a lie! Tommy didn't say anything, so I did. "Tommy... if even you can't feel that way about someone, then what makes you think everyone else has?" I inquired softly, biting my lip.

Tommy shot me a dark look. "I've been touring. I know what it's like to miss someone and to want nothing more than to come back to them," He insisted. I shook my head, refusing to believe it. Who's the mystery girl, then, Tom? 'Cause the only people who fit that definition of yours seem to be your family. What the hell did Tommy know about it?

"No, Tommy, you **don't**! The only woman you've _ever _loved is your mother!" I shouted back at him, rising before I knew what I was doing. God, why am I doing this? I'm just screwing everything up when it finally got good for me, and... Oh, who am I kidding?! I knew it was never going to last. Should've slept with him when I had the chance. Might as well keep going while I'm ahead, right; dig myself in the hole a little deeper. "And that's completely _**ruined **_you for every other woman out there!" I snapped, irritated and trying to keep it all together. I was just so frustrated with him because he thought he knew what it was like, and he really didn't at all.

If it was at all possible, his eyes darkened further, narrowing still further, and he radiated fury in waves. But I just didn't care by that point. "Don't make this about you and me, Jude," Tommy replied in a barely even voice, scarcely bothering to hide the rage in his undertone. My eyes flashed. Like it or not, the whole damn thing was about him. My whole life practically revolves around the bastard. And this song, of all songs!

I shook my head and tried to deny it. "The song is about romantic love between a man and a woman, Tom... and as far as I know, you've never been in love with **anyone**! Correct me if I'm wrong here, Trojan. The kind of love you're known for involves a lot less _e_-motion and _de-_votion and a lot more locomotion, so forgive me if I don't believe you when you confess that you've felt _that _way about someone," I snapped viciously, bluntly. I threw my hands in the air in exasperation, made vaguely obscene hand motions like waves and hip gyration. Because I've never seen it! I've never even heard of him like that! Well, I guess it could be about gay or lesbian love too. It's just I'm kind of biased since it's about me and Tommy. But I know in my bones that Tommy's never felt that way about someone. Tommy and feelings don't go together. Unless you're talking about sexual feelings or giving in to the feelings of the moment or feelings of lust...

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before he could even get a word out. "It's not just about missing someone and wanting nothing more than to come back to him, Tommy. It's a hell of a lot more complex than that! It's about missing someone so badly that it _hurts _not seeing him because that person is such a huge part of your life that you're **lost **without him. It's about missing that person so intensely that it's **killing **you not being able to touch him, to be with him... to just be _near _him again! And that person is all you _think _about, and all you want to do is just _see _that person again, more than anything else in the world! It's about the quiet moments when that _ache _for him overwhelms you, and your body physically cries out for that person because you need him that much. Don't you get it, Tommy? It's not about coming home _to _someone. It's about a person can _**be **_home!" I declared even more ardently and fervently than he had, thinking about how I'd felt when I'd written the song.

All of that was what I'd wanted to say in the song, but for some reason I hadn't been able to express it quite like that, so I got stuck with those pedestrian, juvenile lyrics that made my feelings look like a mere crush or homesickness when really it was more of a necessity, an obsession, really! Those headlights must have blinded me. I suddenly realized with a start that I'd said he. All those he's and him's... Tommy can infer that, can't he? I was half in-tears when I finished that little speech, and I damn near tumbled right into his arms. How many times do I have to say I love him without actually saying the words before he actually gets it? I mean, he can't possibly be so stupid he doesn't see that I'm completely head-over-heels for him!

It's about how a person can feel like home. Tommy took me in his arms, enveloping me in his warmth and his smell. I closed my eyes and leaned into his embrace, enjoying it while I could. It was too good, and he was entirely too perfect for it to last. Why does he always have to smell so perfect and feel so warm and soft, like a security blanket? Why do I have to love him so much? "So why can't you sing it?" He said finally, in a voice a little lower than a whisper, sensing that not only did I not want to sing it, but I was physically incapable of doing it. I would've liked to pretend that I hadn't heard him, but I had.

I didn't pull back, needing to lean on him for the moment. Just thinking about that song made me deflate. "Because I _can't_." But that wasn't adequate. That wasn't good enough, so I tried another way. The words were unwilling to come out. I'm scared to feel like that again. I can't. Please don't make me, Tommy. Please. "Because it _hurts _to think about that time in my life, Tommy. I don't want to revisit it. I don't want to go back," I found myself muttering, almost in desperation. My voice had taken on a disturbingly pleading tone. Even so, I can't go back to that time. I know better now. I've had a hell of a lot more heartbreak since then. I can't be that naïve girl again who thought it would all work out and was just happy to see him.

He pulled me closer. "Why does it hurt?" His lips brushed against my ear; I felt his breath on my cheek. His voice was softer than the gentlest breeze. The tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. It hurts because it's you, Tommy, and I love you. That's why. "Where does it hurt?" He questioned in the same tone. I grabbed his hand and placed it over my heart. It let out a dull thud. Tommy bent down to look at me, seeking my gaze no matter how assiduously I tried to avoid it. "Tell me, 'cause I understand... The words of a heart beating like wings in my hand," Tommy coaxed, grabbing my hand softly.

Is he speaking in song lyric riddles? I wiped a stray tear away. It escaped. That was beautiful, those words. He had such a poetry in his voice sometimes, and the cadence was so... enchanting... that you couldn't help but be drawn in a little. Words are like magic on his tongue. I gave him an exasperated look. Sweet words aren't going to do it! But there was that soft, caring look in his eyes, and the hand wrapped around my back, drawing us closer, and the other holding my own. Another damn tear dripped down my face, and Tommy's hand was quick to wipe it away. I tried to look down, knowing I couldn't answer him looking at him, but Tommy tilted my chin back up. I saw the expectant look in his eyes and knew what he wanted.

And then I couldn't avoid it any longer. "It's about you, Tommy!" I blurted suddenly, and then there was deadness, silence. Tommy's hand came down off my chin, and I looked down, unable to stare into his eyes again. I saw the way his eyes went wide and surprised on me. How light and piercing they were. His grip went slack too. I exhaled wearily, feeling extremely emotionally drained. I leaned back and away from him, easing back on to my chair. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Might as well tell him everything.

"I didn't even get to see you in Toronto because you were off with Sadie." Wow, I didn't say that with any bitterness at all. I sniffled in spite of myself. "And knowing that _hurt... _It pretty much killed that Jude. It got to the point where I was ashamed to even look at that song... But I spent _hours _staring at it, you know, thinking of you, whenever I had a free moment in between gigs when I was on the road or out in the middle of nowhere in flipping N-new Brunswick or something. So I had to lock those feelings away... to stay safe. Because you _couldn't _know how I felt because nothing could come of it," I confessed quietly, in a wavering voice, feeling the tears pouring out ever faster. My voice caught on the last sentence. I swiped at my eyes, frustrated with their inability to say dry. Damn it, I didn't want to cry!

Since I wasn't looking up, I didn't see Tommy easing off his chair, leaning over to me. I didn't see him until I felt his hand on my face, wiping away the tears. I looked up and into his eyes. He was so close that it took my breath away. Tommy's hand stayed on my cheek for a long moment as he stared at me rapturously. Then his hand slipped to the back of my neck, bringing me forward until our lips met. The kiss was short, just his lips on mine for a while, and then he pulled back, rubbing my cheek with his thumb. He smiled at me lopsidedly. "Think you can bring those feelings back out again? For me?" Tommy asked in a teasing voice.

Um, I think I already have. I rolled my eyes at him, dragging my tongue across my lips. Damn him and his flirty eyes. "Not when you're staring at me like that," I said a bit stiffly. Tommy actually looked confused. Silly. He didn't know that I was just messing with him. I licked my lips again, letting out a little giggle. "Ease up on the bedroom eyes, Buddy! When you look at me like that, all I want to do is make-out with you," I requested flirtatiously, pushing him away a little bit. Tommy smirked at me and resumed giving me that look.

"Well, that's just too bad. I don't think I can stop. My eyes must be stuck this way," Tommy quipped childishly. Now who sounds seventeen here? I shook my head at him. Of course. I pulled him back to me, pressing my lips against his. I never get tired of that feeling. Tommy shifted closer, and I moved back to catch my breath a little. Tommy's eyes fluttered open. "I think we can work something out," He mumbled distractedly before crashing his lips into mine. His tongue skimmed my bottom lip, easing my lips open. I was only too happy to comply. His lips were so soft and so inviting, and his tongue was so warm. His hands slid up underneath the back of my shirt just as he came closer. He practically jumped me, to be honest, and the chair fell over.

Naturally, I started laughing hysterically. Tommy was breathless and less than amused, but I could see that he was somewhat amused by it. He pushed himself up and off of me. I pouted at the lack of contact, but Tommy grabbed my hands and pulled me all the way up next to him in a standing position. He looked down at the spindly chair, which was now broken, and let out a laugh, slinging his arm around my waist. He bent over to retrieve my pen and journal, jumping up when I grabbed his ass. He turned around to shoot me a sour look, but I rolled my eyes, disregarding it, and reached over to pick up the old guitar. Then I jumped when he grabbed my ass. It was my turn to glower at him.

Tommy nudged me towards the door with his hip. "C'mon, girl... Let's get to work. The studio is calling your name," Tommy hinted, walking towards the door with me in tow. I stopped, blinking at him in confusion. What? The studio? Tommy gave me a look. "You promised you would sing it. For me," He said in a wheedling voice, practically begging. With the way he said that last part, how on earth could I say no? So I gave in and sung the thing, looking at him the entire time. He was grinning back at me like he was the happiest guy on earth, and I didn't fight the matching smile creeping up on my own face.

We had to go associate with the rest of them around dinner time, but Tommy was still riding on recording high, and I had to kick him under the table every time he attempted to mention "White Lines." He was practically glowing and shooting me happy looks all the time. It was kind of shameful, actually, because everyone was giving him these looks like, "Oh, you **so **just had sex with Jude." I did not appreciate the curious looks from his parents, the knowing look from Travis and Sadie and Chaz, and the disgusted/hateful look from Taylor and his bitch-and-a-half-wannabe-girlfriend. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to explain, "Oh, no, he's just inspired, that's all!" And then have Travis leer at you like, "Inspired by _what, _Jude, your naked body?" Or, actually, more like, "I didn't believe that the first time around, so why did you think I'm gonna buy it now?" And, yeah, "I know that's just code for gettin' busy. I wasn't born yesterday."

But after that and the perfunctory hanging-out time, Tommy was all mine. He didn't follow me to my room because, well, how would that look? But I got to my room somehow and put on my clothes to sleep in. Well, actually, I'd been out shopping the other day with Kate, Joan, and Sadie. I like to think that Sadie was there to mediate between the rest of us. Now, normally that would be my job, but Kate realized that there was something between Travis and me, and she'd figured out that something was up with Joan, but she'd figured that out a long time ago... Anyways, I bought some clothes. And some presents. So I slipped on one of Tommy's presents, one of several ridiculously revealing negligees I'd bought for him. This one was black. Sadie had given me a scandalized look when she saw me buy it.

Yes, Sadie, your baby sister plans on having a sex life. With your ex-fiancé. But then again, she might've just been miffed because I'd gone on a break from Taylor, and Travis obviously dissed me and was reluctant to admit being involved with me as anything more than a fling... And Tommy's Tommy. But still, come on, who do you think I'm buying it for? Most definitely not Travis. Besides, it's not like I plan on doing him tonight. There is a plan for that, of course... Just after I finally get the nerve to break Taylor up. I'll do it after Christmas. I want to wait a while longer to see just how sure Tommy really is about this... to see if we can make it last. Plus I don't want to be a total bitch and ruin Taylor's holidays. Besides, I have to at least give him a second chance to make things right before breaking things off.

Besides, I have this great pale blue silk negligee with blue lace trim set aside for _that _night. I look damn good in that one.

Sure enough, my beloved friend entered the room a little after midnight. Always enters with the stealth of a ninja. And it's not even like his wing is particularly occupied. I mean, I think Sadie and Chaz are his guests, and Joan has her room in his wing because she's also my guest, and it's just better to have her there so Travis doesn't mess with her. Oh, and there's an empty room for Ruby. Kathryn M's off in Taylor's wing, and Kate's staying in Travis' suite. Oh, and Big T is off staying in the wing he and his dear wife used to occupy, only a couple rooms down. And that cannot be at all awkward. Especially since his lovely wife and stepdaughter aren't there. Tory conveniently forgot to invite them, and Theo doesn't object because it's a rule. It's Quincy family and friends time, not time to highlight our broken family.

Okay, and Tory has this total disdain and hatred for _that _woman and her offspring. Frankly, it disconcerts her a little, and she's really glad they don't have any children of their own. Somehow I have this feeling Theo hasn't entirely gotten over her either, and that he puts up with these awkward little vacations because a part of him likes to play house with his ex and the kids every now and again.

I was lying on my bed waiting for him when he walked in. Tommy's jaw dropped when he saw me, and I gave him a sly smile. "It's an early Christmas present. What do you think?" I replied flirtatiously, motioning for him to join me. Tommy raised his eyebrows, smirking at me. The smile told me what he thought. And then, of course, he joined me, sidling up to me. He angled his body towards mine, leaning on one elbow while putting his hand on my stomach gently.

He bent down, pressing a kiss to my stomach just above his hand. "I think that I like it. It does great things for your body," Tom grunted, trailing his hand down over my abdomen and then down my thigh. No, Tommy, honey, you do great things for my body. Or, I suppose, _to _my body. I sat up a little, scooting towards him. Tommy leaned down, crouching a little to press a kiss to my thigh, the part that the nightgown left uncovered. His fingers pushed the hem of my nightgown up, lips quick to kiss the newly-uncovered part of my thigh. "So, girl, what do you want for Christmas?" He questioned smoothly, pushing up the hem of my nightgown a little more. He looked up at me, lips mere millimeters above my skin. "Let me rephrase that. What do you want me to give you?" Tommy whispered seconds before his lips once again descended on my skin.

My eyes closed involuntarily. You don't even have to ask me that question, Q. I'd like anything he could possibly give me. Besides, Tommy isn't a real kind of gifts guy, you know? He's more into the sweet gestures deal. He's a hands-on guy. It's like how he gave me driving lessons for my birthday last year, and how he made that silly promise to get along with Shay, refusing to beat him up even when he was an ass... and, of course, that wonderful kiss. Let's see... Last year for Christmas Tommy took me out shopping... or, rather, dragged me... since I was totally hatin' on him then 'cause of how he jacked that birthday up, and I thought it was an excuse for not buying me a present or knowing what to get and that he was an ass who was trying to buy my silence. So, naturally, I was gonna milk him for all he was worth. I basically tried to buy the most expensive thing I could find. I mean, I was _really _tormenting him. Had him think I wanted a damn plane for a while there!

But I wound up making him devote his entire December paycheck to buying tickets to Shay's next show. Before they went on sale. I instructed him to buy them in cash or whatever, under Shay's Fan Club or some group like that. Tommy was really pissed about that, but he seemed happier when I revealed my evil plan. Which was to ensure that he had an empty concert venue. The next city was NYC too. It was a huge stadium venue. The look on Shay's face would be present enough for me. Oh, yeah, and I made him buy this nice diamond necklace for my mom, and a keyboard for myself. And just because I knew it'd piss him off, I made him buy clothes (a suit!) for Jamie, including earrings and a diamond stud nose ring.

I opened my eyes, sitting up a bit to look at him. "You don't need to get me a present, Tommy. You've already given me the best present of all," I told him sincerely, in a voice barely over a whisper. Tommy's nimble fingers pushed the fabric up a little more, and he licked his lips, pressing them further up my thigh. His lips were moist. My breath hitched, and Tommy pulled his head up to look at me but kept his hand where it was, high on my thigh.

He gave me a quizzical look and was silent for a moment, pondering what I meant. Then he fell on top of me, settling himself there quite comfortably. He ran his hands down my sides, pressing a wet kiss to my neck. My eyelids fluttered, and my whole body felt warm. I could practically feel his fingers on my skin through the thin fabric, and I had a sudden naughty urge to rip it off so I could feel his fingers on my bare skin. "What was that?" Tommy implored huskily, mere seconds before descending further down my throat. He nibbled for a bit before slowly starting to suck on my neck.

My eyes shut of their own accord, and I swear my eyeballs rolled back in my head completely. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him closer, even while knowing that I shouldn't. He was going to leave a mark, and he couldn't do that! But why couldn't he? I suddenly found myself unable to remember or care. I was caught up in the moment. I let out a low moan as he increased the pressure a little and snaked his hand underneath the thin fabric and further up my thigh. His other hand pulled the strap of my negligee down my shoulder as far as it allowed, since I was grabbing him. His hand found my breast, and then I really couldn't breathe. "You," I managed in between gasps.

Tommy stopped so suddenly that I was just about to whine and ask him why he'd stopped. He pulled back from my neck, and I took the opportunity to examine my neck, which did look a little red. Damn it. And then Tommy was moving off of me, plopping down next to me on the bed. All he was doing was holding my hand. I have to admit that I'm kind of confused. I pulled up the strap Tommy had pulled down, feeling embarrassed. Tommy let out a sigh, but not one of frustration (like the one I had just let out). He turned his head to face me, moving closer until we were touching again. He was once again leaning against me, even over me a little. He wasn't smiling widely, but every part of him was smiling, especially his eyes, and he looked so completely blissful. Tommy shrugged, still looking every bit as pleased as before. "No, Jude, you gave me yourself," He corrected, bringing my hand up to his lips. "I'm the lucky one here."

He means that I've always given him myself, and he was just finally smart enough to realize that and say yes. He's always had me. Mind, heart, and soul... just not body. And of course he doesn't know that. I couldn't help but smile back and tilt my body towards him. His eyes were bright, and I realized then that he clearly had more to say, so I just kept smiling and let the man speak. "When we get back to Toronto, Jude, I want it to always be like this... But I want to do things right," Tommy professed excitedly. He sounded dazed and breathless, and his eyes were still dark with lust, but oh, were they bright!

My heart skipped a beat. Always like this? Always? That's... as close to commitment as I'm ever going to get! That's... just... wow. I... wow. Jamie wasn't kidding when he said that Tommy was serious about me. Tommy's thinking in the future here. But I don't get what he means... that he wants to do it right. What does that mean? What is right in our relationship? If it's Dad's approval, he already has that... I eyed him questioningly, and Tommy squeezed my hand and readily answered my question. He was sure to look me in the eyes. "I want to take you out. I want to treat you to nice dinners and buy you presents and cook for you and... be there for you. I want to kiss you every day. I want to be able to touch you whenever I want. I want you to be mine and mine only... and I want everyone to know," Tommy elucidated happily, his voice full of pride.

Honestly, I think the blood froze in my veins when he said that. I was like, whoa, you can't be serious... Because that sounds like dating. And then I remembered he'd said earlier that he wanted to date me. He seemed to know what it took. But a lot of those things sounded like things we did already. He's always there for me. And he takes me out sometimes... rarely and practically never to nice restaurants, and never really on a date, but still! He's bought me presents, not randomly, of course, generally... And he's cooked for me when I've stayed over or if we've had a late night at the studio, but you can't make much food at the studio. And, well, we have kissed a lot. But not every day, and he can't touch me whenever he wants. Except now, basically.

I'd be fine with being his and his only. I'd dump everyone else for him in a heartbeat, but here's the rub... Does he want to be mine and mine only? The boy made no mention of that. I could've raised that as an issue, but I didn't want to, so I took the next sentence because obviously everyone can't know! He could get put in prison! I hated to burst his bubble, but I had to do it. "Tommy... That can't happen," I said sadly. Tommy's face fell, and I felt like total crap, so I hurried to explain. "Everyone can't know, Quince. You'll get in trouble one way or another, and then they would send you to jail. As much as I adore you, Tommy, I don't want you going to prison for me!" I contradicted in a somewhat hysterical whisper.

It's true. I don't. I'd rather have Tommy free than with me. Tommy frowned at first, but then his eyes lit up as he got an idea. He nuzzled my forehead affectionately. "Then I guess we'll have to keep it between the two of us, Harrison. You'll be all mine behind closed doors... and I'll be yours. As long as we both know that, we shouldn't have any problems. You could be my favorite little secret. Besides, secret relationships are sexy, and I now have a perfectly good excuse to drag you off to Studio C or the alleyway," Tommy compromised, shooting me a lascivious look and a wink. His voice was so hot. And whoa. A relationship promise, albeit a secret one in which no one will know if my heart gets busted up. Tommy leaned over, lips hovering over mine. "But for now, I think I'll take advantage of the time I've got. I don't want to share you with anyone else," Tommy murmured, kissing me tenderly.

Yet. These are the moments I like best. The quiet ones when we're all alone and so completely in sync, and he says stuff like that. And I believe him. When it's just him and me with no world to come in-between. I wish it could always be like this. But, unfortunately for the both of us, it can't be. Not out in public. The world would eat us both alive. I pulled away from Tommy breathless and nodded slightly. "Sounds good to me. Only can our first work make-out session be on the fire escape? It's got some good memories," I requested playfully.

Tommy smirked. "Anything for my girl." Yeah, that's right, bitch. _His _girl, one-hundred percent his.

- Lor ;

So, please, review one or ESPECIALLY both chapters. I would greatly appreciate it. After all, isn't it the least you can do for a REAL double-update?


	43. Secret Heart

Have you ever noticed how when you're innocently minding your own business, someone decides it's time to shake up your world with an intense conversation? Sorry. I was playing The Hook-Up... Anyways, I was trying to be a playa and had landed dates with two of the three guys, even though I was really into Justin. Because, ew, Dylan reminded me of Tommy, only skeevier (Jeez, Tommy doesn't objectify me. Plus he's sweet, as opposed to Creepzilla). He was also a rapper in his free time, which reminded me of Shay so just... no. No.

Anyways, I was playin' when suddenly Sadie storms in. Bam! She hit me like a train. "Are you sleeping with Tommy?" She growled. I think I just choked on my own saliva. I seriously can't believe she just asked me that. I contrived a way to pause and whirled around to look at her. Sadie looked surprisingly steamed. I fought the urge to comment that wasn't she supposedly over Tommy anyway, so what did it matter if I was or wasn't? But then I remembered that she only broke up with him like, maybe two weeks ago? I felt very guilty upon remembering that. Because it was one of the main reasons I'd said no in the first place (if not _the _main one). Her eyes turned positively green, I swear, and she was giving me that you're-a-slut look.

I rolled my eyes at her. "So, what can I do you for, Big Sis?" I chirped, forcing a smile. Honestly, I was kind of disappointed. I thought we were past this. I thought we got past this a long time ago. I could see where she was coming from, and I got why she was upset... but why did she want to know and put herself through that? I'd tell her if I slept with him... Eventually. I wouldn't do it right away and totally break her heart 'cause I've been there.

And who is she to talk anyways? She went after Tommy when she knew I liked him and then deliberately kept the fact that they were dating from me for a month! Besides, Sadie's the one who told me to go after him! She was all, "Don't wait. He loves you. He just doesn't know it. Don't push him away. Tommy never tells people how he feels, and if you reject him, he'll be closed off to you forever." Blah, blah, blah. She gets pissed now that I'm taking her advice.

Sadie glowered at me, crossing her arms over her chest. She gritted her teeth. "Just answer the damn question, Jude," Sadie snapped. I rolled my eyes at her. She seriously doesn't think I'm going to admit to it, much less to her, does she?

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Sades. Do you mean am I sleeping with Tommy... or do you mean am I having _sex _with him?" I retorted icily. Either way, like that's any of her business! She's not getting an answer out of me that easily! I exhaled, leaning back in my chair. "Mind telling me what on Earth gave you that idea, Sadie?" I asked somewhat irritably. Maybe she's just bluffing... At least, I hope she's just bluffing because if she isn't, then she knows! And if she knows, then we clearly aren't being that subtle and maybe someone else has figured it out... See! This is why I don't do secret relationships!

Sadie rolled her eyes. She'd bristled at my first comment, so I took it to mean the latter, naturally. Sadly, my sleeping with Tommy is more of the first sort. At least for the present moment. "Isn't it obvious?" Sadie pointed out. Obvious? Uh oh. I swallowed hard and opted not to say anything. "You went on a break with your boyfriend because of the non-stop fighting _about _Tommy. You and Tommy have been chummy lately... In fact, I don't think I've ever seen you two closer," Sadie insinuated, intent clear in her eyes. I licked my lips nervously. "Couldn't help but think you two had finally... become one," Sadie continued almost bitterly. It was a strange, creepy sort of statement.

It was also so corny I started laughing. Something like that, Sadie. But not quite. Tommy and I have just found equilibrium. We've finally achieved that balance. We're at one with each other. "Seriously, Sadie, where did you hear that crap? We're just friends... And besides, like I'd be with Tommy like that when I still haven't dumped Taylor?" I muttered quickly. I wouldn't, though! I'm not cheap like that. Sadie grinned a little, but it was an evil sort of grin.

"Gotcha!" She exclaimed triumphantly, pointing at me. I blinked at her in confusion. "You just said you're going to dump Taylor! So there is something there, isn't there?" Sadie proclaimed excitedly. Wait, why is she excited about this? She's not over him. I think I turned puce hearing her say that. Obviously I can't tell Sadie. She can't keep her mouth shut. Okay, Jude... Deny, deny, deny. Lie so that Tommy would be proud of you.

"Okay, Sadie, you're my sister, and I love you... But my relationships are my business. I'll tell you if and when I want to tell you," I countered a bit too sharply, clamping my hands down on her shoulders. Sadie's jaw dropped, and I realized with a horrifying jolt that I hadn't exactly made it seem like there was nothing going on. I have to remedy that and fast before Sadie comments on it. "Look, Sadie... There's really nothing going on. Tommy and I have just... strengthened our friendship. And not in a way involving sex, okay? As for me and Taylor... well, that depends on Taylor. Given that he pretty much calls me a slut every time he sees me, it's not looking good for him," I replied wearily.

Well, it worked. Sadie's face fell. But hey, at least I managed to lie convincingly. I mean, I do feel kind of guilty since she's my sister and Tommy's ex. But I have to lie. I shook my head, standing up somewhat dazedly. "Tommy wants you in the studio," Sadie mumbled distractedly. I fought down the smirk. Don't I know it! He wants me just about everywhere... and anywhere he can have me. Then I smiled, thanked her, and walked out of the room, heading for the nearby studio. Whew. That was close.

Damn. I never got to finish my game. Oh, well... I'll go back to Seduction 101 later. Psh. As if I need any help? Tommy Quincy wants to date me (and it's finally starting to sink in! Can you tell?). I am on top of my game here!

So I waltzed into the studio, viewing it as a generally positive sign that for the first time ever in memory, I hadn't gotten lost. Just as Sadie said, there was Tommy waiting for me. He was looking kind of distracted, so I decided to surprise him. I managed to sneak up behind him and clamped my hands over his eyes, making sure to lean my body into his. I heard a sharp intake of breath, and I couldn't help but smirk. "Guess who, sexy?" I whispered, bending over to speak directly into his ear.

"Who has to guess?" He muttered in a husky voice. His voice stirred something in me. Indeed, Tommy Q. I rubbed up against him languidly, rather like a stretching cat before moving around to his front. Still smirking, I kept my hands over his eyes, hearing his voice in my head saying something like, "Kinky, Harrison." Unfortunately, he did not say that, and his lips didn't quite turn up into the half-smile-half-smirk I was so familiar with. In fact, he was strangely silent, which I quickly remedied by crashing my lips into his, pulling him into a deep kiss and practically devouring his mouth.

He tasted really good in a kind of different way. At first it was weird, because he was kind of timid, almost unresponsive, really, for a second or two, like he was in shock. For a second there I had this awful flashback of that first terrible one-sided kiss, and I almost pulled away. Then I realized what the hell I was thinking and stepped it up a notch. His movements were a little slow, almost like he was out of practice... Of course, once he felt my tongue flick across his lips, he warmed up to me pretty fast. And he was pretty much a goner once I caught his bottom lip between my teeth. My tongue probed his mouth tentatively at first but as he opened his mouth wider to let me in, it got more wild and out-of-control.

That was another thing that was different. Once he got into it, he was completely into it. Not any of this kiss me once and then pull away like a tease business. In fact, he attacked my lips with more force and more passion and more sheer desperation than I could ever remember him touching me with... Tommy was normally always so much in control of his feelings, of his body, hell, even of _my _body! But there was an exception, I realized. My Sixteenth, of course. Because he didn't want to kiss me, but suddenly he lost it and just couldn't help himself! That was what this was like. It felt like something that had been long anticipated and long in the making, and there were only traces of that familiarity that came with kissing Tommy.

His hands found their way onto my hips, sliding across my back to wrap around me and bring me closer. He tilted his head backwards, lurching me forwards, deepening the kiss even further than I thought possible. His hands squeezed me tight around the waist, causing me to be even more breathless. My feet left the ground, and for a moment I thought I was flying, but then I just realized it was the way he was holding me. I hooked a leg around his waist, rolling my hips and pressing against him. He was so surprised that he fell into the soundboard. He pulled back a fraction as if flustered. I giggled against his lips and was surprised when he didn't object. Tommy's normally touchy about his soundboard.

Finally I pulled my hands away from his eyes; he kept them closed. I pulled back a little to catch my breath, pressing kisses down his chin and over his throat. I found the spot on his neck that drove him crazy with my tongue, holding it there for a moment and feeling his heartbeat before starting to suck on the area. The pleasantly musical sound of his moans filled my ears. There was something, too, about the way he moaned. He sounded a little more eager, a little more hungry, a little less used to this, a little less expecting it... I'm not saying that Tommy doesn't normally appreciate it or anything... He's just usually expecting it, and much more of a... let's just say he's a tutor. I'd say teacher, but that brings up unpleasant Travis connotations. This time, though, it was more like I was tutoring him.

My quick fingers started to tug at his shirt, untucking it before slipping underneath the fabric to dance across the sensitive skin of his lower back. His muscles spasmed involuntarily as he sucked in a breath. He tried in vain to swipe my hands away with one of his hands as if I was a gnat, but my fingers only slid over his warm flesh, further up his back. He grunted and tried again, but I responded by switching our positions, pulling him away from the soundboard and seating myself upon it. Before he could protest, I wrapped my legs around his waist and used them to bring him closer to me until he was right up against me. By then there was no need for hands on his back, so I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss me, shifting to drive him still closer to me.

He stiffened at this, and moved away, trying to get some air. Our lips separated with one of those cheesy moist smacking noises. His face was red. I flexed my legs tighter, holding them together, effectively ensuring that he wasn't going anywhere. "I think things are moving a little too fast," He gasped out. His eyes, however, still remained closed. I blinked at him in confusion, trying to calm my own racing heart. Tommy Q thinks things are moving too fast? I was the one who begged him to take it slow. We make out or fool around pretty much every day here. It's a wonder my lips haven't fallen off. It's also pretty much physically impossible for me to keep my hands off him. I'm practically always touching him; it's really a wonder no one's noticed. "It's all so sudden," He continued, apparently regaining some of his breath.

Unless of course he means... Oh no, he better not! My eyes narrowed. I swear to God, if he's trying to flake out on me now, I am going to kick his ass. Or kiss him into submission. I can be _very _persuasive, if you know what I mean. I've just finally trained him to commit on some level and think in the future. I am not about to let that go. Maybe I'm lucky, and he just means for me to kiss him slower. That could very well actually be better, and we normally do go slower. "Well... okay, if that's what you want. I can go slower..." I answered softly, nodding in reply. I leaned over, gently pressing a kiss against his neck, slowly moving her lips along it, nipping at the skin like a stone would skip across water. "But just because we agreed to take it slow doesn't mean we can't have a little _fun..._" I drawled enticingly.

Who doesn't want to have a little fun? He swallowed hard, and I grinned gleefully, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up into a savage kiss. He had backed away, so once again I brought him closer until his body was flush against mine. I rested a hand calmly on the back of his neck, licking my lips briefly. His lips seemed softer and glossier than I remembered... less swollen too. I positioned his hands on my hips, pulling up my shirt a little so that his fingers would touch bare skin. The touch sizzled. His fingers strangely stayed where they were for the longest time, only moving a couple of inches upwards, tracing slow circles on my back. It was a pleasant feeling... until he pulled away, completely breathless.

Okay, so I'd lied. I hadn't gone any slower at all, and I was going at it like the teenager I am. He sighed heavily and leaned his forehead against mine, slowly trying to distance himself from me. I didn't like it one bit. He spread my legs, freeing himself from my iron grip, backing away a little so I couldn't capture him again. He shook his head, furrowing his brow. "We... We should stop. This is going to seriously complicate our working relationship," He rasped, sounding quite dazed indeed. You've got to be kidding me! Does he have amnesia? I mean, hello, where has he been for the last ever since I met him? I snorted loudly, and he jerked away abruptly.

He held his hands over his eyes, rubbing them somewhat distractedly. He looked frustrated. "It's a little late for that, don't you think?" I retorted quickly, trying to cover up my irritation. Try well over a year late. It was destined to be like this from the beginning, and I don't believe in fate. I allowed myself a little laugh. "There are some people who think making out with each other is our job." My boyfriend among them. And Travis. And, okay, for the video it kind of was.

He let out a mirthless laugh, nodding. A dark look passed over his face. "Don't I know it," He muttered with a trace of bitterness. Okay? What's up with THAT? He's being his stupid mysterious self all over again, and I don't even know which questions to ask. He paused, sucking in a breath and rubbing his temples as if he was thinking deeply. I had no idea what the hell to say to him, but given his sudden mood change, I was worried I was gonna get secret-dumped. Because believe it or not, I know that look. And it means nothing good for the idea of me and Tommy. "Just... forget about it. It never happened. Nothing happened. Nothing can ever happen," He mumbled like it was a mantra he needed to repeat, stressing the words, saying them over and over until they lost their meaning.

But their meaning was no meaning. It was a denial. For a moment I merely stared at him in incredulosity. What the hell just happened? Did I fall into a parallel universe or something? Did I magically time-travel back into last year? That time is better off never revisited, except in bed when it makes for cute pillow-talk. But seriously... He can't be saying that. Not again. Not now, when everything's going so right! And who's to say it can never happen?! What next, I thought bitterly, is he going to make me promise? Is he going to make me swear again? 'Cause I won't do it this time!

Suddenly he shifted to face me, but he looked down, unable to even look at me, grabbing my hands. He swallowed hard, and I knew the following words were not going to be good. "You're good at pretending... We're good at acting, right? All you have to do is forget about this... never think of it, never talk about it, never remember it, never even mention it. You can do that, can't you? I know you can." His voice was pleading and verging on desperate. Bastard can't even look me in the eyes.

I abruptly jerked my hands free of his grip, so angry I saw red. I reached out and hit him hard in the stomach before I even knew what I was doing. "_No! _You don't get to pull that on me three times! Neither of us are that stupid anymore! This time I'm not gonna do it. This time, I **refuse**!I _can't _forget, and I _won't _forget, and this time I'm not going to pretend I did," I shouted stubbornly, finding that suddenly I was up moving, pacing the room. He was still unable to look at me, probably out of shame, so I went back to him, getting up in his face. "It happened. _This _happened. You're just going to have to grow up and accept it instead of running away scared like you always do when things get too **real **for you!" I snapped furiously, gesturing between us. He might've looked up a little, but I couldn't tell. It was true, too, and I'd never thought of it like that before. Tommy really was running scared. But that's just too damn bad. I have no time for his insecurities.

I had to make him see, so I planted my hands on his thighs, tilting my head so I could get a glance at those eyes. He didn't bite. My whole body stiffened and I leaned in, baring my teeth at him. "This time you can't will the feelings to go away with a few sorry words and a promise... I am **not **going to forget how I feel about you just because you _told _me too! This time I'm not going to let you go without a fight. I'm all in, and it's too late to turn back now. I told you once, and now I'll tell you again; you can't get rid of me that easily," I insisted determinedly. He's not my boss, and he doesn't know better because he's older. I'm not just going to give Tommy up. They will have to pry him from my cold, dead fingers. I'm invested in this thing we've got going, and I know it can last if we let it. I'm not just going to let it all slip through my fingers now when happiness is so close at hand. I brought my hand up under my chin, but he blocked me more swiftly.

Nevertheless... I leaned in extra close, so that my lips brushed his ear. "This time, even _you _can't bury it," I hissed menacingly, letting him know I was serious.

Honestly, though? Quincy looked scared of me, not in a lose-control kind of way... but in a stalker kind of way. And damn it, I am not the boy's stalker. I am his favorite little secret! He shifted away from me, though, sighing before he turned to face me head on. He grabbed my hand to soothe me, but the gesture just made me more nervous. His hand was a little sweaty. He surprised me even more by looking me in the eyes for the first time that day. "I really respect and care about you as a person and as an artist, you know that. You're one of the most talented people I know. It's no secret that I'm your biggest fan, and I consider you one of my best friends..." He began sincerely before trailing off. His eyes, much like his words, veered away from me. He paused, sucking in a breath before once again meeting my gaze.

He placed my hand on my knee, so that my palm faced downwards. His hand still covered mine. I saw it for the rejection it was. "But nothing can happen. It would be too awkward having to see each other and work with each other side by side all the time and try to pretend that none of that happened," He continued in a voice filled with regret. Awkwardness? Oh, no, you don't get that as a reason! It sucks! It's more awkward to pretend it didn't happen than it did, actually. I scowled at him, throwing my hand off my knee.

"Don't try to act like you feel nothing more than friendship for me. I can see right through you, and even you're not that convincing a liar... We tried that before, and it didn't work, remember?" I snarled with the firm conviction I was right. We are not going back down that road if I can help it. Hell, we tried the friendship route for ages. Until it got stale, and until neither of us could do it anymore. I like where we are now. Finally. Why does he have to spoil it for me?

He frowned at me, traces of irritation flashing in his eyes. He was stubborn, though, so he refused to see it my way. I hate that Tommy. I thought he was gone. I thought I was through with him but apparently not. He took a deep breath like it took a lot out of him. "Look, I may have had a tiny crush on you back in the beginning, but now I-" He admitted reluctantly. What?! Him? Crush? On me? IN THE BEGINNING? When the hell did this happen? I didn't even know he was interested in me until I overheard him and Kwest talking on my birthday last year.

I interrupted him without thinking. "Since when do _you _get crushes? And I was the one with a colossally obvious crush on you from Day One. You would've had to be blind not to see it!" I countered loudly. I mean, seriously, Tommy Quincy having crushes? Please! If he thinks you're hot, he makes his feelings known. Usually by hitting on you and, if you say yes (what sane girl wouldn't?), screwing your brains out. Tommy's never had a crush on me. He's attracted to me, and he cares about me, maybe even mo... Oh, I don't know! I'm not about to guess at his feelings.

I was starting to get kind of this strange vibe, which was only amplified by his expressions. Surprisingly, he actually scoffed at my comment. "How am I different from everyone else in the world? I get crushes just like you do. Remember that week when you were watching Matt Damon movies, and you swore he was the hottest thing you'd ever seen?" He replied knowingly. I blinked at him in disbelief. Two things: no, he doesn't, and another... definitely not one on me at first sight. And, secondly, I don't remember that conversation, and I don't like Matt Damon. Ew.

Shaking my head, I dissented, "Now, see, that's where you're wrong. And it was Jake Gyllenhaal." Ah, he was so hot in Brokeback Mountain. Tommy knows how much I love me some guy-on-guy action. But he's nothing compared to Tommy. He looked confused at my statement, and, frankly, I was also beginning to get confused with the way things were going. A lot of things just weren't making sense.

Then he was licking his lips, slowly, sensuously, and I couldn't look away if I tried. My lips and tongue fully remembered how sweet he tasted. I couldn't help but lean in a little... He turned back to face me, and I was surprised at the sight of his furrowed brow. "If you felt that way in the beginning, why didn't you just tell me? If you had just told me..." He questioned in a soft voice. The voice trailed off when he found himself at a loss for words. I dearly wanted him to finish the sentence. If I had just told him... what? What would he have done? Rejected me flat-out like he did the first time I kissed him? I tried that before. I had to hide my feelings from him or he would've just left. Poof, gone like that and me left standing there, holding the bag, with no producer and no partner to help me finish my album!

"Why would I have told you? What possibly could've happened?" I demanded, hating the way he said it, like if I just told him back then that we might be able to have something. Telling him would've been absolutely stupid, and Tommy runs from stuff like it. That's one of the reasons why I haven't told him. "I was just this naïve, immature, raw, unglamorous punk teenager when we met, hardly anything impressive... And you were so obviously out of my league, all worldly and _experienced _and so knowledgeable and absolutely _gorgeous._.. and not what I expected at all... but so much older than me. I never thought I would feel that way about you, but I did, and yeah, it **sucked **not being able to tell you about that, but I couldn't tell you if I still wanted to keep you in my life. It would've messed up everything," I explained in a voice that was dangerously husky.

He gave me an incredulous look, like he couldn't believe I was intimidated by him. It was true, though. I'd been this gangly, ungainly punk teenager with zits and freckles, whereas he was a polished professional with the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. I definitely hadn't been expecting him. Not as a producer and not as someone I could even see myself liking, let alone loving! He flinched when I brought up how much older he was, but that was a huge reason. What twenty-two-year-old isn't gonna think you're just some crazy kid with a crush if you tell him you love him? He wouldn't and hadn't believed me. I was not a match for Tommy then. I knew so little about the business and boys, and I'm not his type. He dated models and actresses and all manner of amazing-looking women. I was out of my depth. Tommy was way too pretty for me.

The man who kept confusing me opened his mouth to say something. I couldn't let him speak, so I spoke before he could so much as get a word out. "Don't you see? Nothing would've changed if I had. Nothing would've happened because I **still **would've been too young for you!" I shouted, waving my hands around wildly. I had a sudden vision of when I'd told Tommy on his birthday that, though he would still be twenty-three tomorrow, I would also still be sixteen. He flinched again at my reminder. I guess no one wants to be reminded of their age, but it's not like he's that old.

As my breathing calmed and silence reigned, I looked at him, suddenly noticing something. His hair was shorter and different than I remembered, styled differently too, in sort of a slight faux-hawk style. I blinked, continuing to stare at him. And was it just me, or did he kind of have the beginning stages of a beard going? Now, I hadn't seen him since he left my room at like, five this morning, and he always had a little stubble going then, but to my knowledge he wasn't trying for a beard. "Did you cut your hair?"

He frowned at me, a slightly puzzled look on his face, before shaking his head slowly. He gave me this look like he was asking if I was crazy. "Not recently," He answered in an equally slow voice. Okay, now that's definitely weird because I know his hair was longer this morning, and he had way less product in it. Then something really weird happened. His eyes raked over me slowly, not in a lustful way, but more like he was taking in the whole picture. He walked up to me a moment later, gently picking up a lock of my hair and alternating looks between it and myself. "Speaking of hair... What's up with the red? We filming a Season One flashback or something?" He asked in a strange voice.

Okay, now something is definitely wrong. My hair has always been this color. Tommy has never seen me with another color except that time Darius made me wear the platinum blonde wig for the IS finals. I blinked, but that surprised look was still there. Does he think I'm wearing a wig? "What on Earth are you talking about?" I inquired in my best what-the-Hell-tone, gaping at him in sheer astonishment.

He rubbed my hair between his fingers, a curious look on his face. And then he looked just as confuzzled as I was. He moved a little closer to me, staring. "Your hair hasn't been that color in years." My jaw dropped. Who is this guy and what has he done with Tommy? Does he have Alzheimer's or something? If he does, it must be early, early, _early _onset. He put his hand on my shoulder, shooting me a concerned look. "Are you feeling all right? You haven't been yourself lately, Al," He said worriedly, rubbing my shoulder.

Oh, you mean because I made out with you and don't seem to remember that my hair was a different color? I can't believe the nerve of him! "**Me? **_You're _the one that's lost it! What happened to you? You were completely fine when you left this morning, and suddenly it's like you're a whole different person! This morning I was your girl, and now you've had a change of heart and want to forget it's ever happened! Typical! What happened to you wanting a relationship?" I screamed, coming back at him. To be honest, I was getting in his face and just a bit violent. Okay, that's an understatement.

I was shoving him again and again, pushing him back until he knocked into the soundboard. Normal Tommy would've bitched about that; he wouldn't stand there looking all scared of me, timid. Normally he pushes back. "SEE!" I smacked him in the chest, shaking my head at my own stupidity. "This is why I didn't want to get involved in the first place, but you broke me down, and so I did," I continued, feeling myself headed for a rant. I took a deep breath before plowing forward, jabbing him in the chest. "Well, this time is different, okay?! Because I'm in _love _with you, Tommy, and I'm not ashamed or afraid to admit that. I'll be **damned **if I have to pretend it never happened _again_!" I snarled, also unafraid to tell his ass off.

Realizing with a sudden horror what I'd just admitted in anger and sheer outrage, I drew back from him in shock, reeling. Apparently I wasn't the only one, because he was staring at me like a deer caught in headlights. Hello, Bambi's dad. His jaw didn't drop, though, and he didn't go all ashen like I'd always expected he would. It was a little better than I thought, and, on the bright side, he didn't keel over or have a heart attack. Nevertheless, I backed up until I collapsed on the couch, holding my hands over my eyes. I can't believe I just said that. How flipping stupid am I?

Naturally, I wasn't looking at him. Because I couldn't. But he walked over to me sooner than I thought he would and pulled my hands away from my eyes, and this stupid hopeful feeling rose up in me against my will. Like I thought he was gonna say it back or something. Then I felt his fingers on my chin, forcing me to look at him. His face was apologetic, and I knew I was screwed. Talk about dashing hopes. He sighed. "I think we have a misunderstanding here... I'm not who you think I am. I'm not Tommy Quincy," He admitted somewhat awkwardly. My jaw dropped. Wasn't expecting that. Well, if he's not Tommy or Travis, then who the hell is he? And, really, you would think this would surprise me more. And yet it doesn't.

Guess I'm just used to it? Wow, that's... disturbing.

I shrugged. Okay then. Well, that's only slightly less embarrassing. "If you're not Tommy, mind telling me who the hell you are? I'd like to say I didn't make out with a total stranger. Because it looks bad... making out with a guy whose first name I don't even know, and Travis already thinks I'm like, the biggest slut on the planet so... I don't normally do stuff like that by the way, it's just I-" I rambled, trying to cover up the immense sense of humiliation I felt. And sluttiness, obviously.

He smiled. Weirdo. It was nothing to smile at. "Thought I was Tommy. I know," He finished in a calm voice. I stared at him, still not believing what I was seeing. Why the hell isn't he freaking out? I mean, he was freaking out when he thought I was... whoever he thought I was. You know, once he finally gets around to answering my question, that ought to be my next one. Who the hell did you think I was? Wait... He called me Al, didn't he? Um, hopefully he didn't think I was a guy or anything... doubtful with these boobs. I stared at him expectantly, removing his hands from my face and arms. Answer me, damn it. He suddenly seemed to realize what I meant and held out a hand that I eyed dubiously (did we really need the handshake? We'd done a lot more than that, hadn't we? I think I got to know him pretty damn well). "I'm Tim R-"

Remembering something at just that instant, I interrupted him. Unbelievably, I recognized the guy. I clapped my hands, bouncing a little on the springy sofa with my epiphany. "OH! I know you! You're the guy from Overnight Sensation or Instant Fame or Sudden Star or Idol or whatever it's called... The show about the girl singer who wins the reality TV contest, becomes famous overnight, and then falls for her producer!" I exclaimed somewhat joyfully. Because, of course, it was better to kiss someone I at least knew, even if it was in a superficial kind of way, as opposed to just some random person. Of course, at that moment, I didn't remember his last name, but, come on... Did it really matter? I cocked my head, looking him over critically. "Wow. I never realized how much you look like Tommy. That is really creepy," I muttered, somewhat taken aback by it.

And I thought Travis was his clone! This guy looks even more like him. How did I never notice it? I mean, I actually _watch _that show! Tim grinned a little. "Are you a fan?" Aside from the fact that I make out with a guy who looks eerily like you, not so much. Hits a little too close to home. But I do watch the show. Sometimes. When I want to feel better about how jacked up my life is. 'Cause hers is just a little worse. I shrugged. He sat down next to me on the couch. "So... Mystery Lady, you want to tell me who you are? Considering you basically assaulted me back there, I think I have the right to know," He said in a somewhat wheedling voice. I rolled my eyes. He's such a gossip. Bet he wants to tell people that I hooked up with Tommy.

Then again, I'm always in the tabloids with Tommy. You would think he'd recognize me. "You even have to ask?" I retorted lazily, glowering at him for the comment.

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, someone thinks highly of herself," He muttered. I snorted. Damn right I ought to. I'm pretty sure I rocked his world back there. It's just... with all the exposure I've gotten lately... And he must know Tommy or get mistaken for him a lot if he automatically knew I was talking about Tommy Quincy.

"Psh." I shoved him lightly, sending my eyes heavenward. "Tough talk, Pretty Boy. Especially when I totally just rocked your world," I pointed out sassily. Damn straight. Plus I want him to recognize me. I mean, I recognized him! Sheesh. It's not too much to ask to expect the same. He rolled his eyes and shoved me back like he was trying to be all cool or whatever. "Oh, don't even try to deny it, Mister. I know you haven't gotten any in a while. You were so eager and out-of-practice... and desperate, kind of. I should've known you weren't Tommy," I retorted teasingly, shaking my head at him.

The poor guy clearly was not expecting me, and he looked quite affronted by that. Not that I'd meant it like that. I just... I could tell. Tommy is never off his game and never that... eager? I don't know. He's more... practiced... more experienced. Less hungry for me 'cause, hello, I'm right here, and he's used to it. Uh oh. You think Tommy's getting bored of me already? "I know you've got high standards, what with making out with Q on a regular basis, but you don't have to be insulting," He remarked, sounding a little touchy, and almost a little hurt.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, turning to look at him, and cautiously putting a hand on his arm. "Look, Tim... I didn't mean to insult you. I'm just... I don't know... Relieved and embarrassed and a million other things," I apologized, taking my hand off his arm slowly. I sighed and leaned forward, holding my head in my hands. How did this happen? Oh, right, he didn't see me and confused me for someone else because of my voice. I paused, wondering for a moment why he looked so much like Tommy. Hm, I ought to ask.

"Hey... Tim? Um, could I maybe ask you a question?" I mumbled somewhat timidly, turning to face him. He nodded, looking moody. Wow. He and Tommy have the same distant, brooding expression. What are the odds? Likely. Duh.

Eying him carefully, I asked the question. "Are you Tommy's long-lost twin brother or something?" Tim laughed for a while like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. I would've joined him in breaking the awkward moment, but that was actually something I wanted to know. He shook his head, and I let out the breath I'd been holding. I continued my line of questioning. "His secret bastard half-brother?" I asked apprehensively. He snorted and once again shook his head, clearly amused by my genuine worry. I smiled back a little. "His... cousin?" He shook his head no, and I let out a breath of relief. "So, then, you're not at all related to Tommy Quincy? You're just his doppelganger."

This time he shrugged. Okay, that's not weird at all! "I dunno. We might be fifth cousins or something for all I know. Both of us grew up here, and I babysat him and his brothers when I was a kid. We've been friends for a pretty long time," He replied succinctly. I nodded and let that sink in. He nudged me with his shoulder, and I found it strange for a moment how easy that came. It kind of reminded me of my relationship with Tommy for a second. "Want to tell me what's up with the Twenty Questions?" He questioned, giving me a curious look.

I rolled my eyes but answered the question nonetheless, looking down at my shoes, of course. "Let's just say I have a bad habit of inadvertently kissing people Tommy happens to be related to," I admitted with a sigh. Or being kissed by them, I ought to say. Both Travis AND Taylor kissed me the very day they met me. And both of them did it against my will! Hey, wait, if he babysat them, then he must know Travis and Taylor pretty well too... And that means he can't be Tommy's age; he has to be older. Not to mention that he has to be older than Travis, even though he looks so young... Aw, crap! What is it with me and older guys?

That was enough to make Tim do a double-take. "Like who?" Ugh. I made a disgusted noise in the back of my throat. Maybe he'll understand that I don't want to talk about it. Like, really. Yeah, only his brothers and his dad. That's not embarrassing at all. And, really, I'm not a slut! No matter how it seems! Like I'm going to tell him that. My sigh was his only answer. "Travis?" He inquired in a skeptical voice.

His answer was a grim nod. I turned to face him then, to see what he thought of me. Yes, I go around accidentally kissing guys that look like Tommy. Because I think they are Tommy. But they aren't. Which kinda sucks. Although it's good that Tim isn't Tommy, or else my skinny ass would be dumped right about now. His eyes suddenly lit up with something. An idea, perhaps? I don't know. Color me confused. "You're Jude Harrison," He muttered, very much in disbelief. Wow. Took you look enough.

Nodding and plastering a smile on my lips, I confirmed his suspicion. "Right you are, Tim." Then came the super questioning look. I know that look. I hate that look. Seeing it on the face that should be Tommy's and so resembles it makes me angry. It's the look that says "I'm about to ask you about your relationship with Tommy." What, has he been following our relationship in the tabloids? Like everyone else? God, I so hope he doesn't blab about this. Damn it. No one was supposed to know. "Okay, so... You caught me," I acknowledged with a nervous laugh. Tommy is SO going to kill me. Or Mom is going to kill him. Great, just great. Now I have to find a way to get him to shut up. I sighed and stood on the couch, placing my hand on my heart. If he hasn't figured it out already, I might as well just do this, since he already knows. "I'm Jude Harrison, and I'm a Tommy-holic," I confessed quite frankly before jumping and landing with a couple bounces in a sitting position once again. "There you have it."

Wonder if there's a Twelve Step Program for what I've got. I threw my arms in the air. Confession over, story completed. There you have it.

Wait... His name is Tim. UH OH.

My head turned to face him so fast I swear I got whiplash. Tall, dark, high cheekbones... He fits the build and bill, now doesn't he? My eyes had widened in horror, so Tim was giving me an understandably bizarre look. I tried to swallow but wound up almost choking on my own tongue. Damn it, where is the real Tommy right about now? I forced my mouth open. My tongue felt heavy, but I made myself speak nonetheless. "This is gonna sound weird... But do you know anyone named Julia? Are you... dating... anyone named Julia?" I pondered nervously, practically stuttering.

Thank God he smiled. "No... I'm actually not dating anyone." I raised an eyebrow at him. A body like _that _with a face like _that, _and he isn't dating anyone? Plus, hey, that sounds kind of flirtatious. Slightly. He made a face. "Work keeps me pretty busy." Whatever. That's no excuse. Work keeps me busy too, and I still have enough time to go to school full-time, love Tommy, and date three guys. But fortunately not this Tim. That would just be way too messy. AMEN! Tim frowned, scrutinizing me carefully. "How old are you?"

My eyes widened. How on Earth does he not know this? This is the whole reason Tommy and I have to sneak around. "Seventeen... give or take seven or eight days," I answered smoothly. Oh, wait, I think that made him think I was still sixteen, but I totally am not. Duh. That pretty much turned him into Tommy and made him rocket off the couch. I rolled my eyes. "I'll try not to be offended that you find me so repulsive. And duh, I know it's the age thing. It's _always _the age thing! Although I am perfectly legal... to anybody who is not an authority figure," I quipped dryly. Like Tommy and Travis. "Not that that stops them," I added wryly.

Didn't change how flummoxed Tim looked, though. "Do you have any idea how old I am?" He sputtered. Well, given that I already kissed Tommy's dad this trip... No, not really. You can't be any older than him. I stood up and stared him down unflinchingly. Clearly I don't want to hook up with him because I'm with Tommy. And technically Taylor. I shrugged, antipathetic. "I'm thirty!" He exclaimed loudly, going all out with the dramatic gestures. Dumb actors.

So?

To be honest, I was pretty surprised. But I wasn't like, horrified or anything. I mean, he's hot. "Don't sweat it. You look good for your age," I remarked off-handedly. It was true. I mean, Tommy's, what, seven years younger than him and DEFINITELY treated his body worse. "You taste pretty scrumptious too," I added flirtatiously, just to make him all embarrassed. Tim blushed a little at the compliment, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. It's fun seeing a grown man anxious and knowing you made him that way. It's seriously fun making older guys uncomfortable.

He managed a weak smile. "You _definitely _don't kiss like a seventeen-year-old." I laughed at that. "Or tell me off like one." I shrugged, still grinning. Tommy has put me through a lot. So yeah, I've got moxie.

"What can I say? I've had a lot of practice," I responded with a wink. He made another face at that. Ah, disgust. He knew I meant with Tommy though. Amused, I sank back down into the couch and motioned for him to join me. I turned to him, sitting on my feet so that I was sort of kneeling, with my hands on my knees. "Ahem... What led you to this studio in this house on this day, of all days?" I asked pointedly.

Tim sighed. "Well, we needed to record this duet for the show over again because the recording got damaged. I've been here visiting family, and my friend was with me... She's flying out today anyway... So the producers figured we could do it here." Weird. Why would they pick here and now? I'm sure there must be studios elsewhere... I sent him a questioning glance. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye before explaining. "It's kind of a long story... Tommy's one of our show's executive producers. He's also one of our musical consultants and main songwriters. Plus he does a little producing on the side." I gaped. No wonder that show is so much like my life. Hell, his character's probably modeled off Tommy himself! Isn't his character's name Little Johnny C. or something? Quincy sure has been hiding a lot from me.

Not that that's anything new. I opened my mouth to say something, but an unsure Tim interrupted. "If it helps, he talks about you a lot. He's always telling stories about the crazy stuff you two have done together," He said sweetly, smiling a little. Damn, he looks like Tommy! I gave him a wary look, worried about what exactly Tommy was saying. Especially about what we'd done. He paused a moment, swallowing, and something about his eyes became a little cagey. "He says Alexz reminds him of you," Tim murmured, almost whispering. Since it's a day of epiphanies and questions, the name clicked in my mind, flipping a switch.

Hadn't Tommy had something with a girl named Alexz? Like, last year or this summer or something? But of course I didn't dare to ask that. What I asked was even more rude, though. "You thought I was her, didn't you?" I found myself asking him before I could stop myself. He winced, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Like what he said about the working relationship, and the comment about us both being good at acting, and how much he respected her and all that... and the crush thing. Not to mention the remark about my hair. And him calling me Al. Neon sign, baby. Maybe my voice sounds like hers. It must... Tim looked down and away, so I knew it was true. I nodded to myself. "You did," I repeated numbly.

Then I couldn't help but smirk. "Sorry to disappoint, man," I muttered, trying and failing to fight down the giggles building up in me. It was just all of a sudden so HILARIOUS to me. I mean, I'd practically jumped the guy thinking he was Tommy, and that whole time he thought I was Alexz, his friend/costar. The boy does get paid to make out with her. It was just so amusing to me. Like one of those really funny mistakes.

He glared at me and did not look at all pleased. "Don't," He snapped warningly. Sensitive much? I mean, I know sometimes I'm like that when people act like that about me and Tommy, but that's because I wish I was dating him. "Don't even start." Man, get over it! I rolled my eyes. Way to ruin my fun with your brooding.

"Yeesh!" I muttered, holding up my hands like a peace gesture. "Just trying to laugh at an embarrassing situation." Tommy definitely wouldn't find it that funny. I shrugged helplessly. "It was a let-down for me too, you know? I mean, sheesh... You have the nerve to be embarrassed here? I just accidentally pretty much told you everything I've been hiding from all my closest friends and family about Tommy. And me. He's going to kill me when he finds out. I haven't even told him what I told you yet... about... well, you know what I mean. Don't make me say it. So, really, it's kind of all I can do is laugh. 'Cause I'm so incredibly relieved that he hasn't changed his mind on me and left me hanging," I told him in a weary voice that was filled with more emotions than I knew what to do yet. I leaned my head back into the couch and let out a long sigh.

I glanced over at him; he was smiling a little too triumphantly. "Ha. I so won the bet. I knew Tommy was in love with you. Nice to see he finally did something about it, though... Now Alexz has to write a song about me," He remarked rather ecstatically. Gleeful much? I know I should be mad that they're betting on me and Tommy, but I kind of think that's hilarious. Even though he's not.

Actually, those were the first words out of my mouth. "But Tommy's not in love with me," I corrected automatically. Why hide the truth? Tim gave me a look, said no immediately, and I shoved him hard enough to almost send him off the couch. He straightened up, irritated.

"He talks about you nonstop. He dated Alexz, who resembles you both physically and vocally, for a while... back when she had the red hair... He gets jealous and overprotective around other guys. He always comes to your defense and takes your side. He takes you out and buys you presents on impulse. He drives you around like he's your personal chauffeur. He uses every possible opportunity and excuse to touch you. He spends almost every waking moment with you and deliberately makes an effort to spend more time with you. He makes you do take after take when you know the first few were good. He even invited you to his family's house to stay for Christmas and let you bring guests... And I bet you're practically a fixture at his place. Plus... you said earlier that he wanted a relationship with you, and that you two are currently in one. Sounds to me like you're dating. He doesn't just commit to any girl, you know? Obviously the guy's pretty attached to you."

Wow, all that and Tim doesn't even know that Tommy said his favorite color is blue like my eyes. Or that he drunkenly mentioned the thought of us having children. Or that he thought about what I would look like de-virginized. And I'm his girl. And he's cooked for me and he's sculpted me naked and let me sleep in his bed (and wears clothes to bed for me) and he's given me time and he's written songs about me... And he wants me to be his and only his. And he wants to go public, and to touch me and kiss me whenever he wants... Not to mention that he's actually thinking in the future. Tim R over there presents a pretty convincing case, and all my evidence seems to support that conclusion.

Except a few crucial things. "I heard Tommy say right in front of me that he didn't love me. Can't get any clearer than that, really," I retorted a bit sharply, feeling touchy. I gave Tim an expectant look, crossing my arms over my chest. Top that, man. You almost had me going for a second there.

"Maybe he was lying," He offered with a shrug. I shook my head. He had every reason to lie and say he did if he wanted to win the argument with Chaz. But he didn't. And Tommy wouldn't lie to his best friend, would he? When he had nothing to gain. After all, Chaz is one of the few people who would understand. He wouldn't say that if it wasn't true. I'm not even sure he knows what love is.

That's kind of a major relationship problem. I think a change of subject is in order here. Or it was, but Tim beat me to the punch. "So, you wanna talk about you and Tom?" Nope. Especially given that I wasn't supposed to tell.

"Drop it, Tim," I sniped, letting out a sigh. "Just forget about it. Forget you ever heard about it. It can't get out, you get me? If it does, it'll turn into one huge, ugly mess... And my mom will want Tommy to get convicted. I don't want Tommy to go to jail," I explained, hating the plaintive note in my voice. Tim nodded slowly but gave me an encouraging look, putting his hand on my arm in a supposedly comforting way. "I just... don't want to jinx it. It's all so new and so... incredibly perfect. I'm just so afraid something's going to come along and ruin it." And suddenly I was confessing.

Something totally is, though. I can sense it. He made some vague remark, something as comforting as he could manage, I imagine. "Thanks. You're a really good listener," I said, impulsively embracing him. Just then, Tommy and the real Alexz walked in. The door shut loudly behind them, and I realized that Tommy was going to kill Tim. "I'd watch out if I were you... Tommy probably wants to kill you right about now," I hissed warningly.

"I see you've met Tim," Tommy commented in a voice that was approximately twelve different shades of jealousy. We practically jumped apart and damn near leaped into standing positions, turning to face the duo. I raked my eyes over Tommy. Mm. He looked good. And less like Tim. I saw the anger smoldering in his eyes, though, and that made me nervous. The girl standing next to him, Alexz, I presumed, looked more confused than anything. Facially and body-wise, we did look a lot alike... even down to the eyes. Her hair, however, was short, light blonde, and wavy. It was pretty cute, though. And we were dressed pretty differently. I walked over to them tentatively.

Normally I would've kissed Tommy hello, but I couldn't very well do that in front of two people, neither of whom were supposed to know. I put a smile on and nodded slowly. I'd done a hell of a lot more than meet him, but does Tommy really need to know that? Okay... Yeah, he does. Given the situation, I think he could understand. "Yeah. Only, see, when Sadie said you wanted to meet me in the studio, I was actually expecting _you. _Imagine my surprise when you weren't there. And Tim was," I remarked pointedly, trying to give Tommy the message.

Understanding flashed in Tommy's eyes, and he looked suddenly very, _very _angry. Naturally, he was glaring at Tim. Like he wanted to kill him. I swallowed hard. Uh oh. Alexz, poor girl, was freakin' confused. Clearly she felt like she was out of the loop, and Tommy's sudden reaction only furthered that bewilderment. "Uh, can someone tell me what's going on here? Tommy?" She asked impatiently, nudging Tommy. Tommy was distracted, though, so he acted as if he hadn't heard her. He was seeing red or, green, I guess, so he probably didn't.

Looks like I have to introduce myself then. I walked up to Alexz, holding out my hand. She eyed me warily, and I felt my smile become somewhat strained. It was hard trying to introduce myself and keep one eye on Tommy so he didn't kill Tim. "I'm Jude Harrison, and you must be Alexz... I'm sorry, but I'm afraid Tommy didn't tell me I was meeting you today. It's nice to meet you, though. I really like your show," I said politely. Nevertheless, I couldn't resist shooting Tommy a side-glare. Alexz shook my hand and smiled.

"Nice to meet you too. I'm a huge fan of your music, and Tommy just can't shut up about your new CD, so I was hoping I could get a sneak preview," She hinted brightly. I nodded. You bet, girlie. I smiled, turning to look at still-seething Tommy. Great, just great. Alexz frowned, seeing what I saw. "You wouldn't happen to know why Tommy's looking at Tim like he just killed his mother, would you?" I smirked at the thought and decided to tell her.

"Well... Tommy kinda figured out that I accidentally made out with Tim," I told her matter-of-factly. Her eyes widened. Not with the implication or anything, but the fact that I had made out with Tim. It stuns me too, trust me.

"You made out with Tim?!" She asked incredulously. I nodded. Pretty much. Like she hasn't, right? With all those love scenes she's filmed with the guy.

I shrugged. "Yeah. It was nice." Wow, this conversation is so surreal.

She asked me how it had happened or how I'd made such a positive impression on him since he was so picky. Or something like that. I briefly debated what to say. After all, I couldn't very well say I thought he was Tommy. Or that he'd thought I was her because he probably wouldn't like me much then. "Thought he was Tommy, and I put my hands over his eyes, so he couldn't exactly see who I was," I answered succinctly. Oh, crap. There goes that plan. Hopefully she'll get it since people think making out with Tommy is my job or whatever.

It's not a job or any kind of work at all, really. More like a hobby. Sensing a Tommy meltdown in the works, which could very well be worse than Chernobyl, I told Alexz and Tim to go in the recording booth as I needed to have a little talk with Mr. Catatonic over here. Luckily everything had already been set up. I watched as the pair went in there and started talking and joking around. Just friends my ass. I, of all people, can see through that excuse. Heaven knows I've used it more than enough about Tommy and me. Apparently she was trying to talk him into doing the recording... or coax him, rather. He looked so uncomfortable in the studio. I looked away from them and turned to face Tommy.

It really was a little hard to snap him out of his stewing, but I did it easy enough by placing my hand on his shoulder. Some of the ice in him melted, and he faced me with a slightly less severe look on his face. Hm, now there's the dilemma of what to say to him. Okay, when faced with Tommy in one of these moods, it's best to throw his words back at him. "Remember back when I had to kiss Shay for the "Waste My Time" video, and I was completely freaking out about it because it was my first real kiss? Do you remember what you told me, Tommy? You said that a real kiss isn't in the lips; it's in the heart. And you said that if my heart wasn't in the kiss with Shay, then it didn't count..." I said calmly, quoting him as best as I could. Tommy gave me a look, silently asking how this applied to the present situation.

Licking my lips, I sighed and told him. "Tommy... I only kissed Tim because I thought he was you. How can I put my heart into a kiss if I don't know who I'm kissing? Well, it didn't count! I put my heart into kissing _you, _Tommy. You and only you and not some stranger," I explained passionately, dramatically, grabbing his hands. As much as I meant that, I was really hoping he bought it. How could he not? It was, after all, the truth. Tommy looked down a little, eyes softening.

He sighed deeply, abruptly glancing over to the actors who were messing around in the studio and pulling me away into an area out of their sight, halfway behind a random filing cabinet. I felt somewhat nervous in the darkish and cramped space, but Tommy didn't let go of my hands. He continued staring at me somewhat reassuringly. "I know, but it's just... sometimes I kind of want you all to myself. I'm not going to be like Taylor here and accuse you of doing things you're not. I get that there are a lot of guys in your life... They're your friends too, same as I am, and they're indispensable to your music... But... I just don't like how there are so many guys waiting in the wings to jump in and take my place if I screw up," Tommy told me in a voice that was all too calm for the frustration his tone belied.

The "You know I'm going to screw this up" was unspoken, and better off so. In fact, it was an ugly mar on our new... arrangement just as an implication. Because, yeah, I knew one of us was going to screw it up. Or something. But I didn't want to actually imply/say that, you know, as a jinx... Thinking it was bad enough.

I couldn't say that was wholly unexpected, but I did appreciate the way he said it. Unlike Taylor, he didn't blame it on me. He accepted it, but he wasn't exactly thrilled. I wanted to snort a little. My friends, the same as he is? Most assuredly not! Sure, I've kissed pretty much all of them, but does that mean I see them as romantic prospects? Of course not. Jamie and Kyle both have girlfriends; Wally and Joan definitely have something... Speed is just, well, himself, really, and I can't see him as seriously as I would need to. I could with a little effort... But Speed's not so much my type. And Tim, well, that's cooled down some, but I haven't even seen his face, so duh I'd ditch him for Tommy. Mason is... just a friend. So is Chaz, despite everything, and Tommy really has no right to be on me about him.

At any rate, it was my job to erase his doubts and that worrisome insinuatory tone he'd developed. "Tommy, no one could _ever _take your place," I assured him, meaning it with every fiber of my being. I realized that with a pang. So, what... it's Tommy or bust? I don't like those odds. I wrapped my arms around him before I knew what I was doing, needing to take the seriousness away from the statement some. "Your shoes are just way too big. Anyone else who tried to walk in them would only wind up looking like a clown," I muttered with a little laugh, putting my head on his shoulder. And falling terribly short. I pulled back from Tommy's shoulder a little, turning to watch a smile grace his lips. It was a beautiful sight.

When did this become a Tommy's self-worth issue? I mean, he isn't blind, is he? He would have to be to doubt that I'm not completely insane about him. But then I remembered something that very much made me frown. Tommy wants me to be all his, right? His exact words were practically: "Dump my punk-ass little brother, and you get all this." No, actually, they were... and we can have a secret relationship, but same thing, right? Now, there's the fact that I'm not that into Taylor, sure... But why does Tommy get me all to himself, and I have to, what, share him? And you know what, that's what happens when we get to Toronto! Screw not discussing it! I think I deserve to know how things are gonna work out back there.

I lightly pushed Tommy away, suddenly very much confused and frustrated myself. "Tommy... It's a two-way street, you know that, right? Because for all that's been said of me and other men, not one word has been said about you and other women... And you're the philanderer, the playboy, the manwhore, the S.T.D. Walking, the womanizer, the Sex God here, not me," I pointed out in a cool voice, trying to be as low-key as possible. I inwardly winced at the reminder of Tommy's present, as did Tom. Good to see he has class enough to be ashamed of it now. Now, how many Nasty-Gram songs did it take to achieve that? I shook my head stubbornly, feeling my cool evaporating.

Nevertheless, I tried my hardest to remain calm. It wasn't going too well. "It's not fair to hold me to this double-standard. Saying that you want me to be with you and only you when you refuse to offer me the same just makes you a _hypocrite. _I'll be **damned **if I have to share you with those groupie whores again, you hear me, Tom?!" I continued more sharply. The whole time I've known him I've been competing for his attention, and I'm just so tired of it. I shouldn't have to now that Sadie's out of the picture. It all sort of progressed from a calm, matter-of-fact statement to outrage and indignation and then a side of loud, determined vow-yelling. I'd gotten caught up in the heat of the moment, so I grabbed him by his shirt, and suddenly we were so close, and I was breathing heavily.

Holy crap! Did I just basically ask for exclusivity? I can't believe I just did that. I mean, I know I had to... But I can't believe I actually did... And so... rudely, too! Tommy grabbed my upper arms and pulled me closer while I looked down and tried to wiggle free of his grip. "Loud and clear, Harrison." His voice was terse, tense too. I looked up slowly, worried he was going to snap at me, inch by inch. Then when I got my eyes all the way up, Tommy wasn't furious at all. Our eyes met, and his grip on my arms slackened. He pulled me still closer, unbelievably, placing his hands on my hips. His gaze was unrelentingly sincere and so piercing it hurt to look back and see my own reflection. "Your wish is my command," He proclaimed, lips turning up into a half-smile that looked too much like a smirk to allow me comfort.

Wish? That was a demand. And since when is Tommy a genie?! I stared at him for a moment in confusion, jaw gaping open like a yahoo. Tommy grabbed my chin, pulling me into a warm kiss that was supposed to explain things. It left me feeling fuzzy, warm, and really light-headed, but I was no less befuddled. "It's not nice of you to kiss me like that, Tommy, 'cause then I forget everything. Like why I was mad at you and what we were even talking about," I mumbled, still pretty damn dazed. Tommy smirked at me, eyes on my lips, making it clear what he wanted to do. I blinked and pushed him away, trying to regain my senses. What just happened here? "Um, what does that mean?"

Tommy smiled warmly, stepping back a bit and holding out his arms, palms facing upwards. I couldn't help but notice the way his shirt stretched tight across his chest. Mm, he looked good. "I'm all yours," He said quietly. Now, admittedly, my first thought after that was, wow, I get all _that _to myself? And of course I wanted to... Well, anyways, then reality came crashing back down. I gaped at him, wondering if he'd really just agreed to what I thought he'd agreed to. 'Cause if he did, then, whoa. Totally just rocked my world.

But what to say? I thought about the way he'd said it, all calm and somewhat resigned, quiet and soft. But he'd ceded it so easily, at least I thought I had. That had to mean something. I cleared my throat nervously, looking down. I couldn't very well ask him actually looking at him. I knew it was going to come out wrong, and that I was going to sound like a total idiot. And looking at him would only make it worse. So I asked him, fiddling with my hands and generally more nervous than I could've believed. I was about to ask a serious relationship question, and I totally felt like throwing up. Which I do. When I'm hella nervous. Which I am. "Tommy, do you... Um, are you s... Uh... Does that mean what I think it means?" I stuttered, immediately wincing afterwards.

Yeah, that didn't come out awkward at all. I glanced up at Tommy fleetingly, kind of like a caught animal. Unfortunately for me, he caught my gaze. My breath caught in my throat, and I kind of couldn't breathe for a second there. Tommy was smiling at me, the bastard. He looked smug. "What'd you say in "Waste My Time"? _**Know **__for sure that I'll be yours, and, baby, you could be mine..._" Tommy sang jestingly, moving towards me. He whipped out a few perfectly cheesy, perfectly choreographed moves, ending it by grabbing my hands. I hated him just a little for that. Tommy raised an eyebrow, grinning encouragingly. Then I frowned, going over what he'd said in my head.

"Those aren't the lyrics," I corrected somewhat irritably, turning away from him to digest his little song moment. I don't appreciate him making light of that or mentioning Shay. Ick, Shay. It's "_Not so sure..._" Oh. Wait. Know for sure. As in he knows... That he's mine? WHAT?! But despite what he said... what he's saying... He didn't say anything about being all mine. About being _only _mine. Or anything that made me completely sure he really would give up all those other women for me. I didn't know what to say.

Tommy rolled his eyes at me goodnaturedly, shaking his head lightly. "I know. I was your co-writer," He pointed out dryly. "And I sang backing vocals." Not to mention all of his wonderful producing work. He was rather proud of that smash hit, actually. Prouder than me, as well he should be, given the fact that it's his triumph straddling two musical genres. The perfect blend... A blend way better than me and Shay ever were. He leaned over towards me, moving closer still. "Jude..." He began.

I stopped him with a finger to the lips, remembering the failure of a relationship that song was about. I sighed, shaking my head. "Tommy, I don't want it to be like that. I don't want this... I don't want to look back on this as a waste of time when it's all over. I don't want you to waste my time. I want more than that, Tommy. And I know you do too," I said, fumbling with my words, trying to explain it as best as I could. I couldn't, though. It's just, Tommy had just reminded me of the awful failure that relationship was, and it was kind of like I was wading through the same waters all over again.

After all, hadn't he said he knew Shay because he was Shay? Oh, and while we're at it, what the hell dumb kind of name is Shay, anyways?! Just realized that. Tommy pressed a light kiss to my finger, and I drew back my hand as if I'd been burned. I tried to move away, but Tommy grabbed me and pulled me back to him. He looked me dead in the eyes with a force and determination and will so strong that it scared me, leaning his forehead against mine. "Who ever said it was going to end, Harrison?" Tommy murmured softly, gently nibbling his way up my jawline and over to my ear. That made me suck in a breath.

What he said, not the stream of distracting little kisses, although those were fantastic. Shaking my head to clear my mind, I pulled back abruptly, as if I'd been jolted. "What?" I found myself inquiring. I couldn't stop licking my lips. They were so dry all of a sudden. Or maybe that was because my throat went completely dry when he said that. I gave Tommy a look. Of course it'll end. It has to... It's either that, or, well, matrimony, and Tommy's not about to go back down that street again. I'm not naïve enough to expect that from him. Might as well have some fun while it lasts. God. Our relationship is going to wind up exactly like that damn song.

And then I'll look back and be like, oh, man, that was the most wonderful time of my life. Me and Tommy really had some good times. Tommy sighed, placing his hands on either side of my face and bringing me close to him. "Jude, I don't want this ride to end. I'm in this for the long haul," He swore, looking at me intently. Straight in the eyes again. I felt boxed in. I couldn't look away, and he just... meant every last word. My stupid breath was caught up in my throat again. Why must he keep saying stuff like that? Stuff that makes my heart leap and my brain jump to thoughts of us actually having a future.

He keeps telling me these things, saying these words that sound an awful lot like forever. I wanted to shake my head, but I couldn't. His hands were holding me there, firmly in place. I tried to look down through my lashes, but it was virtually impossible. Tommy's stare, like everything else about him, was just too intense to look at. The sight of it, of him gazing at me all earnestly, with those perfect words upon his perfectly full, warm, oh-so-kissable lips, was blinding. It was like looking at the sun. Ultraviolet light. I swallowed. "Tommy, you're confusing me. Do you mean... You can't mean what I think you mean, so please... tell me," I admitted, noticing that detested plaintive note in my voice again.

Now it was Tommy's turn to look nervous. Almost immediately his intent, intense gaze dropped to the floor. His hands fell off my cheeks, sliding into his pockets. He took a small step back, rocking on his heels. Then and only then did he glance up at me, chewing on his bottom lip. There was a scared, flighty look about him, and I noted that he was fiddling with his hands, twisting and twining his fingers anxiously. He sucked in a short breath. "This is hard for me to say, Jude..." He started out promisingly. I nodded dutifully and motioned for him to go on, literally hanging on his every word. Tommy let out a whoosh of a sigh, biting down hard on his bottom lip again. "But it needs to be said, and I know that you need to know, and you deserve to know... But it's not easy for me to tell you. I just... I'm not used to doing this, to being like this, to feeling this way... to wanting what I want... with anyone but you. And that makes you special, girl. I..." Tommy rambled, trailing off.

I couldn't help but smile. He was so cute all nervous like that. I reached out and grabbed his hands so he'd stop playing with them. He was almost shaking. It was a side of Tommy I'd never seen before. It was like all his confidence and charm had been stripped away. His hands squeezed mine, and suddenly he was holding his chin up, staring back into my eyes. And there was such a fear there, such a bizarre vulnerability. "I wanna be your boyfriend," He breathed, exhaling warily.

Boyfriend. As in a real one. I was kind of dumbfounded, so Tommy pushed on in a hurry, like he needed to clarify it. "A real one. Not like Taylor. Only yours. If that's what you want." There was almost a kind of panic I saw there reflected. And that was really all he needed to say. Because then I completely lost my mind.

"Yes!" I exclaimed loudly before practically pouncing on him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, kissing him senselessly all over. The motion was so sudden that Tommy stumbled and fell backwards with my momentum. Tommy groaned since he'd fallen pretty hard, but I didn't let that stop me. It's about damn time the man fell for _me _for a change! I leaned forward, straddling his waist, running my hands up and down his chest. Boyfriend! It was like I couldn't stop kissing him. "Of." Kiss. "Course." Peck. "That's." Smooch. "What." Buss. "I." Osculate. "Want." Lick. "Tommy." Suck. I was so far gone that I felt very much like telling him how much I loved him, and I probably would've if Tommy hadn't sat up.

I fell backwards a little, onto his thighs. Tommy grabbed my arms to steady me. He was equally breathless and smiling. "As much as I would like to do this right now... I have artists to produce. Can we take a rain check?" Tommy half-mumbled, half-groaned, pouting. I suddenly remembered Tim and Alexz and felt myself redden. How much of that did they see? We were on the floor, though, so it was likely they hadn't seen much. I was going to get off of him immediately, but I thought better of it.

Instead, I leaned even further forward so that our noses brushed. My hair fell around us like a curtain, shielding our faces from view. I clenched my thighs tight around him and watched as he swallowed hard. I let a victorious smile cross my lips and drew a finger down the length of his chest. "Tonight. Your room," I ordered sassily, bringing my finger back up to flick the tip of his nose. I pressed a wet kiss high on his neck. "I want to mark my territory," I murmured, allowing my lips to brush against that sensitive spot just behind his ear.

He shuddered a little beneath me, and I smirked. Mm, all mine. I got off of him somewhat awkwardly, shifting away and on to my knees on the floor. I rose as well as I could and dusted myself off lightly when I was finally standing. I reached an arm out and pulled him up, flashing him a smug grin. "Well, I'll leave you to your work then. I've got some song ideas bursting to come out of me, so I'll see you later." I waved goodbye to Tim and Alexz, telling them it was nice to meet them, and, as much as I wanted to stay, I didn't want to distract Tommy from his work. I left the room with a swish of my hips before Tommy could protest.

But I totally I wasn't kidding about the song idea. I really was bursting with songs and excitement. I mean, Tommy's my boyfriend! He wants to be my boyfriend! He didn't stutter over the word or anything, but it's what he wants, and he wants to give all those skanks up for me! I practically skipped down the hallway, and I was in such a good mood that I found my room on the first try. I stayed only long enough to grab my guitar, pen, and notebook before I wandered back to the room where Tommy showed me "Worth Waiting For." I just... couldn't get Tommy's words out of my mind.

You know the ones... "I don't want this ride to end." It got me thinking about a merry-go-'round. About how I wanted him to be on it when my world stopped spinning. And next thing I knew, I was playing my guitar and scribbling down song lyrics. "_Thought I was fine, knew all my lines..._ Good... _Didn't need to try to get back._ _I just couldn't face the look on your face_... Nah... _the empty space. I just couldn't face the empty space... looking at the point when you said_... What? Ugh, that doesn't rhyme. Maybe if I just start again, thinking about how he... yeah. Okay. _Once you got through, I felt it! Every kind of wor-ry just melted... Something oh-so real... _No. _Something very real was missin'... I could be __**aliiiive**__...__instead of just..._ Damn it... What rhymes with missing? _We could be alive instead of just kissing?_" I mused, jotting down words. My fingers were poised over the words I'd written. It didn't sound right. Damn, where's Tom when I need him?

I stared at the words for a minute, trying to make sense of them. "_I could be alive instead of just..._"

"_Existing,_" A voice supplied. I crossed out what I'd written and put that in instead before I looked up to thank my assistant. Travis was standing before me in all his glory, clad very festively in a forest green sweater that matched his eyes. I scowled at him and was about to snappily ask him what he wanted when he spoke first. "Writing a song, Harrison?" I couldn't avoid making a face. Damn it, only Tommy gets to call me that. Not you. You're the wrong brother.

"Duh." Is he a moron or something? No, I'm just singing alone with a guitar and a pencil. For kicks. I peered down at what I'd written. Two verses, check. Chorus, check. All I need is a bridge. I stared down at the words, trying to avoid Travis' penetrating stare, but I could feel his burning eyes. It made me uncomfortable; my skin prickled. "Could you please go away? You're kind of wrecking my concentration, and your presence seems to evaporate my inspiration. So just leave," I muttered somewhat sharply.

To my chagrin, Travis plopped down next to me. "Looks like you could use some help," He remarked idly, peering over my shoulder at the lyrics I'd written. I glanced at him sideways equally sharply. Not from you. I hated how close he was to me. Why is he still here?

I sighed, feeling very frustrated. Okay, think about spinning and being on a ride... "Not from you," I retorted swiftly. Then I got an idea. "_Spin, baby, spin... I know where you've been_," I warbled in a testing voice. I allowed myself a secretive smile. Yeah, with me. In bed. "_Under my skin. This is __**reeeal**__! __I'm on ai-i-ir! I never knew what love could do... Then there was you. I was here, but you were there..._" I sang enthusiastically, strumming hard, full of joy, thinking of what had just happened. That's kind of a weird end, but it'll do. It _was _real, and I _was _on air.

Travis rolled his eyes at me, reading over my shoulder. "_Stop the world, I want you on it. I'm going too fast to feel a thing. If you hadn't tried so hard to reach me, I'd have missed all of this_," He recited dryly. I made a face at the emotionless way he'd said that and his stupid imposition. Travis raised a brow quizzically. "So the song's obviously about Tommy," He stated calmly. I could feel the impending question about my relationship with Tommy and decided to cut him off at the head before he could make the comment.

"Finally trying to help me with my compositions like you told my father you were? I'm impressed. If I didn't know better, I'd say you had a conscience and actually felt bad about lying," I quipped frostily, scribbling down some more notations before turning the page. "I should've just told him what you were. Tommy's pedophile older brother who's been trying to put the moves on me since the first day of school." I wanted to write Tommy a song for Christmas, but I do have this totally kick-ass present I've been working on for ages upon ages. And the lingerie and myself, of course. I want something that says I-love-you-to-death without actually saying it. This song isn't good enough. "Travis, what the hell do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?" I muttered a moment later, turning to face him, practically burning with anger.

He was so annoyingly nonchalant about it. "Actually, I did want to help you with a song, but... I wanted to talk to you," He explained patiently. I frowned. About what? Why do I not like the sound of that? Oh, yeah, it's Travis! Last time we spoke, he called me a ho. Since when does he want to talk to me, much less civilly? Do I even really know this guy after all? But, c'mon... I'm never going to really know Travis. What can he possibly want to talk to me about? We haven't talked much at all since I've been here. What, is he turning to me now that Joan's gone, and he's on thin ice with Kate? I'm not gonna be that girl, especially not now when I'm... Dude, I'm like Tommy's _girlfriend _now! The thought is totally mind-melting, and I'm not going to do anything to screw it up.

"The answer is no, Travis," I replied smoothly, turning away from him and playing a chord, just to try it. Maybe I could go back to that song about going deeper with him? That's what seems to be happening... I mean, he's totally letting me in... I started absently humming and strumming the chords. Travis' fingers crashed down on the strings, halting the sound and forcing me to pay attention to them.

His eyes were rather dark, which I recognized dimly as the beginning stages of irritation. I didn't care. I was too apathetic to be afraid of him, and I didn't want to pay attention to him. "I haven't even asked you a question yet," Travis managed tersely, prying his fingers off the strings. I shrugged and pushed Travis off the crate we were seated on. I glared until he assumed a seat on the box across from me. He was just gonna proposition me or something again. I can't trust him. My answer's still no. I turned back to my guitar and had just started to play when Travis finally came out with it. "I'm not Taylor, Jude. I've got my eyes wide open, and I can see things clearly. I am not stupid... And I know something's going on with you and Tommy. So I wanna know what exactly that is. You're still my little brother's girlfriend, but you're Tommy's girl, and I don't want Taylor to get hurt," Travis said pointedly. I could feel his eyes on me, but I tried my best to ignore him.

"Nunya damn business," I rejoined snappily. My fingers acted of their own accord and began to play a tune that was more jagged and... pissed. Like how I was feeling, which was more ticked off by the moment. My head dubbed in its own beat, something unusual for me and much more techno. The riff was way killer, though. Hmm, maybe I can turn this into a song... Just not a happy Tommy song. Travis is really excellent inspiration for the pissed-off girl with a guitar route.

Sighing, he supplied me with the first line. "_You're right. I'm wrong_," He sang quietly, conceding to me. It was a strange concession. Weird. Why is he flattering me? Or is he just acknowledging how, no matter what he says, he's in the wrong? You can't attempt to rape someone and say you're in the right. Eh, well, it is a good beginning. Might as well go with it. I don't write songs like this with Tommy.

Making a snap decision, I stopped playing and threw the pen and notebook at his head. Travis ducked and caught them. Our gazes connected, and I sent him a stern message with my eyes. "You wanna write a song, then we'll write a song. Try to keep up, Chuck," I snapped bossily. A moment later, I was back to playing that same tune. I nodded before launching back into it. "_You're __**right. **__I'm wrong... You're tough. I'm __**strong**_,"I sang, adding my line before gazing to him, arching my eyebrow in challenge. Travis was more than tough.

Forceful. "_Moved on_," Travis countered a bit bitingly. Sending me a message much? He expects me to do it, but even he can't move on from his past and his issues. I'm not about to. I stared him down.

"_What goes around comes back around_," I growled, shooting him a sharp look. I sighed. What next? Tommy's a big fan of the story approach, but I'm more into just letting it flow and seeing what comes out. Or ruminating on my life or a particular thought or situation I'm in... What I want to say to a person but can't... Some words I've heard somewhere... My feelings. It's much more fluid and personal. Still, what I've heard of Tommy's music sounds pretty personal. He's been laying down tracks left and right. Of his own, too, not just with Chaz. Chaz knows how to work a soundboard. He's no Kwest, but he can manage. "_I __**like **__this place_," I called out randomly.

I really like Tommy's family house. Good stuff just happens here, you know? With Tommy and me. I mean it figuratively too. I like the place I'm at in my life right now, and the place in my relationship with Tommy that we're at right now. Travis gave me a weird look but wrote down the lyrics anyways. He shook his head, a slightly mocking look appearing on his face. "_You needed some space... out of the way!_" Travis dissented, raising his voice. His head was bobbing along to the beat.

Yeah, I needed some space away from you. And isn't Montreal out of the way? All secluded and whatnot. I stared him down with eyes of iron. "_What goes around came back again_," I reinforced stubbornly. Travis smirked and leaned forward. He's kind of like that. You know, Trav, I mean Herpes too. He moved still forward, and I felt uncomfortable. "_Hey there, are you backing up?_" I asked loudly, practically begging him to go away. I eyed him pointedly, moving forward on my own. He refused to budge an inch, so I got vindictive. "_No __**soul**__, __I'm not wishing any luck_," I hissed, shaking my head.

That's right, you bastard. Grow a soul and then we'll talk. I coupled the statement with my fiercest glare. Travis barely looked affected by the glare, but what I said about him having no soul seemed to strike a chord within him, and for a tenuous moment he looked quite... troubled. Then he came back sniping. "_Planning your escape_."

Oh, so now I'm the one running away? That's rich. Like I wouldn't run in the opposite direction of him? Wannabe Date-Rapist. Ugh. "_I have a gate_," I rejoined quickly. I've got a way out, buddy.

Travis pulled a face. "_I didn't wanna make you late_," He quipped sarcastically. Late to what? Why does this song make no sense? He resumed his writing. The both of us paused for a minute, and the only sound was me playing the guitar. Travis licked his lips distractedly, pencil poised in mid-air. "_But now you're here_," He began, still musing. Yep, here I am.

I interrupted before Travis could say anything else. "_But now you're here, you make me __**wonder...**_"I paused briefly. Oh! Got it. "_What rock have I been under?_" I asked in a dumbfounded sort of voice. What is up with me and rocks lately? Tommy's my rock... Rocks turn to sand... All my rocks are turning to sand... One more rock might push me over the edge. It was pretty melodic. Travis smirked at me. I could just hear the indeed bubbling up in him. Ugh.

He nodded, getting an idea for what I assumed was to be the chorus. "_What rock have you been under? And I wonder..._" Travis sang in a clear voice. I bristled a bit. Oh, what do you wonder, Travis? Technically, I've been under my rock. Or, rather, Tommy. "_Ooh, I been down there waiting..._" This song really bewilders me. Down where? And why is he waiting? Is he waiting for me to talk to him? 'Cause that's gonna be a long wait.

My eyes narrowed in response. "_Oh, walk away,_" I snapped. Seriously, just go away and leave me alone. Know when to just let things be. I don't want to mess with you again, Travis. I'm happy with our different little spheres. "_Oh, I __**want**__, __don't you wait!_" I commanded, shooting Travis a look that meant that I meant it. My voice sounded a little... altered. Go away. Can't you see how much I don't want you here?

Honestly, Travis stole the next words from my very own lips. "_I did it on a blunder, and I __**wonder**_," Travis sang with an odd, almost out-of-place sincerity. Sincerity in general was rare in him. He gave me a meaningful look, and I saw the vestiges of a silent apology there. But he hadn't said any words, so I couldn't be sure... Still, it had to mean something, right? I thought of what other blunder I could've been referring to... but Travis was my blunder. Our voices harmonized for the last line. "_What rock have you been under?_" We chorused as the chords died slowly.

It was weird. I was kind of breathless from the last note, and Travis' face was a bit flushed. We both had that post-song afterglow, which seemed ridiculous as the song wasn't done, and Travis hadn't suddenly become Tommy. I felt a shade of guilt because I'd been having fun... with Travis, of all people! And it felt like I was betraying Tommy or something. Travis spoke while I was contemplating this. "So, now that you've got that out of your system, wanna tell me what's going on between you and my brother?" Travis coaxed. I rolled my eyes. Not at all subtle, not that that's his strong point.

I glowered at him in response, but his gaze was stern. He wanted to know, and he would... But he didn't say _which _brother. "I believe you and everyone else in this house already knows what's going on... He alternates between ignoring me, glaring at me, and calling me a slut," I responded dryly. Travis looked annoyed. I shrugged, feigning a naïve look. "You didn't specify which brother."

"Jude, you know full well which one I meant. He's my younger brother. I think I deserve to know what's going on between you two," Travis reprimanded. I couldn't help but pull a face. He sounded so much like a teacher then that it was ridiculous. I had the typical rebellious kid attitude about it, too. He didn't deserve to know. He doesn't deserve to know just because Tommy's his brother. They only just recently got back on civil terms.

Shaking my head, I retorted, "You are the _only _brother who doesn't have a right to know what's going on there." Because Taylor's my nominal, public boyfriend, whereas Tommy is now my actual, secret boyfriend. Travis is not my boyfriend, not my friend, and not someone I even like. He... augh. I sighed, realizing I needed to make it sound a little less suspicious and much less like I was obviously avoiding the subject. And a lot less like something was actually going on. After all, he's no dummy. He knows Tommy better than anyone, and he's sharp enough to put two and two together. He knows how to read his brother, and I've never been very good at being anything more than transparent. Tread carefully, Harrison. "Besides, there's nothing to tell. There's absolutely nothing going on... Not that it's any of your business," I added pointedly, lowering my voice.

My confrontational tone had the benefit of giving him the no-nonsense message and making me sound bitter, which was an unintended side-affect. Made it sound like I merely _wished _something was going on between Tommy and me. For a long time it was that way. Travis nudged me. "Doesn't sound like that's the way you want it, Harrison," He quipped knowingly. I smacked him in the arm, not at all comfortable with how comfortable he seemed. Or with the fact that he was suddenly sitting next to me again, and his shoulder was brushing against mine. I don't like it when he calls me that. Is it disturbing that I prefer him calling me Mrs. Quincy? Although, now that I think about it, that's his last name too, so was he foreshadowing something?

Sometimes I really hate him. You know, he just looks so much like Tommy that it kind of makes me crazy. "Don't call me that, Travis," I ordered somewhat bitchily. Travis gave me a look that suggested full well that he knew Tommy called me that. He rolled his eyes at me, reminding me effectively that I hadn't denied it. I wondered what to say for a minute, but then I remembered that I didn't have to say anything. He believed me. But it would be weird if I didn't say something and try to deny it. "I'm fine with it. Really. I'm dating Taylor, and that's how I want it. I wouldn't have it any other way," I said through my teeth, lying very poorly.

Travis snorted. "You know, Jude, I might actually believe that... If you were a good liar, and I hadn't met either of you," He scoffed. He leaned in towards me, eyes narrowing. He lowered his voice deliberately, edging in closer. "Tell me the real story, Janis," He requested in an undertone. New nickname, huh? I shuddered at the reminder of that drunken night when I'd told him my middle name, at the remembrance that he knew too much about me. I jerked my head away from him, turning my whole body in the opposite direction, and refused to answer him.

Then there was his hand on my shoulder, and he was moving in, even though I'd scooted away from him. "I don't buy your little act for a minute, Jude. There's a lot more than nothing going on between you two. Why don't you just get it off your chest? I'm going to find out eventually," Travis hissed. But he wasn't all that threatening. It was more like he was trying to persuade me in a husky voice that was scarcely seductive at all. Travis gently held my chin, turning me to face him. I didn't want to look at him. He was too intense, and his eyes were radioactive and burning. He could be a little like the sun himself. "I'm a hell of a lot more observant than Taylor, and I can see that my brother's changed. For you," He continued in a voice even softer, in a tone I might've even called gentle.

It actually seemed like Travis was trying to be careful with me, but that didn't change the way I felt about him touching me, or the way his stare made me feel exposed. His stare was like a sunburn. Everywhere he touched hurt, and staring at him even a little burned my eyes. My skin stung all over, like a million little bee-stings. I was so conscious of his presence. It didn't feel right. I swallowed hard and turned my head away infinitesimally. "I already told you, Travis. There's nothing going on between us. We're just friends. Nothing more," I tried to assure him. But my voice was weak, and my eyes betrayed me.

Travis shook his head abruptly, forcibly turning me to face him. Now, there's the Travis I know. He looked pissed off, but I couldn't understand why. What's he have to be jealous of? "Oh, there's something more, all right! If not physically, then emotionally. Especially on your end. So, tell _me, _Jude! Tell me how you feel about Tommy! Are you in _love _with him?!" Travis demanded stubbornly, forcibly, even a little violently. He shook me perhaps a little hard, but not enough for me to really be scared of him. I couldn't be really scared of him anymore. He'd done pretty much everything he could do to me, and he had no surprises left.

For some reason, I could answer Travis where I couldn't answer Taylor. Then again, I guess they are separate issues. And he'd forced me. But still, I though... Hadn't I already told Travis I was in love with Tommy? I mean, what's up with the sudden need to know? Oh, yeah, I blurted it out when he proposed to me. And I implied it that other time in the dressing room. I shook Travis off, ripping his arms away from my shoulders, rising to my feet and letting the guitar fall to the floor. "There, Travis, do you want me to say it? _Fine. _I'm in LOVE with your brother!" I shouted dramatically, at my wits' end. Not that you didn't already know.

His voice was quiet after that. There was an awkward pause. He seemed to calm down some, to avoid my eyes and favor the ground instead. "Does he know?" I shook my head sadly, more frustrated with myself than him, plopping down next to him. I was just mad he'd made me admit it, mad that I could tell him that so cavalierly and not even hint at the words in his brother's presence. Travis' voice was surprisingly sweet, taking on a tender edge, even. "Why don't you tell him?" He asked me. It was a big change from who he'd been mere moments before.

I shook my head hard. He didn't understand, and how could he? "You don't think I haven't tried already?! I'm afraid to tell him because it'll change everything... Things will never be the same again. And every time I muster up enough courage, something happens," I explained in a panic-stricken voice. I looked at him, and by the double-take he did, I surmised that the fear and hysteria must've been reflected in my eyes. "I don't want another broken heart, Travis," I told him. I was surprised to find my voice somewhat raw. My eyes felt hot, as if tears were forming. Already an emotional day, and it's not even over! Travis put his hand on top of mine, which I took to be a comforting gesture, even though I disliked him.

He disagreed with me. "You have nothing to be afraid of. He'd probably be happy. Everyone knows my brother's crazy about you. He follows you around like a lost puppy... I've never seen him happier than he is when he's with you," Travis said encouragingly. He squeezed my hand and gave me a shrewd look. "He would probably even reciprocate." He shouldn't have said that.

My eyes flashed. "You must be mistaken, Charles." My voice was as cold as ice. Frozen. It was still a bit of a sore spot for me. "More like the other brother, I'm afraid," I replied coolly. His words, to me, more closely described Taylor, and Taylor seemed to me to be more willing to admit to such a thing. Not that he felt it. Travis gave me a confused look, but I pressed on. "Trust me when I say he does not reciprocate," I replied with an icy finality.

Travis gave me a weird look, and I removed his hand from mine as if it was diseased. His brow furrowed. "I know my brother. I've known him my whole life, and it's obvious by the way he acts that he's in love with you," He countered stubbornly. I scowled at him, despising the conversation and wishing for it to end. Travis bent down to whisper in my ear. "I wouldn't have gone after you in the first place if I wasn't completely sure that you were my brother's fondest wish... his heart's deepest desire. His one true love, even. I didn't believe it at first, but I knew my brother watched you a little too closely. Tommy can't resist what he can't have, after all, and I knew that taking it... taking you from right under his nose would hurt him. But then I got to know you, and I saw you with him... and I saw what he sees in you," He murmured gently, lips practically brushing against my neck.

It was a disarming statement. What the hell is that supposed to mean? It kind of took my breath away and made me stare at him funny, as well he deserved. I moved away from him, feeling slightly uncomfortable, and disturbingly attracted to him. "When I say he doesn't love me, I _know, _Travis. Contrary to what everyone thinks... That's just how it is. He's never been in love before, so why would he start now, with me? The way he acts made it perfectly clear how he feels, and he does not love me," I stated as calmly as I could. Plus he said it practically to my face in front of Chaz. He wasn't lying.

Once again, Travis just had to disagree. "Tell him, Jude. He just might surprise you." Oh, Tommy's been surprising me plenty lately... but I don't wanna risk it. Not now, when everything's going so great. It'll happen... eventually. When the moment is right.

"Or he might go running in the opposite direction! We haven't known each other that long. He'll think I'm some insane obsessive freak, and then there's the other one I have to deal with too! He'll know when it's time for him to know! When I can't bear him not knowing any longer. Okay?" I screamed back, flinging my hands in the air. I suddenly realized I was breathing hard and standing over Travis with a look that meant business. He raised an eyebrow, looking quite interested, and he grabbed my arms, pulling me closer to him in an attempt to calm me down.

And then, just when you thought the situation couldn't get any weirder... It did. Because my name-only boyfriend Taylor walked in, beaming from ear-to-ear. Naturally, I was completely horrified because I realized that Travis must've left the door open, and Taylor probably heard all of that. And since he's smiling, he can't have heard the bit about it being Tommy I was in love with. I shoved Travis away, pushing myself up. Taylor ran at me, embracing me before I could say anything else. "Jude, you don't have to say a word. I know exactly how you feel, and I feel the same! I was so scared you'd think I was some kind of freak, but I know what I feel and... I'm sorry for doubting you. I'm sorry for saying all those awful things and always bringing up Tommy. I was the world's biggest ass, and I'm so, _so, _**so **sorry. For everything. Can you ever forgive me?" Taylor gushed enthusiastically, grabbing my hands and staring into my eyes, looking all lovelorn.

I gaped at Travis in sheer disbelief. He seemed equally surprised, judging by the wide eyes. He was like a damn fountain, gushing all over the place. Honestly, I was still processing all that he was saying, but I managed to comment anyways. I shrugged. "Um, sure?" He obviously didn't hear the question in my voice 'cause he looked so damn excited. In fact, the boy embraced me again... a little too hard. He was kind of choking me. I shot Travis a desperate, helpless look, but he merely shrugged.

Thanks a lot, Asshole. Taylor pulled away from me, shooting me puppy dog eyes. "So you'll give me a second chance, then? I've been such an idiot. I promise it won't happen again," He begged earnestly. With eyes like that and him looking so cute, I couldn't very well say no. So I nodded. Besides, I did say I was going to give him a second chance anyways. Taylor looked thrilled.

But I knew I had to say something, or else he'd think we were all the way back on. I sighed and prepared to crush his fragile hopes a little. I really should break up with him now, but he'll just be so confused and hurt and betrayed... and I don't want him to hate Tommy forever. I can't ruin Christmas for him. Damn it. So how about after New Year's? I'll pretend to give him a chance and then quietly dump him after the big party... I'll... well, damn it, I'll ask Tommy, Break-Up Master, to help me come up with something. Here goes... "This doesn't fix everything, though, Taylor. We're still on a break. I need... to think things through. Give me a week, okay? I'll tell you after New Year's," I said somewhat anxiously, nervous to see how he'd react.

Predictably, Taylor's face fell, and his grip on me loosened slightly... but he was surprisingly okay with it. He nodded solemnly. "I can't blame you." Then he paused for a moment before perking up. "Can you hang out tonight?" He questioned happily. Dear Lord, I almost passed out right there. I knew Tommy would be pissed, plus we had a standing date that night.

So I said the only thing I could. "Oh, Taylor, I'm so sorry... I can't. I already have plans tonight." Taylor was looking rightfully suspicious slash worried. Fortunately, Travis saved me.

There are few times I have appreciated him, but this was one of them. "So do you, Taylor. Remember? Mass and Réveillon? Mom will only kill you if you don't go." He pointed out abruptly. Taylor's face fell again, but it registered in him. He sighed and looked very disappointed. I felt bad. Thank you, Tory! I mouthed "Thank You" to Travis, who smiled back at me. Why did he do that? He totally didn't have to... But I wasn't about to debate it. Maybe we could... eventually... become friends or acquaintances after all.

Taylor pouted. "Okay... so I guess I'll see you then? We can talk and stuff, and then there's Christmas and Boxing Day. We'll have time to hang out sometime, I promise," Taylor said hopefully, already planning out our future. Great. I wanted to scream. I wanted to say: YOU FREAKING MORON, I'M YOUR OLDER BROTHER'S GIRLFRIEND, AND I ALMOST HAD SEX WITH HIM THE DAY I GOT HERE! But I didn't. I refrained. Too kindly, really. I nodded and smiled weakly in response to Taylor's question. He flashed me that Quincy grin, that, damn it, gets me every time and every brother, and then moved to leave. However, he turned back and looked at me over his shoulder. "I'm so glad, Jude," He exclaimed gratefully, and then he once again moved like he was going to leave. He mumbled something I didn't quite hear. I later found out it was, "Love you."

"Me too," I muttered distractedly. Fatal last words, girlie.

Imagine my surprise when he spun all the way back around and raced over to me, wrapping an arm around my lower back and pulling me into a sudden kiss. I was even more surprised by the fact that not only was it a decent kiss, but it was downright _good! _He sure didn't kiss like Tommy, but he tasted okay, and his technique seemed to have vastly improved. I was too surprised and too consumed by the fact that I was Tommy's girlfriend (while, apparently, simultaneously STILL his baby brother's girlfriend) to kiss back much. I managed the perfunctory amount, though, I guess. This was satisfactory because Taylor sure broke away with a smile. Then he murmured a goodbye and walked out, humming and grinning like a fool.

Like I was when Tommy said he wanted to be my boyfriend. I sank down onto the box next to Travis, still shell-shocked, still completely in disbelief. It seemed all so surreal. Had that actually just happened? I blinked in astonishment, mouth wide open. I turned to face Travis still slack-jawed. "Did Taylor just basically say that he loves me?" I asked numbly. And apologize and kiss me and think I was talking about him? Travis nodded, and I couldn't help but grimace. Damn, this is going to be hard. I couldn't tell him, though, you know? I sighed, putting my head into my hands. "Tommy is _so _not going to be happy."

Travis just laughed. I would've joined him, but the situation was far too tense for that. I shooed Travis off afterwards, giving him a half-hearted thanks, and I sat down to write a love song for Tommy that properly expressed my feelings. That talk with Travis about telling him had really gotten me thinking about the biggest secret I was keeping from Tommy, how I was afraid to let him in all the way. It was so hard for me because I'd been burned all those times before... Tommy worst of all. But it's like Travis said. What's there to be afraid of? I'm his girlfriend now, right, so he's not just gonna drop me if I tell him I'm in love with him. He just won't feel the same, and then it'll be awkward, and I'll feel weird. Ugh.

So, I wrapped that up and had a late lunch, as I'd been advised to eat, since we wouldn't be eating "dinner" until after midnight. Tommy told me to bring my appetite because Réveillon involved massive quantities of food, and all of Tory's siblings would be coming over. I occupied my remaining time by stealing to the studio and recording the song I'd made with Chaz' assistance. We burned it to a disc, which I labeled and placed in a jewel case, wrapping it also with Chaz' aid. I spent what time I had left with him and Sadie, watching movies and relaxing. Tommy seemed to be strangely absent. Probably out getting a last-minute Christmas present. Typical Tommy.

I went back to my room to dress and make myself over forty minutes before mass started. It was cutting it kind of close, but I'd been having fun. I stood in front of my mirror, smoothing my dress, which was a green concoction of clingy evergreen velvet and lighter satin accents along the lines of ribbon trim. The dress flared out to floor-length, and it had full-length sleeves, despite the neckline, which was, perhaps, a bit much for church. It went with my skin nicely and bared quite a bit of my collarbone, but it wasn't sleazy. For shoes I had high-heeled but sturdy black lace-up boots. Sadie, who had gotten ready several hours earlier, came in to do my hair, curling it and easily styling it up to make me look ultra glamorous, adding a matching satin ribbon to my hair. She demanded I put on jewelry, doing my make-up before I could even protest. The woman thinks of everything.

She used a little less eyeliner than I would and made the mascara painful, and she added just a little too much blush to my cheeks, but my lipstick was appropriately crimson, and my eyeshadow looked awesome, so I was okay with it. I was still wearing the earrings Tommy gave me, and of course I never took off my star ring... But I added that family ring Travis had proposed to me with and carefully brought the necklace with Tommy's medallion over my head, smoothing it to sit properly on my neck and go properly down my shirt. I was all about being his that day, and with his necklace dangling from my neck, how could I not be?

After that, I grabbed my coat, and we headed together to the entryway. Miraculously we were able to find it. Naturally, the whole clan was there plus the Kates. Taylor was the first to react. He was wearing a light green shirt under a nice heather gray suit that his mother must've chosen. He'd foolishly insisted on the silly light-up Christmas tree tie. His eyes widened considerably, and he blatantly checked me out. "You look great!" He ejaculated, walking over to embrace me extremely hard. Ugh. Knocked the breath out of me. I thanked him quietly, and Travis came over next.

He was well-dressed in a green suit so dark that it was almost black and an emerald-colored shirt with a nice nondescript tie. He smiled at me. "Ravishing as ever, Jude. You are a vision," Travis whispered, leaning in and pressing a kiss to my cheek. I flushed at the compliment, remembering that green was obviously his favorite color. It felt funny, and I couldn't help but wonder what Tommy was thinking as Travis released me. Kate sure didn't look happy about it.

Naturally, Tommy walked up to me next, looking a little less happy than before, but smiling nonetheless. He was beautifully clad in a dark black suit with a shirt the exact color of my dress on underneath. I smiled back at him, radiantly of course, and immediately pulled him into an embrace. "You grow more beautiful by the moment, girl. You always manage to take my breath away," He murmured, gazing dreamily into my eyes. My grin widened. He moved my hand up to his lips, planting a kiss on the back of my hand. "I just can't get over the fact that you're all mine." Me either, Tommy. A moment later he gently released my hand and kissed my cheek, lips brushing over a spot far too close to my mouth. In fact, his lips briefly touched the corner of my mouth as he fingered the necklace. "You know I love it when you wear my clothes," Tommy mumbled suggestively, breath hot on my lips and cheek. I wanted to badly to kiss him that I was boiling inside.

Trying to keep my head... and realizing (upon hearing someone clearing his throat) that everyone was probably staring, I pulled away from Tommy, whose lips surely would've moved across mine into a full-fledged kiss. I smirked. "You love it when I wear no clothes, Quincy," I teased softly. Tommy was practically salivating at the mere thought. I grinned at him victoriously. "But I'd love nothing more than to slip into something a little more comfortable when we're finally all alone... like that shirt," I said flirtatiously, adjusting his collar and making sure to keep my voice down. A lecherous look flitted across his face.

He shook his head. "Don't. It's not that comfortable." I laughed and realized then that we should break apart, so we did. Without much more ado (aside from a slightly interesting conversation on matching), the group of us headed off to Nôtre-Dame de Montréal, which just so happens to be the church where Céline Dion got married. Since Sadie and I had no idea what Mass was like, Tommy was appointed our unofficial Catholic guide. He was slightly more attentive to me than to my dear sister. We came in, crossed ourselves with holy water, piled into the pew, knelt for a bit, did some cheerful greeting thing that was kind of fun... Typical stuff, I'm told. Tommy's various aunts and uncles were either in the pew with us or the one behind, dressed up to the nines, and all ridiculously beautiful.

Tommy's eldest uncle, Étienne (Steven), was Tory's twin brother. Like his sister, he too was also a bigwig corporate attorney, although he worked for his father's firm. He lived in Montreal, and had brought his family, which consisted of his lovely wife and four children (who were pretty much all younger than Tory's children). He was a reserved family man. He resembled his sister prominently, but in a manly sort of way. Where her features were more delicate, his were hard and strong. His hair was equally dark and well-coiffed, but his eyes were more gray than blue. I assumed he more closely resembled his father, and this suspicion was confirmed immediately when I met Laurent a little after I met the rest.

Thierry was there too, and he looked amazingly different cleaned up. He was, essentially, a younger, leaner version of his brother with lighter, messier hair. Patricia, Tory's oldest sister, was dressed in an edgy red, as opposed to her sister's sober black. She's in public relations and has a fondness for music, so she was accordingly Tommy's favorite aunt (not to mention publicist). Trish lived in Toronto but traveled the world and happened to be Georgia's best friend. She resembled her sister in some ways, but in others, Trish was entirely her own person. Her features were slightly softer than Tory's, her clothes and make-up more daring... and her eyes a bright, electric sort of blue. She was far more lively and talkative than her sister, nicer too, even carefree and irreverent, and so incredibly warm and welcoming I couldn't believe they were sisters.

From there on, the similarities to Victoria diminished. Her half-siblings were a varied bunch, slightly more prone to talking in French. The five of them ranged in age from twenty-nine to twenty-two, so that the youngest was over two decades younger than Victoria. Jean-Baptiste, who was born in the same year as Thierry, his best friend, was an up-and-coming real-estate broker and, supposedly, a notorious playboy... A trait Thierry and Tommy both shared (guess who his favorite uncle is?). Admittedly, J.B. was pretty dashing with perfect blond locks and a killer smile. Jean-Pierre, the next in line, was, sadly, a priest. It was a waste because he was almost as good-looking as his older brother, only his hair was shorter and sandier. He was sitting behind Sadie, however, and I noticed that he was a bit too willing to help her with the ins-and-outs of Catholicism (besides, didn't he have to do a service?). Apparently J.P. was serving in a poor parish, taking his vows of poverty quite literally, and he was aiming to become a missionary.

Seated next to Jean-Pierre was his fraternal twin, Jeanne-Marie. Her hair was ash-blonde, shoulder length. She had the same light blue eyes as both her brothers. Jeanne was energetic and feisty without being bubbly, despite her thin frame and short stature. Her style was kind of hipster, heavy on the funky jewelry and baggy clothes, although she was dressed up nicely in some exotic yet conservative silver cocktail dress. She was close to her brother, dabbled in designing her own clothes, and owned several boutiques, a restaurant, and a music store. Apparently she'd been considering becoming a nun for a time. The only reflection of that now was the fact that she was choir director at J.P.'s church.

Melisandre, the second-youngest, was a tall, pretty strawberry-blonde. Her hair was long and fabulous. She was wearing a dark pink dress that bared a disturbing amount of skin. According to Tommy, she was a professional golddigger, although she claimed model as her day job. She was already thrice-divorced and working on a fourth one ("in between husbands" was her way of putting it) at the tender age of twenty-five, meaning that she was roughly around Travis' age. The youngest was Chantal, who had been Tommy's childhood playmate (a disturbing thought). Her buttery blonde hair was cut into a bob. Unlike her other sisters, Chantal was bubbly and visibly happy. She had a very musical laugh. This was probably because she was a newlywed. Her husband was unfortunately out of town on business, so she was a little pouty.

And then... There was Papa Laurent. He was sitting in our row, straight as a rail, because the half-siblings were all crammed into the row behind us. He despised them and refused to even look at them. Actually, the evil grandfather was sandwiched between Tommy and Travis. The seating, you must understand, went like this: Thierry, Kathryn, Taylor, Theo, Victoria, Patricia, Sadie, me, Tommy, Laurent, Travis, and Kate. Back to Laurent, though... I knew he was quite a bit older than his former wife, and that he had to be in his early seventies or late sixties, but he didn't look quite so old. His features were sharp, his nose kind of hawkish, his chin defined, and his lips thin. He was good-looking in an old-fashioned way, but he was too mean and too stern to be considered aesthetically pleasing. He had some wrinkles, but they were obviously from frowning. The creases on the sides of his mouth were fine and thin, barely even there. His face lacked any expression, a rather Botox-like quality that the equally inexpressive eldest siblings had acquired.

He had a full head of neatly-styled pepper black hair, short, dignified, and appropriate. Most of his hair still retained the original pigment, but what portions of it were discolored took on a slightly lighter hard gray color. Laurent was in good shape, strangely tall with wiry muscles and a hidden strength. What stood out about him was the way he looked and acted. He stood up straight and sat with his head held high with pride. There was something about the way he carried himself too, something condescending about the way he looked at you. His posture was never anything less than impeccable. As for his appearance, there was nary a hair out of place. He was neatly groomed and dressed fashionably in a well-tailored business black suit with a white shirt and a red tie on underneath. What really stands out in my memory is his eyes. His eyes were steel gray, cold, and dead... utterly devoid of life. They were the kind of eyes that haunt you.

Laurent radiated disdain. The mass, too, was in French, and Laurent immediately disregarded it (his bitterness from his failed marriage manifested itself in little ways like that, how he resented music and his own first language because of her). During the greeting time, Laurent immediately saw me and turned to Tommy. He scowled at Tommy. "Well, you've always been blasphemous, Thomas, but inviting your little whore to Midnight Mass is taking it a bit far," Laurent said bluntly in that way old people say scandalous things. My skin bristled; now I have to take that shlock from him too? Tommy gaped at his grandfather, shot me a brief apologetic look, and tried to get his grandfather to behave and not call me names.

"Grandfather, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't bring a whore to Mass." Not ever, apparently, but that's hard to believe, knowing Tommy. Tommy's voice was hard and firm, protective.

It almost made me smile, but then Laurent looked at me again and made me feel cheap all over yet again. "Oh, everyone knows that's what she is! But there are places for harlots, and church is not one of them. Besides, don't you think it sends mixed messages, taking your whore home for Christmas?" Laurent said coolly. If I was Tommy's whore, that would be a valid point. Only I'm not. Tommy gave me another apologetic look before turning back to his grandfather, looking absolutely furious. I was burning up with rage too. What right did he have to say that?!

Tommy clutched his grandfather's arm, glaring at him. "Grandfather, I don't appreciate you calling her a whore. She's a friend of the family and, more importantly, a friend of mine. That's why she's spending Christmas with us. Not because I want to have sex with her, but because she's more _family _to me than you are," Tommy hissed, trying to keep his voice down and be polite at the same time. I felt all warm and fuzzy at Tommy defending me. I mean, he called me family! More than his blood relative so...

Wow. Okay. Laurent's not going to be happy about that. Predictably, he wasn't. His face flushed, and Laurent shot me a dismissive look. "You can't turn a whore into a housewife, Thomas," Laurent snarled. At that point, Tommy was at a momentary loss for words, looking warily around the church to see if people were looking. They were. And not just because we're (in)famous. I was about to speak up for myself when Sadie surprised me by talking before I could get a word out.

"Excuse me, sir. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, and, frankly, I don't think your senility gives you an excuse to call my sister names when you haven't even spoken to her. If you talk about my little sister like that again, I'm going to have to kick your ass, old or not. So, really, if you could just shut your big fat mouth and stop ruining the nice Christmas service... It would be greatly appreciated," Sadie quipped bossily, eyes briefly flicking over to Laurent dismissively. She looked tough, and I could just picture her going karate on his ass. I would've snickered, but we were in church. Laurent looked outraged.

For a few moments the argument seemed to have ended, as all together we recited the Nicene Creed (which I'd only said maybe once before?). This was followed up by a blessing or prayer, and then the clergyman started reading verses and talking about Jesus' birth, joyous event that it is. That was when it started up again. "Tell your bitch sister to shut her big mouth. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Tommy will just get bored of you halfway through, and then he'll move on to her without even a second thought," Laurent snapped, leaning forward and glowering at my sister. That hit a sore spot. Tommy had already switched sisters, and I was that sister, and then he'd just drop me for someone else.

I stiffened and turned to face Laurent, straightening and holding my chin up high. He thinks all women are whores just because his wife ran off with another man. No wonder she ran. Well, I'm not about to sit here and be his scapegoat! Because I am not Tommy's whore. With one eye on the reverend, I leaned forward to address Laurent. "Look, I get that you're this big, bad, scary guy who thinks his life sucks and wants to piss on everyone else's... But I'm not going to walk on eggshells around you like your family. I'm not related to you, so I don't have to excuse or put up with your behavior. I am not a whore, and you have no right to call me or my sister one when you don't even know us," I rejoined sourly, giving him a defiant look.

Gramps raised an eyebrow, shooting a look at Tommy. Tommy put his hands on my shoulders to hold me back from possibly going postal on his grandfather's ass. There was no love lost between them. Laurent scowled at Tommy. "Control your slut, Tommy. I don't care how you do it, but her mouth, I'm sure, has better uses than whining," He commanded snidely. My jaw dropped at the comment, and Laurent smirked. "Like that." If my jaw could've widened after that, it would have, but that would've only confirmed what the creep was implying... so I closed my mouth instead. So that's where Tommy gets his dirty mind. And where Travis gets his smirk. And why Taylor always thinks I'm a ho. Since I was silent, Laurent turned to Tommy. "A man who can't control his woman is ineffectual."

I pushed Tommy back so I could lean across to utter a reply. Chauvinist! "Speaking from experience, are we?" I retorted smugly. Laurent's face turned to stone, and he glowered at Tommy. I rolled my eyes, and Tommy pushed me back against the seat. I couldn't help but notice that his hand stayed on my chest a little too long, half on the fabric and half on my skin.

"You've had plenty of that, now haven't you?" Laurent replied equally smugly. I see where Travis gets his slick mouth from. Another whore comment. And in a church! When the pastor's obliviously reading from Luke about the birth of the precious infant. Hi, God, I'm sorry that Tommy's grandfather is such an asshole. I know you're all-powerful and all, so do you think you can fix it so he doesn't dishonor you by swearing and stirring up trouble? Okay, so he's Satan's bastard offspring, but still... can't you make his mouth stop functioning? After all, God, you know whether or not I'm a whore, and I'm not, right?! So, um... I guess I'm begg... er, praying for victory. Please and thank you, God. Sorry I'm a little bit rusty.

While I was praying, Laurent was conceiving his next path of assault. Ignoring him had only riled up the old coot further. He elbowed Tommy in the stomach. "Is she pregnant, Thomas?" He asked bluntly. Travis gasped theatrically, and Tommy's eyes practically popped out of his head as he turned to stare at me, thinking that it was quite possible. Oh, yeah, the pregnancy thing. God, you still listening? I know I don't do this a lot, but, uh, it'd be really great if Tommy doesn't think I'm knocked up. I know I deserve it and all, but I really don't want him to know that I lied. I know you don't like lies either, but, c'mon, Tommy's done like, every sin you can think of... and some I can't. I've gotta keep up! I glared at Tommy, who turned and glared daggers at Laurent.

The real Antichrist merely shrugged. "What? I think I deserve to know if I'm going to be a great-grandfather. Besides, I couldn't think of any other reason why Tommy would bring some tartlet home for Christmas, unless he wanted sex-on-demand," Laurent said irreverently. I would've laughed had he not been talking about me. These days, I'm all about defending my baby's honor. Tommy glanced around warily and shook his head no decidedly, which was enough to satisfy. Laurent sighed, clearly frustrated with the situation. And us ignoring him. "Well, if it's not that, then why did you bring the mouthy whore?" He asked somewhat tersely.

It was strange, but we all spoke at the same time in agitated voices. "For the last time, I am not a whore! I-" "Look, old man, didn't I tell you I was gonna kick your ass the next time you said something bad about my sister?! You don't appear to be deaf, so what part of that don't you get? I'm a third-degree black belt in Karate, which makes me the _bitch _who's going to terminate your life, Oldtimer!" "Grandfather, I told you to stop calling her that. It makes me angry, and when I'm angry, I punch things. Like faces. And I'm not adverse to punching family members, so I wouldn't recommend trying me. Besides, she's _not _a whore, she's m-" Apparently ass-kicking is all the rage this Christmas, so don't be surprised if you get your ass handed to you. "Laurent, must you make a scene in church? You're going to embarrass Mother. And on Christmas Eve?! Know when to quit. Jude's not a whore, okay?! She's actuall-"

"I... I'm Tommy's _girlfriend_," I stuttered without thinking at the exact same time as Travis and Tommy professed, well, similar things. "My **girlfriend**!" Tommy finished loudly and proudly as Travis exclaimed, pointing, "-Ly _his _girlfriend!" Sadly, to this day, I have no idea which brother he was referring to. For a moment we all blinked in confusion, shocked that we'd blurted basically the same thing.

Okay, so we all said it louder than we were supposed to, and all our voices running together like that... Was enough to get us shushed. People stared, so then we had to fake smiles and continue calmly sitting down. Tommy's face was bright red and furious; Sadie was half-standing, and I was flushing like a tomato. I noticed the curious look Travis was giving us, and I felt my heart drop. Oh, crap. He knows. He knows! Or maybe he's just suspicious? Aiiie! Laurent, being Laurent, had to continue. "Tommy's had a lot of so-called _girlfriends... _How is she any different?" He pointed out rather crassly. Gee, thanks for reminding me of his ho-friends. Was he always this rude? Even Tory has manners.

Travis placed his hand on his grandfather's shoulder, trying to pacify him. This was his role as favorite grandchild. Strangely, Laurent was able to ignore Travis' passion for music. Cynically I figured this was just because he wasn't that famous, and he'd released the single under a different name. Apparently he was going with the Tommy angle? Makes me look better, I guess. "For one thing, Tommy brought her home for Christmas. You know as well as I do that Tommy's never brought a girl home to meet his family. Not even his ex-wife. And he's never stood up to you like that either," Travis murmured, trying in a rush to imply and clarify things about Tommy's varied feelings for me. I wasn't in a mood to contest the look Travis gave his grandfather. "She's Tommy's girl. Let her be. You mess with her again, and Tommy'll take your head off. It would be better if you'd just leave her alone. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about... You do not want to be on the receiving end of his fists of fury," Travis advised warningly.

A "thank-you" welled up inside me for him, especially when the comments seemed to quiet Laurent, who had realized the wisdom of Travis' words. I didn't like the feeling of being in Travis' debt, let alone the gratitude I suddenly felt towards him. But it's weird... He hasn't been this nice to me in a long time. So long I can barely remember. Him bein' nice to me is all dangerous, though. I mean it. I've got to watch myself. Might go and do something stupid because of it. After that, we sung a few songs I didn't know but that sounded vaguely familiar. I think one was in Latin. Another one was in French... And then one I knew. Tommy sure knew all the words, though, so that helped.

I'd missed most of his verses on Jesus' birth, which was a shame, 'cause that part seemed all warm and fuzzy... That Damned Laurent ruined it for me. So then the priest launched into what I'm told is a "hominy." It wasn't half-bad, really, but it was kinda boring, and there was an English translator, which made it freaking distracting. Weirdly, it wasn't your typical Christmas sermon. It wasn't really about giving... It was about forgiveness. "More than anything, Christmas is a time for forgiveness. It's the time to leave behind the past and move on with your life. The new year is coming, and with it comes a chance to start anew. Take it! If there's something in your life that's hurting you, some _poison _that's killing you from the inside-out... knocking you off the narrow path, get rid of it. It's time to let go of what's holding you back. Let go of your unhealthy habits, your shameful behaviors, your unhealthy relationships, your bitterness, and your resentment. Cast **down **your idols! And pursue what is right and good," The priest said somewhat sedately at first.

His sermon was surprisingly fiery, his eyes strangely convicting. I found myself focusing on his words.

"Peace on Earth and goodwill towards men! Now, we might never have peace on Earth, but we can have goodwill towards all men. It's not just about being kind to your friends, your neighbors, and people you like... It's about being kind to the people who make you want to scream and pull your hair out! Like your family, your enemies, the people who've wronged you. Christ tells us to love our enemies. You get back what you give in return, and genuine kindness... not politeness or forced civility... but real, true kindness from the heart... will be rewarded in the end. While you might have to fake the kindness at first, eventually it will blossom into the real thing. You might not get much out of it here, but loving your enemies helps you develop strength of spirit and a caring heart, and for _that _you will be rewarded in the Kingdom of Heaven!" The priest proclaimed rather spectacularly.

He paused to clear his head some, to clarify his statement. "Goodwill is not merely being kind, however. It is not merely the means to do good, but having the idea of doing it in the first place and the will to achieve it. Goodwill is wishing for the best for a person, for wanting them to achieve their full potential. It's in the heart, not just the hands. It's helping out your fellow man and having the spirit of a servant, but it's also having the right attitude. You have to be humble, to not think yourself above others, no matter their circumstances, because we all pale in comparison before the Lord Almighty God. No one is better than anyone else, so remember that fact before you decide that your rights are somehow more important than those of another. Be considerate above all in your dealings with others," He advised somewhat sternly.

I thought it was good advice, but I had the peculiar sensation that there was a particular relevance to the sermon that I was missing. Something really relevant to my own life. The priest made a theatrical gesture and resumed his original point... forgiveness. He sighed. "I'm not saying it's easy because it's not. Forgiveness is hard. That's why it is said that to err is human and to forgive divine. Remember the God who has forgiven _you _for all your sins when you knelt at his feet, begging for his mercy, and confessed with all the best intentions. Remember the God who has forgiven you of your sins before you were born... all you had to do was ask and repent," He implored, softening suddenly. It was a powerful appeal.

"The greatest gift of all is **Christ**, God's gift to _us... _He gave us his only son, the first, _best _Christmas present. He humbled himself by becoming mortal, and he died, sacrificing his life for ours on the crucifix, to ransom us out of slavery to sin, to Satan! Through his son, he endowed us undeserving, imperfect, **sinful **beings with divine grace, amazing mercy, and everlasting life. Christ suffered in _our _names so that we wouldn't have to so long as we love him and our neighbors and become a living example of his love, his life! What a small price we pay for the salvation we have no right to expect! Remember the God who _loves _you, who _knows _who you are inside and out and everything you've done, who _forgives _you for all your wrongs and _accepts _you as his own, despite all your flaws and imperfections. Remember the forgiveness he gave you the next time you find yourself unable to forgive another. If you deem someone unworthy of your forgiveness, then what does that say about you? What right do you have to deny them of the gift God gave you, you who is even **more **unworthy and undeserving before him than that person is before you?" He exclaimed passionately.

But back to forgiveness. "It's the hardest thing there is, but it makes you stronger. Forgiving someone, truly making peace with what that person did to you and harboring no lingering negative feelings for them allows you to move on with your life. You don't forget what they did to you, but you move past it. It doesn't consume you, but it happened... You've reconciled with that fact, and you've learned how to deal with it, maybe even how to prevent it from happening again. Rage and revenge are the coward's way out, don't you see? Only a coward clings to the past to avoid facing the future and moving on. Cowards cling to the resentment to avoid facing the person who wronged them, giving that person a chance to hurt them again, and sorting through their own feelings. **Don't **be a coward. Don't deny your feelings by bottling them up or putting them in a box or hiding your pain behind wrath. Face your feelings and deal with your past; don't let yourself be consumed by it. Only then can you make progress," He explained quite frankly.

To be honest, I was kind of astonished. It was kind of weird because I'd never really thought of forgiveness like that. It's not really my strong suit, to tell the truth. It made me feel guilty. I was fully aware of my own inferiority, but I hadn't done anything personally to God like cursed him out. Okay, so maybe I say his name in vain, and, sure, I've done some things that didn't make him proud... But still. It's just on a different level for me. How could anything I do personally offend God as much as what Shay did to me?

Will I ever forgive Shay or Eden? Probably not. But I don't really care about my issues with that bitch, and Shay is just not in my life anymore. It's not eating me up, but I've moved past it all the same. For the most part. I mean, I have trust issues, but Dad also cheated on Mom (which I've forgiven him for because I couldn't not. He's my Daddy, and I love him more than anyone!) and then there's the Tommy thing. But I'm workin' through that. And Travis, but, c'mon, forgiving your would-be rapist? It didn't happen THAT long ago, damn it. It was interesting to think of, at any rate. I twined my fingers with Tommy's. He turned to smile at me. Progress, huh?

The message came to its natural close. "So here's my advice for the new year... Forgive, forgive, _forgive, _even if it kills you. There is no better time than the holidays to make peace with your demons, your past... Make a commitment and keep your promise, whether it be to God, to yourself, or to another," He continued blithely. I couldn't help but whip my head around to look at Tommy, who was smiling distractedly and focused on the priest. He didn't notice my probing stare. Maybe he was absorbing the advice that had burned itself in my mind. Make a commitment. Keep your promise. It's like a message from God telling me that maybe, just maybe, this all might work out. Maybe Tommy really can...

"I ask you to take this time to repent of your sins, to make a fresh start and cleanse your conscience." Oh, believe me, forgiving some people... like Travis... would very well kill me. Forgiving him would be weak. It would be a sign that I approve or something of his behavior. His inexcusable behavior. He said this on cue, as only moments later, the Eucharist (Communion) was distributed. This is a swanky church, so they use real bread and wine, unlike churches that, say, use bagels and grape juice. Or crackers. Communion was half-committed to time of silent prayer and reflection.

After that there was one last song. "Gloria." You know the one. The melismatic one. _Glo-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-O-ri-a in Ex-cel-sis De-o!_ That one. Love that song. The song was followed by a prayer, a blessing, well wishes, and a hearty declaration of "Joyeux Noël!" Victoria informed us that we would be chatting, or, rather, that the family would for around thirty minutes, as the cathedral was crowded, and she wanted to wait until the traffic cleared up a little. Tommy and I exchanged a look, still holding hands. Needless to say we both knew what that look meant. Make-out time.

Shooting Tommy a warning look, I let him quietly drag me off, taking advantage of the crowds to blend in. Although I'm sure we didn't and were probably quite the striking pair. I pointed to his wrist on the way, reminding him we didn't have much time. He squeezed my hand, trying to pacify me. Sneaking around and the possibility of getting caught is kinda hot. I was more than surprised, however, when Tommy made a beeline for the confessionals. What, does he want to tell the bishop that we're together behind his brother's back? I opened my mouth to ask Tommy, but he shut me up fast with a finger to my lips, looking around before opening the door and pulling me in the priest's side. I guess he flicked the occupied sign or whatever... He did something so we would have some privacy.

I sat down next to Tommy on the bench, my thigh pressing against his. The space was obviously built for one, so it was a little uncomfortable. "What are you doing all the way over there, girl? C'mere," Tommy beckoned, pulling me towards him, eventually into his lap. As accustomed as I am to being all over Tommy in some capacity, that capacity is almost never his lap, so it was slightly awkward. I held on to him for dear life. Tommy flashed me his watch. 12:05. He pointed to the six. "I know we don't have much time, girl, but we'll be out of here by then. Trust me, no one will have even noticed that we were gone," He assured me. His lips turned up into a lopsided grin. "Now, I don't know about you, but I've been dying to kiss you ever since this morning... and given that we won't have any alone time until four in the morning... I'd like to take advantage of it," He whispered huskily.

Less than a second after that, his lips descended on my neck. "Ooh, ea-easy when you kiss me," I breathed, trying not to get lost in it. He started to kiss and lick his way down, but we were in church, so I jerked his head back up to mine, crashing my lips into his. I deepened the kiss immediately, hungry, no, starved for him. I smiled into his lips a lot more. Girlfriend, I thought. Wow. I let out a breathy moan, as he did something with his tongue that felt so ridiculously, sinuously good that I felt ashamed of it, and I shifted my hips, turning away from him. I twisted, bringing my ass up and away from him. One of my hands stayed on the wood for balance, but the other was on his cheek, bringing him closer and deeper. Since I'd pretty much jumped and straddled him, I had been slightly overenthusiastic. And loud with my crashing. I flattened my pelvis against his, playing with fire, I knew, but his groan was music to my ears.

Just as I was really getting into it... I'm talking like, for serious, here... I'd trailed my lips off his chin, bringing his head to the side, and I was staring at that tantalizing piece of flesh, just waiting to bite or suck it... The other door opens! Naturally, it was some bastard about to confess, as we found out when he started to speak. Both Tommy and I let out simultaneous groans. "Are you okay?" The bugger asked worriedly. Oh, I'm okay, but you won't be. People suffer when I'm unhappy.

Tommy let out a deliberate sigh and twisted his body so that his legs were spread out in the cell, his back against the wall, and his profile visible through the screen but not too clearly. Not at all reluctantly, he pulled my body further against his so that I was basically sprawled on top of him. He placed his hand on my lower back. "I'm fine, my son," Tommy answered smoothly, changing his voice masterfully to sound older and paternal. I didn't even recognize his voice. He paused for a moment. "But what about you? What's troubling you?" He asked, sounding like a counselor. I stared up at him in astonishment.

The person on the other side spoke hesitantly. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." Long pause of us waiting for description. "It's just... I've been thinking a lot lately, and the hominy only made things more clear. I've made a lot of mistakes lately, done a lot of bad things... Because I wanted revenge. And... none of it was worth it. I don't feel any better, and my life is just... I think it's gotten worse... I can't even look at myself in the mirror. I haven't been able to do that for five years. I... I'm not proud of the person I see reflected there, you know?" He said unsurely. There was a powerful undercurrent of pain running through his voice, and I felt bad for the guy. I wanted to reach out and hug him. I'm this huge softy at heart.

Faux Father Tommy nodded and seemed to ponder that. He pondered it until the pause burdened on uncomfortable. I could sense the confessee getting nervous. Tommy's voice was low and measured. "I understand. I know how that feels... Perhaps if you explain to me what you did and what happened, we can work through it. I'm sure there's some way that you can make amends," Tommy said calmly. I could hear the understanding, the sympathy in his voice, and knew that he'd been there too. A small part of Tommy still hated himself, and I could only imagine how his self-loathing had peaked when his life fell apart. There was a brief pause that ended when Tommy remembered something. "How long has it been since your last confession?"

There was a sigh on the other side, a sharp intake of breath. "Father, it's been five years since my last confession. Three years since I last set foot in a church," He said, drawing in a deep breath. I realized suddenly that I recognized the voice at probably about the same moment Tommy did. He looked more horrified than me, if that was possible. "Travis," we both mouthed at the same time, looking at each other.

His voice wavered, Tommy's, that is. "Would you like to tell me what happened?" His voice was shaky. There was a long, long pause in which Travis considered it, and I found myself waiting with baited breath.

"My wedding. It just... I found my future wife with my brother on our wedding day. In a confessional, actually. Funny, isn't it? That was the last time I confessed. I couldn't believe it... Things between us were already pretty awful, but I never thought he'd pull that. I felt so betrayed, and I was so furious and jealous that I wasn't seeing straight. My brother and I got into a fight afterwards... There was blood everywhere. He almost killed me. But I never forgave him for doing that to me, and I had a year of bedrest and rehab in the hospital with nothing to do but stew. I hated him so much, and my whole life fell apart, so that revenge was all I had..." Travis explained somewhat dryly. His voice, the hatred in it when he spoke, sent a chill down my spine.

The brother opened his mouth to talk, but Travis wasn't done yet. "I've spent so much time resenting him, hating him... and what has it accomplished? Nothing. I'm not any happier, and my life is so... empty. It's like that person I was back then was lost forever. I don't even know who I am anymore. I've done things I never thought I'd do... And everything I liked about myself got lost. It's like I'm a whole different person, someone like... like everything I hated about my brother," He elaborated, getting lost in his own words. I'd felt bad for him earlier, before I knew, and of course I'd known most of that... But despite myself, I felt sorry for him nonetheless.

For a long minute, Tommy was completely silent, digesting the information. Then he spoke, an apprehensive look on his face. "It sounds like you need to forgive your brother before you deal with your own issues... The falling out with your brother is what changed you into this person, and you can't get back to who you were unless you move past what happened all those years ago and let go of your resentment. It's not really the incident with your brother that changed you; it's the aftermath. Hatred and anger is an ugly thing, and _that's _what's transformed your personality... But, maybe you should look into seeing a therapist," Tommy advised, sounding very mature and responsible. I saw the effort on his face, the way he struggled to say the right words. He had a lot of pressure on him, and I wondered if Travis would actually listen.

At the very least, he seemed to weigh the words and take them into consideration. "I know you're right, Father. I want to forgive my brother. He's family, you know? And I still care... But it's hard... Because it's like he has everything I ever wanted, and I've got nothing. He's got his life together, and I never, _never _thought that I would be the one who was falling apart. It's more than just what happened with her. I've been jealous of my brother for so long, and there's been bad blood between us for ten years. Ten _years. _Ever since he chose the band over _me, _his family, his brother, his best friend... All of a sudden he was this big-shot, and he just left us in the dust. It's been part of me so long that I just can't forget it so easily, but I'm trying... and he's trying, I guess," Travis acknowledged, surprising all of us with his vulnerability. Tommy shot me a pained look.

He was feeling the same thing I was. That we shouldn't be listening to this. It was too intimate, too personal... I guess Tommy had a right to, but not me. I could tell it was good for Tommy to know, though, because there was no way in hell Travis would ever knowingly tell Tommy that. "Wow," Tommy murmured, looking kind of shell-shocked. He didn't say what I'd expected he would next. "I can't believe it's been ten years." Ten years since he left his family. Ten years almost since he'd picked his friends over the family that brought him down. Ten years since that depressed little boy changed and became the man I was looking at now. Eleven years since he'd joined Boyz Attack!. And ten years since the feud started.

Travis wasn't completely stupid, though. Tommy knew of his jealousy, but he'd never known that it ran so deep or that he was still so jealous and not just of his career. I don't think Tommy had realized how much his choice, made of necessity, had felt like a betrayal to Travis. It wasn't a betrayal on Tommy's part, though, not intentionally. It was the only way he could escape a life that was killing him. But Travis didn't see that. It's amazing how much siblings can misunderstand each other. "What did you say?"

Tom cleared his throat. "I asked you if there was anything else you wanted to say. Anything else you have to confess..." Tommy said, yawning. I shot him a look, but he shrugged.

There was a sharp intake of breath and a disturbingly long pause. My whole body stiffened and tightened because I knew exactly what he was debating telling the "priest." I wondered which desire would win out and waited breathlessly. Tommy straightened too, knowing instinctively what I'd realized. There was an anticipatory gleam in his eyes, and then Travis took a shallow breath and spat it out. "Father... I did a very bad thing. And the worst part is that at first I didn't even regret it... It was just... I didn't mean to do it, but it kind of happened, and I was so caught up in the moment and... Revenge. And lust. And I was so absolutely furious that I didn't even care. About anything. And getting revenge was the only thing I could think of."

I was frozen. It was difficult to hear that, but it was good for me to hear his reasons. And he'd implied that he regretted it now, at least. Tommy, on the other hand, was stiff with scarcely suppressed wrath. I ran my hand over his chest in an attempt to calm him, but it didn't work, so I leaned across him, stretching and lifting myself off of him just enough so that I could press my lips against his softly. Just to tell him that it was okay. That I was okay. I pulled back after the briefest of moments, resuming my previous position. Tommy let out a deep, shaking breath before giving me a look and asking the question he already knew the answer to. "Well, my son, what did you do?" He was barely able to keep his voice steady.

Travis waited a while before admitting it. Like he wasn't actually proud of it. "I tried to rape the girl my brother's in love with," He said shamefully, hanging his head. Then Tommy was stiff for a whole new reason. I closed my eyes instantly, not wanting to have to meet his gaze. Tommy doesn't get to hear people say that about him a lot, but I do. Every day it seems that someone's saying it. It's always someone who knows Tommy really well, too... Chaz, Sadie, his mother, Travis, Britney Spears, Tim, other people... Or the person's calling me on being in love with him. I held my breath and waited for either man to speak.

Tommy was definitely struggling for something to say. "Do you... Did you care for the girl?" I winced upon hearing the question, but I could tell Tommy wanted to know if it ran any deeper. He was a little breathless himself.

"Yes," Travis admitted readily. I could feel Tommy's gaze burning into my hair, but I kept my eyes closed. I knew he was wondering, though, wondering what exactly was there between us. Maybe he sensed there was more to the story. "She's... something special, all right." Not helping, Travis. I could sense that Tommy wanted to ask more, but I unbuttoned his jacket and slid my hands up his sides lazily. That sure shut him up.

Tommy sucked in a breath and waited a minute before asking Travis his next question. "You do regret what you did to her, don't you? You know it was wrong, right? You feel sorry for what you did, and you don't want to do it again, correct?" Tommy asked quickly, maybe too quickly.

"Yes to all of it," Travis muttered darkly. "I feel sorrier than I've ever felt. And I regret it. I don't want to do it again. I never meant to do it in the first place. I _promise _I won't do it again," Travis stated in a determined voice. He was serious.

I heard Tommy make a soft noise of assent. I cracked an eye open. He looked relieved. He waited for a moment, as if finding the words. "Have you told her that? Have you apologized to her and tried to make amends for what you did? If she can forgive you, then you can forgive yourself," Tommy questioned. I was surprised at the kindness in his voice.

Travis' voice was resolute. "I will." He said it like a promise, and I opened my eyes, still in disbelief. Most attempted rapists don't even try and apologize. My boyfriend, on the other hand, busted a punchbowl over my head. Still hasn't said sorry. Asshat. Travis paused for a long moment, thinking. "And I cheated on my fiancée. Oh, and I antagonized my brothers into fighting with me, injuring them. And I've used foul language, fornicated extensively... I don't remember how many times... And I called a woman a whore in numerous ways, which she did not deserve, and had numerous lascivious thoughts. Honestly, I've just been an asshole for basically the past three to five years," He blurted out.

My beloved nodded, and I couldn't help but smile amusedly. "Okay." He paused. "I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost," Tommy decreed, looking very much bored as he crossed himself. Travis let out a relieved sigh. "Work on earning her forgiveness and learning to forgive your brother. Ease into it. It takes time. For your penance... since what you've admitted to me is alternatively illegal and very grave, I'll say that you do the Rosary five hundred times, reflecting on what you've done, as well as trying to be a better person through extensive charity work and abstaining from the behavior you wish to stop. And, of course, attempting to make it up to those you have wronged," Tommy explained with authority.

I supposed that was a kind of cue because Travis shortly started praying, hands clasped. "My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against You, whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with Your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Your son, Jesus Christ, suffered and died for us. In His name, my God, have mercy. Amen," Travis recited. Tommy nodded, and Travis stood.

"Peace be with you," He said, waving goodbye to the departing man. The door creaked shut, and I waited with bated breath for a moment, tense against Tommy, counting in my head, estimating how long it would be before Travis was gone. I knew what I had to do. Tommy jerked his head up, rubbing his nose against mine. He fluttered his lashes at me, doing that flirty thing with his eyes that drove me wild. "We've still got about ten minutes left..." He whispered, lips brushing against my ear. My body wanted to stay there with him forever, but I was thinking with my brain (and the frontal lobe, not the pleasure center). And my brain knew I had to talk to Travis.

So I reluctantly pulled myself away from Tommy before he could protest, sending him a regretful look. "Babe, I'm sorry, but I have to talk to Travis." Tommy looked a bit irritated. I sighed. "Look, Tom, it's just something I have to do, and I'd rather do it here and now than later. This way we can't talk for too long, and it's a public place, so even if it goes sour, I'll be fine. Besides, you're the one who told him to talk to me, _Father, _and it'll look pretty suspicious if we both come out of here at the same time. So I'm going to get out of here before someone else comes to confess their sins to you. I'll see you at Réveillon, okay?" I explained a bit shortly, somewhat annoyed with him. Nevertheless, I kissed him before I left, shooting him a wink and making a comment about waiting to unwrap his present.

The church was still a bit crowded, so I had to look for Travis from a distance, lest someone notice I was missing (because I would think that me, Tommy, and Travis all disappearing at the same time would be suspicious, plus I didn't want Taylor to accuse me of having a three-way with them. Although... how hot would that be? Hell, it would solve my problem, wouldn't it?). Travis wasn't anywhere in the crowd of his family/guests, so I sought out a secluded chapelesque area. It was empty and pretty dark there, only lit by candles and faux candelabras. And, naturally, when I rounded the corner, there he stood, lighting several candles. I realized I was nervous, but I swallowed and said his name.

Travis turned around immediately. When he saw me, his eyes lit up. A smile slowly spread across his face as he walked towards me. "Just the person I wanted to see," He exclaimed. Him coming so close made me uncomfortable, but I made myself smile. More like just the person you think a priest told you to make amends to but the priest was really your biased brother who's actually my beloved boyfriend. Travis finally came close enough to take my hands in his. His palms were clammy, and I noticed he was still at a distance, which eased my mind some. "I'm so sorry, Jude," He breathed sincerely, squeezing my hands.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, exhaling softly. Those were the words I'd been waiting for, and it had been good to hear them. But it wasn't enough. It seems like everybody's apologizing lately... or I'm always feeling sorry for someone or something. And I'm sick of it. "What, you think you can just say sorry, and everything that you did to me goes away?! Well, I'm _sorry, _Travis, but sometimes sorry doesn't cut it," I retorted, unable to forgive him just yet. I remembered suddenly that Tommy had said those very words to me many months ago. They'd stung.

He stopped smiling and looked like I'd felt then, only less _crushed. _His grip on my hands slackened. "I know that doesn't erase what happened, Jude. I wish I could take it back, and I would if I could... but I can't. All I can do is tell you that I'm sorry, that I know what I did was wrong, and that I _promise _never to do it again. More than that, though, I'm sorry that I _ever_, even for a second, made you think it was your fault. Because it wasn't. It was entirely my fault, my issues, my anger... I'm also sorry that I didn't apologize earlier, that I acted like I _wasn't _absolutely ashamed and horrified of what I'd done for one minute. Because I was and I am. What I did to you was terrible, and you _didn't _deserve it. You **never **deserved it," Travis apologized, eying me with those big, watery green eyes of his.

Damn it if he didn't look sorry. Sorry bastard. But that wasn't enough to make me forget. "You'll forgive me if I have trouble believing you. In my experience, you can't count on a Quincy to keep a promise," I said bitterly, scowling and shaking my hands free from Travis's grip. He flinched at the comparison. Okay, maybe it wasn't fair to hold what Tommy's done in the past against his brother... Maybe it's my fault for falling for it.

See, after what Travis did, he has to take my little comments like that. He sighed, nodding slowly. "I completely understand if you can't trust me... I don't deserve your trust. I've given you no reason... And Tommy doesn't help matters. But unlike my brother, I tend not to break my promises... and I'm not going to break this one to you, girl. I give you my word. I won't do it again. I'll swear on anything you want," Travis swore, looking me in the eyes. His stare was intent, and I had a sinking feeling he meant it. I felt suddenly small. I still couldn't forgive him.

I took a deep breath, trying to explain it to him. "Look, Travis, I get that you're sorry, and that you regret it. And I know you only did it because of Tommy and revenge and control and frustration, and it wasn't like you'd planned it. It was about revenge more than anything. I know all that... But I made a promise to myself, Travis. I promised myself that I would never forgive you, and I can't forget either," I elucidated wearily. Yeah, I felt bad for what had happened to him, but what happened to me was unacceptable. He knows better than that. He was raised better than that, and if I told his mother, she'd kick his ass, favorite son or not.

My teacher moved to say something, but I beat him to the punch, shaking my head. "You don't understand what that experience was like for me. You don't _know _what it's like to feel violated. And not just the one time, but again and _again... _You always pushed the envelope a little further. It's more that just that, okay? It's the fact that no one believed me. The administration took your side over mine, and I felt like I betrayed Joan when she came in and interrupted! I shouldn't have had to feel like that, Travis, when you were freaking trying to **rape **me! But I did," I snapped, hearing my voice quake a little.

Sighing, I carried on with what I had to say, even though it was hard, and my voice was breaking. I'm strong. I can do this. "You can't possibly know how dirty and cheap I felt afterwards. How used I felt. I lost my innocence and my self-respect that day, Travis. Hell, I even lost my voice! And then the way you acted made me feel like some slut who deserved what she got. You made me feel like I _was _asking for it, Travis. Do you know what happened to me after that, Travis? Do you know what I did? Do you? I almost had sex with Tommy because I wanted to forget what _you _did," I found myself confessing to him. I hadn't meant to tell him that, so he could call me a bigger slut, but it just slipped out. The tears dripped down my face.

However, I wasn't done yet. Travis tried to put his hands on me, looking aghast that I'd almost screwed Tommy to get him out of my head (come to think of it, he also looked super smug). I flinched away from Travis, backing up. My shoulders shook, my fingers swiped helplessly at my eyes as the tears cascaded down my cheeks. I felt horribly vulnerable and cold, so I wrapped my arms around myself, staring out at him through blurred eyes. "The worst part of it is that before that day, I actually started to _like _you. I mean, I was totally **crushing **on you, half-head-over-heels, butterflies, writing cheesy love songs, the works, in the worst way, even though I was all banged up. And just like that you betrayed my trust! I thought that you _meant _it when you said you had feelings for me, Travis, and that just proved you never felt that way at all! A guy who had _real _feelings for me would never do what you tried to do!" I screamed at him, airing every last dirty feeling I could think of. A betrayal, that's what it was.

I think I wanted to say more, but the words didn't come so fast, and Travis needed his turn, I guess. And I was sobbing like a complete fool, even though I wasn't supposed to, so it's no shock he could speak when I couldn't. He blindsighted me by wrapping his arms around me before I could even protest. "I did, Jude. I _do. _I never lied to you... I would never lie to you about that," Travis whispered, pulling me closer. I was too drained to pull away. The words reassured me some, and I knew that he hadn't been lying... and, really, when had Travis ever lied to me? He'd said mean things, cruel things he apparently didn't believe, in rage, but he'd never outright lied to my face, had he? "I know I've said a lot of awful things to you, Jude, and I'm sorry for that. Sometimes I see Tommy when I look at you... and I can't control it. I'm completely messed up inside, Jude," He said honestly. I nodded, still half-sobbing, agreeing with him whole-heartedly. He's jacked up, all right.

It's almost funny, though. Sometimes I see him when I look at Tommy. And vice-versa. When I was a little stronger, I pulled away from Travis' shoulder, wiping frenetically at my eyes. I understood it on the one level, but not in my heart, you know? "Travis, if you really have feelings for me, then **how **could you do something like that?! And, while we're at it, _why _do you have feelings for me?!" I demanded stubbornly, backing away from him to stand on my own swaying two feet. I wanted to know; I deserved to know.

Travis sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly, as if he was frustrated. "I got to know you, Jude, and I got to see and appreciate all the wonderful qualities my brother sees in you. How you're stubborn and feisty and fiery and snappy and strong and so real and raw and fearless and determined and impulsive and bold and relentless and vivacious and flirtatious and _convicting _and openminded and warm and expressive and patient and _challenging _and absolutely beautiful... And how you're so _full _of amazing music that it's just waiting to burst out of you! The way you don't stop and take things too far and do things without thinking and always have a comeback for everything... And I **love **how you wear your heart on your sleeve and aren't afraid to show how you feel, and you're so open to letting people into your life and loving them as they are. I never know what to expect from you, Jude... You're always a surprise... usually a good one," Travis told me softly, looking at me with eyes that got progressively more animated.

He reached out for my hand, and I was so transfixed that I let him take it and found myself moving closer to him almost against my will. It seemed more like something Tommy would say, and I wondered briefly if maybe that was where it had come from. Does Tommy even feel that way about me? Maybe Travis' feelings for me ran deeper than I thought. Travis leaned in to whisper into my ear. "I don't ask just anyone to marry me, Jude, and I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think we could make each other happy," He murmured flirtatiously, making sure I felt his breath on my neck. His lips pressed a hot kiss to my jaw, and I felt myself flush.

Strangely, I had the bizarre feeling that Travis was right about that. He was so earnest and desperate that night, and he promised he'd be good to me, give me whatever I wanted, treat me right... He even offered to _be _Tommy for me. Maybe I could learn to love him too, if I gave it half a shot. But I wasn't about to do that. Definitely not with Tommy in the picture. "You can't just force yourself on me again and again and assume I'll accept it or forget. It's a pattern with you, Travis, a pattern we can't break," I replied somewhat shortly, trying my hardest to resist, to be mean to him while I still could. Eventually I'd be sorry for him all over again.

As I said this, I dropped his hand and moved away from him, suddenly needing air to breathe. Travis' jaw tightened, and green rage blazed in his eyes. But I wasn't afraid. "Then what do you want me to do, Jude?! What can I do to earn your forgiveness?! I'll turn myself in if that's what you want. I'll resign... I'll retire... I'll tell them the truth... I'll move away. I'll do **anything**! Cut off my hand, gouge out my eyes, back off Joan, marry Kate, quit my job, never play music again, get down on my knees, grovel at your feet, write you a whole album of apologies... Anything you ask of me! Just, _please, _forgive me!" Travis inquired in desperation and frustration, practically on his knees already, begging. At that very moment, I wielded a lot of power and could've made Travis do whatever I wanted him to, but I didn't.

I sighed, shaking my head at him, looking down at my feet. It's all a bit much, isn't it? Why was he willing to go to such lengths for my forgiveness? "You don't have to do that, Travis... any of it," I said quietly. At this point, what would any of it really accomplish? Some of it might make me feel a little better, but it won't make me forget. I stared at him for a long, hard moment. "Why do you want my forgiveness so bad?"

Travis sighed, looking rather downtrodden. He reached out for me, grabbing my shoulders but not painfully. "I can't forgive myself if you can't forgive me," He proclaimed dramatically, pulling me closer. I blinked at him in confusion. That was basically what Tommy had told him, but still... "I don't like who I am now. I wasn't always like this... I don't want to be like this. And I know what I tried to do was unforgivable. It happened to me too, and I can't forget or forgive myself either. I have to live every day with the knowledge that I'm the kind of person who sank low enough to do that horrible thing, and I'm _just _as grateful as you are to Joan for stopping it," Travis stated bluntly, loudly even, perhaps a bit angrily. He shook me a little but not on purpose.

Honestly, I was kind of surprised because I'd never thought of it like that. Like he was a victim too because, well, duh, he was the perpetrator. I thought it over for a minute. Unless some other personality took over him at that moment, I don't see how he can feel violated. He just feels low because of what he did. Maybe I ought to give Travis a taste of his own medicine, then, so he knows how it feels... but how could I do that when I'm weaker than he is?

With the element of surprise, of course. Briefly, I contemplated saying something to Travis to almost warn him, but I didn't. So it came as a surprise when I knocked his hands off my shoulders, grabbed his wrists, and pushed him back into the cold, hard wall. I shoved him into a shadowy alcove. Remembering all the times Travis had done the same thing to me, I pushed my body up flat against his. I pressed him harder against the wall, rubbing up against him deliberately. I felt his heartbeat race underneath my fingers.

And then I was at a turning point. Unfortunately I was too short, and my hands were too small to pin his wrists to the wall like he'd done to me. So I pulled back just a little and twisted Travis' arm, jerking it behind his back, wrenching it. Then I slammed back into him, effectively squashing his arm behind his back. The other wrist I pinned to the wall by his head. My eyes locked with Travis', but there was more confusion than panic written there. Actually, there was also more pain than either of those emotions. So I crashed my lips into his, kissing him in that bruisingly hard way he had always kissed me.

I didn't feel anything, and being that close to him didn't affect me. For once. I was showing him a lesson, that's all. So I wasn't cheating on either of his brothers. And I wasn't doing it because I wanted to. I was doing it because he needed to know how it felt... but more than that, I was doing it for me. I tried to remember all he'd done to me and tried my best to replicate it.

It was important that I assault him before he could respond like he was enjoying it. So I bit down hard on his lip, like he'd done to me, tasting the blood and sucking on his bottom lip, mashing my mouth against his so that his lips would bruised, chapped, and swollen. I forced my tongue down his throat, my movements rough, not soft. My fingers whipped down his blazer, undoing the buttons in a blink. I ran my free hand over his chest, making sure to clutch his wrist so hard I felt the bruises forming under my iron fingers. I squeezed his muscles, running my fingers over the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the muscles tense beneath my hand. I trailed a finger down his stomach, slipping it between two of the buttons and grasping at his bare skin. I felt him shudder and kept going.

My finger made a path down the rest of his stomach, following the smooth, firm line of his abdominal muscles. The muscles clenched as my fingers trailed over them. My index finger finally stopped at his waistline, and I smirked at the sharp intake of breath as my finger brushed back and forth over the sensitive area of flesh above the elastic of his boxers. I smirked at Travis then, just like he would've smirked at me, but I wasn't really getting my jollies out of it. Then I pulled my hand out of his shirt, just as abruptly, making sure to feel him up first. I jerked up his belt, knowing it made him uncomfortable, and then I grabbed his crotch while ravaging his lips.

In the next moment, I trailed my lips wetly down his neck, glancing distractedly at Travis' watch. Almost time. I bit his neck lightly, not wanting to hurt him as badly as he'd hurt me. I wasn't a savage or, for that matter, a vampire. Travis winced and I kissed my way down his neck a little further, sucking on it as painfully as I could. Let's give him an angry red mark so he looks like a whore. I sucked until it hurt me to do it and then pulled away. Then I shot him a dark glare, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants, jerking his zipper down. I slithered my hand inside, grabbing him hard.

Now, don't get me wrong here! I'm not about to give Travis a handjob in this nice, beautiful church on Christmas Eve, especially not when Tommy just said he wants to be my boyfriend, and I'm still dating Taylor, who mistakenly thinks I'm in love with him. Hell, I'm pretty sure I haven't even grabbed Tommy. And jeez, since when does Travis wear briefs? Not that I'm complaining, 'cause boxers have that stupid button thing and then the little hole for... yeah. Like I said, I was trying to prove a point. Not too sure if it's working, though, given that Travis seems a bit turned on. Then again, I'm not a guy, so it seems perfectly logical that randomly grabbing a guy's groin would result in a little arousal. Wow. My life is seriously effed up.

But I was gonna make sure he was damn well wound up before I left him high and dry. And hard. I waited for the right moment, noticing that we were almost out of time. Guess the rest of this discussion will have to be a fast one. Quickie. Ugh. Then, out of nowhere, I pulled my hand out of his pants, dropped his wrist, and stepped back a good five feet. "Do you feel violated _now, _Travis? It's no picnic being made to do stuff against your will, now is it?" I hissed, hands on my hips. Nevermind that they felt dirty. For a glorious moment, I had been the one with all the power. "And I'm not even a fully grown man who's bigger and stronger than you, Travis. Just imagine being raped in prison. Even I don't hate you that much, Travis," I stated coolly.

For a moment Travis merely leaned against the wall, stunned and breathless, staring me down with those dark, furious eyes of his. The lust reflected there made me sick. He'd probably liked it more than he gave off, the sick bastard. Eventually, though, Travis regained his senses and averted his gaze, stretching his twisted arm and hurriedly redoing his pants and belt. Embarrassment was written all over his face, and for once Travis actually looked undone. But it was a fleeting moment. "What the hell was that, Jude?" Travis muttered irritatedly, fixing his clothes.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "That was me trying to do to you what you did to me, Travis. A little payback for all those times you forced yourself on me. You needed to know what it felt like to be powerless, to be at someone else's mercy. Now, see, the only difference is that I wasn't doing that to piss your brother off or because I want to have sex with you. You don't like feeling out of control, now do you?" I rejoined cruelly, brushing myself off. I stared Travis down levelly. Maybe now I can try to forgive him.

Or I've just made things worse. These things are often crapshoots.

Travis ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground. "I know what it's like to not be in control of my own life, Jude. That afternoon I... It was like someone else was controlling my body, making me do and say those awful things, some part of me maybe... But the rest of me, the thinking, feeling half was just watching it happen. And I couldn't do anything to stop it. It was like I was trapped inside my own body with my mind and my reason completely disconnected. I didn't want to... to do that, but I couldn't make myself stop. You're not the only one who felt powerless that day! You're not the only one who felt dirty and cheap and violated," Travis informed me quietly in a voice that was semi-hard and horrified more than anything else. There was a caged, haunted look in his eyes as he talked about it, and he closed his eyes briefly. The whole time he was unable to look at me. Not that I could blame him.

Blink, blink. What the hell is _he _talking about? Is he trying to say _he _felt violated that day? That he _didn't _want to do that? Forgive me, but why should I believe him? That Travis is the Travis I know, the man of inconsistencies! Plus, dude, I think I can tell he wanted me that day. It was pretty damn obvious. Saw it up close and personal, thanks. Unless his soul had gone out of his body or something (which, actually, would make sense? But he's not dying...)... Or maybe one of those dissociative state things Sadie's talking about. Damn her and her Intro to Psychology. Maybe I should make her counsel this wacko. He'd be enough to turn her off being a shrink, that's for damn sure!

I glowered at Travis. He wasn't getting out of it so easy. Ooh, waaah, waaah, waaah... A ghost took over my body and made me do things I didn't want to do. That's a little too cartoon for me, Quincy. A little too like you've been watching Danny Phantom instead of grading papers. Someone else. Sure. That's hella convenient, isn't it? Travis managed to backpedal before I could say something vicious like I wanted to. "I'm not trying to get out of responsibility here because I know what I did, and that _I_ did it, and I know it was wrong, but I don't know why I did it... and maybe it wasn't all me, huh? Jude, I'm **not **_that _guy," Travis said firmly, managing this time to look me in the eyes. Wasn't all you? What, did you have **help**?! He looked a little afraid, like he was worried I'd hit him or something, which he would've had coming.

Well, Tommy said he wasn't either, and NOW look at him! So duh, I rolled my eyes. That guy, Einstein, just so happens to be the _you _I know. So, yeah, to me, maybe, just maybe, you are That Guy. He leaned back against the wall, tugging on the ends of his hair, looking mad. "I'm all mixed up! I... I don't know what's wrong with me, but something's not right inside," He muttered in a whisper so low I barely heard it. I don't think I was supposed to. It sounded like he was going insane, and I began to worry. Honestly, I kind of believed him, the eerie way he said it. A lot of things about Travis just didn't add up.

Maybe I ought to reconsider my position? After all, who knows how f-messed up he is inside?! He's definitely more nutso than I am. By miles and miles. I mean, aside from guys ditching me for Sadie, and, really, that was only a couple... and her getting all the attention and whatnot... My issues are much less chronic than his. Constant strife and competition with his brother growing up, getting his ass whupped by Tommy, the crappy relationship and falling out with Tommy, the Kate misunderstanding, getting overshadowed by Tommy fame-wise, his unsuccessful career compared to Tommy's mega-hit success doing integrity-less music, girlfriend after girlfriend using him to get to Tommy and ditching him for Tommy, his parents divorcing essentially because of him... I'm sure he had mega head trauma. And all that time to stew can't be healthy...

While I was pondering all this, Travis spoke sincerely. "And, honestly, I don't know why I do the things I do sometimes, Jude, but I'm sorry. For everything that I've done to you." You can only say sorry so many times, though, buddy. But he was sincere. There was a... certain note in his voice that rang genuine. That had to be something, right?

But how do I know he's really, truly sorry? How do I know he's not just sorry he got caught and wants to make nice with me to get back into Joan's graces?

I held my ground. He's swayed me one way then the other, but he hasn't managed to convince me of anything. I remembered some of our earlier showdowns and found my next choice in words more than appropriate. "_Night after night some new plan to blow up the world. Night after night another old man kissing some young girl. You look for salvation, you find __**none**_," I recited bitterly, shooting him a dirty look, crossing my arms over my chest. It was my way of saying I wasn't forgiving him. No hope for you here.

Catching on to my theme, Travis matched me word for word. "_Oh, ev'ry girl that ever I've touched, I did not do it harmfully. Oh ev'ry girl that ever I've hurt, I did not do it knowin'ly. But to remain as friends and make amends... You need the time and stay behind. And since my feet are now fast and point away from the door... I'll bid farewell and be down the line_," He told me, trying his best to express the sorrow, the regret he felt... trying to emphasize the way he really was seeking to make it right. I blinked. What, is he saying he's gonna leave? Just walk away like that? Or maybe... maybe he gets that I need more time, and that I can't just up and decide to forgive him.

But I have to say I disagree. He hurt me knowingly. He touched me harmfully. So I'm the big fat exception to all his politeness. Well, that's just great. "_Do you love me, or are you just extending goodwill? Do you need me half as bad as you say, or are you just feeling __**guilt**__? __I've been burned before and I know the _score, _so you won't hear me complain. Will I be able to _count _on you... or is your love in vain?_" I questioned harshly, demanding to know the truth, expressing frankly my disbelief. I'll answer Dylan with more Dylan, and it doesn't matter how you say it. Or if you sing it. I didn't care if Travis loved me, and I was pretty damn sure he didn't... I wanted to know about his sincerity. If he really needed and wanted my forgiveness just as badly as he said, and if he was asking for it only because of guilt or... because it was the right thing to do, and he really did feel awful. And I wanted to know if he'd be able to keep his promise to me about NEVER DOING IT AGAIN.

Travis walked towards me slowly, and I let him. He kept his distance, though, and I let him. He reached out for me hesitantly, grabbing my hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it smoothly. "_Sorry if I hurt you, baby._" I'm nobody's baby, least of all his! He grabbed my other hand before I could protest and did the same. And you **did **hurt me, asshole! "_Sorry if I did._" Our eyes locked, and he let go of my hands before I could slug him. Through the next lines, Travis made sure not to touch me. "_Sorry if I touched the place where your secrets are hid. But you meant more than anything, and I could not pretend... I ain't __**never **__gonna be the same again_," Travis sang softly. A haunted look appeared there, and I realized it was true.

Neither of us are the same. Him too. It's not _just _me... I paused, thinking of an appropriate concluding reply. "_There's a wall between you and what you want, and you gotta leap it_," I advised resolutely, straightening up. My eyes hardened towards him, and I couldn't help but notice the way he gulped. You've got to work a little harder, boy. It'll take more than that to break through to my heart, to really appeal to me, and knock down these steel traps of defenses I've built up to keep you out. So, Charles, you better try being persuasive... "_Tonight you got the power to __**take **__it_," I declared, a dark look flitting across my face at the memory of that _other _night.

I paused, sighing and quickly sucking in a breath. "_Tomorrow you won't have the power to keep it,_" I said finally, and the spell was finished. So you better make your last entreaty now.

Travis surprised me by getting down on his knees right there on the cold marble floor, holding his hands out, clasped in a prayerful position. "Please, Jude... Can you at least find it in your heart to _try _to forgive me? I've said all I can think of to say, and I realize you wo-_**can't **_forgive me overnight, but... I'm so sorry it happened, and I know that that doesn't mean much, and that these words _are _just words, and they're not enough... but that's how I really feel, and I **know **I can't apologize enough, and you're probably sick of hearing it, but I've got to keep saying it because maybe if I say it enough one day the words will finally be _enough _to express what my heart is trying to say, how very deeply sorry I truly am. I'm sorry for all the awful things I've said and done to you and how **low **I've made you feel... I didn't mean any of it and I don't know why I did what I did, but I... I regret it, all of it. And I _promise _you that I'll never do what I tried to do to you again. You have my _word, _my honor, my **life**,cross my heart and hope to die if I dare to tell you a lie," Travis implored most earnestly, sweetly too, with all the suffrage he could muster up.

And just like that, I felt something break inside of me at his words, at the way he actually crossed his heart, and the way he did it so fervently. His hands were shaking, and he looked so... innocent and trustworthy in the dim combination of candlelight and moonlight, and so smooth and clean, tinted blue. New year, right? Time to wash away your old sins... and start anew. Little by little, I found myself being convinced.

He licked his lips, and his burning liquid green eyes were flighty creatures, like dragonflies. Determination and resolve shone emerald and hard. "If it... If I break my promise to you, Jude, I'll turn myself in with no regrets, without looking back. Because if I do it again, then I am that guy that I hate, that I fear, that stranger to myself, that alien in my skin... and a prison's where I belong, so I can't get out and hurt anyone else like I've hurt you," Travis swore, a look of deep disgust crossing his pretty face, making his features hard like landmarks. He held his hand out to me, palm facing up. "Please, just give me a chance. Tell me you'll try. I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll do anything you ask of me if it gets me any closer to getting in your good graces," Travis pleaded. His fingers beckoned to me with little twitches.

And, with that, I knew for sure. There were no doubts... He'd managed to convince me after all. If he was willing to do that, to go that far, then... I was about to give him a proper response when some idiots naturally rounded the corner and gasped. Fortunately none of them were in our party, but Travis kneeling in front of me sends off a pretty strong message. "Look, honey, the young man's proposing on Christmas Eve! How romantic!" A tourist loudly exclaimed. I tried carefully not to wince and hoped they didn't recognize me or mistake Travis for his brother, and then I grabbed Travis' hand and pulled him up.

I plastered on a smile as we dashed past the couple, shooting a glare at their backs only moments later. Scanning the ever-thinning crowd for familiar faces, I spotted the lot of them... including Tommy. Great. I turned to Travis, grabbing his shoulders fiercely, knowing I had mere moments left. I nodded curtly. "Okay. I'll try. As long as you get some serious psychiatric help," I agreed shortly before whirling around and dashing off to his family so they'd think I was there the whole time. Hopefully the boyfriend covered for me. Truthfully, though, I'd mostly forgiven Travis. Why shouldn't I? He was genuinely sorry and regretful, and he'd been so desperate for forgiveness. Besides, what's past is past. I'm taking a page out of the priest's book. I'm with Tommy, and I'm happy. So why waste my time and energy hating Travis when I don't really want to?

Moments later, Travis and I were both safely immersed in the crowd, and the whole band of Quincys, Ruelles, LaFramboises, and friends exited the premises for the comfort of the family castle. We all promptly removed our coats and were hurried into the dining hall, where a massive feast sat warm and waiting for us. C'est le Réveillon, as they say!

We were using the long table this time, so that everyone could be seated at the same table. Naturally Laurent assumed the head of the table, and his two eldest took their places next to him. I wound up once again between Sadie and Tommy, across from a visibly changed Travis and la pauvre Kate. She was stiff, cold, and couldn't look at him. Chaz sat next to Sadie, since they'd been awfully chummy lately, and Taylor and his... costar... remained annoyingly close for discomfort.

That being said, I put that all aside because it was Christmas Eve, and all the food looked delicious. As for the glorious food... All of it was ridiculously delectable-looking, and there was enough of it to serve an army. There were large tureens of baked beans, pea soup, and eggnog. There were smaller bowls also of cranberry relish, various salads, and caviar... dishes of imported foie gras, steamed lobster covered with a rich cream sauce, plates crowded with rows and rows of oysters, boulettes (tiny meatballs) smothered in a wine sauce, roast turkey surrounded by roasted chestnuts. There were heaping plates of various cheeses, ranging from Le Riopelle de l'Isle to odorous French cheese, and tons of desserts... Christmas cookies smeared with thick frosting in every flavor imaginable, piled high... There was a tall gingerbread cake surrounded by gingerbread people. Layers and layers of multicolored marzipan stacked up in one corner, hot apple and cherry strudel and fritters in another corner.

There was a large serving dish covered with a pyramid of beignets. And another with shortbread on it, still more plates heavy with fruitcake. Tory had truly outdone herself. There were steaming mugs of hot chocolate and apple cider, and tangy steins of bière d'épinette (spruce beer), tinkling glasses of bubbly champagne, numerous bottles of fine red wine of good vintage that flowed in and out of glasses like water. Several pumpkin pies adorned the table, as well as several traditional delicious maple pies, and then, of course, a massive mouthwatering bûche de Noël that looked so real I thought it was an actual log in practically the middle of the table. It was made of fine Swiss and Belgian chocolate, dark and milk and white, all flavors of it delicious. Then there were the condiments peppered all over the table: ketchup, pepper, salt, dijon mustard, salad dressing, whipped cream, and maple syrup. A large, multilayered tourtière stood tall and proud in the middle of it all.

I had thought that was it until Tory got up and came in with a tureen chock full of stuffing under one arm, and a smaller, hot version of the tourtière in the center of the table resting on a plate atop her palm. She set the stuffing down in the first available spot she saw and put the tourtière on Tommy's plate. Tory smiled at her son affectionately, ruffling his hair, as Tommy merely stared at her. "You remembered?" He asked, stunned. I noticed his greedy eyes checking out what she'd placed before him.

Tory allowed herself a smile. I noticed Tom's greedy nose smelling it. "Of course I did... It's your favorite, Tommy. A mother never forgets," She said immediately, turning as if to return to her seat. Tommy, however, grabbed her wrist and suddenly rose to his feet, turning Tory around. She looked very confused and even somewhat worried, but Tommy merely embraced her in a bear hug, pulling her closer before pressing a warm kiss to each cheek. Then he beamed and let his very confused mother go. Aww. Shortly after that there was a prayer and a toast, and we all dug in. I complimented Tory on her stuffing. "It's Stovetop," She informed me. I found a particular irony in the statement. My mother would've used the same. I missed her.

We all ate and chatted with gusto. Many poured ketchup all over their tourtière, but to Tommy this was sacrosanct. Although he did pour maple syrup over pretty much everything else he ate if it didn't already have a sauce. I swear I thought I was going to gain a hundred pounds! And then Tommy passed me the plate of Whippets, which are only my favorite chocolate-covered marshmallow treat ever. And I practically devoured the whole bunch. I was also a little drunk from all the wine and champagne and spruce beer, so my head was a little heady, plus I was high on sugar. So I don't remember most of the two hours of merry-making.

I do remember that after dinner was over, Tory ushered all of our very full, very sleepy asses into this huge living room. Apparently all the Christmas cheer missing in the rest of the house had been sucked into this one room, which was festooned with tinsel, ribbon, tiny stars, fake snow, Santas, reindeer, sparkly things, a large, lovely crèche, a piano for gathering around and singing Christmas carols, a large, lit fireplace draped in stockings, a remarkably impressive table display of Christmas cards, and, of course, a GIANT Nova Scotian Christmas tree, fragrant and fresh, bedecked with all sorts of beautiful ornaments and an elaborate skirt. Presents were stacked one on top of the other... Maybe even thousands. I was in Winter Wonderland.

Tory took on her role as family matriarch and said that after opening the first present, everyone was free to do as they wished. What she really meant was that everyone who wasn't staying at her house was free to leave (but that her real family was practically required to open their presents on Christmas Eve... It's a Canadien thing). But she wanted them to stay, of course. Practically all the guest rooms were ready, and just about everyone was drunk and happy. Nevertheless, everyone got one gift and we all tore them open at the same time. I had opened Theo's present to me, which was a vintage record of the single I was named after. The packaging was in remarkably good quality, and, furthermore, it was signed by all The Beatles.

Naturally, I thanked him with a hug (Theo said it was more of an album release present, but that he hadn't known me long or well enough to buy me something else) and set the record carefully in my chair before moving on to the next one. It was a gift from Victoria. I opened it to find a dazzling pair of sapphire drop earrings that perfectly matched the necklace Taylor had given me. Naturally, I had to find her. The gift was way too much, and I knew the woman wasn't that generous. When I found her, Tory was slightly tipsy, a glass of champagne in hand, and looking very happy. She was also sitting on the couch with her other arm draped possessively around Theo's neck. She waved off my concerned inquiry. "Jude, darling, take it. It's not like I'm the first Quincy to ever give you any jewelry... Besides, you're going to wear those jewels someday, so I might as well give them to you now and let you get used to them. I would've opted for rubies, personally, but Taylor already gave you that massive necklace of mine, and it'd clash, plus they match your hair. You'll get the matching bracelet for your birthday, okay?" She remarked somewhat drunkenly.

She didn't slur, but she was looking way too happy to be truly herself. And then Celine Dion music started playing, so I was a little suspicious. By the way, Taylor totally got me her new CD and some of her francophone stuff, which was really cool of him (betcha Tommy tipped him off). He also got me a movie because he got practically everyone a movie, and he knows movies. Just not clothes. Ironically, his choice was Red-Headed Woman, which is a pre-Code movie about a girl who shacks up with a married man and then has an affair with this other guy and his chauffeur, and she's basically a ho. Then again, it was also pretty controversial, and I guess I am too. But, still! Way to reinforce the redheads are sluts and so are you, Jude, stereotype.

Sadie gave me your typical cute but cheap wearable jewelry. Sisterly stuff... Travis apologized and said that his gift was really the best he could think of, and that he hadn't known what to get me for the longest time. And blah, blah, blah. So I just opened the lumpy package, which just so happened to be large basket. Fortunately a picnic basket so they didn't see all that nutter got me. The large basket contained mace and a taser (bold step there buddy), my very own non-pirated deluxe copy of ProTools, a really warm blanket, some chocolates, and, oddly, the CD I'd mentioned to him- his CD. It also, I should add contained red silk sheets, a jumbo pack of Extra-Large Trojans, massage oil, and raspberry lip gloss. Damn raspberries! Oh, and a letter that I opened worriedly. It turned out to be Travis' promise to me written in legalese and fancy calligraphy, making it a legally binding contract with his signature and everything. That almost made up for all the creepy sex stuff.

Almost. There was a Post-It stuck to the condoms (naturally I was too mortified to take those out of the basket!)... _C'mon, Jude, did you __**honestly **__think I wasn't going to figure it out? Do I look like Taylor to you?_ I winced at that comment, staring at the note. _But, I've never seen my brother happier. Congratulations to the two of you. I know you've both wanted this for a long time... and, frankly, I'm impressed you managed to keep your hands off each other for this long, so consider this my encouragement to go for it. Not that either of you needs much of that, I'm sure._ I made a face. Why do I have the feeling he's going to get crude? _Anyway, I hope it works out for you two crazy kids. Have fun and be safe. And Jude, you make sure Tommy knows just what a gift he has in you- because I'm sure you're just about the __**best **__Christmas present he's ever gotten. In his whole life._ Oh, okay, maybe not... That's kinda sweet... Okay, really sweet! _But, if he ever forgets... You've got plenty of options, and I'm here for you. You're more than free to call me. XOXO, Travis._

Merry Christmas indeed! I totally spoke too soon. Creep hit on me on a Post-It! Since when is my life Sex in the City?! Oh, wait, there's a postscript. What next, is he gonna give me his address and phone number? _P.S. My brother is __**so **__in love with you._ I sighed. Well, Travis can never resist an opportunity to grate at my nerves, now can he?

Now, see, my present to Taylor was ridiculously good. It was a coupon for a free private, personal concert with the guarantee that he would get to choose his guest(s) and the set list, and there was a possible promise of me dancing or providing him with food. Not cooking it, but, duh, buying it. I'm not a dinner theatre, y'know?

Naturally, Tommy's gift was saved for last. He gave me several things. The first three were large and boxy, and when I opened them up, I saw that they were framed gold and platinum singles... One for "Dirty Old Man", another for "Too Sexy Sadie", and still another for, of course, "Minor Liaison." Tommy smiled at me, pointing at it. "You mind if I hang that one in my office?" Tommy drawled, eying the cover art for the single. It was a still from the video shoot. Tommy was on top of me, naturally, with the sheets resting low on his back. He was staring down at me with a definitely unholy fervor in his eyes, which glowed cobalt. As for me, well, my hair was tempestuous and total sex hair, blood red. I was, however, looking where the camera had been, away from Tommy, with a bewitching look on my face. The picture showed off a lot of cleavage.

Let's just say that I see why Tommy wants to hang it in his office. Typical perv. I pushed Tommy but thanked him anyways, smiling, knowing that the records were his cover presents. We were suddenly sitting next to each other, and Tommy opened the first of his presents, which was a huge bag of his favorite licorice. That one almost got me a kiss on the lips. It would've, only Tommy remembered himself midway and kissed my cheek instead. I was actually really nervous about what I got him. Then he opened the jazz records I got him, some of which were ridiculously hard to get, and Tommy was even more grateful.

So there was another enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. And then I handed Tommy the present I was really proud of. I'd put a lot of time, effort, and thought into the present, and still my heart was in my throat. It had been so hard to get a lot of it together, and I suck at crafty things, so I had to ask Kat and Jamie for help because they're the only remotely crafty people I know (with Kat being a designer and Jamie having had past experience making collages for mix CDs). I couldn't go to my mom or Sadie because it was Tommy, so, yeah... But by the time I was done, it was well worth it. I'd started collecting things a long time before for Tommy's birthday, and I was going to give it to him then, but it wasn't done yet, and I wanted more time to make it nicer.

I held my breath as he opened it, watching his face. At first Tommy looked surprised, seeing the thick book with guitar strings, music notes, and records on the front. It read like this... Tommy and Jude: Greatest Hits. In the very middle, under the title, was a picture of the two of us someone had snapped the night of my gig at the Vinyl Palace. Before I kissed him and made a mess of everything, just for the record. It's not the kind of creepy one where I'm standing, kinda leaning against him, and we both have dark circles under our eyes, and it looks almost like he owns me. The one where my leg was brushing against his, and half of my torso sorta leans into his jacket, and my head is only a breath away from his cheek. But it's not that one.

It's the one where we're sitting on the stage together, and he's smiling straight at the camera, and he looks happy. I'm next to him, legs crossed towards him, cuffs of my jeans rolled up to mid-calf, guitar strap over my shoulder, guitar sprawled across my lap, separating our hips, hand on my knee, other hand thrown over it, shoulder leaning against his... My head resting on his shoulder, bangs kind of in my eyes, with a close-mouthed smile that matched his. After a moment, though, Tommy grinned widely before hugging me. "I love it, girl," He murmured sincerely, wrapping his arm around me and opening the photo album.

The album was filled with photos I'd managed to acquire from pretty much every source, even tabloids. I made sure to include the articles that had come with them... lyrics to every song we'd written... reviews of our music... There were pictures from my first gig, the day we met even, my sixteenth, my album release party, the party they'd thrown when they found out I went platinum, Montreal, a bunch of pictures taken when we were just hanging out either together or at the studio... things I'd gotten from Georgia, E.J., Darius... even Tommy's family. Tommy stared at the images in rapture, eyes bright at the sight of the photos. He looked so... happy, which came as a total surprise to me, since I thought he'd be worried that it was too coupley. "Thanks, Jude. It's the _second _best present I've ever gotten," Tommy muttered, turning to me. The look in his eyes told me exactly what (or, rather, who) the best present he'd ever gotten was. He was just about to kiss me when I cleared my throat and reminded him where we were.

Unfortunately everyone else in the room was not that drunk. Nevertheless, I allowed myself a smile at that remark, despite the fact that it creepily reminded me of the note on Travis' gift. Tommy reached behind him and pulled out a square present wrapped in blue paper. He handed it to me wordlessly and sat back, still flipping through the album. When he glanced up and saw I still hadn't opened it, Tommy motioned for me to do so. Shooting him a puzzled look, I did as he bid and slowly unwrapped it. Tommy was totally watching me out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't what I was expecting, and at first I didn't know how to react.

Obviously it was a CD. I'd known that upon sight, and I'd been hoping it was a new CD I'd wanted... but it wasn't that CD. In fact, it was a CD I'd never seen before. The cover was a beautiful black and white candid shot of me, embossed with the simple phrase: Songs about Jude. I glanced up at Tommy in sheer disbelief. He just nodded, smile still firmly planted on his lips. My eyes returned to the jewel case, flicking over to the side... Sure enough, there was his name on the spine. "You made me a mix CD?" I asked him, torn between being bewildered and thinking it was cute.

"Do I look like Jamie Andrews to you?" Tommy frowned at me and turned the CD over, showing me the tracklisting. Apparently there were two CDs. Wow. I scowled a little, though, at his affront to my best friend. "That's no mixtape. I made that CD. It's all me singing," Tommy explained. My jaw dropped as I skimmed some of the titles. 18 tracks on each CD. Cute, Tommy, cute. Some of them were his own songs... I recognized two from the Boyz Attack! days... But the vast majority of them were covers. Some titles that stood out? "Tommy Gun." "Heart-Shaped Box." "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend." And... I didn't even believe this. He'd covered "Time to Be Your 21."

Tommy winces every time he hears that song. So him covering it? Totally a big deal. This means something. Something **huge**. I don't know what, but it's something, all right!

I was wondering so many things I just kinda sat there for a minute, not knowing what to do. How did he record so many songs without me noticing? How did he do it in such little time, much less produce? Was any of that going on his album? When I regained my wits, I crushed Tommy in a huge, grateful hug, practically tackling him. Tommy was right. It wasn't a mixtape. It was only like a thousand, million, billion times better. Nevertheless, I'm a skeptic and a cynic, so I pulled back and asked him, "You don't give this CD to all the girls, do you?"

He laughed. "You think I'd waste that much effort for some fling... for anyone who was anything _less _than completely worth it?" Not so soothing, friend. I think you'd do anything to get into a girl's pants. In another attempt to reassure me, Tommy pressed a kiss to my temple. "No. You're the only one special enough. You're the only person in the world with that CD, so you could say it's pretty exclusive," Tommy whispered in my ear, pressing a swift kiss to my neck before I could bat him off. Damn him for making me giggle.

Noticing that other people were looking at us rather questioningly, although most everyone had gone home, I pulled back before he could try to kiss me again and actually hit his mark. I exhaled sharply, wishing I was a little more drunk for this... This was the part I was really nervous about. Nevertheless, I pulled the disc out and handed the case to him. My palms were sweaty. Tommy raised an eyebrow. "Aww, did you make me a mix CD?" Tommy mimicked chirpily. I rolled my eyes at him, biting my lip.

I shook my head abruptly. "Um, no. Actually... That's a song I wrote and recorded today. For you. About you. It's called "Secret Heart", and, uh... I really hope you like it?" I mumbled awkwardly, making a complete mess out of it. My face burned, and my heart thudded unpleasantly in my chest. I forced myself to look down at Tommy's present, trying to focus on reading the tracks rather than watching for his reaction.

To my abject mortification, Tommy takes the CD and sticks it in the stereo, so that it's playing instead of whatever pop Christmas music was previously on, and suddenly everyone's looking at me. I swear to you, I wanted to dive into the couch and die. But, no, I was forced to awkwardly, awfully sit through the damn thing, beginning to end. I never thought a song could go on that long. I put my heart on the line in song for him AND HE PLAYS IT FOR EVERYONE IN THE DAMN ROOM, like some sort of impromptu concert! After it was done, I peeked up at Tommy. He was smiling, and he reached out to grab my hand. I pulled it away practically automatically, freaked. He frowned a little but told me, "It's a great song, Jude. I wish I could express my feelings half as well as you do."

That made me look up at him. And gape. And stare at him like he'd just told me he was from Mars. Or that he had done something crazy like accidentally kill someone. "You know what my favorite part is? The chorus... That's how I live. I'm a private person. I keep people at arm's length, and I don't let anyone get too close. I can't talk about anything personal, let alone feelings, and I don't like to share. I hardly ever say even half of the things I'm thinking. I don't really like to let people in because I don't want anyone to know the real me... But there's just something about you that strips me and breaks down all my walls, and you slip in through the cracks and _know _me like no other," Tommy admitted reluctantly. I saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. And it clicked.

He's afraid. He's afraid to show people the real Tommy. There was something oh so sexy about the raw moment of vulnerability I'd seen. And sure, I knew he probably only told me that because he's drunk and trusts me... But I still felt so honored and so powerful because it really was true. Sure, I knew a lot about Tommy, but never because he'd opened up to me. I knew it from other sources, from his family and friends, and, mostly, from observation and the guess-and-check method. But rarely ever did I get anything straight from the horse's mouth. And at that moment, I _knew _he cared... I mean, I _knew _it was more than that... And I knew I was _special _to him.

I offered him a smile, placing my hand on top of his. "My favorite... _Now here we are, beneath the stars... Can you see me shake? Ooh, I want you near to share my fears... and promise this trust won't break!_" I sang, giving a fairly good imitation of the recording. It hit me then that this was it. I'm sitting here at Tommy's side as his (secret) girlfriend, holding a CD he made of songs that remind him of me, and I just got him to talk to me. This is intimacy. This is the real deal. Suddenly I was blushing.

What am I, some schoolgirl? Oh. Right. I paused for a moment, licking my lips before taking a deep breath. Time to be open with him too. "Tommy, I l..." I knew it was the perfect moment, and I was never going to get one like it again... But I chickened out because I knew it would break the magical spell that had fallen over us. Tommy looked at me with those questioning yet soft blue eyes, and the words died in my throat. "Remember that one night when you were driving me home, and you pulled over to look at the stars? We sat on the hood of your car, and you pointed out all the constellations... I spent more time looking at you than the stars. I was so scared of you... the way you made me feel... that I was trembling like a newborn kitten and praying you wouldn't notice. I was afraid to let you get so close again, but more than that, I was petrified that you would just look over and see right through me," I admitted, reminiscing.

I sighed, looking up at him. My turn. The unguarded look in his eyes surprised me. "I've been holding back, Tom. I've still got third-degree burns from the last time I believed you, so it's not easy for me to learn to trust you again. I want to so bad, but I just... can't. I need to you promise me you're not going to break my trust, your word. The more I let you in, the deeper I drown... the more I'm in over my head. You can't just change your mind without consequence anymore," I explained desperately. "It's **different **this time. I'm _in _this, Tommy. I want this to _last... _So help me, Tommy, I have faith in you. I believe you, and this is a chance worth taking. Please don't break my heart. Don't make me regret giving you all of me... Don't make me regret _you_," I whispered pleadingly.

Finally, I looked at him, really looked. He seemed changed. He squeezed my hand hard, pulling me towards him, forcing me so close his nose brushed against mine. "You won't. I promise. So long as I live, I will never regret you," Tommy breathed ardently. He pulled me up and ushered us out, only stopping once we reached his room. I sat on his bed, and moments later, Tommy handed me one last present: an envelope. I tore it open with shaking fingers. Two slips of paper spilled out, tumbling to the floor. I picked them up and discovered I was holding two plane tickets to London.

No way. Floored and unbelievably moved, I looked up at a smiling Tommy. "Thought we might start things off right. What do you think?"

I think I like my new boyfriend.

- Loren ;


	44. Frozen

First off, so sorry that it took me so long to update. I've had this chapter done since, like mid-early September, possibly even before that. What happened was that the site was being a bitch and wouldn't let me get past 36,000-odd words. 'Cause I have to Cut and Paste chapters since they won't post the normal way. So to singingspaz3737, who asked why I couldn't split up the chapter... There's several reasons. I was missing like three pages or less of the whole chapter, and I couldn't just end the chapter at the point I did. And it pissed me off because I knew the chapter wasn't that long, and I should be able to C&P. And I also didn't want to combine this chapter and the next one, which is as of yet unfinished and hopefully shorter than this one. Tonight is the first night it actually let me get the whole thing, and I don't know why, but I am sure super grateful! Which is sad, since I shouldn't have trouble posting in the first place, but I do nowadays and it frustrates me.

Basically, I don't own anything mentioned in the last chapter song-wise, including the Dylan lyrics especially. Nor do I own "I Still Love You", Now, Voyager, "I Will Survive", etcetera. Which, wow, kinda gives away a lot... And, now, on to this chapter.

I'm gonna start out by ominously declaring that I'm the only one who will probably like this whole chapter. But I'm damn proud of it because this is my work finally coming to fruition. The whole fic has built up to this moment, and I wrote it with this in mind. So from sophomore year to my freshman year in college... that's how long it took me to get to this point. Guess you could say I'm pretty emotional about it. But I should definitely tell you, between the author babble, that this chapter contains one of the fic's two climaxes. I should also add that this chapter is pretty much all Jude and Tommy. If they're not together, Tommy is on her mind or with her in spirit.

Ooh, warning... Tommy gets just a mite abusive in this chapter, but nowhere near Travis territory or being actually abusive. Speaking of which, pay careful attention to Travis in this chapter. He's about to become an even bigger player in this whole thing.

I'm damn proud of this chapter, basically, and when I imagined it, I never really knew when or where exactly it would take place, or the circumstances surrounding it, and how could I? So when it actually occurred and where is a recent development. Comparatively. I also didn't know what either of them were going to say, so I apologize if it's a bit repetitive at times, especially for Tommy, since he's really where I struggle a lot... But I just couldn't think of anything because Jude has so much more ammo on him. So, while this chapter is completely Tommy-centered, Tommy says surprisingly little. Less than you would expect. And all the stuff afterward is actually a VERY new development, like we're talking this summer here, but by that I mean the chapters afterward.

They're going to be way less happy (depressing if I'm being really honest. Hopefully you won't think you just stepped foot in Wilted!) than what you've just gotten used to, and definitely with few if any fluffy moments or even interaction... But I've got a lot of hopefully really interesting subplots I can pursue to distract you from that, and those issues aren't going to be gone, or anything... and, of course, there's flashbacks. There's already two in the next chapter. You get to see what happened on Jude's birthday and what happenedright before she left for London.There's just going to be... less interaction. But more tension, I guess. And Jude's got plenty of drama goin' down without Tommy there, trust me. I'll make up for it, I promise.

* * *

"You know, I was thinking we could take a day to maybe swing by Liverpool. Would you like that?" Tommy suggested distractedly, sliding forward in the bed, burying his nose in my hair. His arm tightened involuntarily around my waist. His voice was low and throaty, still scratchy from disuse. His whole body was heavy with sleep, still half-slumbering. He slid his fingers down my arm worshipfully.

I smiled at the movement and placed my other hand on top of his. "You know I'd love to, Tommy. As long as I'm with you," I murmured, letting out a yawn of my own. Of course I wanted to go to Liverpool. It's practically my birthplace, you know? My eyelids fluttered as Tommy rubbed my arm. His whole body was warm, and I loved him something awful at the moment. I sighed dreamily. "I can't believe we're leaving tomorrow," I said, still somewhat in disbelief.

After Tommy had given me the tickets, he'd apologized to me for no reason. He said he wanted to take me to Thailand, but that we didn't have much time. School's starting up in about a week, and obviously I need to be there. He said he'd picked London because, to a lot of people, it and not Memphis, was the birthplace of rock and roll. At any rate, it's a rock and roll town... The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, and The Police all got their starts there. Not to mention the fact that London is undoubtedly the birthplace of punk rock, being the stomping grounds of both The Sex Pistols and The Clash. I'd been there before on the tour, but I was so jet-lagged I remembered none of the visit.

It was hard to explain where I'd be going, so I told Sadie I was going to Joan's for the rest of break. I made up some story about how Joan needed me to help her through this situation with her ex-boyfriend (which was half-true, I guess, as seeing Travis had done quite a number on the poor girl). Sadie understood and was okay with it. She'd managed to wrangle a ride home out of Chaz, and the two were going right back to Toronto anyways, a day or two after the Quincy New Years' Bash.

Joan was in the States visiting family and friends, and everyone liked her. She's trustworthy. Plus my parents hadn't met her, and other than her cellphone, there were little means of communication to blow my cover story. Just in case, though, I warned Joan about what I was going to do. As usual, she didn't exactly approve of being my cover, but she went along with it. Tommy, on the other hand, told his mother that he had to go on a business trip to New York to check out this up-and-coming band and try to sign them.

This excuse was readily bought, and if anyone found it suspicious that we were leaving at the same time, no one said a word. The only acknowledgment anyone made of the fact was Tommy volunteering to take me to the airport, as he flew out first.

Tommy moved his head down, wrapping both arms around me, pulling me closer. His nose brushed against my ear, and his lips rested on my shoulder. I felt him smile against my skin. "Me either, Jude. I can't wait," He told me in a soft voice that expressed genuine felicity. Tommy pressed a kiss on my shoulder, nuzzling my neck. "It'll just be you and me, with no one around to interfere... just the two of us. We can do anything we want," Tommy whispered blissfully, wet lips hovering over my skin. I knew what he really meant, though. We could be like normal people there. Paparazzi wouldn't follow us around or watch our every move. Tommy and I could hold hands in public and kiss in the middle of the street and just... be a couple. Start over right like he said.

Smiling mischievously (only too sad Tommy missed it), I asked flirtatiously, "Hey, do you think all the things I want to do to you would be legal over there?" I felt Tommy's jaw drop, and his lips go slack. A legit question, I think. I mean, um, he's not an authority figure over there, is he? If we go on vacation? Wow. I'm so reminded of that comment Jamie made about how we'd never gone on vacation together. When he was saying he was Brian and I was John, and I pointed out that something had supposedly happened between them on vacation. Which is so true of me and Tommy. Vacationing together equals crazy overseas sex. Huh.

Mental note: look up age of consent laws in the U.K.

He swallowed hard, and I had to fight to keep down the snickering bubbling up inside of me. It didn't matter, though; I knew Tommy felt it. It took him a good minute to regain his composure enough to respond. "Depends on how you feel about becoming a member the Mile-High Club... I don't think it's illegal if we're flying over international waters," He quipped in a voice that was too serious to be completely jesting. He paused for a moment in contemplation, moving his hands southward. I raised an eyebrow, allowing myself to debate it. "But I don't think a quickie in a cramped airplane bathroom is the way to go. It's pretty uncomfortable and, from past experience, not that memorable... Sure, that kind of thing's good enough to get you off cheap, but it's not very romantic. Besides, I like to take my time," Tommy reflected a moment later. His tone was entirely too matter-of-fact for me.

The way he said it reminded me of his manwhore past, and the fact that he was definitely speaking from experience. He didn't even remember the girls he'd screwed in the bathroom, and the way he spoke about it showed a sort of disdain for the act. As if it were a last resort for a desperate person or a weird fetish. A way of just getting the ugly deed over and done with, a way of gratifying a base physical need. Still, I was touched that he seemed to care about things like romance and taking his time and making it memorable. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him wink at me, and I knew suddenly what he was thinking. I waited this long, Jude. I'm not going to ruin it for the both of us like that. Starting it off that way wasn't right, I guess.

Damn. We should've taken a cruise. But, you know... do I really want to (hopefully) lose my virginity in some gross, unsanitary, probably smelly, tight little airplane bathroom either standing up with my back against the wall or sitting on the sink? No, of course not. Nevertheless, I slipped one of my hands down his side, resting it lightly on his thigh. Tommy let out a growling noise. "Lemme guess... You're too big to fit?" I replied suggestively, dropping my voice. I sounded raspier than I ever could've imagined, and suddenly Tommy was very, _very _awake.

He pushed up my shirt with his fingertips, forehead still leaning on my back. His deft fingers pulled my shirt over my head, tearing it off of me before I even knew what was happening. "Something like that." And then his lips latched onto my back, a little below my shoulder. His lips were wet and hard, and there was nothing gentle about the way he was sucking at the skin there. I tried to shift away from him, but his arms were draped loosely around my waist, and he was so heavy. I didn't like the feeling. His lips burned in a painful way that left me a little too breathless. It reminded me of Travis, which was a quicker turn off than a cold shower.

"Tommy... mmphft... Stop it!" I whined, twisting away from him. Tommy stopped abruptly and kissed his way up my back and across my shoulder. His lips made a winding, moist trail up to my neck. It felt nice, real nice, I thought dazedly, as his tongue flicked over a sensitive area. His lips continued their onslaught up to the weak area by my vocal chords. He stepped up the force behind the kiss a little, and my mouth opened against my will. I let out a mewl of pain... and something else I couldn't quite name. It felt simultaneously too good and too hurting. "Tommy..." I gasped, opening my eyes, searching for him. He was draped over me like a flag on a veteran's coffin. With that sobering thought, I suddenly remembered Taylor.

The reminder was like a hot poker to the chest, a brand of sorts. Which reminded me that what Tommy was doing was intended to leave hot red bruises all over me the size of his lips. I drew back, pushed Tommy away as best as I could. "Tommy, you can't! You can't just bruise me like this! Taylor's already suspicious, and everyone's going to notice if I have some strange new bruises," I muttered irritably, or, well, as best as I could. It was hard when he knew all my sweet spots and I knew every last thing he could do with his tongue... And it sure doesn't help that the man's good with his hands.

He did as bid and pulled his lips away from my skin. The squelchy kiss noise of pursed lips separating from sticky skin sounded loudly and embarrassingly. Tommy's strong hands found their way back up to my shoulders and turned my whole body around to face him. I covered my chest without thinking, and Tommy surprised me by pulling me into him. His eyes never strayed from my eyes. He tilted his neck to show off the lovebites I was already well-acquainted with. He gave me a sardonic smile. "Just marking my territory, same as you, Harrison..." Tommy drawled. He released me, and his hands traveled up to the bruises I'd given him as a reward for the trip to London. I'd made good on my promise that night.

One was featured prominently on his neck, low but kind of close to the collarbone, right next to an artery. There was a smaller, less visible one on the side of his neck. Finally, of course, there was a large, flaming red one on the spot that drove him crazy, in the junction behind his ear where the jaw meets. I leaned over and flicked my tongue across it, amused at the way he shivered. "It's only fair that I should get to do the same... You're not the only one that has to explain these things to people, girl," Tommy pointed out seriously. He almost sounded a bit peeved, and I watched in confusion as he sat up in bed, pulling the sheets across his chest.

I took the opportunity to do the same before I could feel his stare burning on me. I sat up a little, leaning into the pillow, tugging the sheet up over my naked chest, clutching it to me. I felt embarrassed shooting him a sideways glance. "It's bad enough that you gave me the one square in the middle of my chest, Tommy," I huffed, absentmindedly rubbing the spot of which I spoke. It was in between the valley of my breasts, where my cleavage had ended Christmas Eve in that hot church dress. Tommy hadn't been able to resist. His tongue lapped at the flesh there while I was still excited about London, and next thing I knew his impatient hands were pushing it off of me. The church dress tumbled to a heap on the floor faster than seemed possible. The hickey rested directly above my heart, and I couldn't help but think it was a sign.

"Besides," I sighed, dragging out the word, "I'm not all yours just yet, Quince. I've still got to ditch my other boyfriend first." Tommy's face darkened at the reminder of the ex I hadn't dropped just yet. I could sense that he was about to make a bitter comment on it or demand why I hadn't ended it yet, but I interrupted. "And it'll be over tonight, Tommy. Before or after the party... Hell, I'll find the right time during the party and break things off with him then. I'm not going into the new year as his girlfriend, okay? I'm going into it as _yours. _So don't be mad... I haven't been alone with him since we've been here, and you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I told him I'd tell him my decision on New Year's, and you know my decision, Tommy!" I pointed out irritably. It annoyed me to have to justify it to him.

A hurt look flickered across Tommy's face. "You could still change your mind, Jude. So, yeah, I think I'm going to worry a little while longer," He said stiffly, crossing his arms over his chest. It was one thing to learn that Tommy worried about me, but it was another to hear that he was entertaining the possibility that I _wouldn't _leave Taylor for him. The whole reason I hadn't kicked Taylor to the curb earlier was because I wanted a back-up plan because I half-figured Tommy would change his mind. I mean, yeah, there were other reasons... I didn't want to ruin his holidays and make things awkward, and I didn't want to prove him right... But, if I'm being honest with myself, I only kept that option open in case Tommy did what he always does.

Tommy was pouty and sullen, and he looked good enough to eat, I swear, but I couldn't help but smack his arm, forcing him to look at me. He scowled darkly, eyes blazing. "You must be braindead if you think I'd ever pick Taylor over you in a million years, Tommy! He doesn't measure up. He's not you. _You're _the one I want. You're the one I _need. _You're the one I lo-" I argued, stopping cold upon realizing what I was about to say. Now wasn't the right time. Not during a damn argument when I'm pissed at him. I finally looked at Tommy and saw the look on his face, an eager look. He motioned for me to go on.

Crap. For a long moment, I struggled for words, for a way to find my way out. "You're the one I l... I like the most," I added lamely. Tommy seemed satisfied with that, and I felt suddenly very relieved. Phew. You know, I really ought to tell him how I feel. Sometime. Maybe in London? Or would that be too weird? Hmm... Oh, wait. I know exactly what I'll do. I'll tell him first thing New Year's. I'll find a nice little corner to sequester him in, and I'll tell him how I feel and then kiss the living daylights out of him before he can say a damn thing. And then his reaction can determine my new year. On second thought, maybe that's not such a good idea...

He turned towards me in the bed, leaning back on an elbow. "Then why does it matter, Jude?" He asked quietly, staring at me with those damn hypnotic eyes of his. I drew in a breath and suddenly remembered our original topic of conversation. He took my silence as an affirmative and leaned over further, brushing his lips against my skin softly. I froze the minute his lips touched my skin, and it took me a long while there to remember the answer. His lips dipped down lower, tongue sweeping across the tingling skin expertly.

Ooh. It was really hard to get the answer out. "Tommy... I... oh... Ooh, that feels good... But you can't. You'll leave a mark, and I'm wearing a dress that will... oh..." I managed to reply, despite being very distracted. I summoned up the strength to push Tommy away from me, crossing my arms over my chest. "My dress is... revealing. And if you keep it up, everyone will see it, and it'll raise some questions neither of us wants to answer," I explained hastily, still breathless.

Tommy nodded, smirking at me a little. He reached a hand over, running his fingers through my hair tenderly, bringing the back of his hand down across my cheek. "Okay, fine. I won't... But do I get to have a sneak preview?" Tommy conceded, wiggling his eyebrows. I laughed, rubbing my cheek against his hand, and shot him a mischievous wink. Maybe. Tommy leaned in, sweetly pressing his lips against mine. My eyelids snapped shut, and next thing I knew, my arm was around his neck, fingers lodging themselves firmly in his hair, pulling him on top of me. His hands skimmed my sides, his touch light like a butterfly. I moved closer to him and his warmth.

His fingers slipped under the waistband of my pajama bottoms before dipping under my underwear. My breath hitched, and Tommy paused for a moment. I threw myself into kissing him, and, taking my action as a sign of encouragement, his fingers slipped lower and lower still. I was really getting into it, fully prepared and fully looking forward to it, when my stomach started churning.

At first I tried to ignore it, to push it away, but the feeling refused to leave me. My stomach was rebelling. I knew what it meant, and it wasn't hunger, so I leaped up from the bed, practically shoving Tommy off of me. I dashed to the bathroom just in time to hurl in the toilet. Ugh, gross. I flushed the toilet, not wanting to look at my own vomit. Because who does, right? Once Tommy managed to untangle himself from the sheets and get off of the floor, he padded over to me. I was leaning against the cool porcelain of the toilet, sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around myself. I felt miserable, disgusting, and still nauseous.

But Tommy was a real sweetheart. He sat down next to me on the floor, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, rubbing my back soothingly. I shivered, cold, weak, and shaky. He pulled me closer. We stayed there for a long moment, together in silence, until I felt my stomach twist again. I pulled my tired ass up off the floor and leaned over the rim of the toilet, waiting for the food to come back up. I could feel it coming. The food forced its way up my throat, searing my esophagus. I couldn't swallow down the taste of bile. I heaved and heaved until nothing else would come out, and I didn't understand how my stomach had anything left in it.

Bless his soul, Tommy held my hair back. His other hand lightly rubbed my back. For once, I was actually glad he'd had such a wild past. It meant he was super-good at taking care of me. When I finally stopped expelling the contents of my stomach, I reached up and flushed the toilet with trembling fingers. I felt so... empty and spent. Tommy set me down gently and got up, snatching a tissue and filling a glass with water. He wiped my mouth and told me to gargle the water. I was too weak to argue with him, so I did as I was told and let him help me up. Tommy handed me my toothbrush and told me to brush my teeth. Again I did as instructed, crossing my arm over my chest. I scrubbed my teeth until I could no longer taste vomit.

When I looked up in the mirror, Tommy was staring at me from behind. He was silent, with a serious, steely look in his eyes. "Jude, this is the fifth morning in a row that you've thrown up. It doesn't look like food poisoning. Don't you think that something might be wrong?" He asked worriedly, rubbing my shoulder and wrapping his arms around me. I stiffened at his comment. 'Cause I was pretty sure I knew what was wrong. See, I'm pretty damn sure I have the flu. Or stomach flu. I've had some pretty bad headaches, and I ache a little, but the main problem is that it's been practically impossible for me to keep much of anything down lately. So I've been drinking loads of fluids mostly, especially water, which means I go running to the bathroom quite often. I've been pretty tired and weak too, since I haven't eaten much lately.

The reason I was so sure I had the flu was that Taylor had it too. I'd heard from Tory that he'd been sick around Christmas. It was another one of the many reasons why I hadn't seen much of him lately. So I knew, with a sickening sensation, that he had given his illness to me. Through that damn kiss. Which is why I was so reluctant to go to the doctor or tell Tommy what was wrong.

I splashed some water on my face dazedly before turning around to look at him. I swiped at my face blindly with a nearby towel. "I told you, Tommy. I have the flu. There's no way to get around it. I just have to wait it out. It should be gone soon. There's not much I can do," I explained wearily, attempting to walk past him. I was feeling pretty uncomfortable, since I wasn't wearing a shirt, so I was pretty much standing there half-naked in my bathroom. However, Tommy stopped me by grabbing my arm.

"Jude, you should really see a doctor," He stated authoritatively. His eyes were steely, his grip firm. I made a face at him. Why bother? It's not like he's going to tell me anything I don't already know. I tried to break away from Tommy's grasp, but he was a lot healthier and stronger than I was, so naturally I got nowhere.

"Tom, there's no point in it. Besides, it's New Year's Eve. There probably aren't any open doctor's offices in the city, much less any doctor who would take on a walk-on patient who wasn't a complete emergency. I'll be fine, Tommy. I just have to recuperate a little," I countered matter-of-factly. I stared back at him stubbornly. Why is he pressing this? Finally I managed to slip from Tommy's grasp and slip my shirt back on.

He walked into the room, marching over to his pants and pulling out the phone. "Well, Jude, that's where you're wrong." I looked up at him in confusion, hands on my hips. Tommy brandished his cellphone, displaying a number on his speed dial. "We have a family doctor on call," He said smugly. I kinda just gaped at him for a while because it seemed so ridiculous. I mean, what kind of family has a doctor on call?! Just how rich is Tommy's family anyways?

"You are so abnormal, Tommy," I muttered, rifling through the drawers for some fresh clothes. I glanced over at him. He was still standing there with that stony look on his face. "I get that you're worried about me, Tommy. But I'll be fine. Really. Nothing's going to happen. It's not like I'm going to die of stomach flu," I assured him shortly, pulling out some clothes to wear. I briefly debated asking Tommy to join me for my upcoming shower but eventually decided that it wouldn't be a wise idea.

As soon as I turned to look up at him, I read the serious look on his face and knew that I wasn't going to like what he had to say. Something inside of me rumbled ominously, unleashing a sharp pang of foreboding. Something bad was definitely going to come of whatever he had to say. Tommy licked his lips nervously, and mere seconds later, the heavy question dropped off his lips. It landed on my back like a lead weight, dragging me down deeper into the awful nest of hornety lies. "I know you said that you were sure, Jude... but isn't it possible that you're pregnant?" He questioned in a whisper. His voice sounded different. It made him sound small and fearful, like a bug about to be squashed or something.

It was an awful reminder of my lie to him, and I stiffened in spite of myself. Oh, I was pretty damn sure, all right. And there was absolutely no chance I was pregnant with Tommy's kid. Inhaling a shaky breath, I shook my head stiffly. "There's absolutely no chance I'm pregnant, Tommy. Trust me when I tell you that. I know. There's no chance I'm pregnant. We used a condom, remember?" I stated harshly, walking towards him. I said that deliberately knowing that he didn't remember. How can you remember something that never happened?

However, the boyfriend was full of surprises today. He actually shook his head at me. "Obviously I don't remember, Jude!" He snapped bitterly. It was a bit of a sore spot, to say the least. I looked down, flinching at his tone. If I look down he won't know that I'm lying. He won't see right through, maybe. Because I am so dead if Tommy finds out that I lied to him about this. He once again took the choice out of my hands, jerking my chin up so I had to look into his eyes. "I was so drunk I don't even remember it, and you were too drunk to say no... So I'm thinking it's a little more likely than you're making it out to be," Tommy retorted viciously.

It felt like he was bruising my chin up a little. I glanced down reflexively, and Tommy's grip loosened. I realized, looking up through my lashes, that he thought I'd lied about protection. Well, that I had only half-lied about. We'd used a form of contraceptive even more accurate than a condom. The most effective kind there is. I shook my head stubbornly. "Well, Tom, maybe I wasn't as drunk as you were. Obviously I still remember it. And, come on, do you honestly think that I would've said no to you in any circumstance back then? You know what the situation was like, Tommy," I rejoined fiercely, leaning towards him, hands on my hips. But that was the thing that didn't make sense about it. I _had_ said no to him back then.

Pursing my lips, I gave him a look. "Besides, Tommy, everybody knows you take care of business. After all, you're not a father yet. I'm sure I wasn't the first or the last one-night stand you ever forgot. I know all about you. You double-up on spermicide and latex because you're just _that _careful. Like I said, there's **no **possibility I'm knocked up," I sneered, not realizing until after I'd said it just how ugly our argument had gotten. Tommy flinched at the comment, at the fact that I knew so much about him. He flinched too at the reminder that he'd supposedly forgotten.

"How do you know?" He spat suddenly, surprising me. "You weren't there when I woke up, and I was wearing my boxers. I didn't exactly see a used condom lying around. And even if I did use one in my addled mind, what's to say it didn't break? We had sex, Jude, so it's more than possible that you could've gotten pregnant," Tommy interjected a bit combatively. His words were harsh like mine had been before, his tone angry and defensive. He should be glad that I'm not pregnant, not mad... Wait, why is he pissed?!

Briefly I pondered what to say, but I ultimately decided on the crude, straight to the point answer. "Because I'm the one who put it on you, jackass. Just like I'm the one who disposed of it because I figured we should just pretend nothing happened since that's your way of handling things!" I shouted back, adding enough hysteria in my voice to seem authentic. He became still at my proclamation. Couldn't very well leave the evidence laying around like that.

When he finally spoke, he was quiet. "Your way isn't much different... At least I know now that denial never works. Don't you see that's what you're doing now? There's a possibility you're pregnant, Jude, and that's something you're going to have to own up to," Tommy remarked with insight. Since when had he ever been so mature? It was only truly a shame that he was so, so wrong. I'm not in denial here. There's just really no chance that I'm pregnant with his kid. Pretty much.

I shook my head at him. "Look, Tommy, why would I lie about using protection? If I wanted to trap you by making you think I was pregnant, I'd lie about not using it," I replied standoffishly. Strangely, in lying about sleeping with him, I had never done it with the intention to trap him into being with me. I guess I just want Tommy with me on my own terms. Tommy looked at me suspiciously, no doubt as a result of my comment about trapping him. I exhaled sharply, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Besides, I had my period about a month ago," I said glibly, thinking this would be enough to deter him.

Tom rolled his eyes at me, a gesture I found strange, given the circumstances. "That doesn't mean a thing, Jude. After all, you're a little late right now, aren't you?" He remarked immediately, clearly having done the math. Okay, I get why he'd say that. He's a guy, and he doesn't know much about these things. A little spotting is common in pregnancies, so he's assuming that when I say get my period, that's what I'm talking about, instead of all the gushing and stuff.

But yeah, he was right about me being late this month around. I'd last had my period a month and three weeks ago. Then again, I had been under a lot of stress lately. Still, a girl can't help but worry when she's late. Even if there was no guy, you're still wondering if maybe you've been chosen for an immaculate conception. That being said, I knew I wasn't pregnant 'cause I had my period... even despite whatever happened with Travis.

Unfortunately, though, he hadn't accounted for the other months with bleeding I'd had. "You forget to realize that I had periods in September, October, _and _November, Tommy. I think it's safe to say that I'm not pregnant. We haven't had sex since, and I haven't been with anyone else since you," I explained coolly, positively, lying through my teeth. I felt a pang of guilt because, this time, I wasn't just lying about having sex with him. I had completely lied about whatever happened with Travis. Whatever that was. Tommy took this into consideration, obviously realizing that I couldn't be pregnant, or, at the very least, that it was extremely unlikely.

He looked irritated for a moment, and I was almost afraid. But then his eyes softened, and he walked over to me, gently placing his hands on my shoulders. "Jude, I'm just worried about your health. For all we know, it could very well be something more serious, and what if it gets worse in London? Your parents would kill me if anything happened to you, and I don't want to chance it. So, please, just for me... Will you go to the doctor's office? I know it'll be unpleasant, but I promise I'll go with you," Tommy told me sincerely. He looked genuinely worried. His fingers slid down to grip my hands, and I found I could no longer resist his pleading gaze. So I nodded.

At least he'd be there, right? And I guess he does have a valid point after all... Tommy immediately dialed the number and set up an appointment for later in the afternoon. Something in my stomach swirled and told me it wasn't a good idea, but I didn't really have much choice in the matter. And then I realized something. After I broke up with Taylor, I was completely free to be Tommy's girlfriend. I was completely free to be with him... and, more than that, _so _much more than that... I was ready to be with him. I was fully ready to be his, and there was nothing I wanted more than to dive all the way in. I waited until Tommy hung up the phone to walk back over towards him, wrapping an arm loosely around his neck. I leaned into him, bringing his head down so I could properly whisper in his ear. "Let's make a memory tonight, Tommy. Tonight we won't have to wait anymore. We'll sneak off after midnight and come back here and throw a party of our own..." I murmured huskily, grinning as I watched him gulp.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Tommy blurted, pulling back with wide eyes. I frowned for a moment, waiting to see where he was going with this. Tommy looked down, playing with his hands. "It's just... I made that mistake with you once before, and I don't want to push you into doing something you're not ready for..." He elaborated. He trailed off and paused for one moment, realizing how that had sounded. It clearly hadn't come out right, so I merely waited for him to correct himself. Besides, I couldn't really be mad at him since I hadn't actually slept with him. So the mistake of which he speaks obviously doesn't exist. The only real mistake made was me lying about it.

Tommy hurried over his words, gesticulating rapidly. He made sure to look me in the eyes and show me that he meant it. "Sleeping with you wasn't the mistake," He said immediately. "You know I'd never regret that," He added, almost in an undertone. I felt a sudden burst of warmth at the offside comment. His eyes turned sympathetic and soft. He reached out for me. His hands were soft, his grip on my skin firm yet gentle. "But I regret how it happened and how I handled it, and, most of all, that, try as I might, I don't remember it. I treated you so horribly afterward. I took advantage of you, Jude, and I was drunk, and I did everything wrong. And I'm so sorry," Tommy apologized in a voice that dripped with sincerity.

His hands held mine, and hearing him finally admit that was cathartic. He had apologized then, but it had seemed rushed, like he was overcompensating for what he'd done, trying frantically to fix it. The thing that soothed me most was how he'd admitted that he regretted the circumstances and the way he dealt with it. It was good to listen to him realize how poorly he'd treated me. How wrong and young I had been. A part of me wished I'd never lied to him then because I knew it wasn't right... and I knew it had done something to Tommy, torn away something inside of him. Tommy sighed, leaning into me. "I told you, I want to get things right this time. I don't want you to feel that we have to do anything if you're not one-hundred percent sure it's what you want. I don't want to rush into anything," He breathed, burying his face in my hair.

Aside from the fact that he kind of quoted a Michele Vice-Maslin song, that's all very sweet of him. Tommy is the _one_ thing I need to rush into headlong.

So I looked him dead in the eyes and offered him a smile. "I wouldn't be saying it if I wasn't..." I declared firmly. My smile dropped. "We've both made our fair share of mistakes, Tommy, so you don't have to be sorry for anything. Forget the past. Now is the time to focus on the future," I explained quickly, brushing it off. It was as close as I could come to the truth, to actually apologizing. The point was starting anew and doing things right. I was just keeping with the theme. But Tommy still looked apprehensive.

Not that I can't see why. I've given the boy many mixed signals about that, and he wants to make sure I'm sure. But this time I am. Everything's perfect, so why should I hold back if it's what we both want? "I'm so tired of waiting, Tommy. I'm so tired of denying what I want the most. And I'm not going to fight it anymore," I admitted wearily, moving closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked deeply into his eyes, making what I wanted perfectly clear. "_You _are all that I want, Tommy. And there's no doubt in my mind about it. You're the only guy for me, and there's no one I trust more in the world. Make love to me, Tommy," I whispered huskily, leaning in further and further. Our lips almost touched. His stare burned and thrilled me.

I said it even though I hated the phrase, hated the blasé way it sounded, hated how it seemed as if it sprung from a soap opera actor's mouth. And, usually, I hated how it wasn't about making love at all. How it was just a euphemism for cheap carnal pleasures as opposed to what it should be... the beautiful, intimate deepest act of expressing your love to another person by submitting yourself to that person completely, giving that person all of yourself, letting that person completely inside you and surrendering your heart to their hands. The act of being one with another person, attached to one another, completely connected, not just physically but spiritually, and putting thoughts of pleasing them above pleasing yourself. More than sex. Something truly meaningful.

He swallowed hard, eyelids fluttering as his eyes almost seemed to roll back into his head. I could just sense him biting down a comment about how turned on he was. Eventually, Tommy closed his eyes, reopening them after a moment, sobering up some. He pressed the barest, briefest of touches of his lips on mine, pulling away quickly and leaving me wanting more. "I would love to," Tommy murmured in a voice that oozed raw sexuality. Scarcely seconds later, Tommy kissed me hard enough to knock the breath out of my lungs. I could feel the tingle spread from the tips of my hair all the way down to my toes, and the place where his lips fused with mine burned like hot iron. We stayed like that for a long time, until our lungs begged for oxygen.

Then we disentangled ourselves like mature adults, straightening our clothes and hair, and just regarded each other for a long moment in silence. As if we were trying to memorize the sight of each other before the moment that was later to come. Quite honestly, it was kind of awkward. Not what I'd said, necessarily, or the way I'd said it... but the words I used, and the way it was so definite and so possible... and so planned. We'd basically made a date to have sex. All the times before, when we'd come close... it had never happened like that, intentionally. We exchanged shy smiles and waves before parting, and I couldn't help but notice that Tommy only tore his eyes away from me when the door closed behind him.

Still smiling at the thought of it, I headed back to the bathroom, thoroughly scrubbing my teeth before turning the shower on. I stripped, grabbed some clothes, and then slipped inside, thinking of the night to come and making sure I was extra clean. After that, with Tommy still on my mind, I dressed and headed down to get some breakfast. Tommy wasn't there, but Taylor was. Within mere moments, he had managed to sequester me there. Damn, I thought to myself. Way to sucker me into some alone time. Since I've been here, we've had absolutely none. I mean, Taylor and me? There's always been some other moderator, even on the little "dates" he made me take with him. I forced Travis to double with me, even if Kate was pissed.

Guilt is a wonderful motivator. And if there wasn't Travis, I had Chaz and Sadie to help me out. I was already comfortable with them... instantly more comfortable than I'd ever been with Taylor. They made it bearable for me. What was insupportable was allowing Taylor to touch me. Every time he tried, I had a new excuse to get out of it. From his illness to not taking things too fast to feeling like I'm coming down with something... Oh, I had every excuse in the book! But they all failed this day.

Grudgingly, I could allow myself to admit that Taylor was looking especially good today, but I wasn't about to fall for it. He approached me, smiling all the way from his eyes to his mouth, practically radiating light, so happy it made me physically ill. Almost. I so have to dump him. It wasn't that he was unpleasant, but more that he was superfluous, and I didn't need him when I had Tommy. Anyway, he pulled me aside with a hand on my arm, brandishing a stapled stack of paper. "Hey, Jude... I was wondering if you could help me?" He asked somewhat timidly, staring at me with wide puppy-dog eyes. Damn.

It's impossible to be mean to him, I swear! So I made myself smile and politely asked him what I could help him with. He showed me the sheets of paper. "My agent sent me this script. It's for another film. Apparently the director of the project has seen some of my work, some of the unedited footage from Sweet Surrender... He's friends with Steve. And I guess he must've liked me or I impressed him somehow... because he requested me for the role. I still have to try out, of course, but Jimmy says I'm the favorite since they need an actor with a musical background," Taylor explained succinctly.

Naturally, I was still confused. I remembered dully that his film was called Sweet Surrender, and Steve was the name of the director. Jimmy was his agent, I assumed. I nodded, wondering where he was going with this. How can I help? "You want me to read lines or something?" I asked, searching for clarification. Taylor bit his lip nervously and looked up at me.

"Something like that," He muttered. Uh oh. Like what? Taylor swallowed and made himself look back up at me. "The film is a new kind of musical, Jude. It's supposed to be the next Moulin Rouge. They need an actor who's young and can do comedy and drama... But, more importantly, they need an actor who can sing and dance and play an instrument or two," He continued. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Well, duh. It _is _a musical. I realized suddenly that I'd never heard him sing before. Maybe there's a reason for that?

Licking my lips, I regarded him carefully. "So... do you want me to help you out with your singing or something? 'Cause I really don't see why. I mean, your dad's a voice coach, one of your brothers is a producer, and the other one's a music teacher. Plus your mother was a singer and your aunt is a choir director. Way I see it, you could find a lot of people more qualified to assist you," I pointed out somewhat curiously. Why me? Is this just a reason to get close to me?

Taylor frowned and shook his head slowly. "It's not that, Jude. Singing runs in the family, so it's no problem for me," He said almost brusquely. I frowned, feeling confused. So why does he need my help? He paused, exhaling deeply. "Music just... isn't a passion for me. Not like it is for everyone else in my family. It's just a hobby for me, not a way of life. I... feel like the black sheep sometimes," He admitted reluctantly. I was surprised he could open up to me. He looked down as he said it, pausing a moment afterwards before continuing. "But I need to stand out, Jude. I want this role. And I need your help to do that. I need to write a song," Taylor stated urgently.

Wha? Why does he need to write a song? I tried to think it over. What to say first? After a brief second of contemplation, I asked the first question. "This is a musical, Taylor. The songs are probably already written by professional songwriters. I don't get why you think bringing a song to the table will change anything. And why me, Taylor? Both of your brothers and your father are successful songwriters! Why don't you get one of them to help you?" I interjected, trying to see why he felt the need to bother me about it.

He sighed heavily. "Well, they don't have this one. They want a tell-off song. From a girl. All their songwriters are men, and they're stumped... and when Jimmy told them I was seeing you, they were practically kissing his feet. He said they'd really appreciate it if I got my girlfriend to write a song for the production. It would really help my career, Jude... And everyone knows that type of song is your thing. You're exactly the type of girl they have in mind." His voice took on a pleading tone, and he grabbed my hands with desperation pulsing through them.

Oh, I got what he meant, all right. It stung a little to find out I had a reputation for telling guys off, but it's just what I do. I'm feisty, and I don't just sit there and take it. And then there was that prick... girlfriend. Not for long. I couldn't turn him down, I knew. I'll do him this last favor. Who am I to stand in the way of his career? If I can help him get off his feet, then I'm going to do it. So I nodded slowly. "What kind of song are we talking here? A break-up number?" I drawled, grabbing the pen and notebook on the table and pulling them across to me.

Taylor shrugged and nodded, moving in closer to me. I didn't care. I was too busy focusing on my need for external stimuli. I need some inspiration. For a break-up song. And I'm sitting right next to a guy I want to dump. This shouldn't be so hard. The words are just inside of me, you know... waiting to come out. I need a beat. I glanced up and found Taylor staring at me, biting on his lip.

His fingers were tapping out a beat, and then I had what I needed. Ba da da, Ba da da... Yeah. "Keep up what you're doing, Taylor," I advised him, closing my eyes to let the words flow to me. Oh, I had a lot to say! But silence got me nothing, so I opened my eyes and looked at Taylor. I can tell him everything under the pretense of a song. This is perfect. I thought of everything he'd ever done to make me mad. "_Am I supposed to __**thank **__you... for walking through my door?_" I drawled, pausing briefly to jot down the words. "_And giving me your love... like... like... pennies to the __**poor**__?_"I rested a moment, gleefully staring at what I'd written.

That was it exactly. I hadn't asked for Taylor. I hadn't wanted Taylor or his love. And it was of little use to me. Like pennies. Yeah, I was love-starved just a little, but his few cents didn't help a watt. His love was piss-poor. It wasn't enough, and it wasn't what I needed. I nodded my head to the beat, wishing desperately for instrumentation. I could imagine the drum track, but I needed more. There was a certain brassiness to the song, and I couldn't yet accurately write down notes because I wasn't quite sure where it was doing. "_You say that you're bringing me everything you got... If you think that's good enough, you don't know warm from hot!_" I quipped sassily. I felt like I wanted to wag my finger in his face, you know?

Because as a boyfriend, he wasn't good enough for me. All that he is, all that he has... isn't good enough. He sucked the bag, pretty much. And, frankly, the guy didn't know his ass from his bellybutton when it came to anything involving romance. He must be a real good actor in those love scenes he's got with Kathryn... because I sure as hell don't see any of it. Taylor looked at me wide-eyed. I wasn't sure if he was amazed or realizing that the whole thing was just a little too real for his taste. Hasn't he ever seen anyone write a song before. I shrugged, throwing him the notebook. Write, boy! The beat stopped for a moment, but I immediately took over for him, rising to my feet.

I held my head high, looking directly at him and moving towards him in a predatory way. I shook my head, thinking of Tommy. "_I won't say I'm sorry 'cause I wanted something __**more**__!_"I declared unrepentantly. Only I was a lot more sorry than I let off. I was just so propelled and fueled by rage. And I want Tommy. He's more, and I wanted him before I ever even met Taylor! I placed my hands firmly on my hips, taking a step back coolly. "_It's he said, she said... let's even up the score! Give and take and back and forth, it's the nature of the game!_" I challenged, throwing my hands in the air stubbornly.

I did a slow turn. "_You supply the gasoline... I will be the __**flame**__!_"I proclaimed determinedly. Give me the fuel, baby, and I'll be the fire. Which means that if he gives me the ammo, I'm going to explode. I burn and I sear. Deal with it. Taylor was staring, jaw gaping open. He looked surprised, so I stopped a moment dutifully to wait for him to finish writing the lyrics down. While I was waiting, I tried to cool down a little. I mean, I'm not his ex just yet. Someday he's going to realize this song is pretty much all about him. I started to drift off into thinking about Tommy, as I am wont to do. "_Said you'd love me better, swept me off my feet!_" I cried dreamily. My eyes fluttered shut of their own accord, and I smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time in Taylor's presence.

Or, maybe I was talking about Taylor. He sure had no trouble saying the words. Not like Tommy did. Tommy doesn't even love me. In the beginning, too, Taylor had that effect on me... when I hadn't known who he was. Everything was kind of shot to hell when I found out he was Tommy's brother. I wonder if it wouldn't have been better not to know... Maybe Taylor was right not to tell me at first. He wanted me to have an impression of him before I knew he was Tommy's kid brother. Too bad for him that I compare everyone to Tommy without even thinking. I forced my eyes open and snapped my mind back to Taylor. _"It's time that you __**deliver**__... 'cause I want it to be sweet..._ Nah... _'Cause there's a line up down the street!_" Hm, line-up or line up? Or there's a line all up... up and down... all down... to down... Decisions, decisions!

I moved around the back of his chair, watching amusedly as he stared at me like he was amazed. I'm not that great, buddy. "_You're all talk, no action... and baby, that's not right_," I sang, shaking my head. I glanced over his shoulder to ensure he was keeping up with what I was singing. He was, so I rewarded him by running my fingers through his hair. Taylor practically jumped in surprise, so I quickly withdrew my hand. Once again, I was distracted by thoughts of my beloved boyfriend. It's weird, actually, because on the one level the song is about a girl wanting some action from her boyfriend... or affection, I suppose, or time, maybe? In that very whorey sort of way. But my relationship with Tommy had previously been a lot like it. I had accused him of being all talk and no action when we'd first met.

"_Don't need a rock around my __**finger**__...__I just wanna __**rock **__with you all night,_" I quipped seductively. My mind hadn't strayed from the thoughts of Tommy. Although I had lied to Tommy about that when he was engaged to Sadie. I don't need him to propose or anything... I'm not asking for the world here. I just want to be with him, you know? And then there's the crude way you can take that, which is obviously true since I'm all set to have sex with him tomorrow morning... but still, I don't want to think about it like that. I stopped, too lazy to bother repeating the chorus, and plopped back down in my seat.

At first Taylor was still writing with this shell-shocked look on his face. I merely shrugged. "Well, there you go. You've got your song. The second verse is the chorus, and it or various bits of it should repeat to the end... There's no bridge. And there you have it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go now," I told him decisively, getting up and turning to walk away from him. Taylor grabbed my arm before I could successfully escape.

The boy looked up at me with those big, round, helpless brown eyes of his and begged me, "Why won't you be alone with me? Why do you run away from me?" Because I'm freaking in love with your brother. And I'm secretly his girlfriend. And, oh, yeah, I'm planning on dumping you later on tonight, and I don't want to make it messy. And, oh, that's right, yeah... I'm kind of planning on letting your brother screw my brains out within the next twenty-four hours. Not what he'd want to hear. So I was pretty much a deer in headlights when he asked me that. I couldn't very well tell him the truth, obviously.

So I said the first nonpainful lie that came off the top of my head. "Because I need time away from you to make my decision. I need to make sure that I'm really making the right choice, Taylor, and I can't do that with you here. So, yeah, I really have to go. Besides, I have this doctor's appointment in a couple of hours anyway," I rambled, proud of the lie Taylor should never have been dumb enough to believe. Then I smiled and left before he could do something stupid like kiss me. I'd done my part for him. But he wasn't who I wanted or who I needed. He did the best he could, but he can't measure up.

With my life being the crazy thing that it is, naturally I happened to run smack into Travis upon exiting the kitchen. He was happy to see me. Ever since I forgave him, Travis has been like my shadow or new best friend. I can't really say I mind because he's a cool guy and everything... it's just a bit much. Especially when I still remember what he did, and I can still look at him and see him doing it again. I'm not over it. "Fleeing from Taylor, are we?" Travis asked smugly.

He'd started to walk with me, so I leaned over and shoved him. "Shut up, Travis. It's hard enough already."

Travis raised an eyebrow. "Ah." He said it all calmly, resigned-like. I turned to look at him. What's that supposed to mean? Naturally, Travis was smirking. Which means... "Still wondering how to let him down easy?" Travis asked dryly. I made a face at him. None of your business but yes. A dark look flitted across Travis' face. "Well, you could do it the quick and dirty way. All you've gotta do is make sure he catches you and Tommy in the act. A little messy, but it does the job," Travis replied sardonically.

Great. More of his Tommy issues. I shoved Travis again, practically knocking him over. Travis scowled at me, dusting himself off. "Yeah, yeah. I know you're not going to admit there's anything going on, but we both know you're lying. I saw the horrified look on your face when Taylor told you how he felt, and I see the way you look at Tommy. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that you're cheating on Taylor with Tommy," Travis retorted sharply. I flinched. He had to say it like that and make it sound all wrong. To make it sound like Taylor and I had a real relationship.

Obviously we don't. "I am **not **a cheater, Travis. For that matter, Taylor's not even a real boyfriend! We've only been going out for a month, and he lives in another city. I don't call _that _a boyfriend. Hell, he's the one who's being paid to make out with Kathryn Mansfield! I am not-" I protested defensively. Travis gave me a look and interrupted. It occurred to me suddenly that we were standing still in the hallway.

He snorted. "You've been cheating on Taylor since he first asked you out. You've been having an emotional affair with Tommy for the duration of your entire relationship," Travis interjected. That made me very angry. Because it wasn't really true. An affair implies reciprocity, and it's actually unrequited. "You're in _love _with Tommy. You never should've entered another relationship." His voice was stern, and I didn't want him to tell me off. He had no right.

I crossed my arms over my chest, furious with him. "So, what, Travis? I was just supposed to **pine **away for Tommy for the rest of my life, soaking up the _precious _little bits of attention he cared to cast my way? Taylor was the first guy in a **long **time who made me forget about Tommy for a second! He knew better, and yet he did it anyways!" I countered fiercely. It was true, in a way. There were always moments where I forgot about Tommy every now and then with other guys. Taylor had seemed so different from Tommy, and that difference was what initially attracted me to him. He was nice in a different way, but he was also so much more flawed than my dearest idol. Either way, I couldn't spend my life waiting for Tommy to come around. That was no way to live, clinging to every fragment of affection he deigns to throw at me.

Travis sighed, nodding slowly. I started walking again, and he followed, running to catch up. "I guess that's fair," He said. I gave him a self-satisfied grin. Damn right. Besides, I'm doing the right thing now... and Taylor and I had fun. Travis chuckled a little. "He's never exactly been a halogen." I rolled my eyes at Travis. Fancy way of pointing out the obvious. I kept walking, though, until Travis managed to catch my hand and pull me back around to face him. "Seriously, Jude, how are things?" Travis asked in a voice too serious for my liking.

I made a face at him and tried to pull my hand out of his grip. What exactly is he playing at? That has got to be the vaguest question in history. I shrugged defiantly. He wouldn't let go. "Fine, Travis. Now, is that seriously why you stopped me in the middle of the hallway? To ask a question as stupid as that?" I bit out sternly, throwing him my most stubborn stare, popping a hand on my hip. The challenge was implicit. Come on, Travis, get to your point.

His gaze was steelier than I expected. It confused me because his eyes were sea green, not the dark color they normally assumed when he was angry, and not quite the wintergreen bluish color they turned when he was being cold. I waited impatiently for the answer I knew was coming. His grip didn't loosen. "I meant things with Tommy," He clarified coolly. I opened my mouth to deny everything, but Travis rolled his eyes at me and covered my mouth before I could say a word. "Don't be juvenile, Jude. I know you're with him. It's going well, isn't it?" Travis asked shortly.

"I refuse to dignify that with a response," I replied readily, holding my head up high. But Travis forced me to look at him, pulling me closer. He smirked. Apparently he'd read my eyes well enough to all but confirm it. Travis is too smart for his own good sometimes. Tommy would probably be annoyed, but it wasn't my fault. He just... figures these things out, and nothing I can say will change his mind.

Travis proceeded, still smirking madly. "So it's going well," He persisted. I scowled at him, but he continued nonetheless. His smirk turned into a one-sided grin. "You have this... _glow_ about you," He elaborated a moment later. His smile looked like it was burgeoning on friendly. Then Travis snickered, reaching out to lightly flick a spot on my neck. "Plus I know Taylor didn't give you that hickey." I turned pale. Oh, crap. Where's the cover-up when I need it? My hand immediately came up to cover it, and Travis once again snickered. Ah, humiliation, my old, dear friend. I thought I was done with you, but clearly I am yet not.

Okay, so what is he getting to here? I eyed him curiously. His eyes burned into me just a little. "I meant what I said, you know... I'm here if you need me... if you want me. If you need to talk... if you need anything at all... And, if, heaven forbid, something goes wrong with you and Tommy, you know who to come to. You've got me. You've always got me, Jude," Travis declared intently, making sure to stare deeply into my eyes. He squeezed my hand warmly, and my stomach felt disturbingly fluttery. Those feelings I'd had for Travis had never really gone away. They had just been buried under the hatred and resentment.

Honestly, I was grateful for his offer. I didn't really know how to respond to it, though. It was an awfully sweet thing to say, but it seemed like it was motivated by guilt. I didn't even want to think about the possibility that something would go wrong, but heaven knows I had. More than I'd like to admit. The offer would've been tempting if I wasn't with Tommy. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if it was true, if he really meant it. "You're just saying that because you want to get into my pants, Travis," I rejoined half-heartedly.

He didn't look happy at the comment, but the look on his face suggested he was expecting it. He smirked a little. "Well, I _definitely_ wouldn't mind that... Seriously, Jude, you are **completely** welcome to use my body for your pleasure if you so desire... But I'm actually not saying it because of that. I'm saying it because I _need_ to make it up to you. So trust me when I say I will be there by your side. No matter what you do. If anyone says a word against you but me, then they'll answer to me, got it, Harrison?" Travis told me, a hint of flirtation in his voice. I snorted and shoved him, but I believed him anyway. Of course, Travis would probably say worse than the others... But his would be meant in a jesting spirit. The barbs are, after all, typical of our relationship/friendship.

Two can play that game. I shook my head at Travis, fighting back a smirk. I got real close to him, patting his cheek lightly. "Travis, you're a hot piece. I'll give you that. And what you said, aside from indecent proposal, means a lot. Thanks for the offer. But I don't think I'll be needing your help anytime soon." Travis made a face at me, and I couldn't help but smirk, pulling away.

My former tormentor was strangely quiet after that, and I didn't miss the serious look on his face. "You never know, Jude. You, of all people, know how quickly a life can change. All it takes is an instant," Travis pointed out sagely. He was right, of course. I did know. I'd said the very same thing. My whole life had changed overnight. And not just when I won Instant Star, but other times too... Still, him saying that sent a chill of foreboding down my spine. Travis offered me a tense smile. "Just for the record, I hope you don't need my help. But, if you do... I'm all yours, Harrison," Travis told me somewhat warmly.

The breath got caught in my throat there. I hadn't forgotten that Tommy had said virtually the same words a week ago. When he officially became my secret boyfriend. A part of me will never be sure I can trust those words. But I managed to act unaffected, thanked him with a dry throat, and hugged him. Then I turned away and left him there. I kept walking, wondering why that harmless chat had left me so unsettled. I never got an answer.

What I did after that was so boring I've forgotten it completely. All you need to know is that I went to the doctor around three. Tommy drove me, naturally, as promised. I really, really didn't want to go because I knew it was going to be invasive and annoying. And possibly painful. I truly had no idea. The man I suppose was nice enough. I just... don't like doctors, let alone strange ones I don't know. He was middle-aged with glasses and thin hair, but he was all business. He got me to strip faster than even Tommy had ever managed. And I didn't like something about him. It was the way he regarded me, coolly, without a trace of emotion. He was a quiet guy, but I could tell that he was thinking "Oh, here we go again. Tommy's got me busy checking another girl out." He knew it was serious, though, because Tommy had taken me there on a holiday, so there was a wariness in him.

The man made me feel like another one of Tommy's girls, and I just couldn't stand it! He did all the normal check-up things first, of course. He stuck the thing up my nose and in my ears, and then shined the light in my eyes. Then he made me stand up and felt me up in the creepy unsettling way that makes you uncomfortable. It's like, jeez, you're practically at second base. I don't even let my official boyfriend there. But both of his brothers, well, oh, yeah! Tommy watched me with jealous eyes. It made me feel just the tiniest bit better that he wasn't comfortable with it either. He hadn't been able to touch me much if at all in the whole little examining room, but he'd insisted on staying to watch me. He said he was there to make me feel more comfortable, and I did, a little.

But it was almost like he was a voyeur. I couldn't help but notice the way the man raised his eyebrows when Tommy said he'd been staying. He almost made a remark about it but managed tactfully to stop himself before actually doing anything that would make me feel even more awkward. Then he made me pee into a cup, swiped the inside of my cheek with a swabstick, and drew some blood for "tests." It was a vague answer, and I wondered irritably just what he was testing. It hurt and was pretty damn humiliating, although Tommy snuck into the bathroom and kissed me hard after I was done. He mumbled about how he didn't want anyone else touching me, even a doctor, and how he could barely stand it. I privately agreed with him and went out of the bathroom alone since the doctor had practically demanded that Tommy leave the room when I got a gynecological exam.

Yeah. I so hadn't known that was going to happen, and I wanted to murder Tommy for it. Especially since I didn't know what to expect and never ever wanted to have one. I was only seventeen! But overhearing their conversation had actually been quite interesting. "Thomas, I know you and this girl have most assuredly been intimate. Obviously you wouldn't bring her here if you hadn't been. That's your personal business, and I have no right to question you on it. But I refuse to allow any funny business in my clinic, you hear me? And an grown man... especially an adult in a position of authority as precarious as yours... should not be in the room while I'm administering a private exam such as this. It's practically equivalent to pornography, and I won't do it. Even if she will feel more "comfortable" with you in the room. It's a gynecological exam, Thomas. She's not supposed to feel comfortable. So, Thomas, I would suggest you go wait outside until I call you," The doctor dictated brusquely.

This indicated to me that he recognized that Tommy was in some sort of (nonsexual) position above me. When I got in there, he made me get in the chair with the stirrups and hooked me up to the metal instruments, feeling me up, examining me, and taking another swab sample, and asking me invasive questions such as when was my last period and had I ever been pregnant and was I sexually active (to that one I replied with a sharp "None of your damn business! You're not my FREAKING doctor!" Or, for that matter, my gynecologist)... Though, to be fair, I was in searing pain and squirming away from the guy desperately. It was hella fun, you know. Being poked and prodded like a damn lab rat. And so undignifying, having some creep peer down between my legs. Tommy doesn't even get that privilege! And I've almost slept with him many times, so is it really fair that a stranger gets to get a proper look first?

That's when it got weird. The doctor made a strange little noise. Like hmm or something. My whole body went cold, and the guy immediately gets me out of the stirrups and machinery and calls Tommy in while I'm still pulling my shift down and trying to wipe the stupid Vaseline away. I'm still in the room, still sitting there, and still very, very, very uncomfortable when all of this happens. The doctor walks up to Tommy and talks to him in what is supposed to be a quiet voice. I assume. Unfortunately for the good doc, his voice carries across the empty room, which isn't even that big. "Tom, we don't need the tests." Way to sound ominous, Doc. That got my attention and made me worry. I mean, what, am I dying?! I was freaking terrified!

Doctor Evil gave Tommy a look that said clearly that he wouldn't get out of paying for it. Tommy looked confused. His brow got all crinkly and frowny and adorable, naturally. "I'm inclined to agree with her. She seems to have some sort of bug, so I say give her some time to get over it. She should be almost done with it by now. If she isn't, come see me. Other than that, there's not really much I can do for her," He stated very calmly. It seemed a moment later that the doctor realized I could hear him, because he dropped his voice and shot me a nervous/slightly worried look. I could still hear him, though. I just had to strain my ears.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and seemed to avoid looking Tommy in the face. "As for... the other matter... Well, I believe I can say with certainty that you have nothing to worry about on that front. There is slim to no chance that particular young woman is pregnant," The doctor said with some difficulty. His face looked a little flushed, which surprised me. A doctor blushing? Is this particularly sensitive territory or something? And then, with a horrifying, dazzling flash, I realized exactly what the doctor now knew. And, holy freak, he probably thinks Tommy's nuts. Oh God. I am so screwed.

I found myself praying frantically and silently that Tommy wouldn't ask for a clarification. Be satisfied with that, Tommy. Please! But Tommy's brow merely furrowed further, and his jaw tightened. That was basically what I'd said, after all, and he was wondering how both the doctor and I could be so sure of the same conclusion. "What makes you so sure?" Tommy questioned indelicately. I felt myself turn white. I knew the doctor was going to tell him, and half of me wanted to escape before someone yelled at me. However, the other half wanted to stay and resolve things, so I found myself torn in two and unable to decide. I was trapped, frozen there to the thought.

The asshole doctor is going to screw me over. I just know it. The doctor looked down and once again cleared his throat. "It's a delicate issue to discuss, Thomas, and not one I am very accustomed to. But, if you insist, the young lady in question is still, technically speaking, a virgin. So it is very, very unlikely that she's pregnant, Thomas," He elucidated placidly, although his darting eyes betrayed a different story. For a moment, I just kind of sucked that info in and thought it over for a second. And I realized what he'd said. My first thought was not of Tommy. My initial reaction was relief. My whole body slumped with it... Relief that I hadn't slept with Travis! My question finally answered! I felt measures better, but it didn't last. To be honest, maybe I was relieved a little that Tommy knew. And maybe I wasn't. Moments later, Tommy turned to me. My blood turned cold, and I instinctively closed my eyes, feeling Tommy's gaze snap over to me.

"What?!" Tommy managed in a barely restrained voice. He is not talking to me. I hope. I didn't dare to open my eyes out of fear. Maybe if I pretend I'm not here, I won't be. And then he won't see me and accost me. Maybe I can just vanish in thin air. Holy crap. He's going to murder me. I should've run and hidden when I had the chance. I should never have come here.

Ugh, the patient old doctor just had to repeat himself even more slowly and loudly this time. Maybe Tommy wasn't talking to me after all. "Thomas, she still has a hymen. She grimaced when the machine pushed her legs apart. It is very doubtful that she isn't a virgin, unless she's had her hymen surgically repaired and hasn't had sex in a very long time, but I suspect this would be obvious, which means that it seems this young miss is still a virgin, and that you, my friend, have been duped," The doctor told him very plainly. I winced. He'd just made the whole thing about a thousand times worse. Especially with that last remark.

It wasn't like I'd plotted the whole damn thing out. Clearly I wasn't thinking. It's my way. I don't look before I leap. It's a problem. I gulped hard because I could sense that Tommy was going to murder me. I waited with bated breath, hoping to feel nauseous or faint or something... anything to get me the hell out of that room and that awful, awkward situation. Well, I started feeling nauseous the minute that damn doctor told Tommy that I was a virgin, but not in the I'm-going-to-vomit-way. Tommy paused a long moment, as if trying to calm down. His voice was cool when he spoke. "Doc, can you give us a minute or two? My _friend _and I need to discuss some things in private," Tommy requested in a terse but polite tone.

This time I didn't need to look to know that the doctor was giving Tommy a warning look. He was quiet and not demanding, but not really insistent either. "I only ask that you do not harm her, Thomas. There will be none of that in my clinic either." His voice was firm, but I didn't feel safe at all. Oh, I knew Tommy was going to hurt me in one way or another, but I didn't think he'd be rough with me. I trusted him enough to know he wouldn't hurt me physically. But heart-wise? I'm pretty much screwed already. Because forget all his promises, he's going to shatter me like a rock through a window. Then the door shut, and my eyes shot open.

My whole body shook, and suddenly Tommy was there in my face. He pulled me up a bit roughly, without even saying a word to me. I couldn't help but clutch my stupid breezy gown together. It was thin, and I couldn't help but shiver. Nevertheless, I braced myself for whatever Tommy was about to say. It was going to be cutting. "What the **hell**, Jude?! How could you lie to me about something so important?!" Tommy snapped, keeping his hands tight on me. For a moment, I debated turning my head away, but I knew it would be to no avail. So I made myself look at him. He was furious, fast turning red in the face. His eyes were dark and narrow, his lips stiff and pursed.

What could I say to that? There was always the truth, but it didn't sound good enough. And I didn't want to tell him, to make myself vulnerable to him. Truthfully, I lied because it wasn't important to me. Sex itself is, but nothing mattered to me in that moment. I was so hurt I wasn't thinking clearly. I'd had time to simmer in my anger, and he had so much nerve asking me that. I was so pissed off at him then that I wanted revenge. So, being my stupid self, I opened my big fat mouth and said something even more monumentally stupid. "What does it matter? It's going to happen anyway... and don't say you haven't thought about it, because I _know _you've fantasized about me, Tommy. For the better part of a year. The only thing that's stopped you from jumping me is my age," I retorted somewhat irritably.

Tommy looked so absolutely on fire with rage that I thought he was going to hit me. "It matters because you made me think I was that guy. You made me think I was someone that I _hate, _someone that I'm not. You had me straining to remember memories that didn't exist... memories I made up! I thought I'd done what I swore not to do. I felt like a _rapist, _Jude! So, yes, I'd say it was important. Wanting something doesn't make you a criminal. Doing it does, and I never would've done a damn thing if I-" Tommy snarled, leaning in towards my face. His eyes flashed like lightning.

I cut him off bitterly. I felt bad for lying to him, yes. And I felt guilty, and I knew I'd made him feel awful. But I was sick of him not saying it. That he wouldn't have done a damn thing if he hadn't thought he'd already been there, done that, and didn't remember. "If... _what_, Tom? If you thought you hadn't screwed me already? That's what you were going to say, isn't it? So what, I'm no **good** to you now? You're not that guy now, and you don't want me anymore because you're clinging to some morals you don't have?" I snapped furiously, unafraid to get up close in his face. I placed my hands on my hips and stubbornly stared him down. "I'm seventeen, Tommy. You're not taking advantage of anyone... You're just shooting yourself in the foot here. Walking away is only going to make both of us miserable," I said to him impatiently.

Impatiently because I could already see it happening. I could already see him pulling away. And so I tried to bring him closer, to pull him back to me. I tried to get him to look me in the eyes, grabbing his lapels, but he jerked his head away. All I got were fleeting looks. Maybe he knew if he looked at me he'd break down. I could sense, or, rather, knew instinctively that Tommy was still on the fence. This wasn't the discussion that would end things just yet. If, indeed, they ended, and, God, I hoped to death they didn't. He was still in shock, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact, to get used to it. I wasn't about to let him off easy.

Not when I finally got him. When I finally have him. He's mine, mine, M-I-N-E, mine, and I'm not just going to let that go. Not without a fight. I like it too damn much, and I definitely love him too much for my own good. This time I'm not going to let Hurricane Tommy happen to me. I'm going to do something about it. I hadn't shown all my cards just yet, though. I was waiting to use the rest of them later when I needed them. Oh, no, I was not going to give up. Sometimes you have to fight for what you want. They say love is worth waiting for. Tommy even said so, and it is. But what people don't tell you is that love is also worth fighting for. It doesn't always come easy; you have to work for it. You have to fight for it, tooth and nail, and the day when you don't is the day when it stops being worth it.

Maybe there is a point, too, when you _have_ to give up... If it's definitely not reciprocated and they're calling you a stalker. And then they get the restraining order. And I guess if you really think the person you love would be happier with someone else. All that crap about how if you really love something, you set it free, and if it loves you back it'll come back to you? Frankly, I think those words are best applied to birds or other furry creatures. But you see, I've done that for Tommy before. He wasn't any happier with Sadie, so how could he possibly be any happier with any other woman? Doesn't everyone always say how I make him happy, how I changed him into a better person? Isn't that, at least, true? _I'm_ what's best for him.

Tommy pushed me away. His face was like steel, his eyes a cold cobalt. I fell back a little and felt the thin, flimsy gown I was wearing start to gape open. I hadn't tied it very well. It stung to be pushed away like that, like I was some repulsive creature. Tommy swallowed hard but was able to look at me. Immediately I was grateful for the gesture, but what I saw there in his gaze terrified me. I felt the draft more fiercely than before. Fitting, isn't it? "I know that, and I don't care. Doing the right thing isn't doing what makes me happy or what I want. That's the path of least resistance. Doing the right thing is about being able to look at a mirror and say I'm proud of the person staring back at me. If I did anything inappropriate with you, how could I ever respect myself again? You're just a _kid_, Jude! I'm an adult, and I know better!" Tommy argued, sounding more determined than I had ever expected. His voice was harsh.

Apparently he's the type of guy who takes the path less traveled by, and that will make all the difference. He's so caught up on legalism and his stupid principles that he'd rather be miserable than break them. And I thought Tommy Quincy was a rebel. On the bright side, though, I'm what he wants, and I make him happy. I chased after him as he turned his back on me, snatching his shoulder and twisting him around to face me. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Tommy! I make my own decisions, and I chose **you**! You didn't force me into doing anything I didn't want to do. So don't act like I don't know what I'm doing. Because I do, okay?! I know better too, and I _still_ picked you despite everything!" I shouted at him breathlessly, unable to understand why he still thought of me as a child. I know better than to go down the Tommy train, yet I take it anyway. I know it's a one-way track to Heartbreak Hotel, but I trudge down it stubbornly nonetheless.

Oh, I haven't been a little girl for a long time, Tommy. I stared at him unrelentingly, poking him in the chest. "The question you've got to ask yourself is whether you could respect yourself for ditching me like this and breaking my heart. Because, Tom, I assure you that decision would be a million times worse than the other one. It's not fair for you to just give me a little taste of what this could be like, only to cruelly snatch it away from me a moment later. I want the whole thing," I told him quite seriously. Just for affect, I didn't look away from him. No, I wanted Tommy to feel every last bit of the guilt I'd just thrown at him. Indignantly I crossed my arms over my chest, clutching the thin fabric to me protectively, as if the cotton would keep Tommy out.

But the hospital gown was no suit of armor. He'd looked away immediately after I started saying that, of course. The man made quick moves to distance himself. I assumed he was contemplating what I'd said. Maybe he was even choosing. I don't want just a bite, you know? I want the whole plate. He's like a Whippet, hard and volatile on the outside, prone to meltdowns, and soft and gooey on the inside. I waited for him to speak. After what seemed an eternity, Tommy finally responded. His words were heavy and dark, foreboding. "I can't even look at you right now. And I don't know if I ever can again." So fatalistic. He was giving up, and, true to his word, he wasn't looking at me. My, my, resisting temptation already, are we?

Red. All I saw was red. My arms dropped down from my sides, and the gown flew wide open. I was too infuriated to care. What did it matter if Tommy wasn't going to look at me, after all? Besides, I had to get dressed! I couldn't let him walk around here with all the power. Maybe I'm just going to have to walk out with my head held high. Barely able to resist slamming his head into something, I stomped over to the counter, grabbing some paper towels. Oh, I'll make him look at me, all right! I reached down between my legs. The area felt cold and slimy, so I quickly wiped myself off, trying to get all the goo off as best as I could.

One by one, I tossed the paper towels in the trash, until finally I looked up and Tommy was staring at me with a sleazy grin I recognized. It was almost the smirk of recognition I ached for, but there was such a vulgar smugness to it that I got even more inflamed about it. "Oh, it's not _you_, so stop looking like the cat who ate the canary! It's this damn Vaseline," I sniped back. They use it as a lubricant for metal instruments, so that they can more easily pull you apart.

It was a small victory. He'd at least looked at me, even if it was with perverted eyes. As soon as I made that comment, though, Tommy's eyes shot away from me as if ashamed. Which he should be, creeper that he can be. The bastard was probably hoping he'd get to see me touch myself, doubtlessly thinking of him. Not gonna happen. Still frustrated, I tore off the gown as if it was on fire, discarding and casting it to the floor like it was trash. I stalked over to the chair that held all my clothes, all quick steps and powerful strides, sorting through the clothing. I didn't like being naked and vulnerable there. It was strange and uncomfortable.

Sifting through the clothing, my hand emerged victorious, clutching my underwear. I stepped into the panties and jerked them up, swift as lightning. I'd deliberately turned my back to Tommy before, and I didn't care if he was watching, but, for once, I hadn't felt his eyes burning into me. I couldn't decide whether that was a good or a bad thing. I plucked up my bra, sliding into the straps and satin, deftly reaching around to fasten it behind my back. It wasn't that I'd wanted privacy. It was more that I did it symbolically, out of a need to keep a part of me separate. I had picked up my shirt and was just starting to slip it over my arms and head when Tommy spoke again.

His voice was low and quiet this time, he sounded resigned, depressed, weary, completely sapped of everything. "Maybe I didn't think you were this kind of person either, Jude." Well, too damn bad, 'cause I am!

I paused, shrugging diffidently. "I knew exactly what kind of person you were, what kind of person you are. I always have," I said with an eerie finality. I'd embraced my fate. Tommy was going to break up with me. Nevertheless, I pulled my shirt over my head, adjusting it. I swept back my hair and turned around to look at him, placing my hands on my hips defensively. I'm not going to make this easy for him. "You know, Tom, having a _relationship_ with me isn't illegal. It's illegal to have **sex** with me. You _can_ keep it in your pants, can't you?" I lectured dryly, cocking my head. Tommy raised an eyebrow at me, and I could've sworn he flushed just a little bit.

Okay, so we both know that's not an option for him. I rolled my eyes. Well, it just figures, doesn't it? Exactly what kind of relationship does he want from me? I know he said I was worth waiting for, but, what, he can't wait 'til my eighteenth birthday or do it in secret? "Besides, Tommy, it's not like I'm going to tell anyone. I'd lie in court for you," I proclaimed frankly. Tommy's eyes widened dramatically. I meant the words, though. He could tell too, from the way I said it.

After a minute or so, Tommy recovered. I'd basically sworn I wouldn't say a word to anyone and pretty much gave him the green light to screw my brains out. Besides, aren't these things kind of tricky to prove? It would pretty much be my word against his unless one of us either told someone or someone walked in on us together. Or I got pregnant and a DNA test was done. But, assuming none of that happens, no one would ever know. But he objects because of some stupid little...

"Forgive me if I don't believe it. You might lie just to spite me. After all, you did it once before..." Tommy sneered. The comment stung. He had hit the nail on the head. But it made me so pissed off that he didn't believe me. Me! When have I ever lied to him about something truly important? He lies all the time, and he has the nerve to say he can't believe me?! I'm not the one who lies to suit my own purposes and changes my mind whenever I feel like it! Suddenly it registered that Tommy had moved towards me.

And I lost all control of myself. "Want me to _prove_ it to you?" Next thing I knew, I was running over to him, literally jumping him. He had no idea what hit him at first, so he was stiff more with surprise. I too was surprised, surprised I hadn't knocked him over. Before I could even discern up from down, my lips had found his, and I was kissing him instinctively, hungrily. I twined my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, tightening my legs around his waist. Then I was rubbing up against him feverishly, trying to get closer, deeper. My tongue swept over his lips, skimmed over his teeth, tickled the insides of his cheeks, wrestled with his tongue.

My lips only separated from his to gasp for air, and the pause lasted only enough for me to suck in some quick, heavy breaths. It was enough for me. Oh, and it felt really great. Very cathartic and delicious and all that good stuff. At first Tommy was mostly unresponsive, either from shock or fury, but it was safe to say that he warmed up quickly enough. He let that rage fuel him, carry him on. His arms came around my waist, slipping up my back and underneath my shirt. I nipped his lip softly but with a certain sting. I did kind of want to make him pay for his crimes against my sanity. It wasn't long after that when Tommy's hands started tugging at my shirt, jerking it awkwardly up and away from my skin. It got caught around my breasts and under my arms, so I let go of him for a minute, pulling my unwilling lips away from his so that I could throw the shirt off myself.

Lickety-split, I draped my arms around his neck so that they resumed their former position. Our lips came together once again. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forehead against mine while he sucked on my lips. I felt a moan building up in my throat, a moan that couldn't come out. Almost immediately, Tommy's magic fingers unhooked my bra, peeling it away from my skin. I dropped my arms and let it fall to the floor. We had always fit so well together. His hands slid down my back and over my ass, squeezing it and pressing me into him even further. He let out a groan happily, and I was reminded that he was fully clothed, whereas I was just a pair of panties away from being completely naked. I had the vague sensation that I'd lost a game of strip poker.

My hands trailed down from his neck, fisting in his shirt, tugging at the buttons. Pop, pop, pop, one after the other came undone. Tommy's fingers massaged my lower back, tracing distracting circles there. I tried to concentrate on removing his shirt, but it was too difficult. Despite that, I struggled and managed to unbutton his shirt all the way. I tried to push it off his shoulders, but Tommy remained stubborn. What, does he want to screw me with his clothes on? It made me feel vulnerable, since I was the one who was almost naked, and he was fully dressed like he had some sort of power over me.

Honestly, though, I was so turned on I couldn't bring myself to give much of a damn about it. So when Tommy's fingers toyed with the band of my underwear, I nodded, adjusted my hips, and trailed my hand down over his smooth chest to his jeans. I jerked roughly at the button, unfastening the top. My fingers groped for the zipper, and then I felt Tommy's hands going south, peeling the fabric away, rolling it down. When he'd pulled them down as far as he could go, Tommy's hands eased their way down the rest of my legs, removing them from his waist and setting them gently down on the ground. He was eager to drag the panties the rest of the way down and off my legs, and he did so quickly.

I pulled the zipper down in a fierce, abrupt motion, fumbling with his jeans, tugging at them. We just couldn't get enough of each other. He groaned and pulled me back up. My legs latched on to his waist like velcro. I managed to move his jeans down further, so that my bare skin barely brushed against the coarse fabric. His fingers slid down my inner thighs smoothly, and I couldn't get closer to him. It didn't matter; it wasn't enough. I moaned softly. His fingers edged in further, and I practically trembled in anticipation, adjusting my hips to maneuver closer, to hit the angle better, just right.

Anticipation for something that never came, that's what it was.

One second I was edging down his boxers, ready to do him right there, up against the wall... and the next, he was pushing me away, shaking his head. His voice was still raspy and breathless, pure sex. He leaned back against the wall, catching his breath. "I need some time to think about this. This changes everything, Jude," Tommy mumbled, trying to regain his sanity. Suddenly I was breathless for a whole new reason. His eyes were still closed. I walked towards him on shaky legs, feeling horribly exposed. I reached out to him, brushing my fingers fondly down his chest. His eyes snapped open and immediately raked over me. He sighed heavily, banging his head against the wall in irritation. "I can't do this now."

That's just great, isn't it? I know he needs to "think", but that's not much better than a break-up. It means he's really considering severing all the ties that bind us together. I was frustrated, so I pushed his chin up and moved in close so that he had to look at me. "It doesn't change the way we feel about each other, Tommy!" I exclaimed dramatically, breathlessly, throwing myself against him. Our eyes locked for an intense moment, and Tommy sucked in a breath, basically confirming what I'd said. His eyes swept over me, taking in my naked body, a sight I knew he'd already memorized. He bit down hard on his bottom lip.

It was hard for him. A moment later, he pushed me away lightly, somewhat unwillingly. His eyes fell at the floor; he wasn't about to allow himself another glance. "Jude, get dressed," Tommy ordered. But his voice was distracted, and he seemed lost. I didn't get dressed right away. I pulled on my undergarments first, slowly. Tommy stayed there for a while, staring into space and looking completely dazed. Then, suddenly, as I was about to pull my shirt over my head, Tommy turned to me. "I've got to go get ready for the party. You can find your way to the house, can't you?" He told me abruptly. Within seconds of saying that, Tommy was out the door.

I pulled my shirt over my head, frustrated and confused, and quickly hopped into my jeans, not wanting the doctor to walk in while I was still undressed. I put on my socks and shoes next, trying not to think of what was to come. It didn't work too well, so I tried to concentrate on putting my sweater on and fixing my hair and tying my shoes and slipping my arms into my coat and zipping and buttoning it. I tried to keep my mind on the menial tasks, forcing myself into a state of hollowness, repressing the emotions. But I felt so empty and so lost, still in shock. I knew I had to keep it together tonight, no matter what happened.

Just then, as I was reapplying my lip-gloss, the doctor came back in the room with a grim line on his face. I looked at him and disliked him more. He'd ruined everything for me, and he'd known Tommy was just going to cut me like that too! He'd looked at me like just another little whore and made me into some kind of schemer. So, yeah, I was pissed. But I needed to know something, so I looked up at him and plastered one of those doe looks on my face. I cleared my throat awkwardly, biting my lip. "Would it have mattered? If I'd slept with him yesterday or a week ago... Could you tell the difference?" I asked quietly.

The doctor shrugged, the look on his face slightly more kindly. "It's impossible to say." He shrugged, placing a hand on his chin in contemplation. A moment later, he gave me a more complete answer. "If it happened yesterday, I could probably tell that it had happened recently... But if it had happened last week, there's no way I could've known for sure. It might've looked a little recent, but it would've healed, and the swelling would've gone down... And you might've still been a bit skittish if you hadn't had a lot of sexual intercourse," He explained in a dry clinical voice. Knowing only made me feel worse.

So, basically, in order to avoid all of this, I should've just had sex with him Christmas morning or earlier. Thanks for nothing. Thanks for making me feel worse. I said something to the doctor, something polite... I don't know what... And then I left. I walked down the street, wrapping my arms around myself to try and hold in the warmth. It was freezing outside, but I didn't care. It was how I felt. Cold, empty, alone in this desolate, deserted city. The whole time I was walking, this melody was playing over and over again in my mind, like a skipping record or a tape rewinding and unwinding. I couldn't get the fatalistic, melancholy tune out of my head, and I couldn't put words to it. When I tried to, I failed miserably and retreated back into my depression. Truthfully, I didn't need to find words. The words were already there inside of me, buried deep down in the center of my being, written on my very heart. I knew what the song meant to me.

Nevertheless, I trudged through the snow all the way back to the chateau. It was, after all, hard to miss. By the time I got there, it was almost five, and I was numb all over. Sadie found me, freaked out ("How can a person's skin be blue and red at the same time?!"), and pretty much threw me in the shower. Once I'd warmed up a bit, I tore off the wet clothes and scrubbed at my skin. As if that would make me clean. The song in my head was stuck on replay, stuck in my head, not going to come out any time soon. The song didn't leave me with a good feeling. The tune was beautiful yet foreboding; it warned of impending danger. Siren song. And it was literally driving me crazy. You see, that's where my downward spiral all began. Sadie slapped some sense back into me, drying and styling my hair quickly into a sort of crown of loose waves. I stepped into the dress I was wearing, pulling it up over my hips. Sadie was there to zip it for me and help me into my shoes.

I was apathetic. I cared about nothing. I was still numb but aware enough to cover up the redness on my neck, to line my eyes and paint the lids with a smoky navy color, to master the mascara, to add too much blush to my cheeks and smooth it away later, to apply the long-last bloody crimson lipstick to my lips. It stained, creeping under the skin like a cheap tattoo. A spritz of perfume and then the jewelry, heavy around my neck, beringed fingers. Sadie, who looked like a goddess in white and ivory, with her hair swept up with silvery hairpins, and I linked arms and walked down to the massive ballroom together. Fortunately we ran into Chaz, who knew where the ballroom actually was.

Chaz had wisely stayed away from the white suit route, lest someone accuse him of trying to revive Boyz! Attack. He was wearing a classic black suit with a white shirt and ivory tie, along with one of those stupid pocket handkerchiefs in the same color. I raised an eyebrow at it, and how close he was to my sister, but I said little about it. Sadie and Chaz had gotten a lot closer over the trip, bonding in their misery and getting over their exes. I spent a lot of time with them, relatively, since everyone wants a piece of this action, but I could never quite tell if they were actually anything more than friends. Tommy blinded me.

As for me, I was clad in a slinky silver cocktail dress made of silk. It was scoop-necked, and the sleeves were rather thin straps that were attached to a more gauzy fabric that draped around the base of each shoulder, batwing sleeves Sadie told me they're called. However, my sleeves each had a slit down the middle, so that occasionally they flared out, but more often just stayed on the sides of my shoulders. The back of the dress was rather low, and the front bared cleavage. The shoes I was wearing were as close as they come to glass slippers. They were more comfortable than I expected and looked as if someone had spray-painted parts of them silver. We arrived ten minutes before the big presentation.

Imagine my astonishment when Sadie and Chaz got to go and I didn't. Some planner friend of Tory's who answered to Trish, who was apparently dually in charge of the ball, grabbed my arm and ushered me over to the very top of the super large, majestic staircase. The very one I hadn't wanted to go down. Naturally, I expected that I would be paired with Taylor, but I found instead that I was standing next to Tommy. We both did a double-take, and the mean planner crossly forced Tommy to take my arm. We exchanged confused glances.

Glances that did not fail to hide the anger simmering in Tommy's eyes. Apparently even my radiance was not enough to distract him this time. Perhaps the fact that I was wearing clothes, including jewelry from his brothers-slash-rivals (and not a single piece from him except my star ring), had something to do with it. "Presenting our special guests, my son, Tommy Quincy, and his up-and-coming protégée, Jude Harrison!" Tory's booming voice exclaimed, which was our cue to move and make our way out from behind the screen/wall/whatever. I just held on to Tommy's arm and followed him helplessly out front. We paused at the top of the stairs.

I was momentarily stunned by all of the bright, flashing lights and clicks of cameras, and even applause. Wasn't I notorious? That's not something good... I barely managed a smile before Tommy whisked me down the ginormous staircase. As we were walking, I heard something that surprised me, to say the least. The song we were walking to was a very familiar one to the both of us, and I could tell Tommy obviously recognized it too by the way he stiffened and paused a little too long on one stair. The song that was playing in the background was... "Frozen."

Basically, it was a huge deal, and suddenly I understood the décor, dripping with ice and crystals and glass as well as cool tones and actual ice sculptures. Everything, even Tommy's frostbite blue suit made sense. He pulled it off better than he should've. I realized with horror that it was a release party. But not just for Tommy's single... for mine too!

If it was at all possible, Tommy froze. He was tense with even more rage than before.

You see, first I ought to explain something. After the whole "Frozen" debacle, I'd secretly finished my own version. But after that, Tommy and I talked about the song. He said he would never record it again... I guess it was too raw then. He apologized for his behavior and explained he'd been really angry that I'd rewritten the song. Duh. It was like a slap in the face to him. He said it was like a betrayal, like I hadn't believed in his songwriting abilities (and, privately, I thought, another reminder of the age gap between us). The song itself was special to Tommy because it was deeply personal, moreso than I had realized. That song was Tommy's life back then. It expressed all of the feelings he'd had at the height of his fame and time with Boyz! Attack, his frustrations, his emptiness, his dissatisfaction.

Me rewriting that song with no experience seemed an insult to the song and the feelings that had written it. So then I apologized, explaining that obviously I hadn't known any of that. I told him that he'd hurt my feelings by taking what I'd thought to be a nice gesture and basically spitting it in my face. After all, Tommy hadn't gotten me anything for a first album gift, and I shouldn't have given him anything anyways. Besides, I'd sold my soul to Darius for him so that he could get that demo back. I gave him his music back, a part of his life that was completely missing... I only did it with the best of intentions. I wanted him to stay so badly, you know?

And I knew it was crazy at the time, but I wanted to show him how much he meant to me, how much I trusted him and needed him, and how I would do anything for him. But, of course, Tommy missed all that. He tends to mistake emotional gestures for other things. He kills the romance sometimes, you know? This was all said on a phone call when he was flying to New York to oversee the mastering of my CD. At any rate, it led to both of us forgiving each other, and both of us promising never to record or release a version of that song. And, apparently, we both had.

We'd had this cutesy little argument too, where we each tried to pawn it off to the other. We got nowhere that way, so we both finally agreed to bury the song. But obviously we hadn't, since what was currently playing was a mixture of both our versions. Tommy's version had the driving guitar riff I instantly recognized, but with some new elements that made it sound a little less rough and a bit more current, showing off his edgy rock producing skills. My version, on the other hand, was slower, equal parts acoustic guitar and piano with a haunting background noise that was more Evanescence than Jude. It was heavily instrumented, with supplemental strings and organ. Apparently Kwest helped us produce both versions without saying anything.

"'_Cause I'm __**frozen**__..._" Came Tommy's voice. The beginning word of my lyric harmonized with Tommy's voice. The rest of the words were a beat after. "'_Cause he's frozen..._" Step down the stairs. "_Under a mountain of ice!_" Angry Tommy exclaimed. Step. My more soulful words immediately followed. "_Under an ocean of ice..._" I held the haunting note well into Tommy's next phrase. My lyrics were prettier, more idealistic, but his were real. In mine there was redemption, in his only resentment. "_I am a straan-ger-er... to my own __**life**__!_" Tommy ejaculated, hitting the climax of the chorus. That line was the fist to the gut. "_He lets me walk there, beneath his __**moon**__ at night_," I sang mellowly, so much so that it was dangerously romantic.

We took another step together, and I had the feeling that those days of vulnerability expressed were numbered, if not already over. That mountain of ice was heaped on his shoulders. "_But I'm fro-zen..._" Tommy cried in that all-out grunge voice I remembered fondly, so full of possibilities. "_And he's frozen_," I added quickly. It was presently so terribly true. Tommy was the ice man I'd known. I blinked at all the cameras, starry-eyed. Tommy's grip did not waver. "_I turn away from the sun._" I looked over at Tommy, his face was like stone. Ah, there it is, the infamous squinty frown.

"_He shields my eyes from the sun_," Came my bubbly, wildly idealistic voice. Tommy protected me. In a way, the sun was a metaphor for the fame, the spotlight... Tommy turned his back on it and protected me from it as a gesture that showed just how much he cared. "_I have my rea-sons..._" Yes, you do, Tommy, but no one knows what they are. His whole life is based on people misunderstanding him. "_The great __**believer**__..._" I warbled delicately. That was what I saw Tommy as. He believed in me, was always asking to be believed... and yet... "_But I just need __**one**__!_" He interjected in an almost raw voice. "_Doesn't believe anyone_," I chimed in in a voice more filled with sorrow. That was the irony. Tommy could never believe anyone else when it came to the important things.

"_The Ice Age is melting away!_" "_His Ice Age is melting away!_" We both finished simultaneously. Obviously Tommy's ice, his frozen moments had not sublimed or melted away. The Ice Age in him was alive and well, but he was not frozen in silence. He was hot now, not subzero, not so cool he didn't speak. He was warming up, starting to live again and get his life back on track. It had been, then, like he was frozen in that stage, stuck in Boyz Attack! like a block of ice. It was his way of saying that period of stagnation was over, that he was going to start being real. He was starting up, on fire, with this new career, breaking the pattern. And he was now. It was also a song of change.

More than that, though, it signaled a change in our relationship. An altogether unpleasant one.

We reached the bottom of the stairs. Everyone was staring at us, and Victoria instructed the workers with a gesture to turn down the music. We stood there rigidly, like statues as Victoria walked over to us, smiling widely. "I know what you're thinking... I've never been one to throw a party with such ridiculous, over-the-top family promotion. For that I apologize. This time, I just couldn't help myself. This party, however, is different. I suppose you could say it's rather... personal to me. I've heard bits and pieces of my son's music, and I have to say that he's never sounded better. The single you just heard is the heart and soul of the album. So I'm throwing this party in honor of Tommy's upcoming solo career, to show that he has all of my support behind him. I've never been more proud of him. Now, what's say we get this party really started?" Victoria proclaimed in a warm but scheming voice.

Then she walked back over to the MC, handing him the mike and walking over to us. She pulled us out of the spotlight, upon which time Tommy abruptly shouted at her. "What the **hell **was that, Mother!? It's not like you to pull a big publicity stunt," Tommy grunted in a hostile voice. I noted that Victoria was wearing a long ice blue dress, looking graceful and terribly majestic. She looked like a queen. Victoria's eyes narrowed like ice chips as she glowered back at her son.

"You love the spotlight, Tommy, so why are you so upset?" Victoria replied slowly, thoughtfully. She glanced between the two of us a bit suspiciously. The remaining warmth left her body. "I heard "Ice Queen" today, Tommy." Her tone was accusing. She gave him a significant look, but I didn't get what she meant. He was talking about her, then, I guess? "You might as well have called me Laurent, Thomas," She said crossly. Wow. If I didn't know better, I'd say she sounded actually hurt by that.

Tom rolled his eyes, furious with her. "If the stiletto fits..." I felt slightly relieved his rage wasn't directed at me. He shrugged in a way that was made to appear smooth. "It's not that different, Mother. You were always distant, and I was never good enough. I was a _mistake._ You made me wish I was never born. Forgive me, but being civil for a few months doesn't erase the years of rejection, resentment, and disapproval you showered on me," Tommy countered sorely. The pain flashed in his eyes, but his mother knew not what it meant. Wow. Bitchtoria, she should be named. I keep forgetting that she's not really a nice person. "It doesn't make me forget all the years you never so much as gave a damn."

"I'm still your mother, Thomas. There are some things you just don't air in public like that. I fed you, clothed you, carried you in my womb for nine months, put a roof over your head, worked my ass off to provide for you... I cleaned up your messes, didn't I? I let you go to pursue your dreams. I was never in your way, Thomas, and I never so much as laid a hand on you. I wasn't _that_ bad of a mother," Victoria stated icily, though the irritation leaked through her voice more and more as she went on. Other than being neglectful and verbally abusive, she was perfectly fine.

"All I ever wanted was for you to love me." His words were heartbreaking and plaintive. "To approve of me. To like being around me, to treat me with anything other than disdain." He paused, inhaling a deep, shuddering breath. He didn't notice, but I wrapped an arm around him and curled into his side. He seemed a bit comforted, but just a bit. "I wanted you to want me. My whole life, that's all I wanted," Tommy confessed heavily. He looked down, sighing deeply. "I adored you, of course. I thought you were the most beautiful, classy woman in the world. You were perfect in my eyes. I put you up so high on a pedestal that you had no equals. And I wanted to worship you in that little kid way, to get closer to you, but you were so close yet so far away... like a goddess or a queen. And I could never reach," He told her in a dreamy yet depressed voice, so full of emotion and vulnerability that I couldn't believe my ears.

His eyes darted back up to look her in the eyes. "I was never good enough," Tommy spat in disgust. I knew what that was like. My dad was my idol. In some ways, I viewed Tommy like that. And I never had his love, either... "Mothers are supposed to love their sons unconditionally. And you can say you did or do or make whatever excuses you want, but the only creature that's ever loved me unconditionally is my cat," Tommy continued stubbornly, sparking. And I'm the only person who ever has, Tommy. He shook his head, blood flooding to his face. "You never loved me, so how am I supposed to know what it feels like, what it _is_?! Because of you, I've never loved a woman!" Tommy cried, leveling this heavy charge against her.

My suspicions confirmed. He doesn't even know what love is! So what right do I have to expect a thing? Oh, hey, point... Tommy so stole my argument, thank you! Victoria's lips curled into a smirk. "Oh, so you've loved a _man_ then?! What a time to choose to tell me you're gay!" She pointed out craftily, grinning quite gaily at him. In the happy sense. She patted his hand. "We always knew you were overcompensating for something..." She frowned. "Oh, dear. Jude must be quite disappointed, but then again, I guess she was doomed to be so anyway."

Mockery is really the way in this family. And, ouch, V, thanks for pointing out that Tommy won't ever love me. Tommy scowled at her. "Shut up, Mother. You obviously know I'm not," Tommy retorted viciously. I decided at that moment to wisely creep away. This was a matter best left to mother and son to sort out by themselves. Unfortunately Tommy did not want to let me leave, for as soon as I tried to flee, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him. And then, of course, he practically planted one on me just to prove his point. He would have, too, if I hadn't pulled away, flushed. "I... I need to go t-talk to, uh, um, Taylor, yeah," I stuttered distractedly. Then I pretty much ran away from him like I'd had a rocket lit under my ass.

Being Tommy, he followed me. And, boy, did he turn his rage quickly from his mother back to me! "What the hell are you doing?! We have to talk!" He practically bellowed, chasing after me and snatching my wrist. I tried to break free but found it impossible. Great, just great. His eyes were blue-green but so green I saw Travis reflected in them. He's jealous. Of nothing. And yet he's still pissed. The background music is so fitting. "_I took water... And turned it into wine!_" Thud, thud, thud style of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bass line.

I rolled my eyes at him. "You wanna know what I'm doing? I'm going to find my slightly deranged soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend and dump him. For you. Because you wanted me to. Because I want you and not him. I think that's about it in a nutshell... Thanks for asking, T. Now, if you'd just excuse me, I really have to get around to breaking up with him, lest he try for a sloppy kiss at midnight. So I'll just brb..." I explained breezily, if not a bit tersely. I forced a smile. Damn. That clueless look of his was kind of cute. "Oh, don't know what that means? I forgot that they barely had IM in your generation..."

Then I finally managed to scamper away. I was making a beeline for Taylor, who was, predictably, on the arm of Kathryn Mansfield, chatting up his new movie to a bunch of execs. He was so animated... literally having the time of his life. I almost didn't want to ruin it by being the bitchy girlfriend, but I have to cut the cord now, you know? Or I'm stuck with him. So I made my way towards him so slowly that I could've sworn I was moving either underwater or in slow-mo.

"_And all that glitters... and all that shines_," Tommy's mocking voice returned eerily. Of course Tommy had to have his say. This time both figuratively and literally because he charged up to me like a rhino and dragged me away from Taylor. Practically tackled me, more like. Somehow he managed to drag me off into a dark corner, seemingly without anyone seeing. Then again, he's Tom Quincy, so he's kind of known for that... And a significant percentage of the party thinks I'm definitely sleeping with him, so perhaps that had something to do with it. How that would've backfired, if Tommy, like his brother, was a wannabe date-rapist.

"I don't want you seeing my brother. You lied to me, so you'll lie to him. You'll hurt him," Tommy growled, pushing me into the nook. His grip tightened around my forearms. I rolled my eyes at him, unimpressed. Clearly, Tommy, I don't want to be seeing him either. And, come on, isn't this a little pot-kettle coming from your lips, eh? Then he ordered me to do something beyond convention, something that challenged everything I ever thought I knew about Tommy. "Don't break up with Taylor, Jude. You'll break him," Tommy said in a voice that was both stern and pleading.

You could've knocked me over with a feather. "But I want _you_. I've _always_ wanted you, and you've always known that," I protested immediately, in complete shock. Not the card I expected he'd pull... I reached out for him, and Tommy recoiled, actually grimacing. He pulled away, practically pushed me away, but still I stayed. That's basically the story of our relationship. "_I was a win-ner... The world was __**mine**__._" So I'm the world now? It's funny. I usually love that part of the song, the way it builds up and crescendoes so suddenly and then crashes down and blends so smoothly into the dissatisfaction. It's one of my favorite parts. But tonight it left a bitter taste in my mouth because it hit just a little too close to home. That's how it was.

"That doesn't matter, Jude. After all, what claim do I have on you? My brother got there first. That's all it is. This... you and me... it's a mis- It's better just... left, Jude. While we can still salvage something. I don't want this to get ugly," Tommy replied coolly, firmly. My jaw could've dropped to the floor. It wasn't what I expected, him just leaving it like that. He didn't sound angry at all, and he should've. It just struck me as so weird. "_And I don't __**want**__ it, and I don't know why!_" Came his voice over the speakers, smooth as ice.

Well, I do. But I know you want me, damn it.

He almost called us a mistake.

But he didn't. That has to mean something, right? That has to mean he still cares, right?

I shook my head in disbelief. "What claim do you have on me? You honestly think that just because you didn't screw me, you didn't mark me as your own?! How flipping **stupid** are you, Quincy?! Trust me, you marked your territory a long time ago. I've been _yours_ practically since the day we met, and you're a fool if you can't see that, Tommy!" I replied immediately, stubbornly. I was unafraid to stare him down. I know what you're trying to do here, baby, and it's not going to work. I won't let it happen.

Realistically, I know I'm making things more difficult than they have to be. More difficult than they should be. But I don't do simple. Nothing about me is simple or normal or uncomplicated anymore, no matter how it may seem. I'm used to complicated. I'm not letting him go. Not when he's so ready to give it all up, and I'm so... not. I won't surrender. I won't give in so easily. I am going to be the one to save this relationship, or I will live to see the whole thing go up in flames. And maybe we won't be friends again, and work will suck, but that was his choice, not mine. There is, after all, a right way to do things.

If he didn't cop out, they would've fizzled out eventually, I'm sure. But then we could've been friends. Tommy scowled and pushed me back again. "Can't you see that I **don't** want you?" He cried in frustration. I froze. It was a shock to hear him say it. But that didn't mean I was going to blindly believe it. He can't just backtrack like that, and he knows it. It's far too late to revert back to that nasty game.

So I laughed with a bravado I found impossible. "Clearly you do. So why don't you just drop the act, Tom? Stop pretending that your feelings have changed overnight because I don't buy it. That's crap, and you know it. Even you're not that mercurial," I retorted without a single doubt. I shook my head, glaring at him, mimicking his hand motions with limp wrists. "You can't just write it off and say, "oh, you're not my cup of tea." Or something like "you're not what I wanted at all", or "I only thought I wanted you..." You can't just do this the easy way. This is _not_ an "it's not you, it's me" conversation, okay? Let's get down to the real issue, here, Tom," I quipped snappily. The impending break-up was putting me on edge. This territory, him pretending to be something he's not, him lying to me, is uncomfortable, unfamiliar.

He nodded curtly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Okay, fine. We'll go down that road," He said stonily. I smiled thinly, feeling a vague sense of satisfaction. Truly, there was little about the moment to be satisfied by. He paused briefly. "You're right. It's not me. It's you. You lied to me, Jude. How are we supposed to have a relationship if I can't trust you to tell me the truth?" Tommy stated bluntly. I blinked in surprise. I wasn't expecting him to lay it all out like that. But, seriously, he's pulling the trust issue on ME?

Asshole. I was so absolutely furious with him that I practically jumped to comment, but he interrupted me before I could even get a single word out. "So... why'd you do it, Jude?" He asked icily. His voice demanded an answer. His stare seconded the motion, cold blue like his suit. All hints of warmth faded out of him, even his skin, normally flushed due to anger, had a certain sallowness and pallor to it.

His stare bored into me, and suddenly I was wordless, boneless even. Spineless. I didn't have the energy to tell him the truth. I couldn't make my mouth form those words, so I said the thing that was closest to the truth. I said what I was able to say. "I wasn't about to let you just sweep things under the rug again," I managed, glad at least that I hadn't stuttered. I crossed my arms over my chest defensively.

Tommy's eyes darkened, and a look of pure, terrifying, unadulterated rage flickered across his face. His nostrils flared, and he took a step closer to me. "Well, that's just too bad because it **never** _happened_! There is no "we" anymore, Jude!" He snarled viciously. He sounded and looked just like a beast. Finality hit me. I realized with a sudden burst of horror that it wouldn't just be an ugly break-up. "_Ten thousand faces came to say __**goodbye**__..._" We're talking total war here. It wouldn't have even been a normal break-up because he would've never acknowledged the relationship's existence in the first place. So it's basically like it never happened. He's gonna stand there and dump me and say it never existed at all. He's going to deny, deny, deny, and he'll make me do it too.

And I'm not about to stand for that! The familiar words uttered in a tone so black, so furious I'd never heard him speak that way before, let alone to me. The closest I'd heard him come to that was when he was talking to Travis. I moved closer to him deliberately, glaring at him with all the wrath I could muster. I snorted. "Oh, there it is again... Here _we_ go again," I drawled mockingly, remembering the duet. And here we are again. "The same sick vicious cycle. Same words even. Can you at least _attempt_ to come up with a new way of breaking my heart, Quincy? It might hurt more if you actually said something _original_ for once!" I scoffed bitterly, raising my voice unabashedly.

Witness my way of playing it cool.

What can I say? I'm just a hotheaded person. Tommy was scowling like he always did whenever he was being forced to have a conversation he didn't want to face. "I think those words suffice. What would you prefer me to say, Jude? That I can't trust you? That I _can't_ get over this? That I still can't believe you lied to me about something so important? That you made me _hate_ myself for... for what? That you betrayed me? That I can't forget this, that I can't put this in the past? I can't forgive you, Jude. I'm **not** That Guy!! And I'm not going to be _him_ for you!" Tommy exclaimed, getting progressively more enraged. His cool facade was fading away, and his calm, cold voice slowly evaporated, becoming more animated and emotional. It was him telling me he valued his own stupid, selfish, irrelevant morals over what would make the both of us happy... but more importantly, he would choose that ideal of himself over not hurting me. It felt like a slap in the face.

"Even now I know you're lying to me," He continued, shaking his head in disapproval. I raised an eyebrow. What am I possibly lying to him about now?! He knows pretty much everything. "I still don't know what happened that night, damn it, and you're not forthcoming with details. So, like I said, Jude, why'd you do it?" Tom pointed out harshly. I hated the hard way he said my name, spat it, practically. He did have a point there.

I turned away, looked away from him and didn't answer. I told him. He doesn't need to know more. Why does he need to know the truth now? Now that he knows what the lie is, why does he bother with the details of the truth? Tom grabbed my chin and like a flash of lightning turned my head around to face him. My head banged into the wall painfully, and I glowered up at him hatefully, gritting my teeth. "**Answer** me, Jude! Tell me the full truth this time!" Tom insisted. His burning fingers almost dug into my chin, holding it bruisingly. His eyes glowed like he was possessed, and I thought he had to be, because I took one look at his hulking, stiff form, muscles bulging, aura radiating hatred, and coal black eyes empty as black holes, and I didn't recognize him.

I don't know you, I thought. I twisted away from him as best as I could. "Who the _hell_ do you think you are, Tom, touching me like that?!" I grunted, pissed off and trying to escape. His invasive, irritating presence burgeoned on abusive. I found it ironic, him molesting me when he doesn't want to be That Guy. 'Cause this guy, this stranger to me, is a million times worse than That Guy.

He sneered, reminding me annoyingly enough of Travis. I hated him in that instant as he released his chin and rubbed the back of his hand against my cheek roughly. "You sure were begging me to touch you before. Now, see, that's never really been the problem with us. Because obviously we both want that, yet one of us always says no. Consent. What a pesky problem, that," He remarked in a voice that was smarmy and cocky and sent chills down my spine. I knew he was making a point, but I was genuinely terrified of him for the first time in my life. Tom leaned forward, or, rather, lunged, and I flew back against the wall. He pressed into me, putting his hands all over me possessively. I tried to shy away from his touch.

"Who do I think I am?" He laughed loudly, almost insanely. "You said you're _mine_, Jude, so I guess that makes me your master. But then, what does that make you... a sla-ave?" He questioned in a growl. His voice was on the brink, and he was teetering over the edge. The raw ownership in his voice made me shudder. I thought he was going to violate me or do unspeakable things to me for a couple seconds as he invaded my personal space further, for one of the first times an unwanted visitor. "Guess it's a good thing I'm not my brother or that child rapist _you_ made me out to be. Or I might take advantage of all this power I have," Tommy hissed, seething as he peeled himself away, spiriting several feet away from me.

It was as if he hadn't been there and messed with my head at all, except that look was still on his face, and the hatred was still in his eyes. Yet he seemed somehow just a little bit calmer and more in control. More safely predictable, hopefully. I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath. I felt kind of like I was going to collapse. All of that was so sudden and completely out of left field. Tom cleared his throat, giving me a definitely evil look. "Now that you've collected yourself a little, I'm going to ask you again... Why did you do it?" Tommy asked clearly. The look in his eyes was exacting.

That was it for me. I'd had it with playing it coy and not telling him. If he wants the full truth, then he's going to get it. Not that he can handle it. "Because I FREAKING love you!" I screamed with all of the breath and the life in me, combining the force of my outcry with the force of my hands shoving him backwards. It's a wonder people didn't turn around. Now, all you have to do is substitute another word for freaking, and you've got what I said to him. I have to self-edit, you know, to keep this memoir PG-13.

I didn't look at his face. I don't even think I saw him. The look of utter shock on his face kind of registered, but I wasn't looking for a reaction. I was looking for an answer or some sense of justice in all of this. He had this look on his face like that wasn't enough for him. "Put yourself in my shoes, Tommy. The guy of your dreams has just let you down, crushed your hopes, broken your heart, and pushed you away. Again. You told me you were dating my sister... again... when I actually thought we had something. So _forgive_ me for wanting to make you just the teeniest bit miserable too!" I elaborated, becoming emotional as the memory of that awful day rushed to me.

Honestly, that was one of the worst days in my life. The day I found Dad with Yvette, or, rather, that period, ranks number one, closely followed by my disaster of a sixteenth birthday, and then there it is. I'm sure something even worse will unseat those memories, of course. Tommy stared at me, jaw open in disbelief for a minute. "Congratulations! You succeeded!" I rolled my eyes. Really, what else could the man say? He'd already leveled the hefty "you made me hate myself" against me. He sighed, shaking his head, rubbing his eyes angrily. "I _trusted_ you!" Tommy cried in a voice so raw and full of hurt and betrayal that I didn't know what to do with myself.

Oh, but I wasn't going to let him slide with that one, so I paused for a mere moment before shaking my head to clear it of thoughts and plowing on. "You do not get to play that card, not with me. You have no right. After all the things you've done to me, you have the nerve to call what I did unforgivable? After all the times I've forgiven _you_, you're so willing to just cast me aside and abandon a relationship you wanted just as much as I did without so much as a second glance? Why can't you do the same for me? You can't forgive me for one lie? What makes my one stupid lie so unpardonable?" I asked, full of outrage and his hypocrisy. I paused, taking in his appearance. He looked slightly less than put-together, now that I noticed it. His hair was messier than usual, his face flushed, his shirt untucked. "Is it because it made it so that you couldn't keep living happily on in denial? Did I wreck your pretty little world?" I jeered, hands on my hips, feeling very much like Travis as I said it. Well, I hoped I crashed into his pretty little world and broke the damn mirror.

Fish mouth, that's what he's got. "I never thought you were that petty, but apparently I was wrong about that too. Just like I was wrong in thinking you could actually have a mature, committed relationship," I continued bitterly. I'm so going to cry. Just give me five minutes and I'll be in tears, but I have to hold it together. That was all that was running through my head. Not now. Not yet. I sighed heavily, dragging a hand down my face. "Well, that's just typical, isn't it?" I mused more quietly than I'd intended. I shook my head, pulling my face up to look at Tommy for the first time head-on in a long time.

"No, Tom, I trusted _you_ again." And, boy, was that a mistake. "I trusted that you wouldn't break my heart. I trusted you to keep one of your damn promises for once. But you can't even do that, and why should you? After all, it's not like you're an adult or anything! You know, Tom, normally adults take responsibility for their own actions. But you... The minute things get hard or complicated, you just cut and run and try to place all the blame on my shoulders!" I snapped resentfully. This is not my fault.

Not this time. This is more about his own issues than mine. I lied, but that's not enough for him to end it. Not this way. It's more than that. But, you know, was it better to know what it was like, or would it have been better to stay away from this, from a real relationship? Either way I'd get hurt eventually. "Don't make it out like this is my fault. If you hadn't lied to me..." Tommy said crossly.

I interrupted him. "What? If I hadn't lied to you, apparently we would've never had a relationship in the first place!" I interjected shrilly. My eyes narrowed as I prepared for him to try and contradict me. But he never did, and I wondered if it was actually true. If that had been the only thing that brought us together. If so, then why did it take so long?

He was mostly silent but hostile. I didn't know there was such a thing as a hostile silence. "You don't understand what it's like for me. These morals you say I have... You don't get it. They're not morals; they're beliefs. Things that, unbelievably, matter to me. There are lines that even I don't cross, and that's one of them. I'm not a dumb drunk kid who thinks he owns the world anymore. I don't have the luxury of doing things without thinking first anymore! Every action has consequences!" Tommy countered, trying to make me understand. Not only did I not understand, but he managed to make me feel even less sympathy for him. What is he talking about? He does all sorts of things without thinking! Don't you think I know all that, asshole?!

So, basically, pretty much all of that is a lie. Hypocrite, it makes me sick. Instead, I snickered boldly at his bald-faced lies. "Sorry, but I just find it ironic... You, who said you would wait for me, who said we could take things slow, who said he wanted to do things right... You're dumping me because you found out I'm actually a _virgin_. What, Tommy, was the only reason you were with me because you thought you'd had sex with me and felt guilty about it... so, might as well stick around? Or maybe the only reason you were with me is because you thought that since you were already screwed, you might as well give in and have your fun while it lasts? Oh, sure, a relationship was fine when you thought we'd already slept together, but now that we're actually in a _relationship_, you want to run..." I remarked sarcastically, accompanying my phrases with over the top shrugs and hand gestures. I rolled my eyes.

Can't he do better than that? Tommy's eyes narrowed. "It's not like that." Oh, really. Then what is it like, Tom-Tom? His voice continued to be accusing as he continued to play the victim card. "You betrayed me, Jude. You lied to me. You made me feel like a child molester, like a rapist. But that's not the worst part... The worst part is how you made it all so cheap. Like sex was meaningless to you," Tommy practically spat, reciting my abuses. That one really caught my ire.

Because it's like this. He never really found sex all that meaningful in the first place. He's a recreational abuser, not a romantic user. He's practically made a job out of doin' it. He could be a well-paid professional gigolo, not that he needs it. Sex is meaningless to him. I mean, the guy lost it when he was like, nine or twelve or something! "You don't get to say that to me, Tommy. Not when you made a career of being the easiest man in the country. You screwed for sport. _I'm_ the virgin here, not you. _I'm_ the one who's been waiting my whole life," I declared proudly, holding my head up high. I wasn't afraid to look him dead in the eyes. So I lied. Big freaking deal. I didn't do anything wrong. In this world, you're either a whore or a virgin, and I'm sick of this stupid double-standard! If I slept with him, I'm a whore. If I kiss a guy, I'm a slut. If I don't give it up right away then I'm a prude. If I stop him midway, then I'm a tease. So what the hell am I?

When it all comes down to it, I'm basically just a girl. A girl who hasn't done it yet but likes kissing and dates around, and, yeah, maybe I've done some stuff... I'm not that innocent, but I'm not that experienced either.

There was still that stupid disbelieving look on his face. Meaningless. The damn word echoed in my head, and it was like all the fury in me was concentrated into something clear and direct, and I was unblocked. Suddenly I could tell him what happened that night. And I felt so smug I practically glowed. "If I thought it was meaningless, I guess I would've screwed you a long time ago. I've had lots of chances... I would've lost it to you that night. The only reason I didn't was because I wanted better for myself. I deserved better than you drunk off your ass, half out of your mind, slurring my name. I didn't want you drunk, and I didn't want it like that. I wanted you to want _me_ too, sober. I wanted you to **know** what you were doing, and, damn it, I wanted you to _remember_ it! I wanted you to actually _care_ about me," I found myself telling him so quickly that the words were leaking out of me in a steady flow, one after the other.

That last comment made me laugh bitterly. If this is him caring, I'd hate to see his hatred. "So, what, you didn't have sex with me, and _that's_ supposed to make it all better? _That's_ supposed to make up for the fact that you lied to me and made me think I committed a **felony**?! And not even an apology? I don't think you're even sorry for what you did. Sure as hell sounds like you're defending it, and, like always, you refuse to admit that you're in the wrong by turning the conversation to my faults!" Tommy bit back furiously, filled with frustration. He's wrong, though. I can see where it was wrong. Dumb decision on my part, but I can't redo it, and, as Tommy's told me before, sorry's not enough. I can't undo it or go back in the past, so, hell, might as well bring it back to the fact that it's not all my fault. I did the right thing when it mattered.

If anything, me telling Tommy that I slept with him should've repulsed him, not attracted him. He could've quit working with me or left or something. But he stayed. The whole situation was precipitated by him getting drunk and sending me mixed signals. Besides, if it was all up to him, he would've slept with me. And he would've remembered something and probably moved away or avoided me for the rest of my life, and he would never _ever_ be interested in me, and we wouldn't be here. Sometimes I wonder if he only wants me because I'm the forbidden fruit, and, you know, I've never gotten an answer...

Argh! I threw my hands in the air helplessly. "What do you want me to say, Tommy?! It was a mistake. I made the wrong choice that day, but I wasn't thinking straight, and it was either that or me telling you nothing happened... and I couldn't stand that. I couldn't stand you trying to sweep everything back under the rug. I was sick of you pushing me away and hurting me. So yeah, I wanted to make you suffer, but you brought it on yourself! So, _no_, I'm **not** going to apologize because I'm **not** sorry! I did what I needed to do, and a lousy apology wouldn't mean a damn thing to you anyway," I sniped, conceding his point somewhat but also brassily quoting the spirit of the song I wrote for Taylor. _I won't say I'm sorry 'cause I wanted something more!_ I shook my finger in his face, looking at him cock-eyed. "Don't act like you're the innocent one here, Tom Quincy. You're _just_ as guilty as I am."

Clearly Tommy disagreed. "You lied to me and made things worse. I stepped up to the plate and tried to make it up to you," He rattled off dutifully.

Cue an eye-roll. "If you call making it up to me telling me to forget it ever hap-"

Interception! "It _never_ happened! Really this time!"

"Don't you see how ridiculous that is, you making me forget something that not only never actually happened in the first place but that I made up?!"

"I see how ridiculous it is, but I don't see the humor. How was I supposed to know it was all just one big _lie_?! I _trusted_ you, remember?"

"So you keep reminding me! **God**, can you get another argument?! How are _you_ the one with trust issues here? I'm not the dishonest one in this relationship, and I'm not the untrustworthy one. You're the one who dated my sister behind my back! You're the one who cheated on her, who proposed to her after swearing you wanted me, who slept with his best friend's true love! You're the one who's broken my heart time and time again and made me deny that the best moments of my life ever happened! You took that away from me. You stole my most precious memories. You toyed with me, messed with my head, and raped my _mind_ by attempting to erase, to carve whole hours out of my memory. Let me tell you, Tom, those memories are worth a hell of a lot more to me than my virginity. A mindscrew is still a screw, and that's worse than any other form of penetration because there's no surgery that can fix that... And I still trust you!" I ejaculated, feeling a rush of emotions, so many I couldn't even keep track. Tom's always got that big long track record to help me.

'Kay, I kinda hadn't realized I'd been keeping that all inside. Or thinking it. But it was true nonetheless. Oh, and I didn't say screw, just a little fyi there. Don't get me wrong... my cherry's a very important thing to me. But if Tommy took it, I wouldn't object. Hell, I'd give it to the bastard gleefully. Just as long as it's the right guy at the right time, and I know him. As long as I consent and want it... But my mind? I'm so messed up thanks to him that I'm almost too far gone to save. Another rock just might push me over the edge. I think I'm _this_ close to losing my mind. And that's just so much more invasive because I've got absolutely no control over it except my own lacking resources, and usually the unwanted visitor person doesn't even know he's doing it... Whereas with the other one, if it gets out of control, then it was beyond my control. The body is so much easier to control than the mind. I'd rather lose control over it than my mind, what little I've got left. If any of that makes any sense.

Shaking my head, I kept railing against him, "You lie to me all the time, always about how you feel, even in this very conversation where you're harping on about _honesty_! Like you even know what it means... I've only ever lied to you about two things: what happened that night and how I feel about you. And now you know everything!" It was strange in a way because I'd said the words. The very same words I'd been struggling with for weeks and months, damn near a year... And I knew I'd said them, obviously, since I referenced it. But it hadn't quite sunk in just yet. I'd said those words without even thinking, and it was like I hadn't said them at all.

Tom shook his head slowly, regarding me evenly. His voice was refreshingly flat. "No, I don't," He disagreed with scarcely a hint of annoyance. There was a whine to his voice. "I _still_ don't know what happened that night." Building frustration... Of course, I couldn't blame him. The man definitely had a point. I'd never told him. All he knew was that I hadn't slept with him, and that he was too drunk to remember. I told him why I hadn't slept with him, and I'd illustrated my choice for him, but I hadn't specifically told him.

I shrugged. Of what importance is this now? No one's going to really win this argument. "It really doesn't matter, but since you want to know so badly... Lose the sense of superiority. You were the instigator... We kissed a few times until I pushed you off. I helped you up to your room, out of your clothes, and into your bed. You propositioned me, practically pleading, and I said no. You wanted _me_ that night, and would've had me too... but I didn't do anything. I just took care of you like a good little girl. Like you would've wanted. I made sure nothing happened just so I could put _your_ precious little mind at ease!" I told him somewhat tersely. My sentences were choppy and chock full of tension.

Carefully, I looked him over. His face was ashen, and he looked almost as ill at ease as he had when I lied to him. I felt bad because I knew he felt as awful as he looked. What had really happened wasn't much better than my lie. Sure, he may not have actually had sex with me, but he wanted it. It all came down to me, not him. I was the one with the self-control. So I guess he was disappointed in himself because he wasn't as good as he thought. His expectations and hopes for himself fell predictably short of the reality. I exhaled heavily, pushing back my bangs. My skin felt cold and sweaty, and I noted dimly that my hands were shaking.

He swallowed thickly, like his tongue was too big for his mouth, like he was choking. And he was. His eyes were wide and anxious, his movements shifty. "I'm sorry, Jude." There was genuine remorse in his voice, but I knew he was apologizing for that night and not now, and it made me angry because I knew he was about to say something I didn't want to hear. "I... I can't do this, Jude. It's not fair to either of us," He stammered. I rolled my eyes and moved closer to him. He looked nervous, as if he thought his body was going to betray him. Clearly he can, and a relationship is definitely fair, and definitely what I want...

I shook my head sadly. "Is that really the best you can do, Tommy? Put a little more oomph into it. Make it believable, at least, if you're really going to break up with me for such an arbitrary reason," I ordered, not amused. Come on, can't he at least muster something more than that? It's a break-up. Not even a cliché? Just his good old line about how he can't? Tommy's a brutal break-up artist. Can't he come up with some killer remark to cut it off instead of this strange limbo where we're in the process of breaking up but not broken up just yet?

Where's the fire; where's the ire? Where's the pissed Tommy I knew before? "You're making this more difficult than it needs to be, Jude. You know exactly why this has to end. I'm never going to make you happy, Jude, because you want something I don't think I can give you... So just do me a favor and, for both of our sakes, forget it ever happened. You'll be better off, trust me," Tommy declared with finality. His voice was resignation, his features disturbingly placid. And it was good for me, in a way. He was trying to spare my feelings, and I could sense that, could taste it in my mouth, even, the bittersweetness of it, the sickening aftertaste that made me reject it. But it was a letdown. Break me completely, Tommy. Don't do things halfway. You're better than that. There was an edge to his words, and something in me rattled at the way he so quickly passively passed the blame to himself.

He's just giving up and giving in. And he's wrong because I've never been so damn happy in my life... and I owe it all to him. But he was right about the other thing, not me being better off, because I wouldn't be... but me wanting something he couldn't give me. Still, he didn't even seem willing to try, and that put me off. I wanted to scream in frustration. You know exactly why. In-freaking-deed!

So I did as I am wont to do and gave him a piece of my mind. "If you thinking that I had sex with you is the only reason a relationship between us was okay in your mind, then I don't want to be _that_ girl. I don't want you to feel that you _have_ to be with me or that you might as well be with me just because we had sex. But, really, if you thinking we had sex is the only reason it was okay to pursue me, then, **fine**! Forget the other reasons. Forget you ever cared about me. Forget we ever touched, ever kissed, ever did anything _remotely_ sexual together. Forget that you asked me to be your _girlfriend_. Forget that you ever had feelings for me," I lectured hotheadedly as usual.

Okay, so maybe that sounds practically exactly like an out for a break-up. It was my way of issuing a challenge. Go ahead, **walk** away... but you'll regret it! But I didn't want to be That Girl either. Except in the song because "That Girl"'s girl is totally bad-ass. I made sure to stress what mattered, trying to make my point. Our relationship wasn't just innocent hand-holding and snuggling, you know. We almost had sex pretty much every time someone left us in a room alone together. And some pretty sexual stuff might've gone on... I'm not gonna kiss and tell, though, because I like to maintain the illusion that I'm a lady. It was _intense_. I placed my hands on my hips, in effect displaying the wares so that he would realize just what he was giving up.

Ooh, yeah, you're gonna miss me, Quincy, when this is all over... However, I was worried about the comment I made about him having feelings for me. Let's just say that I doubted its veracity. But he'd said as much, hadn't he? Either way, Tommy looked a little paler. The look on his face wasn't happy, but it wasn't quite... depressed or anything. In fact, he looked like he would be just fine with that, but there was a bit of shame reflected there. I didn't want to see his shame, nor did I want to _be_ his shame... his secret shame.

Then he did the weirdest thing. He smiled, although it was a painful, forced smile, and he tried his best to look genuinely glad about the way things had turned out. "Good to see that we're both finally on the same page about this." And then he held out his hand for a handshake, and I just about lost it.

Actually, I just lost it. Completely. I slapped his hand away and whirled on him so fast my hair swished. My fingers stung with the thrill of power. "Oh, _no_, Tommy. You don't get to **do** that to me again!" I exclaimed brashly, irrationally, completely reversing my prior course of action with a single statement. Told you he'd make me lose my mind someday.

But not myself. Tommy's smooth, wrinkle-free face immediately resumed the squinty frown Speed has forever immortalized in his "LSF Blues." His eyes became narrow slits, color flooded to his face, and the blue in his eyes shone brighter and deeper. "Sorry, Jude, but I am! You always knew it was gonna end like this, so don't play dumb and outraged... Just let me go in peace! It's always all or nothing with you, Jude! Well... I choose nothing! It's **OVER**! _We're_ over! For good this time. You and me are through. Period. Fini. From this moment on, we're not... whatever we were... not even friends anymore, since that's the way you want it! We're just co-workers, just producer and artist because that's all either of us can handle. I made the mistake of getting too close to you before, and I'm paying for it now. I'm not about to make that mistake again," Tommy swore, suddenly so full of wrath, an unholy fervor.

And, oh, did it sting. It was like pouring antiseptic on an open wound and then rubbing salt in it. He wasn't sorry at all. He'd just finally found his anger and wanted to showcase it. Over, over, over... the horrible word kept playing on repeat in my head. I hated the sound of it. O-ver. Over. Oh-oh-oh-over. Ohhh-ver. How can I let you go in peace without giving you a piece of me? Done, gone, finished, through, ended, not together anymore, broken up, smashed to pieces, concluded, terminated... ruined. What hurt the most was his inability to admit that we'd had labels. We'd really meant something to each other, and that had been a meaningful relationship with consideration and thoughts taken into account... And he couldn't even acknowledge that, couldn't even manage to stutter out that he was my boyfriend only this morning!

Now he can't even be friends with me anymore. Why, Tommy? Oh, I know why, all right. If I can't forget like I'm supposed to, then he can't be my friend. But what kind of friend is an ex-boyfriend anyways? What kind of friend is the guy who's just shattered your heart into a million little pieces? And he's not even done yet! Doesn't he see that it'll _never_ be finished between us?!

So I walked up to him slowly, still just barely clinging to the threads of my sanity, and I put my hands on him. Put my hands on his shoulders, slid them down his arms, clutched his hands in mine, tangling our fingers together like we'd done this morning, pressed our hands together, tried to make two into one. But our all-too separate bodies didn't mesh, didn't mold together like I'd wanted. Our lives are like that too. They look like they could fit together like puzzle pieces, but in reality they don't blend properly. It's deceptive like those make-up removers that claim no oil but separate in the bottle. Shake well, it says.

How well do I have to shake for us to be one like that?

I angled my body towards his, leaned against him, clasping hands in desperation, pulling him to me but he was so unwilling. "You made a promise to me..." I cried softly. My own pathetically needy voice echoed in my head, silently and noisily mocking me. I didn't want to be that girl, that girl who begged and pleaded and pouted and sobbed and lost her dignity asking that guy to stay with her, just stay, just please... But I'm slowly turning into her, driven mad by uncertainty and feelings and hormones and him breaking me, breaking my heart, breaking my mind, breaking my will, breaking my sanity, breaking me in half. Into the Jude I was before, the vibrant, happy, together girl, and this shadow I've turned into, quiet, dark, and lifeless.

I felt the tears building in my eyes. My hands were slippery, sweaty palms, frayed nerves. He slipped his hands out of my grip, and I immediately latched on to his shirt, bunching it in my fists. I buried my face in his chest, trying to keep him there even though he was twisting away. "You _promised _me you wouldn't break my heart. You _promised _me you wouldn't make me regret you. You promised me things would be _different_... You promised me that it would _last! _You promised me _I_ wasn't a mistake! You said you wanted to date me! You said you wanted to be _with_ me, that you had **feelings** for me! You said you wanted a relationship. You said that I was worth jail time, that you wanted everyone to know that I'm yours and you're mine! You said that you were all mine if that was what I wanted, and that's what I want!" I shouted in a voice so shrill and so broken that it hurt to listen to myself.

The dam in my eyes broke, and they were dry no more. The hot tears trickled down my face, the floodgates broke open, the barriers washed away, and I hated the wetness on my face. I resented the tears I was shedding over him as they dripped down my cheeks, despised the miniature waterfalls and rivers my trails of tears became. I fell on him, fell into him, into his arms, his wooden embrace. I clutched at him in my desperation, trying hard not to sob and become even more pathetic. I hated myself for being so weak. I clawed at his clothes, his chest, crumpled his shirt up in my fists. "You said you would've promised me a kingdom..." I managed in a halting voice. He was unresponsive, stiff. He wasn't trying to get away from me, but he wasn't welcoming my presence there. His arms were half around me in an awkward embrace, as if he didn't know what to do with me.

I guess he didn't. He hadn't seen me so low, so broken down, so messed up. I sniffled, trying to make the tears stop, swiping at my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to erase the tracks of saline slowly drying on my cheeks. I continued to throw his own words against him like throwing stars, little knives that cut right where it hurts the most. "You said you'd give me _anything_ if I just asked... Well, I'm asking, and I'm asking for you and your forgiveness. Were those all just words? You promised me _**you**_, damn it! I _believed_ you! I believed _in_ you!" I lamented pleadingly in hopeless despair, throwing myself on his mercy. I hurled my body against his even further, trying to burrow into his warmth, under his skin. I threw my hands around his neck, hanging on to him like a lifeline. I tried to drag him down with me, but he was too heavy, too firm, too immovable. His feet were planted there as firmly as the roots of an oak.

And then I was hitting him as hard as I could in the chest, again and again, slapping and scratching and fighting and struggling and tugging. It seemed rational to me. I wasn't asking for much, really. I wasn't even asking for his love! The one thing I wanted more than anything else in the world! Just his mercy, his forgiveness... But I've since learned you can't truly ask that of a human. Better luck with God. He's the only one who'll willingly give it to you without questions or serious hoop-jumping. To err, after all, is human, and to forgive... divine. Guess I'm just more divine than most people.

Whatever happened to commitment? Whatever happened to "I'm in this for the long haul", and "who says it has to end?" I knew better than to believe in him, really, I did. But no, I had to trust him. I started slipping down, falling a little, and as my blows slackened, I felt his arms come up around my waist almost hesitantly at first. He held me up, and I felt like a ragdoll. He was surprisingly gentler than I thought he'd be. He held me in a strange sort of way, as if I were made of glass. "Shh, Jude... I know. I know what I said, and I'm sorry... but I can't, girl. We can't always keep our promises, and I had no right to tell you all those things when I knew I couldn't keep my word. I'm sorry... I wanted to. I _meant_ to, but life got in the way... Don't you see that now it's become impossible?" Tommy murmured in a voice that sounded lost. It was an aching voice, a voice that wanted the same things as I did so badly it hurt.

So why was it impossible? I couldn't understand. It was all so much more complicated than it had been now, and all because of one stupid little lie. "But it isn't!" I protested childishly, pulling back a little to look at him. Damn it, I was still tearing up. Damn him for making me feel this way. I shook my head stubbornly and held my chin high. I wasn't going to let him make me feel ashamed and pathetic, so I stiffened and pulled away from him and his seductive, deceptive warmth. I felt cold and bereft afterwards, but I knew I had to stand on my own two feet here, no matter how much I just wanted to stand there in his arms like a limp rabbit, soaking up the last few bits of luxurious kindness I was likely to get from him.

I sucked in a shaky breath and slowly put a bit more space between us, throwing my hands on my hips with a sassy bravado I didn't really have anymore. And I crossed my fingers in my head and prayed that he couldn't see right through me and my act. It was time to make my last stand. I could sense the end coming, creeping closer and colder, feel it pounding in my veins, and it felt like death. So I swallowed hard and blinked back the tears as best as I could, trying frantically to maintain my composure. "Frankly, I think you're just using this as an excuse to get out before you do something like fall for me. I think you're just using this as an excuse because you're running scared of a relationship... one that just might actually go somewhere. You're afraid of how you feel, of showing me too much of who you are," I told him decidedly.

The words came out of my mouth, but a different girl was saying them. One who still had hope that it would work out. But me, no, I knew then already. It was a last-ditch effort, and I knew it wasn't likely to work, but still... I had to try, had to make him see that this was about more than just me. I sighed heavily, knowing what would have to come next. "Well, Tommy, I like who you are, the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly. Your flaws aren't about to put me off. I'm not so easily swayed," I admitted resolutely. I'd seen it all, all those sides of his prism, and I'm still here. But I guess he doesn't understand what that means. How could he?

I didn't fall in love with Tommy because of his appearance. I fell in love with him in spite of it. Now, I know what you're thinking. Tommy is by no means ugly. He's friggin' hot, and he's got the body of an underwear model. I know that. But that outward appearance and attitude repulsed me at first. Besides, who someone is on the outside says nothing about who they are on the inside. I resented him for being so good-looking, so supposedly perfect and put-together, for being that smug, pouting face on my sister's wall. I loathed everything about him... his personality, his arrogance, his habits (or, rather, vices), his taste, his behavior, and his soulless music. I thought he was nothing more than a pretty face, shallow as a kiddie pool, that where others had a mind, he only had empty space.

And I even found a way to despise his charm, to dismiss him as nothing more than a philanderer and a player who seduced women with sweet words and smooth talk. I vowed I would never fall prey to him or his type. And he was everything I wasn't and didn't want to be. Everything about him repulsed everything in me, like he was the north pole of a magnet and I was the south. He was an amalgamation of everything I hated about music- a slick, corporate, sexed-up, manufactured, phony bubblegum-popstar poster-boy pin-up sellout with no integrity.

I didn't fall for him because he was cute, or even when he was nice to me (which he wasn't and... still isn't sometimes, like now, for instance). I fell for him because I was able to cut past all the crap and see who he really was at heart. Once I had a glimpse of that guy, well, I was done for. I fell in love with him because he was serious about what he was doing, and what mattered to me mattered to him. Also, I eventually realized that he was just as passionate about music as I am, only in a different way.

That's what I fell in love with, the music, the melody, discordant and concordant, the true, deep resonance of his soul. The way the blood pulses in his veins, so that his heartbeat has become my favorite bass line. It was and still is the most beautiful song I have ever heard. I fell in love with his words, his poetry, and the perfect cadence of his velvety voice. Once I knew that, I could love the fake appearance too- because it didn't matter. I'd seen him deeper, in a different light, and that was what really mattered. I knew who he truly was, inside and out, and I loved him for his flaws and his faults and his fraud too.

My breath hitched before the next sentence, my hands dropped from my hips, slid down my sides, clenched themselves together. It was different for me this time. This time I needed the huge breath. It was a more honest, more vulnerable moment for me than the last time. This time I was consciously and willingly admitting it, telling him my deepest secret, really putting myself out there. Oh, and I knew it wouldn't come to a good end. I knew I could've kept my mouth shut and claimed temporary insanity or easily taken it back like he would've wanted, but I just couldn't do that. He deserved to know, or, rather, I should say he needed to know, for his own good. So he could maybe be that better person if he just knew that somewhere out there, no matter what he did, there was someone who would always love him.

"And I _love_ you, Tommy. I want to know you more," I declared passionately, ardently, holding out my open hands to him. Truer words have never come from my lips. Give me your heart too is what I was asking.

Our eyes locked for the briefest of moments before I tore my gaze away. I couldn't bear to look at his face for long, couldn't bear to see what he thought of my little confession. Because some part of me knew already, knew instinctively, but I didn't want to know for sure. I cleared my throat nervously, dropped my eyes down to his chest or above my head. They couldn't dart too much, though. I didn't want to lose sight of him. "You're afraid that I'll just run off and leave you, so you're ditching me first. Well, I'm _not_ going to change my mind once I find out that there's more to you than hair gel and shiny pants! Because I already see past that Tommy, and that's just not _you_. That's not the man I know, and that's not the man I love," I avowed intently. My voice was rising.

Pausing briefly to lick my lips, I let my gaze flicker back to his face. I shook my head obstinately, forcing myself to look him dead in the eyes. The outrage and frustration filtered into my voice. My hands resumed their firm positions on my hips and were quick to jump out and point and gesture in my time of conviction. "And you think I'm still that fifteen-year-old kid who had no idea what she was getting into." I laughed bitterly and kept shaking my head. "No, I'm not a little girl anymore, Tommy. I haven't been for a long time. I know what I want, and I've made my choices. I can handle the consequences, Quincy, but what about _you_?" I stated in a voice that was all resignation. It was tending towards concession, but I didn't want to surrender, to put up the white flag and say it was over. I wanted to huddle safely in my little shadow state of denial.

My eyes scanned him over to see if anything about his demeanor had changed. There was something slumped about his posture, but it wasn't the posture of a defeated man. Tom Quincy never loses... but can you really call this winning? The light was dimmed in his eyes, almost like he was mournful too for this unexpected loss of a relationship. I was left to wonder if it actually meant anything to him. If it hadn't, then this relationship was never worth saving, and there was nothing I could do. I couldn't help but hope that wasn't the case... and maybe someday in a different time or place, we could've really been something. I sighed wearily, and indignation and anger flooded through me in waves, a delusion of hot red feelings singeing my skin and nerve endings. "Maybe you're the one who needs to grow up here. I'm sick of waiting to be mature enough for you... to be old enough for you." I almost choked on the words. Age is nothing but a number, they say, and it's a number that's ruining my life. It's like a lottery, and I got the wrong number so I just can't win, no matter what I do, but I was so close. Only off by a digit or two.

Suddenly I understood the slump, what was missing. He wasn't completely lacking in it, but what was left was so diminished that it accounted for the way his shoulders hunched a little, how he crouched ever so slightly. It was pride. He'd lost a great deal of his self-pride, his self-love, his self-respect. Ironic, isn't it, how thinking he had sex with me made him think he was a better person than he does now after knowing he didn't? It's like he thought he was above it. Or maybe it was more than his shame. Maybe it was the realization that not only was he that guy, but now he had to give up a relationship he'd longed for to save face. Maybe giving me up was harder for him than I ever could've imagined. Maybe it hurt him just as much as it hurt me to break me like this.

It wasn't easy, but I made my voice that much harder to compensate for the soft thoughts and moistening eyes. "I'm not asking for a lot here. All I'm asking is that you don't throw away a chance at happiness. I'm not expecting to marry you, Tommy, and I _don't_ expect you to love me back," I confessed with a bluntness that surprised myself. I don't expect much, really. I'm just happy to feed on the scraps and cling to the crumbs he sends my way. By the look of astonishment in Tommy's eyes, he seemed awed and simultaneously confused by this. He didn't know what I wanted from him, and his eyes told me that. So I told him. "I just want to be your girlfriend," I breathed hopefully, eyelids fluttered, heart beating faster than I ever could've imagined. Still, I added in my head. I want to be your girlfriend still.

And then I walked the rest of the distance to him, all humility, all bravery gone, open to whatever was to come of it, and I grabbed his hand. "Don't dump me. _Please_. You'd be making a huge mistake. Give us a chance," I implored beseechingly, softly, squeezing his hand warmly, looking up at him with these stupid hopeful Bambi eyes, smiling just a little, the corners of my mouth tipped upwards. I didn't even feel bad about it. I just wanted him to stay with me, to say yes to me so badly that it circumvented everything else, and suddenly all that mattered was his answer.

The worst part was that, for a minute or two, a couple seconds maybe, I even thought it was possible. I even dared to _hope_. Oh, the **audacity** of that tiny hope bubbling up inside of me where it should've just died! But I'm Saint Jude, right? Patron saint of lost causes, hopeless cases, and desperate situations (guess he and this qualify for all three, huh?). And that's what Tommy is, but they just can't make me give up! Even _he_ can't make me give him up._ Saint Jude, hope of the hopeless, pray for me... '_Cause I think I'm worse off than he is now. Of course the medallion's gone right when I need it. But when even that reminds me of him again...

Tommy looked down on me with pitying eyes. He squeezed my hand back but with a warmth tinged with sadness. "I can't, Jude. I just _can't_ do what you're asking of me. And I'd like to... but it's wrong." He had some trouble getting it out, and eventually he looked down, unable to look me in the eyes like a man. The tears seeped out slowly, one drop at a time. I nodded dully as he released my hand, and I felt so numb.

Not that I didn't feel stupid too because I did. A part of me had expected that, but you can never fully expect a bomb like that until one day it drops and everything's up in flames. It didn't hurt as much as I'd thought, but the sting surprised me too. It's just... I'd given it my all, played all my cards, kept on going even when the chips where down... and that was the end result of it. It seemed so... pathetic. Like a wasted effort. Made me wonder why I'd even bothered trying. I shook my head once again and cursed myself prematurely for the question I knew I was about to ask.

Don't go there, Jude. **Don't**. You know you don't want to hear it.

Well, yeah, maybe I don't want to. But I _need_ to. I need to know. It's better that I know now rather than spend my whole life wondering. I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat wouldn't go down. Damn lump, damn choked, flimsy words. Damn esophagus and mucus. Damn it all to hell! And then my throat was dry, my lips were parted, my mouth opening up...

To ask the wretched question. "Forget everything else, Tommy," I instructed shortly, pausing for just a moment before spitting it out, "how do you feel about me?" And I asked it. I actually said that. It was a wonder I managed to hold myself upright and didn't faint right there on the spot. Oh, fritter. This cannot possibly be good.

I bit my lip and counted to twenty-one in my head before even tilting my eyes up to catch a glimpse of him. His face was mostly blank but pale, his brow furrowed in contemplation. His eyes were deep, ocean blue-green, and I couldn't begin to understand what swirled there in their mysterious depths. Apparently he couldn't even begin to understand it either because it took him a long time to respond. It took him so long, in fact, that I half-thought he wasn't going to respond at all, that he'd just leave me hanging here like he always did.

Truthfully, I just think he didn't even know. He never tried to think about it or sort out how he felt for me, and he'd never wanted to or had reason to. In fact, he'd tried to repress what feelings there were, to deny them, to shove them deep down inside, to pretend that they had never existed in the first place. So it was difficult for him to tell me, but he apparently thought I had the right to know, and I did. When he finally spoke, he was very careful and cryptic with his word selection, careful to avoid words that said too much.

He exhaled softly, and our eyes met immediately. He looked nervous, perhaps twitchy even, as he licked his lips. "You're poison," He told me finally, but he didn't spit the words at me like you'd think. He didn't even blurt it out, just admitted it with a little difficulty. He struggled on the word. Honestly, hearing him say that cut me worse than all the rest of it. It hurt worse than if he'd spat it at me or called me names, swear words, nasty things. I stared back at him with wide eyes, and he tried to explain himself. "It's like you're in my bloodstream, running through my veins. You know me so well, too well... But you're toxic, and I know that, but you're so deceptive and sweet that I can't fend you off... can't resist you... even it's slowly killing me from the inside out. Even though you're ruining me, try as I might, I can't get you out of my system."

Ha, and I thought I was a treasure. His words left me breathless. I didn't know what to think, what to say, what to do. I was paralyzed, letting his words wash over me. So I'm... toxic? And deceptive? But sweet? And... apparently irresistible? Yet I'm killing him. I'm ruining him and his life. But I'm inside of him... I... I get it, but still, I can't possibly explain, and that definitely doesn't fully answer my question, doesn't even come close, but it does... But it's **not** enough, not what I wanted, not the clear-cut black-and-white answer I need, not a yes or a no, not hate or love, not telling me anything!

I blinked, unsure whether his explanation was a compliment or an insult. It felt like both, but it hurt more than it flattered. That cut smarted worse and deeper than all the others. I will remember those words forever. Poison, poison, poison, **poison**, _poison_, _**poison**_... I inhaled a shallow breath. His eyes were dark, his lips pursed, his expression uncertain. He didn't know how I was going to take it. "Why are you really doing this, Tommy?" I asked quietly, accepting it for once. My tired eyes begged for honesty, but I knew better than to expect it, to take his words at face value.

Once again, Tommy did something unexpected. He did anger. He took another trip down the rage train. He stepped towards me, advancing upon me, menace in his eyes, hulking body, arms swinging... and I could see the sinews of his rippling muscles, the force behind and underneath his skin. He charged like a rhino, pacing in circles, tense and tight and red in the face. "I'm not good enough for you, okay?! I've never been good enough for you, and I never will be! I don't _deserve_ someone like you, Jude. People like **me** don't get to be happy! I'm not a good guy, Jude. I can't love you like you deserve to be loved, can't treat you like you should be treated, can't _be_ what you need! I can't forgive you because I can't forgive myself for what I did to you, what I've **done** to you, and every time I look at you, that's all I see! I can't get over it!" Tommy yelled, holding his head, staring at the walls with dark eyes full of hate. He shook his head, determined.

Quincy never stopped pacing, shooting me wild, intense looks. "I will make you miserable, and you would _wish_ I'd cut you loose if I didn't." The way he said it, it was a promise. A promise it sounded like he meant. He didn't want to do that to me. The pain I read in his eyes told me so. "For _once_ in my life, I'm not going to be selfish," He resolved firmly. He kept shaking his head, a manic look on his face. "I'm not about to corrupt something beautiful and innocent. I'm not going to drag you down with me. I'm not going to let myself _ruin_ you! I can **never** love you, Jude, and no matter what you say, you're always going to want me to! Eventually you'd come to resent me for it, and then we'd have nothing but another worthless, unsatisfying failed relationship," Tommy swore, meaning every sentence. Those first three were promises, the last a statement of what couldn't be... of how he'd failed me. It was just an inability on his part. To be fair, he was probably right about that. I wasn't thinking that far ahead, but it would've gotten to me eventually, and maybe I would've even fallen out of love with him.

Even now, though, I don't want that. I'm sure I'll beg for it later, plead for it just to be over with already, for me to be done with loving Tom Quincy! ...But not now. I reflected briefly on Tommy's issues of self-worth, trying to find a way I could assuage them. Once again, though, words failed me, and I came up with nothing, only that wordless, haunting tune playing on loop. Broken record is what I am. Of course he deserves to be happy and loved, and, hey, doesn't that imply that I made him happy? He spoke before I could ponder it any further, this time with authority in his voice. Some authority figure, huh? "Just remember what we had and content yourself with that. At least it was good while it lasted," Tommy advised, taking my hand and patting it gently.

It was a complete reversal of his former position... a.k.a. the land of nonacknowledgment, sweet, sweet Denial. I should've appreciated it for that change it represented, but, alas, I could not. It seemed so... lame, so tame, so mediocre. I couldn't content myself with memories, with the small satisfaction that our brief relationship had not degenerated into something far worse and more painful... apathy... that it had been a happy one. Memories don't warm your bed at night. He didn't feel the same. He felt _something_, all right, but only God knows what because Tommy sure as hell doesn't! "This is what's best for the both of us," He said, and he sounded so sure that it almost made me physically ill.

Convince yourself, Quincy. Save that lie for your own reassurance because it isn't doing a damn thing for mine. I can see his point, but how much better is this misery I'm feeling now? I can't move on. I can't leave him behind, can't just not look back... And what now? What, we just turn our backs on each other, make a silent pact never to mention the relationship again and... and what? Are we friends or not even talking to each other? Is he furious with me or hurt? How do we live with this? How will we interact? How will I...

I started sobbing hysterically. But I love you! But I love you! But I _love _you! Why are you doing this to me?! And I was sobbing and screaming unintelligible things and flailing out like a dying fish desperate for water, so thirsty, suffocating. Tommy tried to calm me down, tried to steady me, to pacify me, but he failed. "Maybe you should go outside and get a breath of fresh air... or go to the bathroom and freshen up a little?" He suggested, attempting to be helpful. In this case, his kindness was the ultimate cruelty. His consideration was his way of shutting it down and answering my question. He treated me, looked at me, and held me like a stranger. But there was this strange familiarity to it that almost betrayed him.

Oh, I understood the hint he was sending. I did, and it hurt so bad. Like I was being stabbed by a million knives all at once, doused in kerosene and set on fire, shot through the heart. So I pulled myself up and looked at him, lightly pushing him away when I could finally stand on my own. I wanted a goodbye kiss, damn it, but I knew it wasn't in the cards, so I wiped my eyes and took the handkerchief he offered instead. I blew my nose, dabbed at my eyes, the make-up that had run down my cheeks, tried to fix myself up a little. I doubt it had much effect. I probably looked awful, exactly like a girl whose heart had just been torn out of her chest, broken and shattered into a million little pieces that were ground up and thrown in the garbage so carelessly. After all, what meaning does a heart have?

And, handing the handkerchief back to him with a soft "thank-you", I fought the hiccups attacking my throat to stare into his eyes for one last time. "I've always been your girl, Tommy, and I'm al-always going to be your gir-l. And somewhere deep down, a p-p-part of me will always be in love with you. I'm s-sorry I lied, but I'm _not_ sorry for this... any of it. I-I don't... re-gret you." I needed him to know. My voice broke so many times, and many a time during that phrase I had to brush away a stray tear or two. I stared up at him lovingly that one last time and touched his cheek, trying to take with me the memory of how soft and smooth it was, how soft and amazing his skin was. "Farewell," I said, knowing I would see him again, pressing a smooth kiss to his cheek before he could protest. But it would never be the same. _I_ would never be the same again.

Turning away from him unwillingly, I allowed myself one last, lingering look over my shoulder. Then I jerked my head away and began the long walk away from him. He would never be in my life again, not in the way I was used to. I felt so horribly empty inside. It was like nothing mattered to me anymore. I was just so... numb all over, pins and needles. So I did as he'd told me to mindlessly and headed outside, opening the stylish French doors to the balcony where I could be alone in peace, alone with my misery and sorrow and I could just cry my eyes out about the unfairness of it all.

I was shivering in my too-thin silk dress, craving warmth and missing the man I left behind inside. All I wanted was some comfort, something that would take all the pain away. I was in a dangerous place that night. So I turned around and peered in the frosted glass, searching out someone I could turn to. I didn't bother to try and find Tommy because I knew he'd probably just stormed off to some quiet place to brood in solitude. My eyes sought out Taylor first, but he was on Kathryn's arm, laughing and smiling. He didn't even miss me, and from the look on his face, and the way he was basking in her presence, you'd think Kathryn was his girlfriend, not me. Really, though, I couldn't have dropped my head on his shoulder and bawled about Tommy. That wouldn't have been right or fair to either of us.

Next my eyes prowled for Sadie, and I quickly found her sitting at a table, flirting with Chaz. As I was watching, he smiled shyly and asked her to dance. The two got up, holding each other close, gliding across the dancefloor, and it burned my eyes to look at them, so happy together. I remembered dancing with Tommy only two weeks ago, and how good it had felt, how nice it was to have someone to lean on. I wanted to tell someone, to talk to someone who would understand, and yet I couldn't. Even if I could, everyone I knew was occupied. Sadie... she would've understood to some extent how I felt, but I couldn't tell her the whole story. My parents were in far-away Bermuda, so I couldn't just run home and burrow into my bed, retreat safely to their loving, non-questioning arms.

In truth, I'd kind of hoped I would get to talk to Chaz. He was the only one I thought would really understand since he knew the situation better than most, knew Tommy better than almost anyone. He wouldn't ask too many questions, and he's a good friend. He'd know how to help me, I thought, only he was busy with my sister. In that moment, seeing them together like that, I was so immensely jealous of the both of them. Them with their stupid new love, rubbing what I'd just lost in my face. I seethed until I tore my eyes away from them and turned my back on the door, lest I start to hunt for Tommy in the crowd.

It hurt to even think his name. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging myself for warmth, and I stared out over the balcony down into this glacial world of snow and ice crystals. I was up so high it made me nervous. The cold, biting winds whipped me around, turned my skin red and streaky and pale. My teeth chattered, and my whole body trembled as I stood there, looking down. My hands reached out to grip the frozen railing. I thought I would collapse if I didn't. For a brief moment, in my numbness, I contemplated idly what would happen if I just stepped over the railing and hurled myself off the edge. Pictured it in my head too. Even that didn't seem worth it. It seemed such a waste.

So I moved back and away from the balcony slowly, clutching my body, trying to hold in as much warmth as I could. And I collapsed anyways. It happened so fast. Either I slipped or my knees just gave out, but suddenly my butt crashed to the crowd, legs sprawled limply over one another, and my whole body shook as I resumed sobbing and weeping pathetically, lamenting my stars and that "lucky" number. The tears froze quickly on my cheeks. I tried to hug myself for comfort, but the meager comfort I had to offer was nowhere near enough. I want my daddy to make it all better.

What I got did not even remotely resemble my father, unfortunately. I was too absorbed in my own hysterical misery to hear the door click open, to see the shoes walking past me... but I felt him trip over me and looked up in time to watch him stumble and catch himself so that he didn't land embarrassingly on his face. This time I didn't mistake him for Tommy. It was, of course, Travis. He was one of the last people I wanted to see at that particular moment, so I looked down and attempted to tell myself that he was just a mirage. Being Travis, he wasn't about to let that fly. "Well, I'll be damned! Jude, is that you?"

Knowing he wasn't going to leave it alone unless I at least answered him, I did so. "Yeah, it's me," I muttered. I was so out of it, so deep in my newfound depression that I didn't even bother to get up or wipe my face. "What are you doing here, Travis?" My voice sounded raw and low, exhausted. I didn't look up at him, just sat there staring off into space blankly.

He shrugged. "Just out for a smoke. It was getting stuffy in there." He paused, and I closed my eyes, hoping this meant he was leaving me. To my horror, Travis crouched down and put his hand on my shoulder. My eyes shot open, and there he was, less than six inches from my face, peering at me. He was frowning, so I knew automatically that he sensed that something was wrong. "You all right, girl? You don't look so good," He replied, actually sounding concerned. His hand was warm on my frozen skin. I jerked my head away from him, twisting it so he couldn't see my face and divine what had happened.

"I'm fine," I replied tightly, hoping he'd buy it. Never better, I quipped silently.

Travis knew better than to believe me. He placed his other hand on my cheek and tilted my chin up to face him. I let him manipulate me. I simply didn't care enough to oppose him now. "No, you're not," Travis pronounced decidedly. I gave him a questioning look, but I knew my feelings were written all over my face. I wondered how long it would take him to broach the topic of his brother. "Come on, Jude, don't you think I know you better than that? Now why don't you tell me what's bothering you?" Travis asked almost playfully, soothingly wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

His shoulder brushed against mine, and I felt the tiniest bit warmer. "How could you tell?" I asked even though I knew his answer. I looked at him then, really looked at him, for the first time that night.

He was smiling as he gestured to my dress. "Your sleeve fell down, and you don't seem to care or even notice. You've made no protest to my presence or my present proximity. Clearly something is very wrong here," He pointed out calmly, returning my sleeve to its rightful place on my shoulder. Not the answer I'd been expecting. It was, however, true. I'd barely noticed it at all. Ha, I'm not the Jude he knows! Well, he's not the Travis I know either! Normally, though, I would've freaked at that, would've seen it as giving Travis more ammo to... do something dastardly. At that moment, however, he could've raped me a million times, and it would've been like he hadn't touched me at all because I wasn't present.

"Tell me," Travis urged a bit more forcibly, tugging on my arm. I closed my eyes, remembering how furious Tommy had gotten, how demanding he'd been... "Jude, you feel like ice! How long have you been out here?" Travis exclaimed worriedly. I forced my eyes open and turned to look at him with dead eyes. I barely even felt the chill anymore; I'd absorbed it, and it was now a part of me.

I merely shook my head at him. Like I even knew? Time had no meaning to me now. The mere minutes were nothing but stepping stones to hours which were stepping stones to days which were the building blocks of years. Now, a _year_, that mattered... A year was presently ruining my life, so, yeah, it mattered. "Stop pretending that you care, Travis," I replied frostily, wishing he would just leave me to my own devices.

Travis sighed and a briefly annoyed look flitted across his face. I shot him scared glances every now and then, but I couldn't really look at him for too long. He reminded me too much of Tommy. "Jude, I'm not pretending. I really do care about you," He insisted, taking off his suit jacket and wrapping it around me. I didn't feel much warmer. At that remark, I just had to look at him. My anger returned and flared up again, just slightly, dull and bitter. Forgive me, Travis, but the last Quincy who said that to me just broke my heart. So I don't think any of you really care about me since you almost raped me and have insulted me for the majority of our relationship, and your kid brother who claims to be my boyfriend calls me names.

They're all a bunch of liars, and it makes me freaking sick. "Oh, I'm sure you do. After all, that's why you almost raped me, now isn't it?" I muttered sarcastically. I lacked the energy to even be properly angry at him. The look on Travis' face almost made me regret my words. It was a kind of mix of hurt, shock, guilt, and regret. Instead, I straightened up a bit and rolled my eyes at him. "Now, why don't you just go back inside and leave me alone?" I demanded with more force than I thought I could manage, tone tinged with irritation. I was slowly getting worked up.

Once again, Travis firmly wrapped his arms around me. I gave in to the half embrace. It warmed me a little. Travis then looked me in the eyes equally stubbornly and said, "I'm not leaving you here. You're not in your right mind, Jude, and you're not fine. If I leave you here, you'll catch frostbite and die." Melodramatic much but true. Not that I really cared.

"Well, maybe that's what I want," I quipped bitterly. Immediately I wondered whether it was true. I failed to see the look of alarm in Travis' eyes, but I did, however, notice the way he clutched me tighter. It made me uncomfortable. I didn't want to be close to him then, of all people. I didn't want to be close to anyone. I just wanted to be left alone. His presence was irritating as usual, only more so. It was like rubbing salt into a wound. He was a physical reminder of what I wanted, and I hated having to look on his face and see Tommy in him. "Let go of me, Travis," I requested in a low, tense voice.

Naturally, he didn't let me go, and, indeed, only clutched me tighter. I hated it. I was starting to feel trapped. "I told you, Jude. I'm not _going_ anywhere. Not until you tell me what's wrong." He just had to be so damn stubborn, so determined to get down to the bottom of things. I realize now he was just trying to help, but did he have to be so damn pushy? I didn't want to tell the man a damn thing. I turned away, clamping my mouth shut. He was doing to have to pry it out of me. Travis turned me to face him, and I started to resist. He started to smile a little, thoroughly confusing me.

"Jude, you know you can come to me with anything, right? I'm here for you... whether you need advice or a shoulder to cry on. You can turn to me," He reminded me, moving his head, trying to look me in the eyes. But my eyes were flitting from thing to thing to fast for our gazes to meet. Dimly, I remembered his offer, but I couldn't bring myself to accept his help. I didn't want it, didn't want to think I needed it.

Seeing that he was getting nowhere, Travis switched tactics. He cleared his throat unsurely. "Is this about Taylor? Did the break-up not go well?" He asked quietly. I stiffened, hit by a wall of tiny pinpricks of pain. I'd forgotten I was going to dump him tonight for Tommy... Well, it certainly looked as if that wasn't going to happen. I allowed myself to look at Travis. It didn't go at all, I thought dismally. For a moment, I debated dumping him anyways, but I couldn't bring myself to think about it logically. It didn't really matter to me either way, so I figured I'd save the deliberation for another day. After all, I just lost one good man. Giving up another one only have as good just seemed a waste.

Silly Travis, you've got it all wrong. He further continued to gesture in the window, where I'm sure Taylor and Kathryn were having a gay old time. "Are you upset that he seems unaffected, or maybe jealous of Kathryn... that he's moved on so quickly?" Travis continued in a testing voice. I rolled my eyes at him. What are you, my psychologist? You're the one who needs a shrink here, not me, buddy! Yes, I'm really out in the cold bawling my eyes out over your baby brother. That makes perfect sense. Not.

I scoffed, wanting nothing more than the ability to cry in peace. The tears had stopped with Travis' arrival, and the catharsis had fled with them. "I don't give a **damn** about your little brother, all right? He can do whatever the hell he wants with that whore," I growled, feeling the rage slowly start to trickle in my bloodstream. Maybe he was just saying that to bring me to familiar territory. It hit me a minute later that maybe I wasn't really talking about Taylor there.

Of course Travis raised an eyebrow. There was this stupid self-satisfied look on his face like he thought he had me all figured out. He didn't. I know what I said made it sound like I was jealous, but, really, Taylor was so far down on my list of things to worry about, that I didn't have a second to waste a thought on him. "So you _are_ jealous," Travis proclaimed almost gleefully. He was so far off-base it was ridiculous to me.

"Why on earth would I be jealous? I couldn't care less about Taylor right now. We're not even broken up," I rejoined, hearing the annoyance in my voice swell. Damn it, he really was pissing me off. And then the bastard had the nerve to smirk at me, which only made it worse. It hurt, too, because it reminded me of Tommy's sleazy flirtatious face. And, God, can I go **one** damn minute without thinking about him?!

Travis nodded, smirk slowly falling off his face when I glared daggers at him. "You're right. You seem entirely too devastated for it to be about Taylor... which leaves one alternative," He remarked smoothly, trailing off.Damn him, I knew what was coming next. I sent him the most brutal, deadly look I could muster. Say the name and you die. I swear to God, if he says it, I'm going to freaking kill him! Oh, and even God won't be able to help him if he makes some of those annoying little comments he loves so much. Being himself, he had to piss me off further. He gets off on it, I swear. "...Tommy."

I flinched at his name, and wasn't that obvious? "You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Travis, so just shut up before you get me really mad," I hissed through clenched teeth. Travis rolled his eyes; he wasn't scared of me. Not yet, at least. I'll make him pay, though. Later. He should be able to appreciate some revenge, shouldn't he?

He chuckled like it was no big deal. "Actually, I think I do. I mean, he is my brother, after all." Pause. I scowled at him, hating him more with each word. Travis sidled up to my side, practically snuggling with me, leaning up against me. "So," he whispered in my ear in a sing-songy voice, "tell me, how'd he do it?" I stiffened in his arms and tried to shy away. It was too late to really fight him off. I said nothing, and Travis came closer, snickering."_Please_, do tell. I'm so **very** curious. You see, I think I'm going to write a book about him, and I'd like to know if he used one of his old M.O.s or if he thought up something special for you. You look _special_, so I bet m... _Tommy_... really pulled out all the stops for you." I wriggled away from him, tearing my head away from him, feeling his hot breath on my neck. He was so close! And when he said the name, I winced all over again. "Didn't he, Jude?"

I shuddered, trying simultaneously not to think of what had just transpired and Travis trying to rape me, which was suddenly fresh in my mind. But I didn't say anything. Let him think what he wants to think. "Okay, then, so let's see... Did he do the good old F and R? You know, where he screws you and then you never hear from him again? It's vintage Little Tommy Q. Oldie but a goodie." Quite the opposite, really. Travis was tormenting me. In some ways it was worse than the almost-rape. He paused, sweeping his tongue across his bottom lip. "Or, lemme guess, he pulled one of those lame break-up lines, right? I can just see it now... "It's not you; it's _me_," right, only really it's pretty much **all** him? That seems his style." Something like that. "Hmm..." Travis paused to think for a long time this round.

"Maybe he whispered you all those sweet nothings... I love you... I want you... You're my world, blah, blah, blah... And then you find him in bed with someone like your sister or best friend? Maybe you caught him in the act, and then he admitted that it was all a pack of lies so that he could nail you. Am I getting warm here?" He continued smarmily, slimily, further invading my space. It was like he was wrapped around me. No, Travis, actually, you're getting colder. "But no, this is _Tommy_ here! I just **know** he had to have pulled the big freak-out! The commitment phobia got to him, made him a little crazy, and then he overreacted. I bet he tried to deny it, didn't he? Because of your age and who you are and the prison thing... Had a big spiel, eh? A big cover-up, very Area 51 of him. Yikes, you know, those are the worst, aren't they, Jude?" And then, Travis hit the nail on the head.

His lips brushed against my neck a little, and I could feel them curl into a smirk. Revulsion bubbled up in me. I winced and stiffened and grimaced when he said it, so he knew automatically that it was true, and he just kept badgering me. "It must really suck to have your whole relationship go up in smoke like that. Too sudden for my taste... One night it's here, the next it isn't! And it's gotta be like it never happened. You _can't_ talk about it; he **won't** talk about it. But you know it happened, only he acts like it doesn't, so you kinda feel like you're losing your mind. Am I crazy, you wonder, and maybe you are? Did I just imagine this whole thing? So it becomes a kind of dirty little secret. And, I mean, it was a _really_ meaningful relationship to you. You thought you two were going to be together forever. I mean, you **love** this man. You think he's your soulmate, right? And it obviously meant so little to him, and he doesn't feel the same. And he doesn't love you, doesn't care how badly he hurt you... He was never really even _serious_ in the first place. Gone, just like that. It never happe-" Travis drawled mockingly, dramatically. It was as if he knew about my sixteenth.

I kind of snapped then. Sort of. "YOU SHUT THE HELL UP! STOP RUNNING YOUR MOUTH ABOUT THINGS THAT DON'T CONCERN YOU! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" I screamed, throwing off his jacket, throwing him off of me violently. I flung the jacket blindly out into space. Ugh, I smelled like him, and I wanted to get it off my skin, but I couldn't. I wanted to punch him, elbow him, hurt him, but he crept up just as fast and practically enveloped me. I pushed my hands up and tugged the sleeves of my dress down my shoulders roughly. "Take me. I'm all yours," I snapped bitterly. Those words were so meaningless. I didn't give a damn anymore what he did to me. For this low, _low_ price you can have what Tommy didn't want.

Honestly, I'm not really sure if it achieved my purpose because I don't know what the purpose was. It did, however, serve to make Travis draw back and pull away from me. His arms left my body entirely, and he hurriedly pulled the sleeves back up, even managing to drag my fallen bra strap upwards. I snorted privately. Guess he doesn't want it either. But sure, he wanted it badly enough to try and take it from me when I was feeling much less charitable. The words "I want you" mean so little nowadays. "Jude, I'm not going to take advantage of you. You know that, right?" Travis asserted almost desperately. His hands gripped my shoulders tightly. It seemed hypocritical, seemed like a lie.

No, Travis, I really don't. You tried to rape me once, and for all I know, you might do it again. Hell, I don't even know if that guy tormenting me was you or not. "That's what you all say. My life would be a hell of a lot better if one of you just did it," I spat venomously. Specifically Tommy. And who's Travis to talk?! He takes advantage all the time! Why not now, because I'm obviously heartbroken?! Travis looked somewhat taken aback by the statement. Before he could say anything, I decided to continue. "**Fine**, okay?! You're right! About everything! Congratulations! You win the prize! Is **that** what you want to hear?! _There_, you've finally broken me down completely!" I shouted sarcastically, furiously, driven completely to the brink.

Travis surprised me once again by just shaking his head sorrowfully, almost as if he knew my pain. I guess he sort of does. He knows what it's like to lose the love of his life. And he knows what it's like to lose Tommy. Travis carefully placed his arm around me. "Look, Jude, I'm sorry... I was just doing that to get you riled up so you would tell me what's wrong. It's not healthy to keep it all inside, to be as apathetic as you were. I know you're hurting, Jude, and you need someone to talk to. Let me be that person for you, Jude. I promise you that everything you tell me will stay between us. I'll keep your secrets... Just fill in the blanks for me," Travis told me in a gentle, apologetic tone. In a way, it was so sweet it made me tear up all over again.

And next thing I knew, I was telling him the whole torrid tale from beginning to end, although it was the simplified version. I told him almost everything, from Montreal to the break-up only maybe an hour before. However, I did leave some things out. Some of the more private, intimate things. Like I told him about lying to Tommy about sleeping with him, but not what we actually did together and not a lot of the sweet things he said to me. And I didn't breathe a word to him about London. God, what was I going to do about that?! We were supposed to leave tomorrow!

I also didn't tell him that tonight was going to be the night... for, you know. I hurt all over just thinking about it. I didn't tell him that I was planning on telling Tommy how I felt, or that I actually had told him. And I didn't bother to repeat his response when I asked him how he felt with me. Not those words on permanent loop in my head. Instead, I managed to convey the vagueness of the reply, and the confusion it wrought in me. But more than that, I got the point across that he didn't love me, but I tried to show the break-up from a point of view more fair to Tommy, to show that it wasn't so easy for him, as best as I could at least. The little things didn't really matter. Travis wound up knowing pretty much everything by the end of it.

By the end of it, my whole body was racked with sobs, and I was bawling like a small child on Travis' shoulder, clinging to him gratefully. "Tommy hates me," I mumbled in between waves of tears. I felt rather than saw Travis shake his head, and so I turned to look at him, swallowing and sniffling, trying to regain a bit of respectability. I was trembling like a leaf, shivering all over, trying to suck the warmth from his body in all the places we touched. We were pressed together like flowers in a book.

"No, he doesn't," Travis disagreed softly. I scoffed loudly, glaring at him. That wasn't what I wanted to hear, and my version was probably true anyways. At any rate, he sure as hell didn't love me, and that was worse almost. Travis smoothed my hair and pressed a dry kiss to my forehead, pulling me closer to him. He was seated now, and I was basically in his lap, snuggled up against him. He paused for a long time, as if pondering which words were the right ones. "I think my brother's scared of you. I think he feels more for you than he's ever felt for anyone before in his _life_, and he doesn't know what to do about it. I think he's half in love with you already, and well on his way all the way there. He just doesn't know it yet. And I bet there isn't a _single_ moment where he doesn't regret breaking up with you," Travis explained slowly, in a contemplative voice. Maybe he was right, but it hurt a thousand times worse to hear him say that. It all felt so close, and yet it was so out of reach.

He was so out of reach. Travis paused, bringing a finger across his lips thoughtfully. If all of that is really true, then why did he leave me? Why was it so easy? Travis rubbed my back, my arm soothingly, sweeping aside my hair to trace circles on my neck, the side of my throat. He struggled to explain. "It's just... his duty. He felt it was something he had to do for himself. So he could live with himself. Because he knows he couldn't live with himself if something happened to you, and it was his fault. He sees himself as so inferior, so _unworthy_ of you and your love, that he thinks he'll break you, that he'll **ruin** you. He doesn't want to destroy you. He can see himself hurting you more because he's done it before, and he knows he will. So this is him trying to be merciful."

"Trying to be merciful by tearing me apart," I echoed ironically, feeling so dead and drained. I found it strange how he'd said almost exactly what Tommy had, paraphrased. I hadn't told Travis much about the actual conversation. I hadn't told him about those words being spoken.

Travis hugged me tighter. "It'll be okay, girl." Don't call me that. He tried to soothe, but I didn't feel soothed. I didn't feel calm. I felt drained and empty and tired, oh so tired, oh so cold, and so very alone. I just didn't feel whole anymore. "You'll be okay." So how can Travis sit there and say that I'll be okay when a part of me is **missing?! **_Half_ of me is missing, and I'm not getting it back! When you left, you took everything!

I shook my head defiantly, pulling away from his side. I felt the draft once again. "You don't understand, Travis! I'm **not** going to be okay again! I'm not going to be fine. No, not for a long time! I'm _incomplete_ without him! How can I recover when half of me is just... gone?!" I screeched, bursting into tears once again. I fell into his welcoming arms, threw my head on his neck and sobbed with wild abandon.

Always full of surprises, Travis started shifting from side to side, effectively distracting me. What, is this turning him on? I pulled back to look at him in bewilderment, and he started to sing, to my utter amazement. "_At first I was afraid... I was petrified... Kept thinking I could never __**live**__ without you by my side. But then I spent so many nights, thinking how you did me wrong... And I grew __**strong**__! And I learned how to get along!_" Travis began encouragingly, smiling at me.

Oh, I recognized the gesture immediately and appreciated it immensely. Cheesy disco does it every time. I nodded slowly and skipped ahead. "_Weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye? Did you think I'd __**crumble**__? Did you think I'd lay down and __**die**__?_" I sang along weakly, smiling just barely. So there was some hope, even in the most abject darkness. I felt awful, yes, but I didn't just want to lay down in the fetal position and just give up on life. I didn't want to die for him.

My friend smiled and joined in for the chorus, clapping. "_Oh, no, not __**I**__! I __**will**__ survive! Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive. I've got all my life to live. I've got all my love to give. And I'll survive! I __**will**__ survive!_" We harmonized in a tone that was somewhat more cheery. It was the best I could do with my throat all scratchy, dry, and worn out. Unbelievably, Travis' little trick worked. I did feel better, and I felt less... numb. I felt like the words were true, that I could live without Tommy. Of course, I'd always known that. It just sucked without him, and I knew it was going to be a bumpy road. But I'd survive without you.I always did.

After that, Travis helped me to my feet and took out a cigarette and lighter to finally get that smoke he put off for me. While doing this, he gave me a wise piece of advice. "Don't cry because it's over, honey. Smile because it happened." So I thought it over and decided to give it a try. There was a light at the end of the tunnel now, as opposed to the previously impenetrable darkness. Travis had pulled me out of it. He, and not Tommy, had pulled me back from the edge.

I shyly asked for a smoke, and Travis looked surprised for a moment but quickly thought it over and pulled another cigarette out of the pack. "If there's any time in your life when you need a smoke, I guess this would be it. But don't make a habit of it," Travis conceded, albeit with a warning. Then he put both cigarettes in his mouth and lit one, then another. He took a puff on both of them and then removed one, smirking a little as he handed it to me.

How very Now, Voyager of you, Teach. I took the cigarette from him, placed it in my mouth and took a long drag, remembering fondly when Tommy had taught me how to smoke. And I thought I was heartbroken then! I looked up at the stars with him, trying not to cough. The burning, searing warmth was unfamiliar, but I welcomed it after the chill Tommy had brought. I'd been frozen a long time, and it felt like I was finally beginning to thaw. I looked over at Travis and smiled sideways, pulling the cigarette away from my lips. "Don't let's ask for the moon, Jerry... we have the stars," I told him somewhat dreamily.

Travis made a face at me and bumped me lightly. "Careful now. You've obviously been hanging out with that actor brother of mine far too much, Bette Davis," Travis retorted slyly, immediately getting the reference. He flashed me a flirtatious smile that I returned sunnily. I didn't even think it was possible, but I'd come full circle. He exhaled deeply and started showing off by blowing fancy smoke rings.

I let out a tiny little giggle and felt immediately guilty. "Shut up, Henreid," I rejoined jestingly, bumping him back. Travis chuckled a bit and we stood there in silence, side by side, smoking, for a long while, staring at the stars. That is, until we heard a commotion and looked behind us. They'd started doing the New Year's countdown, and everyone was pairing up. _Ten..._ Kathryn and Taylor excusing themselves from polite company... _Nine..._ Victoria finally finding Theo in the crowd... _Eight..._ Darius and Paulina getting an early and very gropey start on the midnight festivities... _Seven..._ Chaz and Sadie smiling at each other and talking quietly... _Six..._ A flash of Tommy walking through the crowd, leaving...

_Five..._ Time was running out. Taylor wasn't an option. I tore my eyes away from the tableau. "Travis?" I called somewhat hesitantly, an idea brewing in my head. I knew it was dumb, but I couldn't help myself.

_Four..._

"Yeah?" He asked, a bit of a question in his voice. He looked over at me somewhat worriedly, dropping his cigarette and squashing it beneath his foot. _Three..._ "What?" The ball's about to drop, any second now...

_Two!_ Deciding to go for it, I threw my cigarette down on the ground and quickly closed the distance between us. He still eyed me warily. _One!!_ "Thanks, Teach," I murmured only a millisecond before taking his face in my hands and pressing my lips to his. His lips were soft, and he tasted just like I remembered. At first it was innocent, just smooth, cool lips touching, barely brushing, then our lips were crashing together, melding, and we were slowly fusing into a kind of one, hands and feet and touching everywhere, skin on skin wherever possible, and suddenly everything was out of control. _Happy New Year!_

"Auld Lang Syne" started playing. And it brought up an interesting question. "_Should old acquaintance be forgot? And never brought to mind?_" The answer is no.

_But if we stay or walk away, there's one thing that's true... I still love you._

- Loren ;

Thanks so much for sticking with me and the great reviews! THIS STORY IS DEFINITELY NOT OVER, FRIENDS!


	45. Ultraviolet

Okay, so I guess I apparently confused people with the ending of last chapter? Um, it really wasn't meant to be confusing. 'Cause, yeah, she is kissing Travis at the end, but the "I Still Love You" is definitely in reference to Tommy. In order for that to be able to be applied to Travis, she'd have to have loved him in the first place, see. Also, just before that she says, "Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?" Meaning, of course, Tommy, and she says no. And, as to the inquiry I had about them doing it, frankly I have no idea where that came from. I mean, she didn't even have sex with him when she was black-out drunk, and Travis wouldn't do that because she's in a vulnerable state. But anyways, yeah, you do get to find out a more about what came after that, sort of through what Jude relates.

I don't own "Remind Yourself", "Ultraviolet", "Perfect", "One Shot of Poison", or "That Girl" (although I guess I sorta own the modified version of it). Or any other pop culture references, which of course I'm too lazy to go back and find, but I know there's a Batman one. Blame my Batman-obsessed roommate for that one, though I did watch the series as a kid. Oh, and the quote is Khalil Gibran.

Oh, and I apologize if this chapter maybe sucks or isn't that interesting, but I like to think I've tried... And if direct Tommy/Jude interaction is what you're looking for, you'll find it in the next chapter. The next chapter is gonna be called "(I) Just Wanted Your Love", and Jude's back home... and let's just say she's in a bad place, and Tommy is making things worse. Jamie and Georgia co-star, and there will probably be some G. Major insanity going down, too, just to take some of the drama off of T and J. Just remember that Jude dealing with this is a process. So every chapter, you get to see a different step. And so forth.

* * *

God Save the Queen! So, I'm in London now, and it's not all it's cracked up to be. It's kinda... lonely, really. It's just, you see, I imagined I'd be here with Tommy, and I'm not. It's understandably disappointing, but I'm trying to keep my spirits up as best as I can. It's impossibly hard, really. It's just like, all the little things remind me of him, and I want to cry all the time, but I can't shed a tear. Because I promised myself... and because it would look suspicious because I have no real reason to be crying. According to the rest of the world, at least.

I guess I should start from how my new year began. With me making out with Travis, obviously. I do like to start things off with a bang. Wonder what that says about the rest of my year? I'll still be chasing Tommy down with Travis shooters or something? Anyways, after that we had a talk, the real words of which I've actually forgotten. I said something like, "You said you could be Tommy. Hope you don't mind if I take you up on that offer." Travis wasn't too thrilled about that, but he accepted it, obviously realizing that I'm not just hooking up with him or whatever because he looks like Tommy. Come for the resemblance, stay for his personality. Only I remember that Travis kind of moaned, "Lord, you have seduced me, and I let myself be seduced." Found out later that that was a St. Augustine quote. Only Travis, I tell ya. So basically we agreed to have an af... an arrangement. Let's put it that way. Clearly I'm not thinking straight because it was a _mutual_ agreement but... I don't know. He was there, you know?

Soon after that, I left him and went back to my room at first. I stripped off my dress and took my laptop and software to the studio. I set up residence there for the night because I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep, no matter how tired I was. I tested out the piano there, dragged it across the room, put my fingers on the keys and set everything up just the way I remembered watching Tommy do it a million times. I tuned the piano as best as I could, tested out chord and note variations until I stumbled upon the one I wanted, and then I practiced it over and over again. Piano had never quite been my forte.

Once I'd mastered it, I scribbled it down on the back of a menu for the night, one I'd stolen from the party. Then I started recording it, and once it was done, I felt some measure of peace. But not totally. It was incomplete, stripped down, missing other effects. So I did some work with ProTools, the most useful present I'd received (but not the best one), and then I had a drum beat that matched. I was inspired by the sound of his heartbeat as I remembered it in my head, thud, thud. It was soft, minimalistic, nonexistent at first. I recorded some guitar (both electric and acoustic) overlay for part of it myself and then added the all-important swelling strings section and a few digitized effects with the program.

It was amazing how smoothly it went, and a part of me was so proud of my own creation. The song was all me, not a trace of _him_ in it, the whole production, and yet the whole thing was him. The melody was his, the beat his. I felt such a thrill, such a sense of ownership that I wondered why I'd never produced my own stuff in the past. It seemed now like something I needed to do, like something I would need to do. In the future. The future. Thinking about it felt like getting knifed. And then I listened to the track playing on repeat, again and again. I didn't get sick of it. I just couldn't physically stop listening to it; I was dependent upon it.

And the words I'd been trying to force just slipped out of me so naturally I could hardly believe it. Everything I was trying to say then, at that moment when I'd been so unsure of what would happen just... came to me. Exactly what I wanted to say. And it was different for me, different singing those words when I already knew the outcome, more heartbroken. It was all too late, and that stung bitterly. So I took a drink and acclimated myself to the music playing in the background, once, twice, and then I sang, and I sang it straight through to the end in a single take. Perfectly. My voice was soft, weak, and it hurt to get those words out of me... hurt my voice, hurt my heart, but I did. I poured my heart and soul into that song and gave it my all, my best. And I felt simultaneously rejuvenated and exhausted.

Tommy would be proud, I thought sadly. Only he wouldn't know. But I was proud of myself too, so I burned the CD and wrote the title on it in black Sharpie, quotation marks and all. Then I didn't know what I was going to do with it, so I hesitated a moment. Next thing I knew I was deciding things and writing Tommy a letter. I don't remember what words I used or what I said, but I remember conveying a certain sense of meaning. I hope it made sense. Suddenly, I knew exactly what I was going to do about everything, and it was a liberating feeling.

I stayed up all night, packing furiously. I called Taylor at the first decent hour I could think of. He was genuinely happy to hear from me, and I knew I was doing the right thing, even if I wasn't completely thinking straight. So I lied to him and told him Tommy's flight had been delayed, and that he couldn't take me to the airport, so would he please drive me there? Then I coerced Travis out of bed and had him pack a bag for Taylor. He was intrigued, so I didn't even have to do anything to get the favor out of him. I scribbled a note for Sadie to take my belongings home, and left it in her room as I snatched up the plane tickets.

When I snuck into her room, I found her in bed with Chaz, all snuggled up together. My jaw dropped to the floor, and I was instantly envious of the way everything was coming together for them at the same time things had fallen apart between me and Tommy. That was supposed to be _us_, damn it. But I'm a bigger person than that, really, so I was mostly just confused after I got over the flash of jealousy. _Sadie_? In bed with _Chaz_? My sister who hadn't even lost it to Tommy Q, the Great Deflowerer?! Come to think of it, though, I was with him for two weeks and didn't lose it either, so maybe he isn't that great after all. Then again, had she even slept with Chaz, for that matter? Like, sexually? Questions, questions. I've really got to watch them harder now.

Anyways, I shook my head and turned around, sending my luggage down the escalator. A grumpy Travis was going to collect it and haul it outside. Then I headed back to my room to shower, dress, and get my guitar. Since I was extremely scantily-clad by this point, like wearing panties, the jewelry, and this strange adhesive bra (in nude) attached to my chest, this was pretty important, so I had all the normal traveling junk in there. Of course, with my luck, I ran into Tommy in the hallway. Literally. And, ouch, it hurt! I don't just mean that in the head-splitting emotional sense. I mean that in the physical sense because it was like being torn apart seeing him again, and, also, I ran into him, so it actually physically hurt me falling down on the cold marble floor.

Tommy helped me up at first as if he didn't recognize me. He was wearing slightly more clothes than I was, clad in a soft blue robe. I realized that he probably wasn't wearing anything underneath it, and it made me burn for him. Very playboy of him. Apparently he was also sleepwalking, or, in this case, suffering from insomnia like myself. Tommy didn't catch me, but that didn't come as a surprise to me then. He was always too late. When he realized it was me, a look of shock passed over his face, something raw and elemental like it was too soon for him to see me, and he didn't even know how to act around me anymore. I didn't know how to act around him either. For a moment we both stood there, frozen, staring at each other. His hands were still on me, still supporting me, still half holding me up.

He was the first to speak, the first to regain his breath. I'm sure I looked just as stunned as he did. Just as petrified, terrified... If not more so. "What are you doing, Jude?" He asked breathlessly, still holding on to me. I shrugged, even though I knew what I was doing. I realized that he must see my swollen eyes and knew then that I'd been crying for hours off-and-on over him. I burst into tears immediately after singing that one song, and I vowed that I wasn't going to sing it again until I was over Tommy. Until I could sing it and not break down. It would, I decided, go on my next album, if I ever decided to immortalize the brief, happy side of love, if I ever decided to publish those songs about the happy moments in my relationship with Tommy. That and "Stop the World", "My First in Love", "Secret Heart", "Worth Waiting For", and "Just the Beginning".

Tommy stared at me softly, and that _look_ of his, that look he saved for me and me only, with all its undue tenderness, tenderness now tinged with sadness, got me. Like it always does. My protective walls broke down just a little bit. "I'm going back to my room to get ready," I managed, swallowing hard. For a brief moment I was proud of myself for not stammering. Then Tommy frowned at me with confusion in his eyes.

"Why are you practically naked in the hallway?" Tommy questioned quietly, in a hushed voice that made my insides melty with recollection. Ooh, I remembered that voice too, all low and throaty. I closed my eyes and let the sound of its echo wash over me. Then, after the words had properly sunken in, I realized that his hands were on my _bare_ skin... an arm, fingers clutching my elbow, brushing against my lower back. I let out a sharp intake of breath at the thought and sudden feelings. His touch was still electric. And it made me forget myself, forget everything and just lose myself in the sensation, lose myself in _him_.

And it felt so damn good. He shook me a little to snap me out of it, and the cold reality hit me again. The smile that had been dimly forming on my face immediately died and dropped off into nothingness. So I offered him a shrug. I'd wanted to get rid of the terrible memories I associated with the dress, so I'd discarded it on the floor of my room. "I did the same thing on my sixteenth. Needed to get rid of the bad memories," I told him instead. I couldn't bring myself to pull his hands off me, so I stayed there a little longer. I'd just tenaciously both acknowledged the break-up and the non-happening before that had started the whole vicious cycle, so I was concerned that I was in hot water already.

He made a face at me. "Well, put some damn clothes on, then." He was a little snappy, and I found that rude after, you know, he broke up with me. Plus, hello, that was my goal in the first place, and him with his warm grabby hands and lascivious looks was preventing me from achieving it! I tried to articulate this to Tommy, even pointing to my room, but Tommy just rolled his eyes and quickly untied the belt to his robe, ending the physical contact between us. I suddenly felt the cold and shivered a little. I didn't think he'd notice. My eyes practically popped out of their sockets as he shed his robe and then draped it around me. And apparently he was naked underneath the robe after all, so I feasted my eyes while I could.

Until Tommy cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, and my eyes shot back up to his face. My cheeks felt hot, and I smiled at him awkwardly. I swallowed hard, blinking back the sight of his nudity, which was burned into my eyelids. "Hang on," I found myself saying, holding up a finger. "I've got something for you. I'll be right back," I told him hurriedly, as I dashed back to my room, depositing the tickets on the table and snatching up the large manila envelope that contained the letter and the disc. I raced back to him, trying not to inhale the robe and his smell, which was certainly all over me. The robe was still warm from the heat of his skin. I'd missed that kind of warmth.

To my amazement, Tommy had done as I'd requested. He was indeed there waiting for me, stark naked, in the middle of the hallway. Given that it took a significant amount of time to get to my room in the castle, even when running, I was impressed. I ran to him and shoved the packet into his arms, pressing it against his chest before he could protest or even make a sound. "Take this. There's a CD inside. Play it every day, okay? That way you can never again say that no one ever loved you unconditionally," I ordered with more brashness than I thought possible. When had I ever been so brave?

I blinked, still unable to believe I'd just done that. Tommy flinched when I dropped the L-word, though. I sighed and scrambled to take his robe off, throwing it back to him. Surprisingly, Tommy shook his head upon catching the robe and threw it back to me. "Keep it. The damn thing's just going to smell like you anyway." He said it with something that sounded a lot like disgust, and it hurt until I realized that maybe he just didn't want any mementos to remind him of me. To make it harder. I, on the other hand, was quite glad to have something that smelled like him to snuggle up to on the cold, lonely nights in my future.

Shrugging, I eyed him pointedly. "Whatever, Tom. But I really don't think you should be walking around the hallways naked. It's not safe. You might catch a cold or run into a pointy object or get raped and sodomized..." Tommy gave me a look that said he was above all that, and that none of it could ever happen to him. Then again, it is his house. So I just shrugged and made myself turn away. "Well, I guess I'll see you when I get back, then," I said dismissively, deceptively. One week didn't seem like enough time.

I turned around to go back to my room, but Tommy's hand reached out and grabbed my arm. "Where are you going?" He demanded somewhat imperiously. I turned to stare at him incredulously. He doesn't know?

Whatever's the mantra of the day, so let's go with that. Let's run with that apathy and me pretending I don't give a damn about him and what he does. "I'm still going to London, Tommy," I told him bluntly, biting back the comment that almost followed it. Like _we_ planned, remember? That was thin ice, and I didn't want to go there. Judging by the look of shock on his face, I was right to expect he wasn't going to come with. Hell if I let him ruin it for me, then that's just too easy for him! I shrugged. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Quincy. I'll be back in a week," I assured him much more confidently than I actually felt.

Tommy shook his head, looking somewhat cross. "You're going all by yourself? Jude, it's a foreign country! Something could happen to you! At least take Sadie with you," He exclaimed in disbelief, notes of genuine horror in his voice. His eyes urged me to be rational, to take care of myself in the way he hadn't, in the way he _couldn't. _I just shrugged. Seems like she's too buried in your best friend to come, darling. It struck a chord in me, though, that he was at least still worried about me. I bit my tongue about how **he** was supposed to protect me, and the whole thing had been his idea. Just because we weren't together anymore didn't mean I had to waste a perfectly good trip overseas. Maybe it would be good for me to have that time on my own, without Tommy, a whole ocean away from Tommy, to get myself together, to concentrate on me and who I am without him in my life.

I need some time to clear my head, you know? To just breathe and try and get over this as best as I can, when I don't have to see him all the time. Out of sight, out of mind, right? It's harder when I'll be forced into seeing him every day, trapped in close quarters with him. Might as well get a jump-start.

"Well, it's not like _you're_ coming with me anymore. I don't have very many options... But I never said I was going alone, now did I, Tom-Tom?" I practically spat, knowing I was antagonizing him. I couldn't help but rub it in his face. What, like I'm some pathetic little girl who has to go alone? I don't need anybody to hold my hand, damn it. He flinched, too, at the mention of how he had the option to go with me. But I knew he was going to do that. Eventually someone had to say it, had to acknowledge the fact that he _would've_ gone with me if... That London was something we were supposed to do _together_. Who knows? Maybe someday we will.

God willing, that is. Or, rather, Tommy willing. We all know I'd jump at the chance. "Who?" He demanded, clenching his fists. His face was cinnabar and stern, all his glorious muscles rigid in rage. I stared. Hell, he was a sight to behold. He was absolutely furious, too, of course, and damn if it didn't turn me on.

Deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine, I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing who my mystery guest was. It's like he said... There's a lot of guys waiting in the wings for when he screws up, and he's _finally_ done it this time. "I think I'll just let you think it over and find out sometime later. Maybe you deserve to suffer too, Thom-ass," I retorted just a bit viciously. And suddenly all that kindness evaporated. I get that he's pissed I'm taking some other guy on the trip he bought for me (not that he knows it's another guy yet), the trip we were _supposed_ to go on together. He doesn't have the right, though. He cancelled it. He **ruined **everything! Was I just supposed to go alone and mope the whole time?

There will be plenty of that anyways, but I'm not about to let Tommy perceive me as being that weak. I have to at least try to get over him. And jumping into things, especially relationships, is what I do best. Besides, they say the fastest way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Well, that's not what I'm going to do, unless, of course, that person is Travis, which I wouldn't mind... But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Travis isn't going to London with me, although wouldn't that just be the kicker, me taking his archrival/former nemesis instead of Tommy? The prospects of revenge are just too juicy to contemplate, let alone consider. We're both better than that.

In reality, I'm just hurt and alone and looking for a reason, any reason, to lash out at him, to make him feel just as devastated and decimated as I am now. But back to Travis... He can't go anyways, not with Kate and school and everything... He was my first choice. My second, really, but Tommy doesn't count. I made a face at Tommy and then walked away. Childish, I know, but so very gratifying. I made sure to sway my hips just a little more so he'd stare at the ass he could've had. You're missing out, Buddy.

Being Tommy, this pissed him off. So he pulled me back around and got a little too close for comfort. He got handsy fast. Suddenly I was pressed right up against him, his arms wrapping around me tightly, and then he was kissing the breath out of me. The force of it shocked me so much it knocked me back a step. I'm being honest here, so the truth is that I almost fell back entirely and landed on my ass. Which he was grabbing, by the way. His soft, warm lips were all over mine, kissing me deep, hungrily, nipping and biting softly and teasing, wet tongue sliding along my bottom lip, further into my mouth, sweeping past all my defenses.

My eyes just about rolled back in my head, and I was melting like the Wicked Witch into a puddle of water on the floor. More or less. If he's kissing me, I'm definitely gonna take advantage of it. I curled up around him so that we were touching everywhere, pushed my hands on his skin, leaned as far forward into him as I dared. Ironically, I'd pretty much entirely forgotten that we were both wearing next to nothing. Tommy groaned, trying to move away, but I held fast and bucked my hips against him. I stifled his moan with a fierce kiss, and then Tommy was stumbling backwards blindly. I pushed him into a cool wall, and, upon impact, Tommy the Tease tore his lips away from mine, gasping.

Then he attempted to collect himself, like he hadn't just been about to do me against a wall. Somehow he managed a smirk, or something that vaguely resembled it. "So you won't forget," He murmured. His voice was raspier than usual, and he was very plainly turned on. He pushed me away gently and tried to leave with some dignity. But Tommy pretty much said, "Don't forget about me in London." Not that I ever could. And what right did he have to order me to do anything? Much less, why, because he's jealous? Not that I would ever have a chance of forgetting about him in London after _that_. Not that I would've anyways, but still, mixed messages again! I wanted to slug him. Half because he's going against himself...

And the rest because I was looking forward to hot break-up sex, or, even better, hot make-up sex. And, yes, I know I'm a virgin, but I've had like a hundred failed opportunities to lose it, and given that _it_ is the reason he broke up with me in the first place... I just want to get it over with by this point. I can't get no satisfaction. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to catch my breath and regain my senses. Or, basically, not do something stupid like shove him up against the wall, put his robe on, tear my underwear off, and have my way with him right up against that wall. My face flushed at the thought.

I shook my head, trying to rid it of the lustful thoughts that were distracting me. "You're such a hypocrite, Tommy! You tell me to pretend it never happened, and then you go and do something like that the second I try to move on!" I shouted, pretending the flush was on my cheeks for a whole different reason. It was easy to make myself angry with him. Really, I was just hurt and frustrated by his inconsistencies. "Did it happen or not?" I demanded belligerently, throwing my hands up in the air. Make up your mind, the implicit message unspoken. I sighed and shot him a dark, nasty look. He looked surprised and bewildered by my rage, which was perhaps a sign of how tired and confused he was. Tommy's got so many mixed feelings, and I think it's time he sorts them out. Maybe me going away will give him that time. "Doesn't that go against your policy of pretending _we_ never happened?" I spat at him bitterly. It gave me no pleasure to watch him flinch, not when he was naked, vulnerable almost, and staring at me with those soft, warm eyes.

Running a hand through my hair, I tried to calm myself down a little. I sighed heavily and moved back away from him. My breath was still shaky from being so close to him. It was an opportunity I could barely bear resisting. I forced myself to look away from him, ordering myself to look into his eyes when I resumed my stare later. I would do it when I felt stronger. "Don't say things like that. You should want me to forget about you," I whispered in a voice that trembled, slowly casting my eyes back on him again, waiting for his reaction. I looked into his eyes and saw that he didn't want me to forget, and I hated him for that.

But I couldn't blame him.

I'm never going to forget about him. It's just not possible. I love him. You just don't forget something like that unless you're in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I'm practically obsessed with him. It's a wonder I don't have a Tommy shrine. I pretty much even write him love poetry, since ninety percent of my songs are about him. I couldn't be more hopelessly devoted to him if I tried. I mean, who am I, Olivia Newton-John?

Nevertheless, Tommy seemed to finally understand. His voice was quiet. He took a step towards me, away from the wall. I took a step backwards in response. He shouldn't be this close to me or else I'll crack and beg him to take me back. I'm fairly certain I could at least half convince him if... "I shouldn't have done that, should I?" He asked me softly, in a voice scarcely above a whisper. I wanted to be furious with him, to strike him for even asking such a stupid question. No, Tommy, you shouldn't have.

How could I when I didn't even believe that myself? I sighed and debated for a moment what to say. "No. You should have. You should've gone through with it. All of it." What I wanted to say, but it was so vague... "No duh, Sherlock." What the old, feistier, not heartbroken me would've said with a roll of the eyes. "Not if you want to stay an ex-boyfriend." What I really wanted to say, bluntly, arms crossed over my chest. "Considering you dumped me because you didn't want to corrupt me, I'd say yes." What I would've said wryly, with a bit of sarcasm, mocking him.

What I really said, not feisty, not what I really wanted to say (then again, none of this had a lick to do with anything I really wanted), not sarcastic, not even bitter... I shook my head slowly, looking down and swallowing harder than I intended. "Not if you want me to _ever_ get over you," I murmured, gazing up at him with eyes filled with pain. Tommy's face was covered with the most horrible sympathy I'd ever seen, and he attempted to reach out to me, touch me, as if that wouldn't make it all worse. I shook my head again, more stubbornly this time, moving away from his hand. I couldn't need it, couldn't need _him_ like this. "No, Tommy. This is hard enough for me already," I insisted a bit sternly, scolding him halfheartedly.

"Look, I've got to go." I managed a thin smile and one last look, drinking in the sight of him there in the faint light like it would be my last. He didn't even protest, but he knew where to find me if he needed to. "Goodbye, Tommy," I called over my shoulder, leaving him there, his robe still over my arm. As soon as I was out of his line of sight, I put the robe on, wrapping it tightly around myself. After all, it was a cold hallway. I didn't put it on because it smelled like him or anything.

Yeah, I really suck at this whole-lying-to-myself-thing. After that, I hurriedly changed and got some last minute things to go, and then I was pulling out of there, guitar strapped on my back. When I walked back through the hallway this time, Tommy was gone, and I inhaled relief. When I walked outside, Taylor was leaning against his car waiting for me. Taylor looked better than I remembered, and better than anyone should at that hour of the morning. He flashed me a smile, and I tiredly tried my best to return it. He'd already put my bags in the back, so I set my guitar down and then shut the door, slipping into the passenger seat.

Taylor continued to be disturbingly chipper throughout the ride, and I tried to match his enthusiasm, but it had been a long white night, and I was damn tired. He wouldn't shut up, which generally annoyed me, but I found that I didn't mind this time. I was actually glad that his voice filled the silence that otherwise would've been left to me and my thoughts. I had a lot of difficulty paying attention, but I perked up when he turned on the radio halfway through the ride. And then "Walking Contradiction" came on, and I damn near had an emotional breakdown, so I hurriedly changed the channel.

My supposed boyfriend gave me a quizzical look. "Don't you love that song?" Yes. I do. That's the problem. I also love the guy who wrote it. And the fact that he wrote it about me. But none of that has any relevance right now because it _doesn't _**matter**! I shrugged evasively.

"I guess... But I'm really not in the mood to listen to it right now, and anyways... Sometimes you just need to listen to another song because you're so sick of listening to the other one, even though you really like it," I explained hastily, hoping he didn't realize something was wrong. My heart was in my throat, and it felt a lot like I was gonna vomit. Why on Earth does this song always come on when I've got a date with Taylor? Is God trying to sabotage me? Or Tommy, maybe? He's gone psychic D.J. and he knows exactly which song to play to piss me off. Taylor didn't see through me. He nodded as if he saw my point and allowed me free reign of the radio. Tommy wouldn't have, and it stung like a tiny jolt.

Idly, I flipped through channels, half paying attention to Taylor. I tried to nod when I could but focused more on finding decent music that didn't remind me of Tommy. "_I don't care who you are... what you did... where you're from... as long as you love me!_" CLICK. Because Tommycakes did care what I did, or, in this case, what I didn't do. Or, rather, who. And he didn't care that I loved him. "_I'm bringing sexy back!_" CLICK. That one even more immediate. Taylor smirked, popping his collar and muttering something about how he was gonna put a show on for me. Too bad Tommy beat him to the punch on my birthday.

Sure, I went out to dinner with my Jamers, Kat, the band, and the fam, and they did pretty much bombard me with presents... But I called Tommy up and spent most of the day just hanging out with him. It's weird. Looking back it just seemed like this really awesome day. We watched old movies, and Tommy told me some of his infamous tour stories, and I told him some of mine. We talked a lot, actually, and I could almost forget I was in love with him. He was just this really awesome friend, and there was nothing awkward between us. Mostly. So after that, we wound up playing lame board games and then eventually resorted to a game of Truth and Dare for kicks.

This happened after we had a Boyz Attack! Dance Party that Tommy swore me to secrecy about. It was loads of fun. We were both shaking it like we were in a Boyz Attack! Video, and suddenly he was teaching me how to dance, and then we were pretty much throwing a private rave party with all this great techno and totally awesome retro '90s stuff. After that, naturally, came karaoke, once we'd stopped laughing hysterically and had managed to catch our breath. Karaoke with musicians is really entertaining.

But back to Truth and Dare. Tommy said he'd pay me for my best Britney. Would you know? That's what I wanted to ask. Specifically I think he demanded "...Baby One More Time" or "Slave for You", so I changed and put on my sleaziest performance of "Slave 4 U". I was crawling all over him, pawing at him, grinding up on him, shaking it for all I was worth, practically even gave him a lapdance. And it was ridiculous and _so_ much fun, since it got all awkward for Tommy because he got uncomfortable with me grinding up all over him, so I managed to extort a massive amount of money from him because he was squirming so much.

That being done, I giggled at him, ruffling his hair, and paused for a moment before ordering him to do a striptease to that song. Since it was Timberlake, it was even more humiliating. The first four times he tried to back out of it, so I called him a coward and then he changed his tune and snapped at me to play the damn song already. Tommy strutted forward confidently like the model he not-so-secretly is, removing his jacket and draping it over his shoulder, making pouty faces at me before tossing it on the ground. I grinned ridiculously and urged him on. Tommy turned around in a slow circle, hands going straight to his belt. I whistled loudly, and Tommy shot me a somewhat pained smirk. He pulled the belt through the loops, taking it in his hands and pretending to hit me with it.

I almost grabbed his hand and made him whip himself (hey, isn't that a line in the song? _Will you whip me if I misbehave?_), but Tommy just cut it through the air, whirling it around in circles, lifting it above his head, and then tossing it behind me. He accompanied this, of course, with ridiculously hot pelvic thrusts that made my throat a little dry and brought him closer to me. When he was practically in my face, he slowly unbuttoned his pants, bringing the zipper down all the while shimmying. I let out a loud catcall, demanding for him to take it all off, but he shook his head teasingly and moonwalked back.

He spun around so his back was to me and slowly removed the first t-shirt, turning around to toss it to me. He came towards me, a glorious mass of taut muscles, and slowly peeled off the skintight white long-sleeved shirt. I was enjoying the scene very much, too much, probably. But it was one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments. He slowly dragged his pants down his legs, making an elaborate show of doing it, bending down and practically touching his toes. I made crude comments about his flexibility, and he rose just as abruptly and kicked the pants off. By that point, I was really going nuts, so Tommy went into the elaborate dance portion of the striptease, making sure to wiggle suggestively and come super close to me. He writhed.

Stupid boy teased me too, but the song ended before he could take it all off, and of course I know Quincy worked it out that way. Damn him. At that disappointing end, I made a face at him and, sliding my fingers down to his waistband, I tugged him over to me impatiently. He fell on top of me with a soft thud, nice and sweaty, panting a little. And hot, too, of course. He leaned forward instinctively, placing his hands on my waist. I adjusted myself for comfort, and the fact that I'd shifted closer to him hadn't escaped me. "Hey, no fair! You were supposed to strip _all_ the way down," I whined, not realizing how slutty that made me sound.

He let out a husky laugh, nuzzling my cheek. I felt his breath on my face, and I was like a marshmallow over a campfire. My hands slid up his arms. He cocked an eyebrow at me, bemused. "How 'bout we save that for your eighteenth, eh?" Tommy suggested in a low voice, panting lightly. I dragged my hands further up his arms, over his taut shoulders. His breathing sped up just a little, and I knew why he was holding back. If he went that far, there was no telling what else he would do. He didn't trust himself not to do anything. There was a thin, slick sheen of sweat on his skin. I closed my eyes briefly, thinking of the terrible things that bedroom voice of his did to me and my already unraveling sanity. "Give you something to look forward to," He added a moment later with a wink, regaining a bit of himself.

My jaw dropped in surprise. All of a sudden I wished I had a time machine. Directly after that, he pressed his lips against my cheek, pulling me into a brief embrace before getting up and starting to grab his clothes. Wow. I didn't feel dirty or anything. I raced up, kicking him in the butt (something I'd learned from Speed), and snatching up his pants. Tommy dropped his shirt and dashed after me, but I raced up the stairs and threw his pants into my parents' bedroom, which was, of course, the one place Tommy wouldn't look. As a diversionary tactic I pounded up the narrow stairs to the attic, where Tommy quickly caught up with me. In a flash, his hands were on my forearms, pinning me to the wall.

Our chests were both heaving, and suddenly the moment was heavy like whipping cream, and awkward in that way I'd tried to avoid. "Where are my pants?" He panted, dark eyes clearing of their fever slowly. Not something you hear every day. I giggled and told him to find them on his own before shoving him away and scurrying all the way downstairs to the living room, where I retrieved his shirt, tossing it on the banister. The t-shirt he'd been wearing on top I donned, stashing his belt under the couch where he wouldn't see it. I sat on the couch, highly amused and simultaneously worried at the sounds I heard above me, which sounded a lot like doors slamming and Tommy crashing into things, and I waited for him to come down.

It was taking a while, so I turned on the TV, pleased to find that there was a Sudden Idol marathon on. It was one of the happy episodes where Girl and Producer are together. Well, actually, it was a bunch of ones where they were friends, and then BAM, togetherness and hook-up and fluffy stuff. I kind of felt like I missed something big since they have a cyclical relationship. Sort of like me and Tommy. Anyways, I was enraptured in the tale when Quincy showed up, unfortunately wearing pants. He'd also snatched his shirt off the banister by the time he plopped down next to me, busily pulling his shirt over his head. "I practically tore the upstairs apart looking for these, you know. You just had to leave them in your parents' room, didn't you? I kept thinking your dad was gonna pop out from behind some corner and kill me," Tommy lamented loudly, cutting off the TV.

I turned to glare at him and instead wound up watching his ab muscles flex as he struggled with the shirt. Typical. You know, Tommy, maybe you wouldn't have to worry about my dad if you hadn't given him reason. Always home alone with one of his daughters, partially clothed. Dad went crazy the one time he caught Sadie and Tommy fooling around on the couch. And then he threw Tommy out completely when he found them in her room together doing some, erm, inappropriate rather unclothed things. And that was when they were engaged, mind you. I rolled my eyes at him, trying to keep one eye on him and the other on the TV.

"Thanks a lot, Quincy! Toby was just in the middle of telling Jack how he felt about her, and you made me miss it!" I grumbled, smacking him in the arm. Tommy tugged the shirt down, finally able to see. He adjusted his shirt professionally and glanced casually over at the TV. Later on, when Sadie found his belt under the couch and asked me about it, I told her I'd hired a stripper for my birthday.

He nodded dully. "Oh. I didn't know you watched this show." He paused, gazing at the scene contemplatively. "The girl looks a bit like you, don't you think?" He commented vaguely, pointing at her. I shrugged. He'd noticed too? Tommy licked his lips. "I dated her for a while, you know."

"Who _haven't_ you dated?" I retorted nastily, giving him a look. Tommy held up his hands in a surrendering position. I shushed him, focusing on the action. Jack had been arguing with Toby after his big proclamation, whatever it was. She was crying and throwing things at him, and then her knees gave out. Toby caught her and said something I didn't quite catch because Tommy loudly interjected...

"You!"

Bristling at the reminder of this particular way I was excluded from his life and the none-too-subtle reminder of the topic I didn't want to discuss, I whirled to argue with him, eyes blazing. "Don't ruin a perfectly good day, Tommy. We were having a good time until you brought that up again. Is _one_ day without mentioning it too much to ask?" I said crossly, practically pleading. A moment later I answered my own question. "No, Tommy, it's not. Not when you spent the majority of the past year pretending it didn't exist at all. Why could you keep your mouth shut about your feelings for me that long, but now, when I can't hear it, you can't go a second without repeating it?" I reflected bitterly.

Tommy's hands were on my shoulders and gentle as he turned me around to face him, tilting my chin up to look into his eyes. "Because you could have so much more than this." He spoke in a whisper, surprising me with a soft kiss on the cheek, staring deep into my eyes. I saw myself reflected there in those turbulent depths, and I liked the way I looked. Like I belonged there in the glimmer in his eye. "You deserve so much more than a little boy who doesn't know what he wants," He continued, harsher this time. He tried to kiss my cheek again, but I turned away abruptly and pushed him away.

Glaring at him, I replied tersely, "You're right, Tommy." I paused. "I **do** deserve better than you," I rejoined finally, blasting him. He flinched and opened his mouth, attempting to entreaty me. But I would have none of it. "Tommy, just… drop it, okay?" I ordered a bit less severely. I didn't want the whole memory of this perfect day tarnished by him putting the pressure on with yet another declaration of his affection. I turned back to the TV and watched the rest of the show in silence, but I found myself unable to really pay attention.

"_Everybody tells me you're no good, but that's all right with me! Gimme one __**shot**__ of poison! A little twist is all I need... One __**drop**__ of your sweet poison... sets me __**free**__! Come on, baby, __**poison**__ me!_" Snapped me painfully back to reality. My least favorite word in the English language, repeated three times. I shook it off, praying I was hallucinating. "_Gotta hunger for a fatal attraction... I'm saving all my passion for __**you**__! I gotta heartbreak habit that I can't cure... Only __**you**__ can ease the pain!_" Lita Ford continued passionately. I sympathized immensely, and I knew I hadn't misheard. And I wanted so bad to turn it off, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was all so damn true. _One drop of your sweet poison... __**satisfies**__. Give me one last kiss before I die. _

I turned my head away from Taylor, hastily wiping away my tears and abruptly changing the station. Damn it. I thought I was under control! But the stupid wannabe Joan Jett's lyrics kept floating through my head like his words had and still did, mocking and taunting me, haunting me. I twisted the radio off, ignoring Taylor's entreaties and turned to first stare out the window. I closed my eyes and attempted to sleep but failed. Taylor lightly shook me awake when we got to Trudeau.

It was fine when we went through the routine of going through security and all that. The only problem I had occurred when I pulled out the two tickets and presented them as we were boarding. First class. Fancy, huh? The bitch flight attendant (because they always are, aren't they? No normal nice person can wear a smile that much and be that perky at bizarre hours of the morning) took a look at my ticket and raised an eyebrow. It read J Quincy, which didn't match the I.D. I'd presented earlier (although how would she know that?), and to top it off, the bitch gave me this look like I was living in dreamland, so she probably knew who I was, too. "J Quincy, eh?"

I wanted to die (and I did pale dramatically) and cry my eyes out, and damn if I wasn't touched that Tommy had booked me under HIS LAST NAME. Almost like we were... married or something. Oh **God**. Looking back, it's a wonder I didn't have a complete emotional breakdown right then and there. By some miracle, I managed to keep it together. Fortunately, Taylor wrapped a protective arm around my waist and flashed the bitch a bright smile. He nodded. His ticket had been under T Quincy, and my whole body cried out that Tommy should be there with me instead, that it should be TOMMY. But it wasn't.

Taylor saved me, though. "Yeah, Jude Quincy, my _wife_... We just eloped, and she hasn't had the time to change her last name yet. So, if you don't mind, we'd like to board the plane now," He replied smoothly. Then he steered me past the woman with her gaping mouth and seated me like a proper boyfriend or husband would. I was speechless.

He proceeded to entertain me to the best of his abilities for the rest of the flight (who knew he was such an adroit conversationalist? It was almost as if he sensed I needed some cheering up) and then kindly let me sleep on his shoulder. Who knew he was so nice and terribly decent? My sleep on the plane was fitful at best, and I had to get up at one point to go sob in the lavatory. Which is a truly pathetic place to sob, and I started crying even harder because we were over the ocean, and I remembered that last truly happy conversation I'd had with Tommy about having sex in an airplane. At that moment, I would've settled for even hot angry airplane sex as long as it meant we were there together. After fifteen minutes, I splashed water on my face, slapped my cheeks, and got my act together. Taylor, never the most observant, had slept through the entire ordeal, so I just curled back under his arm and tried to forget.

I woke up in London.

As we exited Heathrow, all I could think about was how Sid Vicious' ashes were supposed to be floating around in the air vents, and that meant something to me. It urged me to let go, to have fun, to do whatever the hell I wanted to do and not feel guilty for it. To live life to the fullest, and that it was okay to jump into things without thinking about the consequences, and that this was a vacation, damn it, and it was up to me to enjoy it as much as possible. I was, after all, a punk at heart, and it was good to be reminded that I've got edges. I could have a good time and relax with Taylor, or I could let the mere specter, the mere thought of Tommy ruin it all for me.

The choice was mine.

I chose to try my damnedest to enjoy the trip as much as I could. During the day.

But it was like I was fighting against a force stronger than myself. Every site I saw, every building I entered, every street I walked down, there was this stupid feeling that Tommy should be there with me, that he _needed_ to be here to see this. And every time that happened, I grit my teeth. I'll never forget that feeling. It felt like there were grainy fragments of a glass bottle embedded under my skin, rubbing together, breaking me from the inside out.

At night, my thoughts wandered back to circles of Tommy, and I was haunted by dreams and memories. The dull ache, the painful scratching feeling, turned into a full-blown stabbing pain. A phantom pain, a result of his absence. It was like someone was tearing my skin open, slicing me up with a butcher knife all pretty-like into ribbons. Like I was being stabbed in the back by friends over and over again, and that had happened. Then the knife was twisted into my back and wrenched out of the muscle, only to re-enter my body mere moments later, slashing, hacking away at my flesh. Understandably, I didn't sleep much.

That night I stumbled into a fitful sleep, and I dreamed. Oh, did I dream.

The first dream was of Taylor. I'd never dreamed of him before.

We married young and moved to L.A. almost immediately afterward. I was twenty-two, platinum blonde, heavily pregnant, and miserable, uncomfortable in this alien land. My wedding ring sat heavily on my finger, pear-shaped diamond, ostentatious and gold-banded, reminiscent of Sadie's engagement ring, and I hated it. Overcompensation was what it was. We got married when I was scarcely nineteen, after three years of dating on and off. But we always kept going back to each other, unable to break the sick cycle, I suppose. Taylor had proposed to me on the anniversary of the day we met, which is, of course, Tommy's birthday, as if to permanently excise Tommy from my head and permanently overshadow him in my eyes. That being said, choosing that date made me remember Tommy all the more, and sometimes I even forgot about Taylor on that date.

Since we'd gotten married on New Years' for good luck and to properly make a fresh start, that was the day we commonly celebrated our anniversary, and it always felt like we were stealing something from Tommy. The engagement itself was wonderful but boring. Classic, I suppose you could say. He took me out to one of his premieres that night (it was a Friday), had me dressed up and pampered all fancy-like, and then we went out for dancing and dinner at a wonderful little Italian restaurant he knew was my favorite. That night, however, I'd had a hankering for Thai. He bought the restaurant out for the night and had it decked out to the romantic nines, I'm sure. Still, the meal was wonderful and delicious, pasta (but not my favorite) served up with champagne, good wine from his father's vineyard in Napa, and numerous red and white roses. The ring was placed in my creamy and fluffy dessert (Italian Wedding Cake), however, which was idiotic, as it resulted in me chipping a tooth.

Perhaps that should've been a sign.

Anyways, Taylor got down on one knee, gave a little romantic speech about how he'd fallen in love with me at first sight, how much he adored me, how happy I'd made him, and how he couldn't live without me, and then he popped the question. I hesitated a long, anxious moment before answering. Taylor wobbled on that knee, and I took pity on him and said yes. Because he treated me well, and there was no one else. Simply put, there was no good reason for me not to say yes. No matter how long or how hard I tried to think of one. The benefits of marrying him far outweighed the negatives (at least at that point).

The whole thing had been (too) perfect... the wedding, the proposal... just not the courtship. No, that was a sign that I had missed. Our wedding had been a fairytale, big and dreamy and sparkly and flashy as hell, like a movie. It was magnificent, impressive in scope, well-attended by famous guests, expensive, and ridiculously classy (to the point where I felt as if I didn't belong there!). Ivory and cream everything permeated the affair. My dress was the color of spoilt milk, a yellowy sort of cream that made me sick, a monogrammed heirloom from Taylor's family.

Taylor seemed to fit in perfectly, while I stood out like a sore thumb. I missed home terribly, and I hadn't wanted to move, but Taylor had guilted me into it. We'd moved there ostensibly for Taylor's career, but I knew the real reason. He wanted me away from Tommy, forever insecure about us even seeing each other, although the time for that had long passed, and we'd both moved on.

I never wanted to leave my home, my label, my family, my friends, and everything I'd ever known behind. I liked my life in Toronto the way it was, but Taylor craved fame and recognition. He finally just broke me down; I was tired of fighting him. Newlyweds weren't supposed to have knockdown-drag-out fights. And I hated the town, the shallowness of all the people I met, the way paparazzi thought it was perfectly appropriate to stalk me and invade my privacy and go through my garbage. I hated our big, white, empty loft, filled with awful contemporary furniture and pretentious art that some stylist had picked out. It didn't feel like home. I hated my new big label; the people there were mean and demanding, and they wanted me to change into a popstar. They didn't care who I was; they didn't give a damn about my integrity as an artist, and they had complete control over my music. I was so tired of fighting them, and when I'd gotten pregnant, Taylor demanded I go on hiatus and stay at home, so I was bored and lonely with nothing to do.

He was away all the time, filming things. Even when he was in town on one of the lots, he kept long hours, and I was rarely allowed to visit. Taylor didn't even like me going outside in my delicate condition. I was Jude Quincy, but not the way I wanted to be. The cruel irony of my name was bitter like the blood and pain from biting the inside of my cheek. I was unofficially banned from even talking to Tommy. I hadn't seen him in months, and I ached for him, for just a single friend. Some days I'd go to a pay-phone downtown and call him just to hear his voice. It hurt to not talk to him. Tommy had promised Taylor not to talk to me, so he'd shun my calls anyway or carefully rebuff them and hang up quickly. I'd figured it out soon enough.

However, Speed was there. His girlfriend, Karma, had been offered a very lucrative record deal with Interscope, and he'd wrangled a solo deal at Reprise Records. Reprise is actually a somewhat decent big label, medium-sized, and, of course, owned by one of the "Big Four." His is owned by Warner, hers by Universal. It was strange, actually, because I'd always imagined Speed at an indie label. What better place for a former garage rocker? Speed didn't need all those fancy perks... but I think that crazy bitch girlfriend of him did. She insisted on him coming with her, and, from what I've seen and heard, Karma has this fearsome power over him. When I first laid eyes on him, I knew that he was a prisoner just like me.

I guess you could say we reconnected almost immediately. I ran into him at a party while I was still at my label, and I invited him and his girlfriend over for dinner since Taylor has this foolish notion that I should be more domestic. I knew Taylor was going to be annoyed, since he'd had a rivalry with Speed for ages, but I figured the tension would be neutralized with the presence of his girlfriend. Speed and Taylor had fought over me while we were dating, and I'm sure my dating both of them at the same time hadn't exactly helped matters. I'd eventually parted ways with SME because of Taylor's insistence. When I shook Speed's hand, I wondered why I'd ever chosen Taylor in the first place.

For a while we went on like that, just as friends, but we were both kidding ourselves. We could both feel the undercurrent of latent attraction there, the feeling that he shouldn't be around when my husband wasn't, but we both studiously ignored it for as long as we could. Before I knew it, Speed was my best and only friend, and we were working together, writing songs and jamming together just like old times. So, when I'd been vomiting for a week straight and realized I was late, he was the first person I called. Taylor was off in Toronto filming something... New York Story, I think, this period piece about the misery of immigrant lives. So Speed calmed me down as best as he could and brought me a pregnancy test so I'd know for sure.

Then he came over, and I immediately burst into tears and hysterics. He let me cry on him, soothed me, wiped away the tears, pushed my bangs out of my eyes, and then held my hand as I waited for the results of the pregnancy test. It was positive, and I commenced crying even worse than before. He told me it was a good thing, but that if I didn't want the baby, I didn't have to have it. He said he'd support me, but I just cried harder. "The baby's Taylor's, right?" He asked, thinking that was perhaps why I was upset. I nodded. There hadn't been anyone for a long time before Taylor. There had been Tim, but that had been a long time ago and... unsatisfying, I guess you could say.

I wanted more, but he never called me back again after that. It was after Taylor and I had broken up for the first time, when I found out he'd cheated on me with Kathryn Mansfield. For weeks after that incident with Tim, I was so confused, wondering what I lacked, that when Taylor came crawling back to me, I welcomed it and took him back as if nothing had happened.

You see, part of the problem was actually that the baby was Taylor's. I didn't want to be pregnant, not like this, not now. I looked up at Speed, not intending to tell him any of this, and something just broke inside of me, and it all came pouring out. "This is not how I imagined my life! This is not what I wanted twenty-two to be! I don't want this... any of this!" I exclaimed in a wavering voice. And I looked into Speed's eyes, and I knew he knew. He knew what I wanted twenty-two to be. Something changed that day because next thing I knew I was kissing Speed.

The kiss seemed to last a really long time, but finally he broke away and just stared at me for a long while with this inscrutable look on his face. "I think you should tell Taylor," He said and then left. It was such a disappointment, but at least he didn't apologize or pretend it never happened. He avoided me for a few weeks after that, and I didn't listen to him. I waited over a month to tell Taylor, who was magnanimously happy and ridiculously overprotective. Suddenly he showered me with attention. He wouldn't let me do anything, and I was put under house arrest. It got to the point where I was suffocating all alone in my tower, and that's when Speed finally came to me again.

He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, and I turned my head so he kissed my lips instead. I put my hand on the back of his neck and pulled him to me, kissing him hungrily. Speed struggled to pull back. He looked me in the eyes, a finger on his lips, just as breathless as I was. "I broke up with Karma," He replied in a voice devoid of emotion. I wasn't sorry to hear it. I just nodded, staring at him with dark eyes and wondering whether it had anything to do with me. He seemed almost distant for a moment. "Jude, I..."

I didn't give him time to finish what he was saying. He was talking too much anyway. I pretty much attacked him then, launching myself at him, and sending the both of us tumbling to the white shag carpet of my too-fancy loft. Speed gave me an almost pleading look, but I pouted and shot him a look of my own—one of sheer desperation. "Please, Speed... I need this," I begged. The look he sent me was a warning look, a look that meant he didn't think this was fair to Taylor, but I didn't care. I was so fed up of doing what was fair to Taylor that it was about time I got to do something fair to myself. I straddled him, and then my lips were back on his again, and I had him for the first time on the living room floor.

Eventually things went back to the way they were before. Taylor basically abandoned me in favor of the next great sandal and sword epic, and I was left to fend for myself. We'd had a big teary fight over it, and I was so miserable and alone that I called Speed, sobbing. "Make it go away," I told him later, and I didn't know what I meant... the fight, the marriage, the baby? He made me forget. He was good at that.

So Speed came over more and more often, and he took care of me and the baby like he was the kid's real father. He loved the baby more than I did. As much as I hate to say it, a part of me hated the baby because it meant I was even more tied to Taylor, and it was just another part of my life I wasn't in control of anymore. Taylor came home to visit maybe once a month, and whenever he did, whenever anyone ever reminded me of him... I felt dirty for carrying on with Speed, but he made me feel good and he actually cared. I never felt guilty enough to stop, to sacrifice that feeling... and Taylor was too dumb and too far away to realize I was cheating on him.

One day while he was pressing a kiss to my stomach, I realized that I loved him, Speed, and not my husband. I told him automatically, without thinking about the possible consequences. "I've been in love with you since high school, Jude." And suddenly everything got complicated. I couldn't put him and Taylor in these separate little boxes anymore. But I stayed.

Two words for life with Taylor: quiet desperation.

I woke up from that dream cold and horrified, still feeling the ghost traces of Speed's hands on my skin. It was a strange feeling, and it made me shiver all over. I tried to shake the thoughts out of my mind. A marriage like that was my worst nightmare. I found myself patting my stomach frantically to check that I wasn't pregnant. I wasn't, obviously, and I knew that, yet I still felt relieved.

But I didn't have any right to think of Taylor like that, not after the great day we'd had together. He'd been so sweet, so caring, so attentive, that I didn't want to believe he'd become a workaholic who virtually abandoned me, and I'd given my whole life up for a man I didn't really love. I'd tried in the dream, but it was just so hard... I could pretend, I could get there, but it couldn't last because I was unhappy, and he wasn't... He wasn't Tommy.

Just thinking the name made me want to sob, but I suppressed it and tried to go to sleep again, thinking this time of sheep and angels. He was a whole ocean away from me by now, and it might as well be a whole world away for all I cared. Distance was what was the best for both of us.

I fell into an uneasy sleep, and I was presented with another strange vision of what my life could be.

I awakened sitting at the kitchen table. My hair was down around my face, in my eyes, dark brown and wavy. It came to my shoulders. I was wearing a thin, worn silk slip, white with a greenish tint and mint-colored lace accents. A plate was set in front of me. I glanced up questioningly to find Travis staring down at me, bemused. He pressed a soft kiss to my cheek, smiling at me fondly, and reached out to ruffle my hair affectionately. He was wearing a green robe over a gray t-shirt. He was older, like me, but he didn't look all that different. There were a few more wrinkles but no gray hair, and he looked a bit more like his father than the Travis I knew. I looked down at the plate again: all my favorites. "I know today's a big day for you, babe," He told me with that crinkly smile. My smile was strained but I started to eat hesitantly. My stomach was in knots.

"I'll go wake up the kids," Travis declared suddenly, turning to go. My hand reached out and grabbed him, pulling him back to me. I kissed him roughly, overflowing with gratitude, half pulling him down with me. The kiss was wet and hungry, and I was surprised at how intense it made me feel. Flustered, Travis pulled away and stumbled a bit. He smiled at me lopsidedly. "What was that for?" He asked, sounding a bit confused.

I merely smiled at him. "I just love you," I told him sweetly, honestly. It was strange because I knew that I whole-heartedly meant it. For some reason, that made Travis smile like a complete idiot, and I knew from the look on his face that he reciprocated the feelings. He leaned in for another kiss, this one soft, so we were less likely to get carried away. It was really nice. Of course, at this precise moment, we were interrupted by my son.

"Ew... At the breakfast table?" He remarked with disgust. Our son was very nearly the spitting image of Travis, I assume, as a youth. Not that I knew him back then, obviously. He was a teenager but young-looking and a little on the scrawny side. His face was presently scrunched up in a scowl, but he possessed the Quincy good looks. His hair was dark and rather long and messier than I would've expected. However, the one thing that clashed with the picture was the color of his eyes... blue, of course, but they weren't my eyes. It was like I'd contributed nothing to the picture, yet I knew that he was indisputably _mine._ "Why am I always walking in on you two?"

We both laughed goodnaturedly as he assumed a place at the table. Travis walked over to the stove and made a plate for him. He set the plate before our son. "Here you go, Tom. Eat up. A growing boy needs all the food he can get," He drawled, ruffling Thomas' hair. He made a face at his father but dug in with relish. I was a bit surprised to learn that our firstborn was named after the brother he had so many issues with. He probably let me choose. Travis walked out of the room and down the hall, ostensibly to rouse the others.

I glanced around the house. It was nice, large enough for our family and filled with trendy-looking furniture. Nevertheless, this house was colorful and comfortable; it looked lived-in. We had a wood floor, an island with bar stools. The counter was dark green granite speckled with flecks of gold and cloudy black. The room was a darker sort of periwinkle, blue-violet only lighter, and our table overlooked our porch and sumptuous backyard. There were a lot of windows, which really opened up the space.

"So, Mom, Uncle Tommy and I were working on a song the other day... It's about you," Thomas told me. Now, see, that should've alarmed me, but I wasn't really paying attention.

I nodded dimly, forking some eggs. "That's nice, honey." I stuck the eggs in my mouth, still somewhat out of it. I found myself rather annoyed that they were scrambled. I preferred my eggs over easy or poached. Travis had, however, made pancakes, a gesture I appreciated greatly, since he makes the best pancakes in the world.

"You wanna hear some of it, Mom?" He asked brightly. I shrugged, reaching for the maple syrup. My son singing at the breakfast table was hardly unusual. We're a musical family. "_If it's all so bittersweet..._" I poured maple syrup on my pancakes diligently, frowning as it spread and contaminated my eggs and the tips of my bacon. "_If you're feeling incomp-lee-eete..._" My head snapped up, and I stared at Thomas in surprise. I'm not incomplete. He took this as a positive sign (it wasn't) and continued singing. "_Put your trust in me... 'cause I be-lieve you __**need**__ me_," He urged, and even though I knew it was the voice of a son talking, damn if he didn't sound like Tommy himself. If Tommy had sang that, I would've called him a cocky asshole, but it did reflect a lot of our relationship, disturbingly enough.

"_Lose the face you show the world..._" It was an order, and it sounded like one. The lyrics just reminded me overbearingly of Tommy, and I wondered how much of the song was actually attributable to my son. There was too much authority in that command for it to come from my son. The beat was catchy, though. Sounded a bit like something Speed would sing, though. "_And just try to be my __**girl**_," He pressed. That time I actually froze, fork clattering to my plate halfway to my mouth. Why was I still haunted by the specter of what could've been? I hadn't been _his_ girl for a long time. "_All that crazy stuff will mess you up completely._" He looked like he had more to say, but I cut him off, doubting my fragile nerves could take much more of Tommy's psychological warfare (or strangeness in general... occasionally he had moods where he pulled stunts like this).

I cleared my throat heavily. "Well, Thomas, that was lovely. You just... sound very much like your uncle." Thomas looked downright enthusiastic to hear this, so I had to amend my statement. "Sounds more like he wrote it than you did," I muttered rather irritably. Thomas seemed confused and a little hurt by this. I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of the funk I was in. "It just reminds me of the past, is all..." I mumbled, thinking of that word Tommy had undoubtedly added. I was tired of wondering what he meant.

Picking at my food, I looked over at my (pouty) son, and I realized with horror that he looked as if he could pass for Tommy's son. I opened my mouth, wanting to say something but stopped short, unable to think of anything to say. Travis came in moments later with three other children trailing him. I glanced up at him, amused and somewhat surprised. Guess we _really_ couldn't keep our hands off each other. Two girls and a boy walked over to the table. The elder girl had long, dark hair and blue-green eyes and looked like a preteen. She wore girly purple pajamas and carried herself unusually straight and confidently for a girl of her age. She was pretty but not awkward, as she ought to have been, and she looked incredibly put-together for seven in the morning. She sat in between me and Thomas, not next to either of us, which I found somewhat bizarre.

My other daughter looked to be about seven or eight, and she gleefully chose to sit between me and her sister. She was wearing what was clearly one of her father's old band t-shirts and had a big smile across her face. She had reddish-blonde hair, still a bit more gold than red, the color of a sunset really, big blue eyes, and lots of freckles, and she immediately reminded me immensely of myself. My other son had brown hair and muddy green eyes, rather hazel in color. His features were angular like Travis', and his hair was cut short. He looked to be five or four and sleepy. Naturally, he sat down next to Thomas.

Travis dutifully brought them all their breakfast and sat down next to me. He turned to our little family. "Now, you know it's a big night for your mother tonight, and I expect all of you to be on your best behavior..." He said a bit sternly. His eyes flashed to those of our eldest. "Especially you, Tommy."

Thomas made a face. "Why do you always look at me like that?"

Travis and I exchanged looks, but I was the one who looked at Thomas and answered. "Because, honey, you remind us a lot of your namesake. Your Uncle Tommy's known for many things, but staying out of trouble isn't one of them," I replied evenly, thinking of the many foolish, idiotic things Tommy had done. Even as an adult the man acted like a teenager.

Thomas rolled his eyes at my comment and went back to his food. Our next eldest spoke. "What's so special about tonight, Dad?" She questioned, sounding a bit bored. I got the feeling she didn't like me very much, but the adoring way Travis looked at her convinced me that she was his favorite.

He reached across the table to pat her hand. "Aside from the fact that it's her album release party, Vicki... This is the first album she's released in three years, and her fifteenth album. The label's also releasing a greatest hits album in conjunction with her newest release. It's a celebration, darling, of the seventeen years your mother's been in this business," Travis explained, shooting me a look. I felt all worried and nauseous for some reason, like I knew something. I smiled just thinking about it. It was also the official kick-off of my next tour.

The little girl next to me stood up on her chair and gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek, wrapping her little arms around me firmly. "I'm really proud of you, Mommy," She proclaimed decidedly. A moment later she pulled away, grinning mischievously. "So didja write a song about me or what?" She asked expectantly, giggling in anticipation. I laughed, wondering for a moment what on earth I wrote about as a married woman.

I leaned over, beaming at her and bumping noses. "Guess you'll just have to wait and find out, huh, Elle?" I teased, giving her a wink. Eleanor pouted, and I humored her. "Of course, sweetie. Mommy wouldn't forget you," I said solemnly, looking up at my wonderful family. "Any of you," I clarified, helping Elle sit down without managing to injuring herself. The child had a knack for hurting herself, rather like her mother.

John frowned. "Why're you going away soon, Mommy? You're gonna come back, right?" He inquired uncertainly. He looked almost like he wanted to cry. I gathered he meant that I was going on tour and when would I be coming back, and I hated the worried look on his face, like he thought there was a chance I wouldn't come back. It was the first time I'd gone on tour since before Elle was born, but I'd waited until my youngest was two. I opened my mouth to answer, but Thomas beat me to the punch.

He turned to his brother. Thomas spoke strangely like his father, in a cool voice that radiated authority. "She'll be back in a couple months, Johnny. She's just going on tour. She'll miss us a lot, but we're going to talk to her every night on the phone or the computer," Thomas told him, speaking with experience. "She's done it before, and she always comes back. Don't worry, okay?" He said soothingly, patting his brother's shoulder. I had a faint memory of taking a young Tommy and Vic on tour with Travis and me. Travis would, of course, be staying home and taking care of the kids. He was a good father.

I gave Thomas an admiring smile, which he returned. All of sudden the phone rang. I got up to answer it. I immediately recognized the voice on the other side of the line with what can only be called an intimate familiarity. "Morning, Tommy... What's this about?" I asked almost breathlessly. I had the nasty feeling that he wasn't calling to congratulate me. Thomas looked over at the mention of his name and beamed, knowing I was talking to his favorite uncle. The two had always been terribly thick with each other.

He took a sharp intake of breath, and something inside me clenched a little at the sound. Tommy came over fairly frequently, probably at least once a week to visit, sometimes more, making the commute from Toronto to our secluded suburb just outside of Montreal. He was a regular enough guest at our house that he had his own room and a permanent place at our table (which is why it had eight seats). It was comfortable, him being there as an extension of our family, not awkward like I would've thought since I'd loved him and Travis had hated him with such intensity that we'd forgotten the world. It's not to say that there still weren't moments of hostility between the brothers or... that strangeness between me and Tommy that we didn't speak of that would forever exist between us... they just didn't happen much.

Tommy and I had gone on on my last tour together, back when I was twenty-four. Travis said he wouldn't trust anyone else with his wife, which was the strongest stamp of approval Tommy had ever received from him. We still collaborated often and had never stopped working well together as a team. I would call him up if I had a question about producing or if I wanted help with a song. He was my second opinion, before even Travis. I wrote songs for him, and he would write songs for me from time to time. It was just different with the addition of Travis to the dynamic, but Travis accepted it as a fact of life (or, rather, accepted Tommy as an integral _part_ of my life) in a way few other men would've been able to do, much less with a man like Tommy.

In turn, Tommy respected what was Travis' and didn't even toe the line. He treated me, more or less, like a proper sister-in-law. Quite a change from the Tommy I knew, but the years had changed all of us. I was thirty-two, Travis was forty-one, Tommy was thirty-nine... We'd all grown up.

"I've got really bad news, Jude." The way he said it made me twist up tight inside with worry. I glanced over at Travis, who was chatting with Victoria, at ease, and wondered if he wouldn't snap into the role of protective husband after this conversation was over. Patiently I waited for Tommy to go on, feeling my eldest child's eyes burning into me uncomfortably. "They released an unauthorized biography of you. It dropped today. I don't know how your P.R. Team didn't spot this and nip it in the bud, but... I managed to get my hands on an advanced copy... And, Jude, from what I've read, it really doesn't look good," Tommy confessed anxiously, worried for me. It took my breath away in a very bad way.

I tried to keep my voice steady, swallowing hard. I told myself I wanted to know what it said, so I asked. "Just so I know, Tom, what am I dealing with here?" I asked warily, leaning against the wall and slumping just a little at his words. "How bad exactly are we talkin', here?" I stared down at my wedding ring, flexing my finger to watch the rainbow reflections of light it gave off, the tiny pinpricks of circles. The ring was a beautiful oval-cut diamond solitaire of a few carats set in platinum with a matching band inset with smaller diamonds. My wedding band was inscribed with a line of obscure romantic poetry Travis had picked out before the wedding. The line made me cry.

"As in it could ruin your family bad," Tommy said bluntly. "_Our_ family," He amended a moment later. A look of grim horror set in over my face. Call it perverse, but I wanted more details, and by my unspoken silence, Tommy, who still knew me so well, seemed to know that. "Half of the book is about the relationship between you and me, speculating over everything that happened after Instant Star. In excruciating detail... It doesn't portray you dating Speed or Taylor in a particularly good light either... Apparently Taylor's a little more bitter about it than you'd think. They've got direct quotes from people, Jude. People we know, your family... I don't know how they managed it," Tommy elucidated, sounding gravely worried. He had a right to be.

I sighed, closing my eyes and slumping just a little bit more. "So you're telling me it makes me look like a slut, pretty much, right? Even though I've been married for coming up on fifteen years?" I asked rhetorically, equally bluntly. Sadly, I was almost okay with that, despite all Tommy had said to alarm me. My kids wouldn't read it, and Travis knew most of the truth, so he wouldn't pay attention to it. "Well, I can handle that... After all, that tactic's not exactly new, now is it? It's just... I mean, I'm almost thirty-three. I'm married with five kids, so clearly I don't have my V-card anymore. You'd think they'd be over it by now," I muttered rather irritably, massaging my temples. I paused, taking a deep breath. "So... how incriminating are we talkin' here? Is it actually believable? Anything particularly scandalous I'm accused of doing?"

Honestly, I couldn't bring myself to ask the question I really wanted and needed to ask, so I settled for that one instead. Tommy spoke up immediately, sooner and more furious than I expected. "Other than accusing you of having a long-standing affair with your husband's brother?!" Tommy burst out, enraged beyond all belief. I gasped, completely horrified. Sadly, I was about to ask which brother when Tommy commented again. That's pretty damn scandalous. "The author flat-out says that Elle is _mine_. That she was conceived when we were on tour together, and that that tour was only a front for us to spend time alone together away from Travis," He stated in a voice charged with anger. I glanced at Elle suddenly, as if giving the statement credit, and automatically saw it for the blatant lie it was.

Nevertheless, I heard the horror in Tommy's voice, knowing it matched the fear on my own. And I could feel the guilt coming across over the line. We _had_ gotten too close on tour that year, but we hadn't had sex. Elle had been conceived with my actual husband on a short furlough. It was worse because there was something to that rumor. Tommy and I didn't spend much time alone together for that very reason afterwards; we knew it to be playing with fire. We kissed a few times, almost accidentally, fooled around once when we got really drunk... It's not something I'm proud of, and Travis doesn't know. Tommy was the one who stopped, and that makes me feel so ashamed because it should've been me but then I remember that I was twenty-four, and I wasn't really a grown-up yet.

It should also be added that Travis and Tommy's relation is little-known outside of most circles, so next to no one outside of friends and family know that Tommy's my brother-in-law. Travis legally changed his name back to Quincy, and legally my name is Jude Janis Harrison-Quincy, but Travis stays mostly out of the spotlight. He prefers that. I swallowed hard, wondering just who I could trust nowadays. I swallowed up my pride and forced myself to ask the question I hadn't dared to pose earlier. "How much of it really happened?" I wondered, breathless with trepidation and anxiety. Meaning, of course: "how close is it to the truth?"

Tommy sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Bits and pieces... It's got a lot of the main details, but in the wrong places, and it gets a lot of it completely wrong, which is good for you... But a lot of it hits too close to home," He remarked vaguely. I found myself annoyed by the lack of specificity. Obviously it was hard to find details about my life immediately after Instant Star, in that period where I was almost famous but not quite a real world-class rockstar just yet, so it would say things started with Tommy before they actually did and intensify the relationship quickly into a sexual one, and it would probably play up my dating history in the period, about which little details are actually known, and some vague stuff since I'd been out of the spotlight.

"Tommy," I said sternly, if not warningly, in a voice my kids certainly recognized. "You might as well just tell me now before I read about it in some tabloid or get bombarded by accusations in an interview. Better it come from you when I'm expecting it than someone else when I'm not. I need to know what I'm being accused of so I can deal with it," I lectured, becoming a bit irate. Even after all these years, he still tries to protect me. I waited impatiently for him to just spit it out already, gory details and all.

This time he sighed wearily, indicating that he clearly didn't want to tell me at all. "The stuff about me and Sadie. Most of that's dead-on, although it paints you as a much bigger homewrecker than you really were..." He started with the small stuff, so I wouldn't be freaked out. "The author knows that we had a relationship, just not when and how it all actually happened..." Knows? I nodded vigorously before realizing that he couldn't see me. "It's got some of our conversations down verbatim, I swear... And it's got the part where you were in love with me. That's actually, um, kind of a big part of the plot, actually..." Here Tommy turned awkward, as he always did whenever one of us mentioned my old love for him. It was something we generally avoided talking about.

It's _am_, not were, I wanted to tell him. Love, present tense, not lov-ED, past tense. Because I never really stopped loving him.

I just started loving Travis. I _learned_ how to love Travis, but in a completely different way, of course, than the way I still love Tommy. My love for Tommy was less of a passion now and more of a fact I'd accepted and deliberately tried to squash. Still, that didn't mean I felt it any less intensely, any less keenly than I always had... when I let myself. Suddenly I was pacing, twirling strands of hair around my finger. Tommy exhaled heavily. "According to the book, you're still in love with me, always have been, always will be... but that's ridiculous, of course," He continued, laughing awkwardly. His laughter was forced and nervous, not even remotely natural, the kind that comes from clenched teeth and being too close to the truth. I acknowledged that faintly with an "uh huh", lying through my teeth. That was pretty much it in a nutshell, actually, and that love had been a motive for a lot of my life. But Tommy couldn't and didn't want to know.

It did hit really close to home for me, I realized, and it probably accused Tommy of being a pedophile. At that point, I thought nothing worse could be said, but I was wrong. "And..." Here Tommy's intake of breath was even sharper, and his voice was full of something that sounded strongly of hysteria. "She got it right about who you lost your virginity to," He stammered in a rush of a whisper. Tommy and I never spoke of that either, out of necessity. It led to dangerous thoughts, and so it was best not thought of at all, as were our brief relationships and any indiscretions that had occurred in the entire period we'd known each other. Unlike Tommy, though, I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed of it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Sure, don't get me wrong, it'd be embarrassing to have someone talk about who popped your cherry in a supposed biography... Especially if they described it... But I don't regret it, and I wouldn't deny it, depending who asked. But, generally, my sex life is no one's business... it's off-limits and so, so personal. Honestly, Tommy and I are the only ones who actually know who my first was. I don't regret waiting for Tommy. I don't regret it, even if we're not together now. Nevertheless, it made me sink down the wall, because I didn't want my kids to hear that, to be teased about it at school, because these allegations would no doubt be all over the news, and they didn't need to get confused about my past with their uncle.

"But she didn't get any of the details right, of course," Tommy muttered quickly, as if that made it better. I smiled wryly and laughed bitterly. How could this author, after all? No one would've suspected it. I tried dating Taylor for about a month and a half solid, no one else, and I couldn't take it and dumped him. The thing with Travis and me lasted a couple weeks, but we fizzled out soon enough, before I even broke up with Taylor. Tommy and I weren't speaking the entire time, except when necessary, but I felt his presence everywhere. One night, after a few months of chickening out, I finally came to him in the studio, all apologies, and he admitted he missed me too. Then he forgave me, and I was so happy to see him that I took him in my arms and suddenly I was kissing him.

Next thing I knew we were driving back to his place, and it was raining, and we both got all wet. We were falling all over each other, high on caffeine and sleep deprivation and each other's presence, being so close again made me feel so alive it was contagious! I hadn't been that happy in a long time, and I was wasted on it. Then we came inside where it was warm, holding on to each other like lifelines. Clothes were being taken off to dry, and I was just wearing one of his shirts and my underwear. And Tommy sat next to me on the couch and asked me if I wanted anything in a voice so gentle it made me melt inside. I was weak and runny like an egg, all over the place, so easy to break. So I said in a whisper so that he had to lean forward to hear me, "You... I want you, Tommy." And then I kissed him, hurling myself into his lap, a mess of jelly limbs and intoxication, all over him, hands everywhere, on his bare skin, and the electricity tingled and drove me rightly insane, and then our eyes just connected, and there was this spark.

This moment of breathlessness where it was like the whole world stopped. The Earth stopped going around the sun, motion was suspended, and the world didn't exist for me, for us, outside of that gaze.

And then the tables had turned, and Tommy was so gentle, with his hands trailing all over me, his lips worshipping my skin, and he knew all my sensitive spots, and what would make me smile and gasp and moan, and what I wanted and needed and... And then he was begging me with a desperation I'd never known possible. I'd never heard that tone pass over his lips, not once. "Tell me... Say it... Please, Jude. Tell me how you feel. Say it to me now, please. I _need_ to know, Jude. Tell me what you want," He murmured in a needy voice that combined moaning and breathing. He squeezed my hands as if he needed reassurance and never broke my gaze, so insistent, but his kisses made me light-headed.

He stopped when I was silent, though, stopped when I was mewling like a cat, so I spoke, not entirely sure what he wanted from me. "I want _you_, Tommy. I want _all_ of you. Tonight. I've never wanted anyone... anything... like I want you. Please," I responded weakly, practically whining for attention. I pouted; I curled up to him; I lavished affection upon him. Tommy's eyes were dark, and I didn't recognize the look on his face, but this moment was different, and I was keenly aware of it. Maybe it sounded like I only wanted Tommy for his body, and I guess to a measure that was true, but I didn't want to say those words again... And I didn't know that's what he wanted right away.

When he didn't respond, I bit his ear and arched my back. "Tommy," I hissed, drawing out his name as if it burned me to say it. I paused, greedily gulping in again. Being so intoxicatingly close to him made me breathless. "I want you inside of me," I rasped, grabbing him and pulling him back to me, crashing his lips against mine, putting his hands on me, my collarbone, my thighs... Tommy groaned, leaning his forehead against mine, breathless, flushed, and very aroused. His eyes were clouded with lust and some other emotion, and he was looking to me like a goddess for something, some sort of validation.

He loomed large in my vision, hovering over me. I could feel his breath on my skin, his body scarcely a breath away from mine. "Is what you said true that day, Jude? Do you love me?" It clicked. That was what he wanted to know. I started to nod, but Tommy seemed to be looking past me and didn't see it. I was too breathless, too wound up to even properly say yes, so a strangely vulnerable Tommy continued. "I don't want you to say it in anger like you did... But if you really meant it, then say it. Tell me you love me," He pleaded so sweetly, so earnestly that I couldn't believe it. Then he leaned back and whispered in my ear, "Say it, and I'm yours."

At that point, I would've said just about anything, even if it wasn't true, because I had never wanted him more in my life. Just hearing him say that made me feel weak all over. However, because of his little almost ultimatum, and the way he worded everything, and the husky tone of his voice, I ignored everything in me that told me this was a **very** bad idea, that I was just asking to have my heart handed to me, and that he wouldn't say it back, but I didn't care about any of that. So I gave in completely to my feelings and surrendered wholly to him.

"I love you, Tommy," I admitted breathlessly, locking eyes with him. My hair was messy and in my face, and I leaned forward before it could register and pressed kiss after kiss to his face, all over. "I love you, I love you, I _love_ you!" I exhaled heavily, climbing on top of him, feeling him, every bit of him I could reach. "**God**, Tommy, I've loved you for-_ever_," I panted, only just pulling away from kissing him. It was like a drug, and I was greedy for more. It was like I couldn't stop saying it, like the both of us got off on those words. "I knew it that moment at the pier. And I haven't stopped. I still love you, Tommy... and I'm not gonna stop. I'm never gonna stop. I've never loved _anybody_ as much as I love you right now, and I never will. You're the only one, Tommy," I rambled dazedly, dizzy. I practically collapsed in his arms, helpless and hopeless, kissing him, touching him, loving him, adoring him. I just about fell to pieces. "I'm yours. I'm _all_ yours, and I've always been yours." I was, literally, all his for the taking.

When all of that sunk in, something different entirely seemed to possess the Tommy I knew. He kissed me hard but intense, and then softer and softer. His eyes shone so clearly; I'd never seen them look more beautiful to my eyes. His smile was so warm and serene that I fell into it, into him headlong. I gave him all of me. I gave him _everything_, and I practically begged him to take it.

After one blissful month of sneaking around like secret lovers, we broke up because of his inability to say what I wanted him to say, those three little words. He told me he didn't feel that way and that he didn't think he ever could.

And I was so shattered that I ran back to Travis and the comfort he offered, and he fixed me. I will forever be grateful to him for that, for picking up the pieces when no one else would. My love for him started out as a form of gratefulness, and then it just became so much more.

I sighed, snapping back to reality. It would do me no good to dwell on those thoughts. "So, what exactly does that mean, Tommy?" I asked, still confused. What did it all mean, exactly?

My... Tommy sighed and shrugged. "I don't know," He replied honestly. He exhaled worry. "But you better talk to my brother," He said warningly. I nodded before realizing he couldn't see me, made my goodbyes, and hung up the phone, turning to Travis, who seemed to sense the tension in my face, or, at least, read it properly. He stood up slowly.

"Hey, kids, why don't you go watch cartoons? Daddy and I need to talk about some grown-up things right now," I said rather authoritatively. The younger ones gleefully ran out of the room. Victoria rolled her eyes like she was above such things, primly walked over to the sink and washed off her plate before scampering out of the room. Thomas was the last to leave, scowling, annoyed that he was being made to leave. He took his plate with him. It was almost as if he could sense that his namesake was the problem.

As soon as they were out of the kitchen, I sat down heavily at the table. Travis joined me wordlessly. I glanced up at him, suddenly nervous all over again, fidgeting with my hands. His eyes were so green I could almost drown in them, and something about the way he was staring pierced me right down to the heart. It was like he knew me inside and out, wholly and completely. I realized with mild shock that he did. Of course he must. He was, after all, my first and only husband. Travis rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. "Babe, I know something's up. You might as well tell me what it is now," He replied smoothly, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand.

I swallowed hard, hardly able to look at him. "Teach, you're not going to like what I have to tell you," I told him bluntly, slipping into using the old nickname. Travis winced at the reminder that he'd once been my teacher. It was a subject we rarely discussed. Travis rolled his eyes and signaled for me to tell him. "Well, there's really no easy way to say this, Trav, so I'm just gonna spit it out... Someone wrote a tell-all book about me. I'm not sure what all it says, but Tommy said it accuses us of having a long-time affair. It's... some pretty damaging stuff," I explained rapidly, eyes scanning him for any sign of rage or anger.

Travis was cool as ice and completely unreactive, which surprised me a lot more than I thought it would. It was as if I'd just informed him that Tommy was having an affair with a married model or something. It completely didn't phase him, but he hadn't said anything yet, and that worried me. After an eternity, he responded in a low, measured tone. "Well, have you been having a long-time affair with him?" He asked brusquely, cocking an eyebrow and eying me calmly. His voice wasn't accusing. My eyes widened a little, but I wasn't afraid or anything, just surprised he'd actually asked. I shook my head no. Travis shrugged, a satisfied smile spreading across his lips. "I didn't think so, you know. I never thought so," He told me in a voice that belied a lot of pride and confidence in me.

I felt strangely warm and fuzzy at the thought that he was no longer paranoid in that respect, much less with _me_ as a wife. Still, I didn't feel like I deserved that trust. Surely I hadn't been the most faithful wife, but I hadn't had an affair with Tommy, at the very least. Travis had this mindset that as long as I hadn't been having an affair with Tommy, we could overcome anything. I wished I had his confidence, his ultimate assurance of our marriage vows. I cleared my throat, nervous, wanting to tell him about my slip-up. I knew he wouldn't like it, and it had been so long ago... eight years... and telling him now wouldn't accomplish anything except perhaps ruin our marriage, but then Travis looked up at me, and my throat was strangely dry. "According to Tommy, the author flat-out says Elle's his daughter," I informed him instead.

He cocked an eyebrow, clearly a little surprised at this. I offered him no other explanations, curious, waiting for his reaction. He placed a finger to his lips, digesting this fact before nodding slowly. Certainly Eleanor didn't look like him, but she didn't exactly look like Tommy either. Truthfully, she looked more like me than anything. The only things that hinted either way were her eyes, and her two older siblings both had blue eyes. Travis turned back to look at me blankly. "Well, I sure wouldn't know... The dates add up, I guess. Why don't you tell me, Janis?" Travis conceded, watching me curiously.

My husband wasn't... being insulting or anything. He was being honest by acknowledging the fact that Tommy was his brother, and any children we could've possibly had would look alike. "Tommy and I never slept together." That was a bold-faced lie, of course, and Travis shot me a knowing look. I ignored it, and clarified my statement, marveling over how surreal it was to have this conversation with my husband. "Elle's yours... Tommy was furious about the book," I told him matter-of-factly. Travis looked pleased to know it, and it made me wonder if he'd ever wondered about it in the past. He nodded dully.

"So, what are we going to do about it?" I asked anxiously.

For his part, he just shrugged. "To be honest, Jude, I don't really care. I know it's not true, and as long as the kids don't find out, I don't really care. I think the thing to do is release a press statement saying that the whole thing is lies and then be done with it," Travis declared. I nodded. Once I've done that, they'll probably lose interest. A moment later, Travis offered another piece of advice, "And get Tommy to make a statement too. I'm sure he'll be all too glad to do it." I nodded. There was strangely little to say.

Travis and I just stared at each other for a while. "Jude, when we got married I promised you I wasn't going to ask you about Tommy," He told me in a quiet voice. He looked at me intently. "I promised I was going to try my best to keep you happy, and you said you weren't going to compare me to him. You told me that you weren't going to..." Travis trailed off. He didn't need to finish his sentence. I knew what he meant. I remembered my promise not to cheat on him, to be faithful... and _especially _not with Tommy. But the look in Travis' eyes said that promise was going to end.

I suddenly remembered how Travis had looked at me on the morning of our wedding, with that sad, knowing, accepting look, and his eyes, tragic yet full of promise. He had always had this ability to see right through me, and he _knew_, he just knew where I'd been the night before. Travis snapped me back to reality. "But I'm asking _now_, Jude." His eyes were earnest; he leaned across the table with an alien desperation to him. "That person wouldn't have written that if there wasn't something to it." Trust me, I know. You didn't need to say that, Travis. I swallowed, pained. It felt like swallowing knives.

Nevertheless, I tried to stare at him blankly, as he'd stared at me. I tried not to be too anxious, for my part, but I was wringing my hands and biting my lip anyways. "What do you want me to say, Travis?" I practically spat. I winced at the harshness in my voice; I hadn't intended to sound that way. Truthfully, though, I didn't even know what Travis was asking me about Tommy. I challenged him with my eyes, unwilling to back down. The atmosphere was suddenly very tense. You see, I thought he knew almost everything. He knew all he needed to know, in my opinion, the less the better.

"Tell me all the things you haven't told me." But his eyes said he knew more than he was telling, and I didn't want to tell him everything. I sighed, crumpling a little. I wanted to reach out for him, to hold on to something to keep my feet tethered to the ground. I remembered something Tommy had told me years later when we'd been on tour together, after I'd told him that Travis had looked at me like he knew I'd spent the night before my wedding with Tommy. After laughing heartily at the reminder (we'd been drinking), "You know he'd never let another woman get away with that. You're the only woman he'd ever accept that from... spending the eve of your wedding with me." Tommy never explained why, but I always knew.

Travis accepted it because he couldn't get angry with me, couldn't take it personally. He knew I wasn't with him because I wanted to get to Tommy, not like the other girls had been, because I'd had Tommy, and I'd still chosen Travis. Tommy didn't say it that night we were reminiscing, but he'd tried his hardest to get me to call off the wedding. He'd used every last one of the charms in his mighty arsenal, and he'd still failed to convince me to come away with him and desert Travis. I chose Travis in the end because I knew he loved me in his own way, and he wouldn't hurt me. But I really chose him because I knew what we had could last, and I didn't think anything with Tommy would last. I'd tried that twice, and I was too jaded to try again. Tommy only wanted me because he couldn't have me.

Basically, Travis dealt with the Tommy problem because he had to. He dealt with it as few other men would have, and I'd always admired him for that. He'd gone into this knowing that I was Tommy's girl, knowing that I had loved Tommy first. He wasn't ignorant of that fact. He could expect nothing less of me, save that I was willing to try with him, Travis. He'd gone into it, knowing Tommy was my number one, with the hope of maybe becoming number one someday, and he had. I wanted him to know that he'd supplanted Tommy in a lot of ways—the ones that counted. "I love _you_, Chuck," I said instead. Travis smiled then, a tight, pinched little smile, but a smile nonetheless. Then he coolly pointed out I hadn't answered his question.

And then he said it, and my world fell over and almost off its axis entirely with the weight of it. "Is Thomas my son or his?" I merely gaped at him, and when I didn't answer, he took my silence as one. "I always knew he was Tommy's son, but I told myself I didn't care because he was still kin to me... and it happened before you and me, so there was nothing I could do about it but raise him as my own. And I've loved him like a son..." Travis was rambling now, elbows on the table, head in his hands, fingers running through his hair. At that, I was once again capable of speech.

"I-I don't know," I stammered, looking at him. It was the truth. I didn't know for sure. I held my stare for a moment, only a moment before it hurt to look at him. It was a shameful subject for me, a taboo. Then Travis jerked his head up, leveling the full force of his gaze on me, and his stare was accusing, even though he didn't mean it to be. "I don't know whose son he is," I elaborated, feeling myself turn a faint then furious pink. It was a mortifying moment for me. I felt so embarrassed, like I was some huge slut for having slept with two brothers in two days. But I'd only been with two guys my whole life, and I'd loved both of them, and hadn't I wanted to marry both of them? Travis' glare was intense, and it struck a deep chord in me.

My break-up with Tommy was ugly. This one had been even worse than the last one because I was convinced it was going to last. There were no more secrets between us to keep us apart, and it was only months until my eighteenth birthday. No one knew about us, though, and this break-up was worse because no one had any idea, and there was no one to fall back on, no proper reason, even, for my tears. I locked myself in my room for a solid day after we were over and just cried my eyes out. The next day I went to Travis. I buried myself in him to forget every last thing about Tommy... but, you know, he wasn't that different. I saw Tommy in him everywhere, and it damn near killed me because, even in my grief-drenched mind, he wasn't Tommy, and he could _never_ be Tommy.

So I got myself half-plastered every time I went to Travis so I could pretend. But I was careful not to say any names and comport myself just right. When I looked at Travis, I only saw Tommy; that was who I was with, in my addled state. And next thing I knew, it had elevated itself from a dirty little secret of mine to an actual sort of relationship, and I was going there progressively less drunk because I liked the differences, and I didn't want to pretend anymore that I was really with Tommy, only to be disappointed when I woke up next to a man with green eyes instead of blue ones. It hurt too much to wake up like that, to wake up to a different man than the one I'd had sex with. Eventually, too, I _couldn't_ pretend anymore, because it was different, sleeping with Travis, than it was making love with Tommy.

And then, about three months into it, while in the midst of dealing with a strong bout of what I thought was the flu, I found out I was pregnant. Travis was there with me when I found out, and next thing I knew, he was stepping up without a second of hesitation, offering to marry me as soon as I turned eighteen. In all actuality, we got married the weekend after my birthday; it was a quiet affair, seemingly spur of the moment so it wouldn't seem suspicious or too carefully planned out. It seemed completely insane at the time when he asked me, though, so I asked if he was flipping crazy. Travis does have a tendency of proposing at idiotically inappropriate moments or for the wrong reasons, after all. I had to look out for myself and the kid, you know?

As to the answer, well, I didn't give one. At first I didn't say anything, but as the days passed, with me staring obsessively at my stomach, knowing it was too late to get rid of it, I grew a little desperate. The idea of getting rid of the kid hadn't appealed to me anyways, and Travis is really anti-abortion, so I was only too happy to let him talk me out of that.

Strangely, it had never even occurred to me that the child I was bearing could be Tommy's. By that point I'd been with Travis for so many months that it was hard to believe it could be anyone else's. I just didn't think I could raise a child, but I wasn't so sure I could just give my firstborn up like that either. So, as the months passed, and my belly became slightly more distended and harder to hide, and that date came closer and closer, I relented and told him yes.

I'd thought of all the unwanted questions that would result from an unplanned, unmarried pregnancy, and I couldn't bear to think of all the people who would be disappointed in me. Being married, however, _that_ made it okay. Travis had quit his job as a teacher long before we'd gone down that road, and it seemed like the right thing to do for the baby's sake. My kid deserved a father, you know? So I entered the marriage preoccupied, with other things on my mind, barely enough time to devote to Travis or the plunge I was making. It was all just one big blur, matrimony. And I held in my stomach and wore baggy clothes and was careful not to get too close to people, and I tried to keep it my little secret. On my wedding day, I wore carefully restraining clothes: a girdle or a corset, a wide, pouffy skirt, sneakers under my wedding dress instead of heels because my ankles were so swollen.

It wasn't the wedding I should've had, and I felt soiled, almost, because I'd been with Tommy the night before, and I hadn't wholly washed him off my skin. Tommy had noticed the baby, and he'd known the real reason I was getting married, and he hadn't cared.

I had a respect for him, an immense gratitude, and an odd sort of affection that had developed over the months, and, in a way, I guess, I loved him. But not like he deserved, and not like you should love someone you're marrying. Not quite enough. I had meant my wedding vows, but I hadn't said them with my whole heart. I hadn't really loved him either, by that point. As usual, I stumbled into it. We'd lived those first few stressful months together, and I was so tired, worn thin by all of it. And then, finally, one day, a while after Thomas had finally started sleeping through nights, I dimly realized that I **did** love Travis, in a domestic sort of way that deepened over time.

He treated me well, took care of me, protected me, knew how to handle me, helped me with the children (our children), cooked, cleaned, snuggled, kissed pretty damn good, cleaned up nice, made for good eye-candy, shielded me from the paparazzi, gave good date, was romantic, honored and respected me, made efforts to get along with my family and friends, talked to me, listened, smiled a special smile only for me, remembered anniversaries, supported me, let me be, made me laugh, held back my hair, laughed at my lame jokes, let me win, conceded to me, opened jars (and doors) for me, mowed the lawn, cleaned the garage, took the trash out, barbecued, grabbed things off the top shelf, didn't treat me like a child, looked at me in the same way he'd looked at me on our wedding day and the day when I gave birth to his first child, killed bugs, defended me, fought for me, valued my advice (and mere presence), discussed decisions with me, helped me with my homework and songs, always had my back, was willing to teach me, didn't ask questions about Tommy, didn't lie, didn't treat me any differently, didn't berate me or insult me, warmed my bed, wrote me songs, touched me, broadened my horizons, knew how to turn me on and what to do in bed, said all the right things, complimented me, bought me flowers and jewelry and thoughtful gifts, accepted me, was faithful, forsook all others, and always had interesting things to say. And, more than all of that, he adored me.

In short, I fell in love with him because he was the perfect husband.

But sitting there, forced to face his guilting stare, I silently admitted the truth. I'd always known, from the minute I looked at Thomas, that he was Tommy's son. He had his father's eyes. His father's nose and his smile too. He possessed nothing of Travis' but enough similarities to look closely related to him. After all, Tommy had a different nose than Travis, who'd broken his nose twice and had reconstructive surgery, and a very different smile than Travis' little smirk. But I can see how, to an outsider, not one who has studied their features as I have, they might seem similar, if not the same. I looked into those eyes, smiling down at him, and I knew immediately.

It was a bittersweet realization because I wished more than anything else that Tommy was there to see him, to be the second person to hold him, after all the doctors and nurses. But Tommy wasn't there, so Travis held him instead and cooed over him, and Travis raised him, Tommy's son. Looking at the two of them together, I'd known it wasn't right, but what could I do? Travis, probably noticing his resemblance to Tommy, was the one who'd suggested naming him Thomas. He'd also probably known how much that little concession would mean to me. It made him look like the bigger man. I was speechless by that point, so I just nodded tearfully and filled out his birth certificate in a wobbly, hesitating hand. Thomas Julian Quincy. It killed me to write Travis' name in for the father, and I almost didn't. I almost wrote an "o" instead of the "r", but I noticed before anyone could comment, and I narrowly avoided causing a huge disaster just two months into my marriage.

Tommy came the next day, flew in from halfway across the world; he was dead tired, jetlagged, and breathless when he came in to see me, asking for the baby. He looked like hell, but he was there. He was the sixteenth person to hold his son (after the grandparents, our siblings, friends, and so forth), and his smile upon seeing him just lit up the whole room. It pained me to look at the two of them because Tommy didn't know, and yet there they were, as they should be. When he found out we named him Thomas, his eyes got all misty and grateful and disbelieving. He said it meant a lot to him, hugged and kissed the both of us so tightly we could barely breathe, and mumbled an incredulous thank-you, struggling to control his emotions. Thomas was written into his will within the week, and the two had a special bond from that moment onward.

Sure, there was still the possibility that Thomas was Travis' son, but was it likely? No, of course not.

Travis continued pressing me, "But you think he's Tommy's son, don't you?" I said nothing, and Travis grew annoyed. "After all, that's why he's your favorite," Travis commented a bit snidely. Parents aren't supposed to have favorites, but it was sadly apparent that Thomas was my favorite child. Then again, he was the oldest, my firstborn, and we had so much in common. And I did obviously love my other children, Vicki, Elle, John, and Lucy, especially Elle. Victoria, like her grandmother, didn't seem to be particularly fond of me lately. So that wasn't the main reason.

"Oh, like you wouldn't love a child from Joan more than the five I gave you?" I rejoined swiftly. Travis froze like a painting, as if I'd slapped him or something. We never spoke of Joan either. I still kept in touch with her from time to time, but Joan had long wanted nothing to do with Travis after she'd moved back to the States. Travis had taken the loss particularly hard. It was no coincidence we'd started up an affair again; Travis was just as lonely since Joan had recently moved back and refused to do anything more than speak to him, and even that was limited. He'd never gotten over her, no matter what he said, and I well knew it. See, I ignored the fact that the heroine of his first book (and the star of some of his short stories and that characters in subsequent novels were modeled off of various aspects of her, and he'd just gotten better at hiding it) was a poor caricature of my old friend, just as he ignored the fact that I still wrote songs about Tommy with the same or greater frequency than the ones I wrote about him.

Of course, the lead female in his second novel was exactly like me, down to the red hair and guitar, more or less. He gave her some different name, but we all knew what was up. The book was actually about Tommy because, to be frank, his life story makes for some interesting fodder... I mean, it's gold and the guy's just plain fascinating. Sadly, even Story Jude doesn't get together with Tommy in the end. They have a thing but she leaves him and marries another guy. Life mirrors art, y'know? Tommy is predictably devastated. What, he expected her to wait for his ass the whole time to grow up? Travis had to write the book under another name, the aptly-chosen penname of C. Quinn. The book's all about love and approval and how parents mess things up and how Tommy buries himself in self-destructive behaviors to avoid life and real intimacy and disturbingly mostly nonfiction. And there's complex themes I can't begin to understand. And, as Travis has said, it's a love letter to music. One of many love letters to music he's written. My character won particular praise from critics.

While his book about Tommy won him a Pulitzer, his book about Joan got him on the Times Bestseller List. It was declared the next Gone with the Wind, which pissed Travis off to no end 'cause he'd been writing this book pretty much since the moment that he met Joan, and he really disliked the description. Since the book was all about his personal ethical struggles and him dealing with his life and his baggage. Of course, people also compare it to Pride and Prejudice, which he finds insulting since he did something completely new with the romance angle, and it's not just about that, but really I know his manly pride's at stake. Guys! Ironically his character's a rogue from the beginning, and kind of a lech and the guy I knew for half of junior year. More or less, sharp tongue and everything. And Joan's herself, or rather, her as he sees her. It's also a brilliant social commentary in the vein of school administration and the flaws in it, not to mention on teenage life. He attributes Joan to snapping him out of it in the book because it would've been too complicated to include us both. Whatever. Truthfully, the thing is so romantic it's just... damn. My presence in it would truly diminish it. I mean, I actually read it (after it made the list and we'd been married a little over a year) and it made me cry because so much of it was how he wished it had gone, and I just got in his head in a way I never had being married to him.

Travis' eyes darkened, and he opened his mouth, fully ready to say something scathing. I sighed, interrupting him. "Look, I'm sorry. That was... uncalled for... I don't want to fight with you, Travis. I love you, and you love me. That's all that matters. After all, we've had a good life together these past fifteen years, haven't we?" I pointed out wearily. We didn't fight often (and, when we did, it was almost always over trivial things), but when we did, it could last a while since we're both so stubborn. After so many years, however, I'd discovered that fighting him wore me out. Though suspicion was still etched into his features, Travis managed to nod cautiously.

I reached across the table to tentatively grab his hand. I smiled weakly, squeezing his hand. "Tu es mon mari... le père de mes enfants... pratiquement parfait en toutes les manières... Et tu m'as donné le monde. Je ne pourrais pas demander beaucoup plus, Travis," I told him softly, locking eyes with him. However, I meant every last word, and I said it with a frankness that lacked the emotionality it seemed to possess, since every last word was true. Travis smiled the lopsided smile I'd grown accustomed to and warmly squeezed my hand back. My smile widened a little, and I leaned forward earnestly. "Je ne regrette pas de te marier, Charlot. Je le ferais encore dans un instant."

From the look in his eyes, that came as a surprise to him. Maybe I'd never said it aloud, but I'd known for a long time. And while a tiny part of me couldn't help but wonder about what might've been, it didn't consume me. It wasn't a big part of my life. I wasn't really dissatisfied with the way things had turned out. "Tu sais que tu es le seul homme pour moi," I quipped, ruffling his hair. Travis' smile turned into that lazy smirk I knew so well, and I couldn't help but think him a little bit smug and self-satisfied. I stood up slowly, walking over to him and stopping behind his chair.

My fingers came to rest on his shoulders, gently massaging some of his kinks, and I bent over slightly, brushing my cheek against his to whisper in his ear. "Veux-tu savoir un secret?" Travis turned to face me, clearly interested. I grinned, pressing a fleeting kiss to his jawline before moving back to his ear. My tongue flicked across the shell of his ear. "You've given me a much better life than Tommy ever could have," I murmured in just the barest whisper, pulling back and tilting my head down to press a wet kiss to the summit of his neck.

I wasn't wholly sure how he would react to that, to be honest, but I hoped he'd take it as the compliment it was intended to be. I'd almost said he'd made me happier than Tommy could have, but I had been extremely happy in those brief times I'd been with him. It just... was never intended to last. We could never have a life together, not the way I could with Travis. Travis jerked his head back a bit to look at me, and my heart kinda leapt to my throat in an unpleasant way. Then the sober look fell off his face, and he smiled radiantly. The look in his eyes was still one I was unaccustomed to seeing on his face, a look of intense gratitude and love the like of which I'd only seen after giving birth to our children. I was overcome with relief, which meant I was surprised when he suddenly wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me into his lap.

He leaned in close to me, pulling me closer, twining both arms around the back of my waist, locking his fingers together over my lower back. His eyes sparkled like emeralds. "Marions-nous encore," He requested impishly. I gaped at him. That had really come out of nowhere. I spotted the mischievous look in his eyes, the one I should've seen, and he continued talking. "Put your money where your mouth is, Mrs. Quincy. You married me once... what's one more time? Besides, you said you'd do it all over again, so why not do it?" His voice challenged me, and I felt the usual urge to prove him wrong bubbling up inside of me.

It reminded me a lot of his first proposal, ironically, which was even more unromantic. We'd been lying in bed, and he'd suddenly leaned over, stubbing out the cigarette he shouldn't have been smoking anyway that made me hunger for one, abruptly snapping out of his contemplation long enough to inform me that we should get married. He said a few beats later that it seemed like the thing to do. The right and proper thing, and his mother had raised him a gentleman. That's my husband, folks. I tingled all over when he called me by my married name, as I always did. As usual, his mere pronunciation of it sent shivers up my spine.

Just to piss him off, I stayed silent and pretended that I actually had to think about it. Teasing Travis made it all the more fun (and better) for the both of us. Becoming frustrated, Travis removed one of his hands from my back, taking my left hand in his and softly kissing the back of it. He looked up at me with those damn bedroom eyes of his, too, molten green and dangerous... the ones he knows I can't resist. "Marie-moi, Jude," He exhaled. "S'il te plaît." His annoying, persuasive voice was like a caress. "Let's do it right this time... I want to give you the wedding you deserve," He continued pleadingly.

I inhaled sharply with his reminder of the wedding we never spoke about (for obvious reasons involving our eldest child). A proper wedding, like the one I'd secretly always wanted. "When?" I asked breathlessly, thrilled by the mere prospect. In a sense, it would be like starting over, starting out right. Marriage is for people who love each other, not to get people to love each other. And that's what we are now. Two people who loved each other very much. Why not get remarried?

Travis grinned, clearly feeling victorious. He pressed another kiss to the back of my hand, almost distractedly this time. "When else? Our anniversary." I made a face at him, having never been particularly fond of it.

Plus... "That gives us only a month to plan, Travis! I'm not a traditional bride or anything, but even with help I couldn't plan the wedding I want in a month!" Don't get me wrong, I'm not anal-retentive or demanding. It's just, there's so many details, you know? Travis pretty much took care of the last one. Travis smirked at me then, reaching into his pocket with the hand that had remained on my back.

"You can get your mom, Sadie, and Kat to help... And, of course, there's always my mother and my aunts... Especially Melisandre. She's on, what, husband number twelve now? I'd say she definitely knows a lot about planning a wedding... Not to mention E.J," Travis remarked offhandedly. I shot him a glare, but, truthfully, he did have a point about his gold-digging aunt. I stared at him suspiciously, wrapping an arm around his neck. There was something he wasn't telling me. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and handed me a small box. "I was going to give you this later, but now seems like a good time."

I opened the box to reveal another ring, an eternity band or whatever they call them. A large emerald affixed to a platinum band with a couple inset sparklies. The stone was the color of Travis' eyes, a hazel, olive sort of shade, only more vibrant, and, of course, less variable than Travis' eyes (which range from mint green to seafoam to blue green to wintergreen to forest green to gold to greenish-gray to emerald to that hazely color). He took the ring out of the box and placed it proudly on my right ring finger. "Je n'aime que toi... Il n'y a pas d'autre," He told me softly, kissing my left ring finger. I flexed my newly beringed finger, fascinated by the way it shone, and then tore my eyes away from the stone to pull him into an aggressive kiss. I smiled against his lips, whispering French thank-yous.

His arms tightened around me, bringing me closer. I shifted in his lap, rubbing up against him in all the right ways. His needy hands swept across my back like a wildfire spreading over the silk. My skin tingled pleasantly, and then he did this completely unbelievable thing with his tongue that made the whole world melt away.

I woke up shivering and sweaty, missing his touch. My lips were dry and thirsty, and my body still thrummed. And I was oh-so hungry for something that could quench this raging desire of mine. My body wished that world was reality, but my mind knew better.

Strangely enough, this dream had comforted me a little bit. A happy future outside of Tommy was a possibility... but a life without him in it was clearly not a part of that happy future. It occurred to me that I would be lucky to marry Travis. Appearances can be deceiving, you know, and he was a perfectly good husband in the dream... and really, a much better person than I had ever thought he was.

Closing my eyes, I allowed my mind to linger on the little details, especially the flash, vivid and painful as hell, of myself and Tommy. If the dream had shown anything, it was that that option was still there, and much more available in the future than it seemed. But still, hadn't this dream only confirmed what Tommy had told me? That we'd break up because he'd never be capable of loving me? Or had what he said just planted the idea in my head? I drifted off once again soon after that, and I woke up in a far different, kinder world than the one I had left.

Honestly, it wasn't that much different from life already, which made it all the more painful when I woke up. I was still, fundamentally, the same girl. My hair was still red, only wavy, layered, a bit longer. I was thinking of getting it cut short, but my boyfriend said he liked it long, and besides, it was winter... but maybe in the springtime? And I was in the studio, the same studio as always, singing as usual.

I opened my eyes, and there was Tommy in the booth. The smile he shot me made me melt, and I couldn't help but return it. I was very eager to finish the damn song already so I could join him. Words floated through my mind. _There's no escaping what you do... do to me, do to me... _Tommy pressed the intercom button, bending down to talk. "Girl, you doing okay in there? You need a break or anything?" He asked casually, although he did look a bit different. There was something in his eyes, almost like he was worried about me. I nodded first, yes, I was okay. And then I shook my head, silently saying no, I don't need a break. Tommy smiled briefly, nodding to himself. "Okay then... Take verse two from the top."

He pressed a button, and music that was somehow familiar to me streamed into my headphones. The tone was eerie, haunting in a horror movie sort of way. Nevertheless, I leaned into the microphone, watching Tommy for a cue. He gestured, and then I started singing. I was nervous at first because I didn't know the words, but my body just took over, as if the words were stored in my heart. "_I don't want what's good for me,_" I sang, winking at Tommy. That was certainly true. He frowned, and then I grinned, clutching my headphones. I would've closed my eyes then, but I was afraid he'd disappear if I did. "_I don't need a __**re-medy**__. No one's gonna res-cue me... from myself,_" I continued, realizing I didn't want a cure.

Even if it's killing me, I'd rather feel this way than not feel anything at all. There's no cure for this feeling. No rescuing. No way I'm going to stop feeling this way. I don't need to be fixed. It's my choice, and this is the path I choose. I'd never thought of it that way. All the while, I focused my unrelenting stare on Tommy. I couldn't shut my eyes, couldn't look away, couldn't even blink. Because if I did, he'd be gone, and I'd be all alone. "_I don't care if it_ hurts _my eyes... I'll stare until I'm going __**bli-i-ind**__!_" I proclaimed boldly. That's what it was. I physically couldn't look away, and I didn't want to anyways. I just couldn't stare enough.

My eyes started to water. "_You can hate me... I don't mind anymo-o-ore 'cause I know you're the __**cure**__ and... your love's like ultraviolet..._" My voice went transitional, like it knew everything was changing. I didn't know why I'd said it was okay for him to hate me, that I didn't mind that. Did I know something in this world I didn't know in my own? And, what, exactly, was Tommy the cure to? This illness, this unhealthy love? Was he the reason I didn't need a remedy? Ultraviolet light is dangerous, though. It's what gives you sunburns, and that ultimately leads to skin cancer. So Tommy's the sun, like an eclipse, you know... what I'm gravitating around, and isn't that just fitting. If you stare long enough, you will go blind. But also, if you fly too close to the sun, if you are too close to it, you get burned.

And I had third-degree burns. If you get close enough to the sun, you catch on fire or even melt. Not that that's possible, anyways. You'd have to travel some 93 million miles for that to be an issue, and by that point you'd probably already be dead a million times over.

"_I can feel it burn, but I like it, yeah! I'm on autopilot, heading for the sun... for the sun, for the __**sun**__, for the sun..._" I warbled brightly, smiling at him. When I was singing, it was like the whole world was this shiny place, and everything was bright and colorful. It was a beautiful world to live in. Love felt that way sometimes, you know? When you love someone so intensely that it sears your skin, and every touch is a slow burn. And you know you're going to get hurt, but you love the feeling so much that you can't stop, won't let go. It's like this lip-gloss I have that's supposed to plump your lips. You put it on and it burns for about fifteen to thirty minutes because it's got capsaicin in it, you know, like the stuff that's in peppers that makes your mouth feel like it's on fire? And some people just can't take it because it hurts, it tingles. It's an acquired taste. But me, yeah, I like it.

I'm a masochist like that. I'm drawn to the sun. What can I say? It's certain death, but... I like it.

Clamping my hands down on my headphones as the song transitioned into the bridge, I sang my heart out. My eyes watered dangerously. "_And I'm __**addicted**__! I can't break free!_" Not from Tommy's spell, that thing, whatever it is, that pulls me to him. I can't break free of it on my own, not even if I wanted to. I can't fall out of love with him or break my addiction. I'm a Tommy junkie, pure and straight. I shook my head, feeling tears leak out of my eyes. I shouldn't have been crying; I wasn't sad or anything. "_I won't __**resist**__ it, so don't make me... move out from the __**afterglow**__... ohh_," I drawled in a voice that was simultaneously husky and vulnerable. There was a desperation in me, in the movements of my hands, as I was bombarded by memories.

And I just wanted to bring him closer to me. I'm not fighting my feelings anymore. I wanted to cling to that afterglow, those happy moments I'd had with him, with everything I had, teeth and nails. I winked involuntarily after pronouncing the word "afterglow", and it felt like this me knew a thing or two about the real deal, rather than the afterglow of his affection I'd previously experienced. The inadvertent "oh" that had slipped past my lips was raw, sexual. I knew him. And it hurt to remember the little flashes that flitted across my memory, behind my eyelids, itching to play themselves out like an old movie, slow, halted, and in black and white, shades and tints.

I waited a few seconds and started to jump into the next verse when Tommy stopped me, shaking his head and flipping the switch. I stared at him in confusion, wondering what he wanted. "Was that not good enough for you?" I asked immediately. My voice was both defensive and desperate for his approval, bitter with the memories. Tommy raised an eyebrow, and a frown passed over his face. He looked a little perplexed.

He leaned forward into the intercom, pressing the button to talk to me. "No, of course not," He said a bit hastily. He paused to shoot an easy smile up at me. "It was more than enough." This time I frowned. Well, what does that mean? Whatever it is, it doesn't sound good! I opened my mouth, ready to say something, brow furrowed, but Tommy spoke before I could. "Now, c'mon, Harrison, get in here!" Tommy demanded, motioning for me to come in the studio.

I rolled my eyes, placing my hands on my hips. I really don't like it when he treats me like a child and tries to make decisions for me. If I want a break I'll ask for it. I don't need to go in there to hear his direction. "I told you already, Tommy. I don't need a break, okay? I can nail this song. I know I can," I persisted stubbornly, fixing my sternest look on him. Just because he broke up with me... that doesn't mean this, this studio time has to be any different, you know? I can do this. I've done it before, and it's torture, okay? But I can do it again. With a smile plastered on my face, so close, yet so far away. I don't need his pity.

Tommy gave me a look, that one he uses when he's trying to convince me to do something. I looked away as best as I could but still kept one eye on him. You know, lest he do something unexpected. I know that's my gig, but it's kind of his thing too, y'know? Keeping one eye on him was a mistake, by the way, because he pouted like a spoilt little child. A cute, spoiled little child. In the one world, the one reality where I didn't have a kid. So why did it feel like it was different? "Jude, come on..." His voice was heavy with pleading and a bit of frustration.

Don't you "Jude, come on" me! I didn't look at him, and I was accordingly thoroughly surprised when I heard the door to the studio open. Tommy only came in the studio to set up, never to talk to me. I resisted the urge to look over at him, so I was shellshocked when I felt his hands on my hips, sliding around to my middle, pulling me up against him. I took a sharp intake of breath in response, and I felt his lips grin against my neck. "Tommy, not that I mind or anything, but what the hell are you doing?" I asked urgently, trying and failing to keep my voice steady. Tommy kissed my neck softly in response, bringing me even closer.

His grip tightened around my waist. "I think you know exactly what I'm doing," He murmured huskily. His voice made me antsy, uncomfortable, and like molten chocolate on the inside. It did very strange things to me. Tommy laughed a little, brushing his fingers against my stomach. "I just... the way you sang the song. I couldn't resist. I _had_ to come in here and do this," He mumbled, bringing his lips still lower. His presence was intoxicating, and that low tone of his voice made me tingle all over. But I couldn't give into it. I didn't understand it. Tommy hated me! I tried to pull away from him, and Tommy groaned and held me fast.

I cleared my throat anxiously, trying to think of a way to get out of this. Because there's no way it's real. I need answers, you know?! Falling back on a familiar topic, I struggled to catch my breath, to keep my heart from beating too fast, keep myself from getting too hopeful. His hips jutted forward. "This is going to seriously complicate our working relationship, Quincy," I found myself saying. Immediately after I said it, I wanted to smack myself in the face. Because that line sucks. I've had it used on me. I know it sucks. I would've done better to remind him about the laws about this sort of thing. Why didn't I say that?!

Probably because you don't want him to stop, Jude.

Damn traitorous little voices in my head. I need him to stop so I can figure out what _this _is! What do you need to figure out, Jude? The man's kissing you. Leave it at that, girlfriend. Maybe Tom's finally come to his senses. Don't question it.

Tommy laughed against my neck, and I felt the vibrations on my skin. "Girl, this _is_ our working relationship... Besides, there's no one to disturb us," Tommy suggested quite unhelpfully. Well, it was helpful in him achieving his mission of seducing me, but not mine. I mean, call me crazy, but I like to figure things out a little. I mean, if Tommy's really here kissing me, then it's probably too good to be true. We just can't get our act together, really. And when and if we do, it never lasts long because one of us always ruins it. Tommy self-sabotages, and I... I get my hopes up and make accidental mistakes that make him change his mind. And I push him away because he keeps breaking my heart. Defense mechanisms, you know? Just like Tommy.

Where is everyone, though? Oh, wait... It must be late, then, and it's just us, right? Crap. I don't think I can think up a way to get out of this. Well... Maybe it's best to just roll with it? You know, _I can't explain just why I'm acting this way... I can't control it, so I go with it._ Wow, where did that come from? I turned around slowly, and Tommy's arms locked around my waist. He was beaming radiantly of course, eyes sparkling with his perceived victory. I pushed Tommy back a little, unprepared to deal properly with his proximity. "That's all well and good, Tommy, but what are y-we doing?" I demanded. I needed to know.

He wrinkled his brow, frowning at me, clearly bewildered by my questions, and he tried to bring me closer, further into him. "Well, I was hoping we were taking advantage of our alone time to have a little _fun_ at the studio," He drawled flirtatiously, leaning forward hopefully. I pushed him back again, and his frowny-face deepened, and of course it was FREAKING cute. It just had to be. Now we were both confused. Fun at the studio? But we always have fun at the studio except when we're fighting and those times I fire him. Although I do that just to keep him on his toes sometimes, or when he's pissing me off in general... Oh, wait. He meant _that_ kind of fun. Oh. Hence the italics.

I shook my head. But, really, why am I doing this? Is the need to know really so pressing?

N-No. It's not no, I mean. Clearly my dream with Travis proves otherwise. I can't truly be happy in a relationship with Tommy, even with all the perks, if he doesn't love me. I can't have a casual thing/fling/whatever with him. Because I'll always want more... and I won't get it. I looked down at my left ring finger, looking for a sign of an existing relationship and finding it (for once) lighter and uncomfortably, awkwardly, embarrassingly bare. No wedding band, no engagement ring. It felt like no relationship to me, such a contrast from the past two dreams, where I'd been a married lady. I flexed my fingers; it felt like there should be something there, like I was missing something, but I brushed it off quickly because I couldn't bear to dwell on it. And I don't want to be one of those girls. I exhaled wearily.

It was both painful and frustrating to keep pushing him away, and I'm sure it was the same for Tommy. If not maybe a little worse. But, you know, the guy broke my heart yesterday. So I think it's reasonable to be a little wary. More than a little wary. I give the guy my heart, and he breaks it **every** damn time or throws it away or gives it to some freaking HOBO! You know?

But what could I say? "Tommy, as much as I'd _love_ to have fun with you... I can't. I... can't do this with you. It's not healthy." And it's a mockery of what happened last night. I mean, all this? It hurts all over like you wouldn't believe. His touch is like static electricity. It's like being hit with one of those times ten every time he touches me. And my whole body is SCREAMING, and my head hurts, and it's like I'm being pulled in two very painful directions. Only both directions are the wrong way, the wrong street to walk down, and I'd be walking down them alone, just asking to get attacked! "Every time we do this, I'm the one who winds up getting hurt. I'm tired of having my heart broken, Tommy. It hasn't even grown back this time!" I shouted, clenching my fists, throwing my hands in the air with equal parts violence and vehemence. I was on the edge of breaking.

Tommy grabbed my wrists at first, holding me still and keeping me still relatively close. Guess he maybe also thought I was gonna hit him, which, you know, he would've deserved, of course. There was this utterly sorrow-filled look on his face, mingled with a whole lot of regret. "Jude, I understand why you have your doubts... I know I've given you more than enough reason not to trust me, and I'm sorry for all of that. But things are _different_ now. I'm a different man, and it's all because of you. And when I promised you I was never going to hurt you again, I meant it," Tommy swore, hands sliding down to hold mine. His eyes were intent and so clear and serene that it threw me.

I wanted to drop his hands, but I couldn't. I shook my head instead, feeling tears come to my eyes. I wanted to believe him, really, I did, but I knew better. He'd made that exact promise to me earlier, hadn't he? And he'd broken it, just like he breaks every promise, every heart. Just like he breaks everything. I'd said it was different last time, but it wasn't, really. We were just together for a couple of weeks, really together, before imploding like we always do. And I said I would never regret him, and I didn't, but I regretted trusting him. And, obviously, not about to do that again.

You can only make a mistake so many times before it becomes passé. And self-destructive. And then you're just a plain fool who doesn't know better. And you ought to be put out of your misery because by that point, you're clearly incapable of making rational decisions whatsoever. I've reached that point.

Only he said "I promise," but what did he really promise? He never said out and out that he wouldn't destroy me, that he wouldn't break my heart. Just that he wouldn't make me regret him. And I don't because, for a short time, I was happy. And, in retrospect, dude, I totally knew it was going to happen. I just didn't know when or why... and I didn't see it coming. And he said he'd never regret me, but what good is that when I'm persona non grata?

"You said that last time. You promised last time, and you **broke** me. You broke me down completely. Into pieces," I snapped accusingly. My wounds stung. What the hell is a promise worth nowadays? I should've just listened to my gut and never given in in the first place... but the prospect of it was just too tempting. Tears welled up in my eyes in spite of myself, and I hated him for making me feel weak.

I tried and failed to move away, but Tommy's grip on my fingers increased. There was a desperation in his bones, and that horrible sad look passed over his face, half like a grimace, the one that made him look ghostly pale and rightfully ashamed. "It was the wrong thing to do, Jude, and there isn't a moment that I don't regret it. I was scared of what I felt for you, of the path we were heading down together... it was all too much... and so I saw my chance to get out, and I took it," Tommy explained quietly, remorsefully. He moved closer to me, but his statement had knocked all the breath from me. Was that what it was really like for him?

My body pleaded for me to have just a little bit of sympathy for him, but I fought it. You can't trust a word out of his mouth. Much less... Tommy Quincy scared? Truthfully I'd accused him of the very same thing, but it didn't seem to ring true, and the words I'd uttered at the time were more bravado and me grasping at straws for any reason to get him to stay with me than anything else. Tommy sighed, stroking my hands. "I was utterly miserable without you, Jude. That was when I knew I needed you," He confessed, dark shadows flickering across his eyes.

The words would've hit me, but I was almost positive he'd said something like it before, if not that very same thing. How many times had I heard an "I want you"? And it doesn't mean a damn thing! Once again I tried to rebuff him, but Tommy moved still closer. He was too close, and I held my head back, eyes bulging, trying to escape from him. This game is beyond sick. "I haven't hurt you like that in a long time, Jude, have I? Three years and six months we've been together, and we've been nothing but happy, right? I've never been so happy in my life as I've been with you, Jude," Tommy coaxed gently, moving his hands to my shoulders, staring directly into my eyes.

He was dead serious, which scared the bejeezus out of me. But, of course, I had the benefit of a still-broken heart to dim its effects. Otherwise that smile and that look and that tone of voice and the way he was touching me would've made me a puddle at his feet. "It _was _yesterday... It, it still feels like yesterday, Tommy. Devastation like that doesn't just go away, and that's all our relationship is, a series of disappointments and heartbreaks repeating themselves. And just when I befriend you and start to trust you again, and everything's getting back on track... you go and make things **complicated**! And then I wind up falling in love with you all over again and you break my heart and leave me holding the bag when I'm least expecting it! How can I really be sure that this time is any different, Tommy?" I screamed at him. I sounded absolutely hysterical and dangerously out of control, and, to be honest, I hadn't thought it had affected me that much.

Ridiculous, I know, but I've got a high threshold for heartbreak lately... After Tommy Embarrassment Number One: The Nonreciprocated Kiss That Shall Not Be Named (such a humiliatingly fifteen moment, by the way, but, now that I think about it with both a grimace and admiration, really ballsy for a fifteen-year-old), Off and On Drama with Shay culminating in him cheating on me with my rival and not being man enough to even break the news himself, on my birthday of all days, Tommy Drama Number Two: The Tommy-Initiated Kiss That Never Happened, then followed shortly afterward with the Dad Dilemma of walking in on him cheating on my mother, probably about to have sex with Yvette, and when you add that to Tommy Trauma Number Three: The Realizations That Not Only Was He Dating My Sister Behind My Back When I Thought We Had Something But He Was Playing the Both of Us And Chose Sadie Over Me (third time's the charm, eh?)... And then the Tommy-Related Embarrassment Number Four: The Kisses That Couldn't Happen But So Did, and Tommy's subsequent adverse reaction to them. Follow that with a lovely little chaser of Tommy Trauma Five: When He Rejected Me for Sadie All the While Giving Me Mixed Messages. That one really hurt, especially when you add my Jamie and Kat Problem of them hating me and thinking I was a sell-out and not telling me they'd been dating for three months and that bit where Mom was briefly dating Don the Divorce Lawyer and Professional Creeper. Hm, oh, and Tommy Trauma Number Six: When I Found a Ring in His Jacket Pocket After He'd Tried to Seduce Me in My Bathroom and Wound Up Resulting in Him Accidentally Proposing to My Sister, Who Naturally Accepted. Which was freaking terrible. Possibly the worst of them all. And then Tommy Changing His Mind Number Seven: The Dirty Wrong Hot (Right) Limo Kiss That Could've Become More, Only I Refused to Let It Because He'd Just Dumped My Sister, the Asshole, and I Couldn't Believe Him Anyways, Plus Did I Mention That I Was Dating His Brother?

Oh, and in between that there's the Travis Almost-Rape, which is up there with his other cheery little violations, and the way Tommy decided he wanted me at the music video premiere, and the Chaz Fiasco which resulted in Tommy calling me a slut and me almost having sex with Chaz. Which understandably I prefer not to think of, much less all this business with Taylor about him calling me a slut, oh, and when I thought Travis was a good guy for those five milliseconds before he tried to rape me? Not that I really begrudge him all that too much now, but, you know, it's stuck in my memory like everything else, and I'm not about to forget, you know? Ah, my Dance Nightmare, where they all fought over me. In public. And in French. And caused massive damage, and I'm really surprised there was no punishment, but I suppose no one's thought of that yet... Travis is the golden boy, so of course he's not gonna suffer any consequences, even though he started it, the prick, and Tommy will probably be banned from all school dances ever again, or maybe they fired some of the other chaperones? But, you know, that's just not fair... But, oh, who am I kidding?! Like there's any chance Tommy would ever wind up coming to another school dance, much less as my date, which is definitely what my traitorous mind was secretly hoping.

And then we come to The Tommy Affair (Take Eight, not that I'm counting or anything): The Many Little Butterfly Kisses That Comprised a Very Beautiful Relationship And Stupidly Got My Hopes Up Only to Have It Crash And Burn As Usual When He Discovered I Wasn't a Virgin. Let's not forget the climax of that relationship: our two-part fight. Made me feel like a boxer. Anyways, it's easier to say that than say when he found out I _lied_. I suspect Tommy has a much different view on the subject, naturally. I wanted to die when that happened. I wanted to die, not that I'll ever tell him that or that he'll ever know. But back to Tommy, reality, or at least what seems like it but cannot possibly be reality. He was about to make some other comment, I could tell, meant to soothe, and I didn't want to be soothed or in his arms.

Damn it, I just wanted him to go away and stop playing games and let me have a proper sobfest about it.

"I told you I **loved** you, and you called me _poison_!" I shrieked hysterically. Not even a proper reaction or rejection. He didn't say anything when I told him, and when I finally asks him how I feel, he gives me some BS conceit/analogy/metaphor thing. And it stings worse than any venom.

And then the tears had blurred my vision, and Tommy's arms were closing around me, pulling me in close. It was truly torture. "I'd rather die than hurt you again," Tommy breathed against the skin of my neck, just below my ear. The sincerity in his voice gave me pause. My tears slowly ceased. It was ridiculous to believe him, but something about his tone, the whispered reverence, tender kisses pressed to my hair, forehead, any part of me he could reach, just broke me down. His hands rubbed my back soothingly, and after an appropriate amount of time, when my tears had finally ceased, Tommy pulled back to get a proper look at me and quirked a brief smile.

His eyes scanned me rather impersonally, and I was all too aware that I looked probably like a huge mess, but I reminded myself that I didn't want this anyways so it was better if I looked like this, and, besides, he was probably just making sure that I was okay. Tommy brought my hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it. He had this stricken look, as if he could sense my pain. I'll never forget what he said next. Never. "I love you more than _anything_, girl, and it doesn't look like I'm gonna stop... I want all of you. With me. Forever," Tommy murmured intently, and this feeling came over me like it was a revelation to this me too, and to myself, because suddenly Tommy **loved** me and wanted me to be with him, and he was bandying about words like forever like they were candy.

More like crack, 'cause that stuff is addictive. It was a wonder I didn't have a damn heart attack, honestly. But I started bawling again and threw my arms around him. What else was I gonna do? Except blubber hysterically about how much I loved him and how I still loved him and had always loved him and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him and I'd always dreamed of this happening, and now it was like my dreams were coming true! Which I also did. And, really, I kinda didn't know exactly what he was wanting or, for that matter, asking, but I liked the sound of it anyways, and I didn't care. And I thought that this must be the happiest I'd ever been, that I'd never felt anything better in my life than the security of Tommy's love. I'd wanted it for a long time, you see... still do.

If he says he loves me, then... I'm not going to question it anymore. That's all I need.

And then I pulled back and kissed him. Hard. I was, after all, making up for lost time. "I love you, Tommy," I mumbled between kisses.

He picked me up, hands low, one on my back, one on my ass, and I wrapped my legs around his waist for better leverage. And then suddenly my back was pressed up against the cool glass. One of his hands rested on my hip. He drew back just slightly to catch a well-needed breath. I could feel the dim thud of his heartbeat as his chest heaved against mine. Tommy smiled down at me breathlessly. "We could finish this here, or we could just head home..." He murmured suggestively, nuzzling the side of my face, giving me Eskimo kisses just about. That was a lot more nose action than I was used to.

Whoa, wait? I live with Tommy? We share a home. We share a life. Wow. That's... what I've always wanted. Tommy grinned and leaned in to kiss me again, but I put my finger to his lips, stopping him cold. "Home sounds good." Tommy pouted and made this little whiny noise. He reminded me of Scruffy when I forget to feed him. Same concept, really.

"Do I have to wait that long?" Tommy complained, swiftly kissing my cheek and then further down. I felt all ticklish, and of course it tingled, which made me squirm even more. True to form, Tom continued talking. It's weird, too, because outside of this, outside of everything, he's not really a talkative guy. But, you know, once you get intimate with him, it's kinda hard to shut him up. But I did want to keep him talking because it meant he was distracted and thus less able to render me a quivering jello that hasn't quite set yet. "You weren't there when I woke up this morning, and it's been a whole day since the last time we h-"

He cut himself off by latching on to my neck and sucking on it. The force of his lips has always left me breathless. Besides, I was pretty sure I knew what he meant. Basically Tommy and I sleep together, in the same bed, which is how it should be... And apparently we have sex frequently because he's lamenting about it being a whole day. Man, I must have some power over this man. "You taste so good," Tommy moaned, pulling away from my neck, probably to admire his work, which was a raw, fresh red, like freshly killed beef or a particularly nasty lesion. He always did take a perverse pleasure in marking me up as his, and why would this world, in which I assume he has no rivals, be any different?

His lips were swollen and a dark, sensuous rose. I immediately wanted to kiss him. I giggled despite myself and pulled him aggressively into a kiss. This time he's all mine, forever, for keeps. No one else's. And I've got him all to myself. Damn right I'm gonna take advantage of it. These great realizations were slowly sinking in, bit by bit, slowly overcoming my incredulity and hesitation. As the kiss went on, I became increasingly sure of myself, increasingly accepting of the inherent rightness of the action, the feelings. It was finally the right time, the time I'd always longed for. _I swear that you're just sinking in, like a stain that's on my skin... _As I did this, I manipulated his body so that we were going through the door and prepared to exit, flicking off the lights and taking him with me by the collar. We separated briefly, and I grinned at him wickedly. "Make a woman out of me," I murmured in a low voice.

Tommy laughed and stopped in the lobby, throwing an arm around me and moving in closer. "Didn't I already do that?" In this world, probably yes. In reality, sadly no. I giggled and pushed him lightly. I tried tugging him towards the door, eager to get down to it, but Tommy wasn't moving. He just stood there, stalling progress, stock still. It was somewhat frustrating, so I pulled on his arm a little harder. But Tommy still wasn't budging. Finally, I turned to him, shooting him a look over my shoulder.

"Tom-_my," _I whined, putting a hand on my hip. "What's taking so long?" I wanted him bad, so bad that I practically added on a comment about him taking me. What a reversal. Just seconds ago, he was the one whining. Tommy just smirked, full of self-satisfaction, pleased he was making me suffer so. He was probably about to make some dirty comment about his size or how some things were certainly worth the wait. It reminded me of how he had said that I was worth waiting for, once upon a time, and how he'd made me believe him. I'm so tired of all this waiting.

I just want... satisfaction, for once in my life. I want to get it on with Tommy, because, let's face it, this may be the only time I ever get it on with him, given that he thinks I'm his girlfriend in this strangely awesome world. I've got the perfect excuse, not that I need one. His smirk was enigmatic, and I had the sudden sense that he was hiding something from me. Call it a Tommy sense (but what am I, Spiderman? No, that would be Speed). As if he sensed my suspicion, Tommy stated the following, "I know you wanna get a piece of me..." I rolled my eyes but didn't deny it.

So cocky, Tommy. He paused, smiling knowingly, since I'm sure he knew exactly what I was thinking. And then he did something wholly peculiar. He took a deep breath, and something skittered across his eyes, a brief flash of something that made his eyes lighter. He was fiddling with his hands uncharacteristically, twisting the rings on his fingers. It hit me then that he was nervous. But why? If he's already got me, what's there to be nervous about anymore? He's already said those three little words. He knows I can't refuse him anything, even if I wanted to, and that I won't reject him. So what can possibly have Mr. Cool all wound up?

It's not like he's pregnant or anything... I remembered with a shudder how fat and pregnant and miserable I'd been with Taylor, and it got me wondering... Oh, God, am I pregnant in this world? Do I have kids? I placed a hand on my stomach and pressed down lightly as if feeling around for any future offspring. My stomach was still flat, of course, but that didn't mean anything. Nevertheless, I didn't get the feeling that I was pregnant, just as I somehow knew there were no stretch marks on my stomach, and that I'd never given birth. How's this whole thing going to work then, though? When I want to have kids?

After all, I got pregnant young in both the other realities. At about nineteen with Taylor, and seventeen with... well, Thomas, I suppose. By either Tommy or Travis. Well, at least I won't have to wonder who the father is, right? But what's to keep him from leaving me? If and when that happens. I don't want children now, and I can assume Tommy doesn't want to be a daddy before he has to be... But he is so much older than me, and his biological clock is probably ticking a lot faster than mine. He'd want to have kids in another few years, if he wants kids at all. I don't even know _if_ he wants kids! I mean, this could be a whole big disaster and ruin everything if I get pregnant here.

Just like it ruined everything in real life and all the other worlds.

Knowing Tommy, he'd think he wouldn't make a good father because of what his parents did and... Well, I'm too young to be a parent, and what's to stop him from changing his mind when I'm engorged and dumping my ass for some skinny little young bitch? There's no security, and I don't want to become a single mom with a deadbeat dad figure... although I really don't think Tommy would do that. He'd take care of the kid at least, when it suits him, maybe, but still... he'd do it. But he's a fickle creature, and no matter what he says, I'm not going to stop doubting him any time soon.

After all, what's to stop him from changing his mind?

Nothing. Not my sheer will. Not anything.

He doesn't want to be tied down. He wants options. He wants freedom and space.

And it'd be again, because he's done it in the past. I don't want to be left holding the baby, if you know what I'm saying. But, of course, this is all highly hypothetical because, like I said, I don't think I'm pregnant. I hope.

But, okay, if we're admitting the truth, here it is...

I wanted to be married to him, strangely enough, but I accepted it not being true. I didn't expect it to happen, and what I wanted didn't matter. I've got him, got Tommy all to myself... finally. So why do I need the ring and the papers to make it official? He's mine, and I'm his. That's all it is, all it needs to be, all I've ever wanted. It's a bit too late to have him make me an honest woman anyways, now isn't it? Besides, Tommy was never the marrying type, and I always knew this. And maybe I'm not the marrying type either.

Hell, I'm young. What do I know? I've got no business getting married young anyways. Just look at how marrying Taylor turned out. A miserable failure. And despite its happy ending, my marriage with Travis was a marriage of convenience at first. So maybe it'd be better if I don't get married, especially at this age. For now, I can be with him, live with him, breathe him, and that's all I need.

"Jude, I want to show you something," He declared forebodingly. Naturally, I couldn't help but worry. That's kind of like saying, "We need to talk." Although, to be fair, I guess good things can come out of saying you want to show someone something. Maybe he wants to show me something awesome like a rainbow or something. I mean, I don't know, right? Nevertheless, I nodded slowly and took the hand he was offering.

He led me to the door to the fire escape. I was rather impressed he didn't blindfold me or hold his (our) hands over my eyes, as cute and corny as that would be. I wonder what his surprise must be, then, if he's not going to cover my eyes. Seeing my confused look, Tommy merely smiled and opened the door for me. He made a sweeping gesture, urging me to exit onto the fire escape. I hesitated but eventually followed his suggestion. Hell, I was curious!

So I stepped on to the fire escape, that narrow little catwalk, to find... absolutely nothing, apart from falling snowflakes. And the sudden realization that I was without a coat, and it was definitely below zero degrees out. I shivered, rubbing my arms, and turned to face Tommy. What on Earth am I doing out here? It's not exactly picturesque, and as sexy as my breath coming up in steam is... really, not the time for a proper make-out sesh here. My hands fell hard on my hips as I raised my eyebrows, pursing my lips, clearly wanting and fully expecting a proper explanation. The door closed with a soft creak behind Tommy as he walked towards me.

That sonuvabitch better have the key to that door, 'cause if it's locked, I'm going to kill him. I'll climb down this frozen fire escape, crossing my fingers and praying I don't inadvertently kill myself, and then I'll hotwire his Viper or call a taxi or something and lock him out of the apartment. The whole building, if I can manage. And he's definitely sleeping on the couch.

Speaking of my beloved, he walked towards me in slow, measured steps. He was cautious to a fault, as he'd been the last time we'd been out here, that first kiss. And the time after that, when he rejected me for Sadie. The remembered hurt still stung. I shuddered, glaring at him. He still hadn't bothered to explain himself. I mean, for all I know, the guy's trying to give me frostbite and insure I catch my death out here! And then he'll bury my body in the snow. Like I've said once, twice, a million times... you just can't trust Tom Quincy.

And yet I always do, and I pay for it. With my heart... my sanity... my reason... Who knows when I'll pay for it with my life?

It took an eternity for him to reach me, but when he did, he immediately draped his jacket around my shoulders. I trembled but managed to chatter out a weak thank-you, and I straightened, feeling somewhat warmer. I leveled my gaze on him, waiting patiently for the answer I was seeking, and if I didn't know better, I'd say that flustered the hell out of him. His cheeks were pink, but that was probably the cold. Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but he was suddenly incapable of forming even a single sentence, and that frustrated me immensely. If I'm going to come out here and freeze my ass off, he better damn well have a good reason for making me do it. When his silence seemed to stretch on forever, and I realized that it would probably never end, I huffed out a breath and moved forward.

I attempted to step around him, to brush past him, but Tommy didn't budge an inch, much as he had inside, and I found myself wondering what on earth he could possibly have to tell me. Whatever it was, it had to be bad, if he didn't want to tell me. There was this look in his eyes, like he thought that if he used his vocal chords that he'd ruin everything. What, did the bastard cheat on me? Did he get back together with Sadie? Am I waking up? Is he going to say he lied about loving me? There are only so many things it can be, you know. I cleared my throat irritably. "If you have something to say, Quincy, just say it." There are no secrets between us, right?

He nodded, but that awestruck look stayed in his eyes. I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging myself. I held my jaw stiffly, trying to prevent my teeth from chattering terribly. Make it quick, Quince. Just say it and be done with it already!

For the longest moment he just stood there, still as a statue. Then he fell heavily at my feet, on his knees before me. It was surely not the first time in his life he's ever been on his knees, I thought with a bitter little smile. Nevertheless, his sudden, smooth fall made the breath catch in my throat. I couldn't make proper sense of it. Tommy lowered himself further, leaned down, placed his hands on my ankles, slid them up my calves. "You are a goddess, and I don't deserve you," He said slowly. I couldn't help but smile pridefully. Damn right. I'm a _rock_ goddess.

The man had me intrigued. I was wondering where he was going to go with it, you know? He looked down as if he were shamed. There was something so humble about him that it left me mute. My mouth was dry as if it had been stuffed with cotton. "I'm a jerk and a player and a **fraud** and an asshole and a villain and a guy who's done bad things and made more than my share of mistakes... but somehow you took pity on me. I was a self-loathing, miserable washed-up popstar with a sorry excuse for a life and anger issues when you met me, but you saw past the act to who I really am and changed all that. You changed _me_, Jude, for the better. And I couldn't be more grateful," Tommy confessed thankfully, worshipfully even, acknowledging all his faults, his flaws. The barest traces of a smile played on my lips. You forgot heartbreaker, I wanted to tell him, but for some reason I couldn't. So I chuckled a little instead. He chanced a look up at me and smiled nervously.

Something was telling me not to ruin it, that later I'd be glad I didn't. So I didn't break the moment, the trace, with a comment that would've derailed him. Because there really was something different about his tone that I couldn't quite put my finger on. He was all honesty and sincerity. He still kept his eyes on the metal beneath us, metal that must've been uncomfortable for his knees, I realized suddenly. His smile turned dreamy, widening slowly bit by bit, much like how a flower blossoms and unfolds slowly, one petal at a time. "You've sacrificed so much for me, forgiven me so many times for unpardonable sins when I didn't deserve it, always been there for me... when I needed you, for anything... loved me when no one else in her right mind would, even when I've given you every reason not to. You've waited so long on me... waited for me to grow up and finally get my act together... waited for me to get over myself... waited for me to work through all my issues... waited for me to come around... waited for me to grow a pair, finally get off my ass, and ask you out... waited for me to finally be able to express my feelings for you, to be able to say I love you- and I do, Jude, I **do**! ...waited for this moment, even... patiently, without complaint," He continued, even laughing a little as he spoke at times. As if he still couldn't believe it.

Suddenly his hands were holding mine, our fingers entwined. I felt very proud of myself, that I was that woman he'd described, and that everything he'd said was true. My loyalty had never wavered, even when it should've. Because I doggedly kept loving him the whole damn time. My own smile widened, and I'd laughed with him, unable to repress the happiness that was threatening to overwhelm me. And I knew that every day with him must be like this, this fantastic feeling, even better than how I'd remembered, and I greedily couldn't help but want more.

I leaned down towards him, wanting to kiss him, wrapping our conjoined arms around his neck. Tommy looked up into my eyes, but he didn't lean up to kiss me. Instead, he just stayed perfectly still. It felt like a spell had been cast over the both of us, so I didn't move either. I was scared I'd wake up if I did, and leave this wonderful safe place. "And you've never, _never_ given up on me, even when everything looked hopeless. When I was hopeless." His voice had a bit of an edge to it there, and his gaze veered away from mine, and I knew he meant all the bad times, the times he'd shattered me and my heart... Like now. And it felt like a divine message telling me not to give into the despair, not to let myself drown in it as I wished, to not forget and not give up, but persist in feeling the way that I did, treating him as I did. That my patience would later be rewarded by this.

My eyes were blurry, wet and shiny with tears, but they remained fixed on Tommy, as always. He squeezed my hands reassuringly, slowly moving our arms off his shoulders and on to my waist. He looked up at me adoringly. "You changed me for the better, and I'll never forget all the things you've done for me over the years. I owe you more than mere words can express, more than a million thank-yous. I could spend the rest of my life thanking you, and it still wouldn't be enough. I owe you my life, my career, my happiness... my _everything_. And I've never wanted to be in anyone's debt more," Tommy admitted gratefully. For a moment I wondered if he was just grateful to me, if that was all it was. But he was pleased I'd changed him, which is so odd, you know? My mother told me once that you can't change a man. A leopard can't change its spots, a tiger can't erase its stripes... All that stuff. But maybe a man can change himself?

His hands fanned out in mine over my hips. My breath hitched. He clutched my hands tighter, reassuringly but with a kind of desperation that made my heart beat faster. His smile faded a little as he bit his lip. "I can't imagine my life without you in it, and I don't want to. I don't want to live without you. I _can't_ live without you. And I mean that... I-I've tried before, and I just... _**can't**_. It was hell, and every moment without you hurt so bad I wanted to die. The world was dark and empty without you, and I was so... lost. I haven't felt that way since I was thirteen, Jude, and I don't want to feel that way again. Ever," Tommy told me in a strangled voice that bespoke great pain. There was a haunted, dark look in his eyes. Somewhere in there he implied that it was worse than when he was thirteen, but I had trouble believing it, remembering what Chaz had told me about his self-loathing, loneliness, alienation, and the feelings of worthlessness he'd felt, how he was just dying for any little bit of affection.

For once, too, those two little awful words... _I can't_... were good to me. They weren't a why-not. They were an explanation, a why-yes.

Tommy's eyes, too, were teary. I wasn't used to seeing them look like that, wet for me. So I smiled down upon him sadly. His palms were sweaty, and I wondered why. He was always so cool under pressure, and confessing all these things I somehow always knew or at least hoped deep down can't really be that stressful, worrying, can it? Even if he never opens up? "For the longest time, I've fought this, and I'm done fighting what I feel for you... I was so wrong. I've **never** been so wrong... I've tried so long to push you away when I only wanted to pull you closer, but it damn near killed the both of us," Tommy continued resolutely. There was a sense of finality in it, and I got that he was done running, that he was finally going to accept this, to accept us... me. And I knew he was talking about that break-up, the one we must've made it over, since it had to be years later. He sounded so honestly regretful, and it reminded me of what he'd said earlier about how he'd tried to live without me. It was a vindication, of sorts, a relief, a balm to know he'd felt so awful, but still so incredible to me. I just nodded, feeling suddenly so glad, so reassured.

It wasn't like Tommy to bear his soul like this. He stroked the back of my hand with his thumb, and the smile reappeared on his face but hesitantly. As he went on speaking, his smile grew. There was an urgency in his words, his motions, as he spoke. "I can't last a minute without you. I need you, Jude, and I've never needed anyone with the same all-consuming intensity in my life. Loving you has been the ride of my life and everything I've ever dreamed of and more," Tommy exclaimed in a rush of words. He became more animated and excited as his speech went on but also more jumpy and wild. I couldn't help but beam back because I felt the exact same way about him. I probably would've even used the same words to describe it.

"You're the real thing, even better. And this is it for me, Jude. _You_ are it for me, girl. I don't want anyone else. Only you, for the rest of my life, as long as you want me," Tommy swore intently, gazing into my eyes so lovingly it made my palms ache and broke my heart a little more. He smiled at me radiantly, like I was some sort of goddess, and then he brought my hands to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of both of them, first the right, then the left. He let go of one of my hands, my left, I think. My heart started beating double-time, triple-time, going out of control, and suddenly I couldn't breathe at all. Because I knew what he meant. It was different than what he'd said earlier. He was serious, and he meant it.

A breath later, Tommy started singing softly. "_You're the smoke from my fire... I'm the lie you can trust... You're the chord on my guitar... You're that girl I can't shut up... You're the blood I might need... in my car when I speed... You're in the cigarette I breathe! You can't get rid of me_," He warbled quietly, like a prayer, but meaning every word. I almost wanted to laugh because it was so ironic, him using the words of a song I'd written to tell him off like this. But no other song would work, no other song would show how I'm such an integral part of his life. At least, that's what I think he was saying. Because that's kinda what I wrote the damn thing to show him in the first place.

I was so busy thinking I failed to notice him fishing around in his pocket. He pulled out a small black velvet box and opened it, offering it to me. Inside of it was a shiny ring. It had a smooth platinum cathedral style band. A large round diamond, brilliant cut, was in the center of the ring, flanked by two smaller rubies on either side. The diamond was a carat or two; the rubies combined about a carat and a half. There was also a small keyhole just below the diamond, plugged with tiny rubies, one on each side, back to back. Betcha didn't know I knew so much about jewelry. Well, I didn't. But I'm slowly becoming well-versed in the subject with the frequently expensive shiny gifts the Quincy clan likes to give.

I remembered dimly that Kurt had given Courtney a diamond and ruby engagement ring too, though it had probably been more expensive. My ring was simpler, to suit the fact that I am a far more simple girl. Besides, look how that turned out. The ring was stolen, they were drugged up and strung out, and Kurt shot himself two years into the marriage. I think living with Courtney might drive anyone a little insane... but he loved her, as crazy as that is, and I understand what that's like and accept it. But that won't happen with me and Tommy because the only thing Courtney Love and myself have in common is the same birth last name and crush on Kurt Cobain. Plus we're not drug addicts. That's always a benefit.

Whoa, wait. Back up. Flip it. Reverse. Engagement ring? Does that mean what I think it means?

And sure enough, Tommy's mouth was moving. Oh, he's talking. I guess I should be listening. I mean, it could be important. Wow, I'm dumb. Of course it's important. The love of my freaking life is proposing marriage to me, and I'm not listening. Only me. "So marry me, girl. Please," Tommy implored, holding up the box. His eyes were pleading, and I waited a lot longer than I had to, absorbing the words dimly in disbelief, before answering. He was really sweating it out, suffering and all that, but, seriously, like I wouldn't have wanted to marry him?

I shook my head at him, laughing a little. I knew it was going to confuse him, and by the way his face fell, you would've thought I'd said no. "Quincy, when are you going to learn? I've been in love with you since I was fifteen, Tommy. That day at the lake, when our eyes connected, and I saw the real you, and you saw me... I fell irrevocably in love with you, Tommy, and I've known since that moment that you were the one. That you're the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. All these years I've been hoping it'd come true, and it finally has. I _always_ was your girl, and now I always will be. You've always had me... So, yes, Tommy, of course I'll marry you! I'd like nothing more," I told him. The longing in my own voice threatened to overwhelm me. I'd wanted this for so long.

If Tommy was at all surprised by this little revelation, he didn't show it. He just smiled and took the ring out of the box. I wished I had a camera to capture the look on his face, equal parts pride, cockiness, and sheer adoration. He was beaming like a madman, like in that episode of the Batman cartoon where the Joker made everyone grin from ear to ear and laugh themselves to death. He was that happy, and, furthermore, I knew I was equally blissful, if not even more so. Then he slid the ring on my left ring finger. I couldn't see through the tears, but I felt its warm, reassuring weight, and I felt... complete, I guess. I could've died a happy woman in that moment.

Because I thought it was all real, and that was my fondest wish. And then, to cap the moment off, he pulled me down to kiss him, and I was in heaven.

And then, of course, I woke up... because all good dreams must come to an end. And then I was heartbroken all over again. It felt like I was surfacing. I'd been blissfully drowning before, safe and warm under the water, and now that I was breaking through the surface into the fresh air, I was suffocating on it, surfeited by reality. Too much too fast. I was cold all over, gasping for air and trembling.

My eyes blinked open in the darkness, and I was awash in it. Confusion and fear overwhelmed me as I sat up too fast in my bed and scanned my unfamiliar surroundings. The hotel was nice but the room was too opulent and far too big. For just me, at least. At night, it made for quite an imposing bedroom, with numerous tall shadows lurking around, taunting me. The blood had rushed to my head, further disorienting me. My hands groped around the covers in the darkness, searching for something to hold on to.

My arms still reached out for him in desperation, as if holding them up and pulling and snatching at the air would carry him across the ocean and back to me. But he hated me, and as soon as that thought hit me, as the cool, cruel reality was felt keenly on my skin, the sobs started. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. My body cried out for him. How had I ever fooled myself into thinking I could sleep without him? My every molecule missed him. The tears cascaded down my cheeks proud and silent at first. Then they were accompanied by tiny whimpers and pathetic sniffles, and later gasping, rasping sobs as I bawled, and finally wailing, screaming and crying that left my voice raw. My body was racked with pained spasms, like heroin withdrawal. The tears fell on my cheeks like hard, huge droplets of rain, then like rolling waves of hail. I felt so out of control that I couldn't stop, so I fumbled around in the darkness and did the only thing I could think to do.

I found the phone and dialed Travis' number. I never thought I'd need it... or him... but I do. I waited impatiently, hearing the dial tone sound once, twice, three times. With each ring, I grew edgier. After what seemed like an eternity, he clumsily picked it up, dropping it once or twice. "Hello, this is Travis Quinn. Who's calling?" His voice sounded so smooth and self-assured that I wanted to hang up, nevertheless, there was a flustered quality there that I could sense.

I cleared my throat, only at that moment realizing just how hard this was going to be. "Um, Travis, hi... It's me, Jude," I managed weakly, hoping I wasn't too transparent, hoping I hadn't just made a huge mistake.

He took a sharp, audible intake of breath and didn't say anything for a significant moment. When he finally did speak, it was clear he was surprised and caught off-guard. It would've been funny if I wasn't such a mess. "Oh... hey, girl. Is... is something wrong?" He asked me almost hesitantly, as if he was unsure of what he was doing or not certain he could comfort me. Just that one little nickname was enough to jumpstart the forgotten tears again. Yes, something's definitely wrong. "My baby brother's not keeping you up or anything, is he? He hasn't molested you or done something crazy yet, has he? I know he can be a bit much at times..." The genuine concern and warmth in his voice touched me.

It was easy to imagine myself marrying him with all his pretty words and kept promises and those beautiful eyes and that kindness. I sniffled. Can't be a wreck for this, Jude, you've got to maintain his interest, keep up the conversation. I wished I could joke about Taylor at that moment as he had. Because he had to know this wasn't about Taylor. "No, nothing like that..." I muttered after a brief, wet laugh. I hesitated, not sure whether or not I should tell him. No, he'll make fun of me for being lame. I know how it sounds, and it sounds like I'm some stupid little girl. "It's just..." I trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence.

Travis waited a while for me to say something else, and when I didn't, he pressed me. "Just _what_? You don't sound good, babe... You can tell me, you know. If it's about him," Travis insisted worriedly. Tommy, I thought with a pang. But Travis had called me babe in my dream when we were married. I swallowed hard, and Travis kept speaking. "Seriously... how are you holding up?" He questioned. He really meant to ask if the ocean between us had helped any. It hadn't because he still haunted me. No matter how hard I tried, there he was. Freakin' inescapable.

No matter how hard I tried to push him out of my brain, to forget all about him, to not let him ruin it for me, there he was in the back of my mind. Mocking me. Taunting me. Reminding me smugly that I wasn't over him, insinuating viciously like a snake that I would never be over him. Everything came back to him in the end. You know how they say all roads lead to Rome? Well, in my case, all roads lead to _Tommy_. Every time I even thought his name was a dull prick, like a shot. The pain faded a little more each time. Everywhere we were I'd wish Tommy was there instead or find myself thinking that it should be him here with me. Or I'd remember something he'd spoke about or suggested or some exchange we had. And Taylor simply wasn't Tommy, brother or not.

"As best as can be expected, I guess." Lie, lie, lie! I practically had to throw my phone in the Channel to stop from looking, from checking to see if he'd called, from staring at all the pictures for hours, from dialing his number and hanging up and dialing again and hanging up. I still had his robe and had almost gotten out to wear it, and I'd even sniffed it. God, it still smelled like him, and the smell made me go weak in the knees with longing. Yep, I'm only two stops away from insane, and maybe a floor or two up from rock bottom. I am a freaking Tommy addict, but they don't have any Tommy Anonymous meetings for me to go to.

Travis called me on my bluff. Or my optimistic hope. "You're lying. And poorly at that," He countered. I sighed wearily, silently conceding, too tired to even argue with him. What was the use? Contesting the obvious was futile. Fighting my feelings for Tommy, trying to get over him when I know I never will... I was suddenly overcome with the massive futility of it all.

I nodded before realizing he couldn't see me, taking a deep breath it felt like I needed. "Okay, so I'm awful. I need a damn twelve-step program. Help me, Travis," I confessed pleadingly. I wanted nothing more than his help at that moment, and there was no doubt in my mind that he could give me what I wanted, needed. Travis had his doubts, but I... I just wanted the pain to go away. I wanted all my feelings for Tommy to just evaporate. Loving him was taking far too much out of me, sapping me of my energy, sucking me dry, and I was drowning in it. Always have been. I've just finally gotten tired of swimming.

Oh, I could just picture his tight little smile. "I wish I could be more help, but combating drug addiction is more his deal than mine..." He was, of course, right. I knew what he meant. Tommy would know more about that than me, more about rehab. I was silent, and Travis seemed to realize that what he'd said hadn't helped matters. He cleared his throat and returned to the topic at hand. "Do you want to talk it out? It might help you to get the feelings out, rather than keep them all pent up inside of you?" He suggested soothingly. I shrugged silently, wondering whether that would help. I had to bottle my feelings up because no one would understand. There was no reason for me to be heartbroken, so I just had to plaster a damn fake smile on my face all the time and act like I was having the time of my life.

I coughed, gagging on the mucus in my throat a little. My eyes watered from the force of it, but they were already swollen, red, and tear-filled, so it didn't matter much. "It's stupid, Travis... I... It's so late, and I probably disturbed you, and it's... silly. Just me overreacting, you know?" I blurted, changing my mind, brushing him off. I was hoping he'd get off the phone soon. Calling him had been a big mistake. And I didn't really want to talk. Not at all.

Bless his heart, Travis was confused. You wouldn't think so, given the fact that he should understand the psyche of a teenage girl just as well as his own by this point (oh, wait, he doesn't understand his own, then, I don't know, better, I guess), due to constant exposure. "It's not late at all here, Jude. It's about ten-thirty. It must be awfully late in London, though... what, three or four? Can't you sleep?" Travis disagreed. Wow, it was late. I cursed silently; Taylor and I had a tour of Buckingham Palace or something or other bright and early at seven in the morning. At this rate I'd never get back to sleep!

My breath hitched tellingly. And then he'd found it, that thread. And so he pulled, and soon I'd be unraveling all over the place. I didn't want to go back to sleep and be tormented by those sad and alternately horrifying visions of what could be. Of me with rings on my finger and children in my belly and a man to share my life with. The future still so full of possibilities and questions that terrified me to think about.

This is so much harder than I realized. I exhaled heavily and decided just to tell him, needing to unburden myself to someone. "I had these dreams, Travis... One after the other... about the future. And in the last one, the one I just had..." Oh, God, I'm gonna start bawling. I tried to hold it back, to wring my hands and fan my eyes and tilt my head back so that the tears wouldn't fall, but none of it worked. My nose ran and I wiped it with the back of my hand. Messy, as always. Travis mumbled encouraging things, urging me to go on, that it would make me feel better. Oh, I highly doubted it. "And it was just... too p-p-per-fect... T-To-We were to-together... And then he... And then he proposed! It was so damn suh-sweet and I was so, so happy! And then... then I woke up, and he was gone, and it was just... awful. Should've known it was too good to be true! So empty and alone. And cold. I-I don't want to be alone anymore, Trav-is," I told him between sobs and hiccups. I got half starry-eyed just thinking about it.

And I knew I would have every last little detail of the dream engraved in my brain. Just like on the inside of the ring... _To my twenty-one_. I broke down again just as the peek I'd had flashed across my mind, across the inside of the band in delicate little letters.

Travis stumbled over his words, rushed to soothe and correct me, to calm me, tried every trick in his book. But there was a panic latent underneath all of his attempts to pacify me and quiet my sobs which were on the verge of becoming outright wails. He took me more seriously than I expected, and I almost wished he hadn't. Anger was an emotion I knew how to deal with, not this brokenness, this extreme emptiness and loneliness pervading all of my being. "Jude, honey, you're not alone. You've got me, remember? Besides, the future's not set in stone. Tommy will come around, okay?" Travis stated reassuringly.

The sound of his name coming from Travis' lips set off something in me. It pricked like a hypodermic needle. I knew I had Travis, that I always would, and that we would always been indebted to each other. And I knew that it could become more (as it already kinda had) if I let it. But to let it or not? His words didn't comfort me as I needed to be comforted, but that was hardly his fault. I was practically inconsolable. Only Tommy, the source of my pain, would soothe my troubled, pained soul. And I well knew it. He was what I needed. Only he could repair all the damages done to my heart. Travis exhaled shallowly, probably rubbing his brow in contemplation, and then suggested the unthinkable. "I could talk to him for you, you know? Show him what a mistake he made. Try to fix things, to talk things out with him... Convince him..." Convince him of what, Travis?

Certainly not my innocence. I knew what he meant. Travis would listen to Tommy. He'd not only talk to Tommy, but he'd manipulate him and play with his mind and confuse him and persuade him and convince Tommy to come back to me. And as much as I wanted that to happen, I didn't want it to happen that way, through molding and manipulation. I wanted him to come to me on his own. Not to feel as if he'd been tricked into having a relationship with me. That was the problem last time, after all. I shook my head fiercely. "No, Travis... I... Don't... Uh... Thanks, but that's okay. This is all my fault anyway, and... if it's meant to be, then it'll happen on its own, rig-" My firm protest was interrupted by an uncontrollable wave of sobs. Meant to be? Not in my fondest dreams.

It was a problem of my own doing, and I was responsible for it. So I had to own up to it, to face it. And suffer as I deserved. Like Tommy had, only he hadn't quite suffered like me. Because he's never loved anybody except himself. And his mother, maybe. I'm neither, and I'm poison to him. "Tell me how I can do this. Tell me how to live. Tell me how to get over him, Travis. I... I don't know how," I begged, ready to get down on my knees and crawl through broken glass for an answer or a solution. I just wanted to forget, and it was getting really tempting to just sneak over to the minibar and self-medicate. But that was another Tommy-induced drunken stupor, and I refused to repeat the pattern, to give him that small satisfaction.

Let me just say that it was dumb to ask Travis how to get over his brother. Because duh, he wouldn't know. And, hell, the man couldn't even get over what Tommy did to him five years ago! He doesn't know a damn thing about "getting over" anything! So, for the longest time, Travis stalled, clearly unable to offer any advice. Even he has his non-smooth moments. "It... It's not going to happen overnight, and it won't happen just because you want it to. You just have to give it time... And don't try and forget because it won't work," Travis explained somewhat awkwardly. It sounded a lot like he didn't want to be giving me the advice, and I could tell he was grimacing.

"But what if I never get over Tommy?" I choked out, sniffling. I wiped the tears with the back of my hand dimly. "What if I'm stuck this way?" Old habits die hard, after all. Travis spoke up sooner this time. He hardly even hesitated.

His voice was low, urgent. "You can't think like that, Jude," He practically ordered. He reassured me some with the absolute certainty in his voice, like he was determined to convince me that I would get over him, that there were no other options. "You are going to get over Tommy, and you're going to be happy again. Just be patient." But it was so hard to be patient and hopeful when I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I was just so tired, and it was a fatigue that would only get worse as the days passed. Nevertheless, it was encouraging to hear him speak that way; I wished I could be as sure as he was.

Only I wasn't and rightfully so. "Distract me, Travis," I muttered bossily. The more we spoke about Him, the more it got to me. Already tears were re-forming in my already waterlogged eyes. I didn't want to think about Tommy. For just once, I wanted to get him entirely off my mind. "Tell me something else... Anything," I pretty much begged him. I was absolutely shameless and desperate for it, too, to the point where I would've clutched the front of his shirt.

Travis cleared his throat, but I could sense the disapproval behind it. He still thought I needed to talk it out. The ensuing pause was brief. "Did you get the flowers I sent?" He asked instead, with a hint of foolish pride in his voice. Of course. I should've known. I nodded before realizing he couldn't see me. The large bouquet of flowers was hidden somewhere in the vast shadows of the room on one of the overly-polished surfaces. My eyes narrowed as I searched for them in the darkness, only to come up empty. It was too dark.

Nevertheless, I remembered the bouquet. It was a truly massive arrangement, intricate and beautiful. Blood red roses, the color of my hair, bright and fierce tiger lilies, different varieties of wildflowers, shocking fuchsia orchids, serene white lotus flowers, pure white lilies, innocent as the day I was born, soft and delicate cherry blossoms, dark, intensely vigorous violets, weeping irises as deep blue as my eyes and my heart, exploding sickly yellow daffodils, tropical hibiscus in hues ranging from peach to gold, and intoxicating scarlet poppies... not to mention numerous other flowers still that I couldn't place a name to. It made for quite an arresting display, and just thinking of it made me smile against my will.

Then my smile fell as I remembered that flowers have always been associated with women. Sexually. Perverse and obscene whorey Georgia O'Keefe paintings and all. That they're basically the female sex organs of the plants.

_And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation._

That was what the card said, you know. _Thinking of you_, he'd scribbled beneath it. _Yours_... And then that hesitation where he'd started to write a T but stopped, obviously thinking the better of it, and hastily initialed it instead with a C. I had to choke back a sob when I first read it with shaking fingers. The note was still on the floor. I'd been unable to retrieve it.

Still, I wondered whether he was referring to how Tommy must be feeling... or me? It felt like the ties that bound us had been severed irreparably. Because I'd always known the depth of my feelings for Tommy. It had just never hurt this much before. Never broken me so completely.

"Yeah... Yes. I got them," I told him finally. I forced a smile, putting on a show for the audience that wasn't even there. It was already wearying, and I wasn't even back home yet, where it would wear on me even more. The whole day with Taylor I'd faked it. "They were... really sweet, Travis. I... ah-appreciate it." It was really nice of him to send them when I got here, just to make sure I got here okay. And I knew he completely didn't have to do it by any means. I sucked in a breath. "D'you feel like you have to take care of me or something because your brothers didn't? Or because of... of... that day in the studio? Is _that_ what this is, Quinn?" I asked him fiercely but not really accusingly. I just wanted to know if it was like some sort of duty to him, like he owed it to me to make up for all of their mistakes.

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the phone, and a long moment of silence. Almost like he was offended I even asked. After a few tense moments, Travis answered me in a slow, measured voice. "Partly, I guess... We've all given you a raw deal. Me most of all, and I have to make it up to you. For me... But I just want to help you. So it's not just that, girl. There's so much more to it than that," He professed with an intensity that both surprised and impressed me. And I realized that it meant that he did have genuine feelings for me, and knowing that sort of broke my heart a little because it reminded me of my dream, the one where we were happily married.

I was smiling faintly by that point, but it hadn't registered. I thought I'd forgotten how to smile for real, on my own like this. My fingers serenely wound a lock of my hair, twisting it this way and that way. "It wasn't all bad, you know... the dreams. I was married to you in one of them," I remarked idly, wondering how he'd react. It had been a nice world. Not as nice as the life I was living with Tommy, but nice nonetheless. I was content, after all, and I'd gotten a taste of Tommy, hadn't I? That was all a girl could really ask for, right?

Now, of course I shouldn't have said that, because naturally Travis was going to pounce on it and be amused. I really should've expected that. "Oh, really? And what was that like?" He asked, trying to imitate a shrink. Didn't work too well over the phone, plus it sounded like he was going to burst into hysterical laughter any minute now. But I didn't really regret telling him. After what had happened with Tommy, I didn't think I could ever be embarrassed again.

So I just shrugged, summoning up every detail I could remember. What once was clear kept getting blurrier. "We were happy, I think... for the most part. I mean, you were still kind of hung-up on Joan, and I was still in love with Tommy... But you were in love with me, _really_ in love with me, and I loved you back. You wrote novels and made the best pancakes in the world... And we didn't cheat on each other, except for this one time I fooled around with Tommy... but I was drunk, on tour, and twenty-four, and we got married like a week after my eighteenth birthday... We had a shot-gun wedding, basically. Only our firstborn was really Tommy's son, only I wasn't sure but I secretly knew deep down... and I did spend the night before our wedding with him. But I picked **you**. I picked you over Tommy, and that made all the difference. I was happy with that choice, you know... you," I rambled idiotically, not realizing how nonsensical it all came out. I hadn't realize how tired I was. And then my mouth promptly closed. I kept the last sentence to myself... And I got the feeling that it all could happen, for reals, if I let it.

That was a lot to absorb, but I waited impatiently, feeling strangely childish again. I wanted to know what he thought of it. At first, Travis chuckled. "Well, then, that would be the first and only time in my life that anyone's ever picked me over Tommy. I must say, Jude, I'm quite honored, especially given your longstanding feelings for him," He murmured, at the same time pompous and self-deprecating. You were in the dream too, I couldn't help but think. He sounded kind of touched by what I'd revealed. Still, what about Kate and Joan (or, for that matter, their mother)? Hadn't they done the same thing? The only difference was that I was actually in love with Tommy, and they weren't.

He paused for a long while, and when he spoke, he spoke slowly, so that I would comprehend each and every last word. "So that means this thing we've got going... it went on? It went that far?" He questioned almost incredulously. Kinda. I understood his reaction. We're almost always on the verge of combusting, aren't we? It's explosive, isn't it, volatile? Only it was stable, then. I assented quietly, and Travis began to understand other parts of the things I said. "The whole of what you've just said is a paradox. You realize that, right?"

Oh, yep, I did. And it's surreal as hell, but that wouldn't stop it from maybe happening. "But it worked. We were happy together. We were gonna get remarried on our fifteenth anniversary. And we had five kids together... well, four if you don't count Thomas," I explained, trying to justify myself.

Travis was still disbelieving because, well, it was a big jump. "Thomas?! Again, **how** did I not know that this kid was Tommy's?" He quipped sarcastically. "The only way it could've been more obvious was if you had a neon sign over his head saying Little Tommy Q Junior!"

I rolled my eyes. "Honestly, Travis! _You_ named him... and you said you'd always secretly suspected. But you took care of him like he was yours because he was still family," I corrected primly. We were getting caught up on the pointless details of a hypothetical argument, and I just wanted to know if he ever thought it could happen. If maybe some part of him wanted it to happen. "Forget all about that. I just want to know what you think about it," I said stubbornly, pressing onward ho! as always.

He sighed, dragging out a long breath like a cigarette. I had a sudden picture of him smoking, of the smoke swirling around his lips like I remembered. Then he broke the silence rather boldly. "Honestly, I _could_ fall in love with you... I guess I could see it happening. And you know I've always said that I thought we could make each other very happy," He admitted. He said the first part like it scared him, like the thought of falling in love with me was a wholly terrifying prospect, and the way he said it made it sound like he was already halfway there... which was, of course, a ridiculous and delusional product of my own mind.

The second sentence he said in a blasé way that meant it was undoubtedly accompanied by a shrug. He was obviously trying to play it cool, to pretend like it wasn't completely out of this world and a HUGE deal. The last sentence was him acknowledging the truth in my statement, a subtle reminder that he _had_ told me so, and it wasn't too unreasonable to consider. Then Travis broke the somewhat awkward silence that had ensued... because, really, what the hell could I say to that? "So, I made you happy, huh?" Okay, what, now he's just gloating about it?

"Yes, Ego Man. You made me happy. Taylor, however, made me miserable. So anything compared to that nightmare would seem like a dream. He shipped me off to L.A., knocked me up, and then left me alone all the time. I was cheating on him with Speed!" I countered. I hadn't realized I was actually angry with Taylor because of it. It was only a dream, though, and he hadn't done anything, so it wasn't fair to blame him.

But that didn't stop me.

Travis snorted. "Whoa, wait a second... Speed? As in Vincent Speiderman, your guitarist?" Upon my confirmation of that fact a moment later, Travis sniggered, embarrassing me further. "Wow. Taylor got _chumped_. But, really? You couldn't do any better than that? I mean, where was Tommy in this situation?" I didn't like the way he said it, like Speed was really so inferior. He is, after all, a nice guy, and we've got more in common than Taylor and me. And, dear God, I'm in London with Taylor. I told him where Tommy was in the situation somewhat testily (Toronto, where I should've been) and received the sympathy I was due.

At that precise moment, of course, I realized that, for the first time in a long while, I hadn't really thought of Tommy at all. And it hadn't hurt to think and hear and speak his name. And then, of course, after that... it hurt. But it hurt less. "Travis? Thanks for this," I whispered gratefully. "This might sound strange, but it's helped me a lot. And this is the first time that I've been able to get him off my mind." And it was strange, but it was true, you know?

"I live to make you happy, remember?" He teased. I rolled my eyes (or make me miserable, don't you mean?). Surely in the dream that was how it had started. I'd used him to forget, knew he could help me do it. I used him as a substitute for the real deal. I managed to laugh a little, and Travis grew more serious. "Seriously, Jude... I'm here to make it better. I'm here to help you fix it. So just call any time you need to, and I'll answer. I live to make things right again," He said intently, so much so that I actually believed him. But what if you can't? Because this isn't his battle to fight, you know?

"I know," I told him in a small voice. He couldn't make me happy now. Maybe later. "So what do I do, Travis?" I asked him again. I needed an answer all the way down to my bones. He'd given me some hope, a light beyond the tunnel, a way out. But he hadn't given me salvation; that was mine to take. And he hadn't given me an answer, a way to do what I needed to do and get over Him.

He paused for a long time, careful with his words so that he'd give the best advice. "Do what you need to do, Jude." I wanted to scream at him because what a freaking generic piece of worthless advice that was! But I refrained. Just barely. "Bide your time. Try your best to get your mind off Tommy and what happened, but don't deny it. Repressing the way you feel isn't going to help anyone, but don't let yourself remember too much. You'll risk getting caught up in it, and it isn't healthy to be caught up in a fantasy world. Distract yourself, keep your mind so busy and filled with things other than Tommy that you won't have a single moment to spare thinking of him... Taylor should be good for that," Travis advised surprisingly sagely.

I tried my best to absorb it all, compiling it, listing it, ordering it, all silently. After a moment's breath, Travis pushed on in his lecturing voice. It reminded me of class, only this time I was actually listening and taking mental notes. "But you need to be able to face how you feel and mourn what you've lost. So wallow in it for a while. Have a good cry about it, watch sappy movies, consume your weight in chocolate, sugar, and junk food, mope around the house a bit. Put everything that reminds you of him in a box and have your sister hide it from you so that you're not surrounded by all of it. And, finally, do what you do best. Write it out. Get out everything that you're feeling in song. Make him suffer, make him feel and understand your pain," Travis explained primly.

I nodded to myself, busy at mental work. "You've got to reprogram your brain, Jude... Get yourself thinking about guys other than Tommy, to get you to stop comparing every guy you meet to him..." Well, it sure doesn't help that all the guys I meet are either related to him or look just like him or sometimes BOTH. Wow, you know, should Travis really be the authority on this? I mean, is he really an authority on Tommy here? Travis was still right, though. The way I was thinking was all wrong for getting over him, but how do I take the Tommy blinders off?

"Travis?" I interjected suddenly, in a voice that wavered dangerously. "Just how do I do that? How do I change the way I see things?" I don't think I can. I'm broken, and I've been this way for too long to be fixed now. Not that Travis is Mr. Fix-It or Bob the Builder or whatever in this situation, because he's broken me almost as bad as Tommy has. Only Tommy's ruined me for other guys. Travis almost ruined me. Period.

With my luck, even the almighty Travis Quinn probably didn't have an answer. "Dwell on his faults." That was all he offered. And I knew it wasn't going to work. Asshole or sweetheart, I still loved him. Nevertheless, I tried to conjure to mind every flaw, every bad quality, every ugly moment. He's vain. So vain he probably thinks the song's about him (and, of course, it is). And he spends more time primping than Sadie, for crying out loud! He's obnoxious and cocky... although nevermind the fact that he's definitely got reasons to be so... His ego's still too big. Period. He's an unfeeling bastard who doesn't know how to love. And he's really just a lonely little boy. He's super touchy about his past, especially Boyz Attack!. He takes himself far too seriously. He thinks he's all that. He leads girls on. He's a heartbreaker and a manwhore and an unashamed player. He hurt me. He hurts us all so carelessly. He holds up double standards, and he gets jealous and tries to ruin everything when I'm happy... He's overprotective and not attentive, and he says all the right things, and he's got so many hang-ups...

And none of that is going to make me stop. Because as stupidly flawed as he is, he's still perfect. He'll always be perfect in my eyes. Because I love him more than his own mother. And I can't just stop.

I sighed heavily. "Thanks for the advice, Travis... But focusing on Tommy's many flaws isn't going to make me love him any less," I told him a bit wistfully. I cleared my throat, trying my best not to be sentimental. "Anyways, I think I'll let you go now... We should both get some sleep," I said casually, trying not to seem too eager to get him off the phone. I was, though.

Travis interrupted before I could say goodnight. "And if you need help, you can always call me. Remember that, Jude. Anyway, get some sleep, girl," He replied insistently. Sometimes I wish he wouldn't be so insistent about it. I mean, I think I get the picture now! Then Travis lowered his voice an octave and practically purred into the phone. His voice was like honey, sticky and gooey with praise and adoration. "Dream some more about me, would you? I want something to act out when you get back," He murmured throatily, knowing full well what that would do to me. My sleepy, half-lidded eyes shot wide open at the innuendo, and Travis let out a low chuckle. "Night, Star Girl."

As I hung up the phone, staring up at the ceiling, I repeated Travis' suggestions over and over again so I'd remember. Here's a list for you, because you don't know them by heart.

**The Ten Commandments of Getting Over Tommy** (According to Travis... but I'll let you know if I figure out any on my own)

**1. Be patient. It takes time. **(Too much time. Here's hoping it won't take an eternity.)

**2. Get him off your mind at all costs. Look for distractions. **(Like what, shiny objects?)

**3. Don't repress or deny how you feel.** (Because that's _so_ Tommy. And _so_ what he wants me to do.)

**4. Don't let yourself get caught up in the memories. Don't dwell on what happened.** (Now that one's hard. Because my life basically revolves around these moments, and not dwelling on them is like not remembering them, practically, which means the past year of my life is as good as erased.)

**5. Keep yourself busy, so busy that you don't have time to think about him. **(Can I ever be that busy? Doubtful. Wow, I should talk to Sades about this... but I bet she'd have a lot of unpleasant questions.)

**6. Move on, preferably with someone else.** (Travis? Taylor? Tim? Speed? Anyone? Desperate much? I mean, who really wants to be a rebound guy? Aside from Travis, who's practically begging for it... Sounds more like moving under someone else, though...)

**7. Don't be afraid to wallow. **(Not afraid, more like **unable** since I'm not supposed to be heartbroken about _anything_, let alone a secret relationship that didn't happen.)

**8. Get rid of or hide things that remind you of him. **(Easy here in London, but not so much back home, as a lot of my prized belongings fall in this category. Am I supposed to get rid of my star ring? My notebooks? My guitar? My jacket? The earrings he got me?)

**9. Write out all your feeling in songs. Don't let you- or **_**him**_**- suffer in silence.**(When have I ever let him suffer in silence?)

**10. Open yourself up to other options. **(TRYING! But I can't reprogram my brain. Hell, I couldn't even reprogram a toaster. I'm hopeless at fixing things!)

**11.** (so I lied when I said there were ten) **When in doubt, turn to Travis.** (That's basically the answer to everything, according to Travis, who is... biased much?)

I repeated those words to myself until I fell asleep, and I tried my hardest to keep from crying, no matter how much my eyes stung and my head hurt and how badly I wanted to. I was out cold for the rest of the night after that, in such a deep, stubborn sleep (a death sleep) that Taylor had to come in and wake me up the next morning. I didn't dream anymore, but I was still disappointed to see him when I woke up.

- Loren ;*

* * *

Okay, so now I'm bringing back Loren's recommendations. Because I have space for them now, so yay! It's weird to me because now there's like multiple generations of IS writers, you know, and I'm first-generation, and I look back and look to what's going on now and think just... whoa, you know?

First, we've got There and Back Again by InStrFan, which is this great AU story based on what would've happened if Tommy left in Hey Sister. I'm kinda partial to first season AU fics, in case you haven't noticed. ;) Anyways, it's got everything... great big nasty secrets that threaten to completely ruin relationships, trust issues, drama, suspense, romance, tension, banter, Tommy as a disillusioned rockstar (because he was always meant to have a solo career), Georgia, and of course some wonderful OCs. Like Johnny. Johnny is wonderful. He's one of the best original characters I've ever seen, and he's like... so organic. He just fits in perfectly with Jude's world and Instant Star and everything. If I didn't have Travis I'd be really envious. But I do, so I'm only a little envious. Or a lot. But, anyways, marvelous, wonderfully entertaining stuff and unique too. Plus the girl's been an updating fiend lately.

Then there's Without You by HopelessRomantic984, which is lovely in a heartbreakingly frustrating way. Which means it's good because I love that stuff. I've seen a plot similar to it done before in the past but it was done so much lamer, and I like how what actually happened is no one's fault, but the aftermath of it got all crazy and intense and straight to that darkish place. And, of course, I love comedies of remarriage. Only it's not a comedy but whatever. The central issue, too, comes from such a raw, deep place, that you wonder if there's any hope of reconciliation...

And, of course, there's Sweet Surrender by Sixt3en Candl3s, and her many other fics, of course. I know few people who work as hard as she does! The girl's constantly revising. She's also so great at stripping things down to the basics somewhat while still leaving them so complex, and there's a lot of interconnection in her works, I dunno... An emphasis on relationships. And her writing's deliciously dark, of course. She's not afraid to go there, which is always refreshing. In many ways she's a lot more daring than I am. Anyways, she always manages to inspire me, and mmm, is the forbidden love angle with Sweet Surrender hot and yet, at the same time, so, _so_ wrong.

But my total favorite right now, I gotta say, is Rock of Love by carenicoleIQ. And, okay, I put off reading it for a long time because I was a silly person who judged it based on the title and Jude being his personal assistant. And The Bachelor angle is usually botched somehow, even (and especially) on the dating TV shows. But I couldn't have been more wrong because this fic is pretty much perfect. It's seriously a masterpiece. It's satirical, witty, polished, vulgar, romantic, hot, (in)tense, hilarious, realistic, utterly fascinating, long, unpredictable, amazing, musical... basically the works. Jude and Tommy's dynamic is... well, I want to say dead-on, but I actually think she outdoes the show's writers. By the way, it's rated R (sorry kiddies) and magically wonderful. And I like that, even though things are completely different, a lot of the same characters/elements are still included. So if you haven't read it yet, then you definitely should, and seriously, if you haven't, then what rock have you been under? GO! READ!

Oh, so just to clarify a few things about Jude's dreams... In the second one, Jude's fluent in French. In the third one, Jude's 21. Other than that, everything else is explained in those parts. Basically they're all realities that could happen, depending on what Jude does in the future. Elements from all the dreams will be incorporated into what really happens. And then some stuff not from the dreams too.

Oh, and before I forget, here's links for Jude's rings, in case you want to see them. Just remove the spaces. They're pretty, I promise!

Jude's Engagement Ring to Tommy: http://ww /jewel ry/ring-diamond-emerald-13 (Just imagine the center stone is a white diamond instead and that the two side stones are rubies instead of diamonds. That's how it's supposed to look. There's actually a ring on that site that is diamonds and rubies, but the rubies are just as big as the diamonds, and they're supposed to be smaller).

Travis' Ring to Jude: http://jerikapla njewelry. com/sto re/ima ges/DiaTo (I actually had another one that was the color of his eyes, kinda, but I didn't have the link to that one. But anyways, I'll try and put a picture of that up in my profile. The one in the link is actually probably cuter anyway, though).


	46. I Just Wanted Your Love

For starters, Jude's back home and back at the studio. So in this chapter, Jude gets kind of crazy. Just to show you what a bad break-up can do to you, I guess. And I'm trying my best and all, but I'm still not really sure if it'll come off right. Oh, and if you recognize some of the lines, that's 'cause they're either directly from the show (Season 4, Not an Addict or My Brilliant Mistake, but mostly the former) or slightly modified versions. Just remember that Jude dealing with this is a process. So every chapter, you get to see a different step. And so forth.

This chapter's definitely entertaining, but it might also be really depressing, but I think there are cute moments that make up for it. Anyways, wow, okay, so perhaps this technically isn't the longest chapter, since Walking Contradiction in the form it's supposed to be in was maybe longer, I think? But yeah, hopefully this'll be the longest one for a while. Honestly, writing this chapter was pretty difficult, and it took a lot out of me. I didn't split the chapter up because this chapter is very sequential and it's just kind of important that you read it all at once to see how it all builds up and becomes too much for her.

Oh, and sorry I totally started off a Travis scene and then didn't have him there. At the time I didn't want to write the scene, so I skipped it and went on, and by the time I got back to it, I was like, damn, the chapter's like 52 pages... And I don't have time for Travis and all that jazz, and I don't really need it since I've already got another one and then the notes and stuff. So I'm sorry about that. Oh, also sorry if you have a problem with length or feel that this chapter, well, that nothing really happens in it.

And mega thanks to Six, of course, for putting up with my stalking and bitching and telling me what she thought of the excerpts. I'd dedicate this chapter to you, but it's kind of immensely depressing, and I'd figure you'd want a happy one.

Let's see... I don't own: Instant Star or any of the involved personages, "I Just Wanted Your Love", the parts/lines that are actually based on the aforementioned episodes, Hey Arnold, Spiderman, "Toxic", "Drives Me Crazy", "You Oughta Know", "Torn", "Train in Vain", "Hey Hey My My (Into the Black)", "Frozen", "Cigarette", "Ultraviolet", the poetical excerpts (Shakespeare, Pablo Neruda, D.H. Lawrence), the various brands named (including KFC, Splenda, and the Ritz, etcetera).

* * *

Guess who's back? Back again. Jude Harrison's back, tell a friend. Unfortunately... Tommy Quincy, a.k.a. the cold, heartless bastard who broke my heart, is also back. And it doesn't take a genius to know that we don't mix well. Jude plus Tommy in a confined space equals an explosion in the making... a ticking timebomb just waiting to go off.

Both bad things and good things happen when we don't get along... but mostly bad things happen when we don't get along. Some good music can occasionally be borne out of the struggle and musical tension... usually my best songs come about as a result of Tommy screwing up or breaking my heart. That being said, it's much more common for us to bicker about insignificant song details when it comes to my music. Tommy's never satisfied when we're fighting, and I'm twice as stubborn as I am usually. I'll deliberately do things to piss him off or not listen to him. No one at G. Major's happy, least of all myself, and you can practically cut the tension in the air with a butcher knife. Tommy's pretty much in a pissy, bitchy mood the whole time, and he snaps at you and practically bites your head off if anything you say sets off his trigger switch.

And that's not even if he's talking to me, mind you. He's about a thousand times worse with me. Because I put up with it, and I'm the source of his rage. But I guess you could say this time's a lot different because I can't... function around him. No matter what I do, it's wrong. I can't say the right thing; I can't act like myself. I can't fight back or be stubborn like I normally am. I just... take it. Because at least he's talking to me, right?

But the hate in his eyes? It damn near kills me.

So I try not to look.

London was good for me, though. It was... helpful to get some distance from everything. Gave me some perspective. I got to know Taylor, and, well, it turns out that when we're both away from work, and I'm not comparing him to Tommy all the time... He's a pretty decent guy. He makes me laugh, made me smile at a time when I never thought I'd smile again. He had just as much fun discovering London as I did, and I feel like I saw these whole different sides of him... He was so much lighter away from Tommy. I saw the guy I'd kind of had a crush on back when I first met him. He was polite and sugar sweet, and he didn't push me. And that was nice. I learned to appreciate that. He was a pretty good distraction, and he does have this incredible sense of humor.

He's definitely the funniest one of his brothers, funny like a combination of Jamie and Speed. Not too gross, not too sarcastic, not too high-brow, not too self-deprecating. He's also insanely good at impressions, especially of Travis and Tommy, but he can also do me and numerous other superstars (not to forget politicians). He's really able to laugh at himself partly because he realizes he's so ridiculous. He knows he's good at playing the fool, that he has no taste in clothes. But he doesn't care. He's a lot weirder than he seems initially, but, honestly, it's kinda cute. And I like all that because it shows he doesn't take himself too seriously. I've been with too many guys with huge egos who think they're above all that, and I'm just... sick of always fighting against the cockiness, you know?

I forgot how cute he was, too, (because he's not my type) but he's got this wonderful smile and a great laugh. You want to laugh with him, you know? His laughter's really contagious... and I guess I just always wrote him off. I never paid proper attention to him... and I was always searching for faults. Never good qualities, because I was always comparing him to Tommy. I forgot how charming Taylor could be, how immediately likable and trustworthy he was.

I really misjudged him, and I'm sorry for that. I've wasted a lot of time. I never really gave him a chance, and, you know, he was right to not tell me he was Tommy's brother. Because once I found out, I wrote him off. I didn't give him a fair chance.

I think our break actually kind of changed him because he realized he could lose me, so it made him back off a little. He stopped being so intense and presumptuous and... insulting. He was all the more grateful, and I liked that. I want a guy who's grateful just to have me there with him. Someone who cares, who adores me. Someone who likes me... loves me... more than I love him. Because I've been down that road one too many times, and I'm sick of it. The one where I'm the one who loves too much, and it hurts. Every time I wind up being the sucker.

And then there's Travis. He was such a sweetheart. He was there for me every night, when everything became too much for me. He sent flowers and gifts every day... Red roses one day, white lilies another day, African violets the next, blue and green hydrangeas the day after, bright saffron daffodils, and multicolored tiger lilies and day lilies. He sends poetry along with them, too, and it would be hella romantic if half of them weren't about losing Tommy and so forth. He talked to me late into the night, practically every night, a couple times until I fell asleep. Except one night I stayed up talking to Sadie, and another night I fell asleep talking to Jamie (and Kat). I sounded way better on the phone with them than I did with Travis, let me just say.

Unfortunately, I think I can say with certainty that seeing him again has completely reversed all my progress, and I feel like I'm grasping at straws here and I can't cope. The moment I first saw him, I was sitting on the stairs, and he just breezed in like he owned the place. I'd hurried to the studio right after work, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I was ready to seriously lay down some tracks. I'd been unable to stop writing once I found the luxury of free time, letting everything I felt and could feel out on paper. The words ran together, a lot of it unintelligible, but I wound up with a lot of songs. Songs that would be like a punch to the gut. I swear time slowed down when he sashayed in, strutting in like some kind of model.

He was moving in slow-motion, and he looked so good. Like a goddamn movie star. Orgasmically good. Good enough to eat. I wanted to screw him up and down upon sight. I kind of broke, you know? I'd forgotten how absolutely gorgeous he was, and how much I loved every little broken piece of him. All of my bravura went down the toilet. I'd just been telling myself I could do it before that, giving myself a little peptalk. And I wasn't afraid at all to see him, wasn't looking forward to it. I was living for the music. And then, of course, Thomas Quincy walked back into my life, and hello, downward spiral!

Almost immediately afterwards, I got up to walk to the studio or something, and not only did I trip on nothing, I knocked over a box of CDs and fell on the stairs, literally rolling down them and landing (seriously!) at Tommy's feet in an ungraceful heap of CDs and tangled limbs. CDs rained down on my head, the floor, innocent bystanders, etcetera. I am a walking disaster. Hello, Hurricane Jude. I was seriously pathetic, not to mention bruised and cut up... and completely lacking in any dignity and self-esteem as of that moment. I groaned faintly and blinked, bringing up my head to find Tom staring down at me dismissively.

My head flopped back down in the CDs, and at that moment I wanted to roll over and die. The look he'd given me just made it worse, and for a moment, I seriously thought that he was going to move his foot just a couple of inches and grind my head or body into the floor. Much like he'd done to my heart. So I attempted to play dead like Scruffy. Only apparently Scruffy and I are both sucky actors because Tommy bent down, leaned in a little close, and hissed, "Harrison, peel yourself off the floor and get your ass to the studio. I don't have time to waste on _juvenile_ crap like this. We've got a lot of work to do, and I want to see if that little break did you any good. Or were you too busy with my baby brother to write much of anything?"

His voice washed over me like a warm shower, familiar and comforting, but his words felt like a cold slap to the face. He was right to some extent, and I suppose he could've been a bigger asshole. It's like we'd gone back in time, though, and he was playing Mister Nonchalant Producer. The one who didn't give a damn about me or my "whack contest." The way he spoke about Taylor was smooth, so smooth, but sneering and insinuating those dark things about me. And, if I didn't know better, if I dared to let myself hope, I'd say he sounded jealous.

But he might as well have said he didn't have time to waste on juvenile crap like **me**. I hated the way he enunciated that particular word. Juvenile. Bastard was probably just reminding himself. But I had a lot less outward fire than my inward expressions would have you believe. Because I just opened my mouth to say something... and nothing came out. I was painfully and horrendously speechless. Nevertheless, I managed to push myself up off the floor in a kind of push-up worse than the ones they made us do in gym. And then I sat up awkwardly and brushed the CD cases off of me.

Tom could've helped me up by giving me a hand, but he refused to do even that. He barely even glanced at me, and when he did look at me, it was with a dispassionate, unfeeling, uncaring stare. Our eyes met for a few brief moments, but the coldness in his stare really took me aback. "Clean this mess up," Tom ordered instead. "I'll be in Studio A. Come and see me when you've got your act cleaned up, and you're ready to take things seriously. And make it snappy. I hate it when artists make me wait." An artist? Is that _all _I am to you?

That's what I wanted to say, but of course I found myself terribly unable to do so. And then I thought about how sick I was of waiting for him to come around, and how much I hated it. And so I thought it really wasn't a fair thing for him to say. Because I trumped him on waiting, any way you slice it. But me, no, I'm expected to be patient all the time, yet he gets to change his mind in a flash and is pissed when I make him wait. It's not fair, but then again, when has my life ever been fair? When haven't I had these awful double standards imposed upon me?

Tom turned on his heel (practically swished), and stalked over to the studio. Ever the King of Studio Drama. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself following his orders to the letter, grabbing up armfuls of CDs and practically throwing them in the boxes I'd knocked over, as fast as I could. Obedience isn't my way, but I did it because I didn't want to make him mad. Not again, not now when he was already still so angry with me.

God, was I a sick puppy. After all he's put me through, I just wanted to get back into his good graces.

Like the aforementioned sick puppy (that would be a really good band name), I scurried back to my... master. To Tommy. Ugh, seriously, please let me never utter those two words in such quick association ever again. Little Tommy Q. will not be my master, you hear me?

Not that it stopped me from acting like he'd smacked me with a newspaper. I was breathless and messy, undone, entering the studio. Tom didn't care or notice the red scratches on my skin, the purpling bruises. He merely rolled his eyes and gestured. "Show me what you've got, Harrison," He demanded. For a moment, it was almost like the old Tommy was back. It felt familiar, and I had always risen to that challenge. Our whole relationship was me showing him what I've got. So I picked up my notebook and tossed it into his lap.

It was time for me to regain some control in our relationship. Forget him. It's all on me now. "I've been writing like mad, Quincy, and I think you'll find I've got more than enough songs to record," I proclaimed proudly, crossing my arms over my chest. I walked over to him, opening my notebook and flipping it to the page I wanted. Yes, I was aware that the notebook was in his lap. I pointedly ignored Tom's cocked brow. The move had been intentional on my part; I had a feeling my proximity would freak him out just as much as his proximity freaked me out. Naturally, I was right.

This is one field where I've got the advantage. Ole Tommy-Whommy's afraid his body's going to betray him. Me, I don't have to worry one bit. In some ways it's both liberating and completely mortifying to put my whole heart on the line, to have finally told him how I feel... But having told him, I don't feel like I've got a deep dark secret (except our non-relationship). It's like he's got less power over me. At least now I know. It's a relief. Patsy would be proud of me, you know. For going after what I want, facing my fears head on.

I pointed at the page, slamming my finger down by the title. Tommy jumped, and I relished the ability to make him uncomfortable. Just producer and artist my ass, Quincy. "This one. We're doing this one," I informed him, turning my back on him and bending down to pick up my guitar.

Tom stared at the page, picking up my journal, eyes scanning the chords and lyrics. "I Just Wanted Your Love," He read aloud. By turning away I'd managed to ignore the dark look that was surely burning into my back. I also avoided the questions written there. The "way to make the fact that we had a secret relationship any more obvious" he was dying to say. Instead, Tom said nothing, and I slipped the guitar strap around me, fitting it snugly across my shoulder and over my hip, low around my back. I was waiting for his opinion.

Not that I particularly cared. This was the song that had been burning up inside of me. The one that had come out of me, that I'd practically spat out. This was my poison, worse than "I Still Love You". Already the chords echoed in my head. I knew too much how I wanted it to sound. So I was finally singing and recording the damn thing, one way or another. It's not my style. It doesn't fit on either of these albums I'm writing. But I'm going to sing it anyway. I have to. It's coming out, whether I want it to or not.

He was silent an awful long time, though, and it made me antsy. Tommy was trying to regain the control he'd had earlier. "I'm not sure this is gonna work, Jude..." He said it off-handedly, but his words stung like daggers. Isn't that what you said about our relationship in the end? Isn't that what I was always thinking about our relationship? And I was right. God, I didn't wanna be right. But he was talking about the song, not us.

The **song**,not _us_.

I forced myself to snap back to reality and pay attention to what he was saying. "The lyrics are... weak, at best. I'm sure you've got stronger stuff in here. It's repetitive and short... and I'm just not feeling it. Besides, it doesn't fit with the tone of either of your albums. It's not good enough," Tom told me matter-of-factly. He glanced at me once, passing back the notebook. The look he gave me made it fully obvious that he expected me to pick another one. I wasn't about to do that. Oh, sure, I knew there were songs in there that could make him feel worse. I knew there were songs that were more powerful in there, probably.

But there was no song in there that wholly expressed what I was feeling at that moment. Nothing that expressed how I felt so clearly, how I would continue feeling. There was no song I could sing to him that would have that kind of effect, the one I wanted. I couldn't sing anything else with that much passion.

And, in order to move on, I needed to exorcise that song. Badly.

Forcing and faking a smile, I refused to turn a page. "Well, tough. Because I'm singing it, Q. And you're not gonna stop me, Squinty Frown. I'll sing it with or without you. So either do your job, or I'll kick you out and produce the damn thing myself," I snapped. I meant it, too. Partially, I was uncomfortable being alone with him again. However, I also had a very clear vision of how I wanted the song to sound. And I didn't want Tommy to get in the way of that. He tends to get in the way of these things.

Tommy sighed, clearly resigned, but he didn't leave. "This doesn't make sense, Superstar. You know it's not going to go on the album, so why bother recording and producing it? That's just a waste of money and studio time... and there's tracks for both albums that you haven't recorded yet. Empty space, songs you haven't written yet... holes we need to fill in. Why bother if it's not going to be on your next album?" Tom pointed out somewhat mockingly. Like, oh, I'm some poor deluded little child?

I rolled my eyes at him. "And you'd know _all_ about filling in holes, now wouldn't you?" I sniped back somewhat irritably. But none of mine. Tom glared at me, and I glared back. Ah, when I still had backbone. "It's going on the album after this, for your information. And I'm recording now while it's still in my head... still stuck in my head... and I can sing it properly, rather than wait and sing it when I'm not feeling it, okay? If that's not okay with you, you can leave," I stated primly, motioning towards the door. Glancing around, I realized some other things.

1. Tommy and I were standing way too close. 2. Kwest wasn't in the room. Why is he not here? He better not be off making out with his wife. Because he's _supposed_ to be here, mediating, keeping Tommy and me from killing each other. He better be here. "And where the hell is Kwest?!" I snarled. I practically whacked Tom with the notebook. Asshole's probably making a sandwich.

My now-ex... Oh, man, I hadn't thought of that... He's my ex now. Ex-boyfriend, ex-friend, ex... whatever. Anyways, Tom just shrugged. "Aww, you're having your first diva fit. Only, in order to have a diva fit, you kinda have to be a diva first," Tom sneered. I glowered at him and damn near smacked him in the face with the notebook. I forgot how much of an asshole he can be when we're fighting.

Like he's one to talk. "Oh, you mean like you? You're always having little Tommy tantrums... like a two-year-old or something," I retorted. Grow the hell up, Tom. His moodiness is so taxing on the rest of us. I mean, for crying out loud, I'm a teenage girl. At least I've got an excuse! "Now, just find Kwest or something. We can't do any recording until S.M.E. gets here and records the backing track anyways... and I give them at least fifteen minutes," I continued authoritatively.

Tom-Tom did not want to comply. Shocking. When has he ever made things easy on me? He smirked a little, leaning closer to me, slowly standing up. I felt uncomfortable, to say the least, especially when that smile spread across his face. It was the grin of a shark. A feral smirk, the kind that belongs on Travis' face. Looked like he was going to eat me. After all, it's just like sharks to pick on the weak and defenseless. That's what Tommy does to me, to my heart. Tears it up with those big, sharp, shiny white teeth of his. "Why, Harrison? You afraid to be alone with me?" He murmured in this low, dead-sexy voice.

How very un-Producerly of you, Tommy. I almost gasped and drew back a step. It wasn't quite that. Besides, I'd been alone with him a lot recently. I hadn't minded then, and I wasn't afraid of anything being alone together might bring. I wasn't even afraid of falling back into old patterns, because I thought that maybe something like that would give me the closure I desperately needed. "Don't trust yourself around me?" Tommy muttered, raising his eyebrows. His eyes glinted dangerously, something dark and familiar flashed there. I shook my head with a boldness that surprised myself.

And then I smirked back and pushed him lightly with one hand. "More like... I don't trust _you_ around me, Producer Man. And I shouldn't, right, Quincy? You've already proven that you can't be trusted..." I told him in a velvety-soft voice, dropping my voice an octave, walking around him. Yes, I knew just what to say, what button to push. I said that deliberately, knowing how instantly bad it would make him feel. But I wanted him to suffer in return, as I did.

Kwest eventually showed up, and S.M.E. arrived earlier than expected. Since Tommy refused to do much of anything, it was up to me to walk them through the song. It's not like I'm incapable of doing it. The only thing Tommy really has over me is experience and the ability to work the soundboard. He works these things better than me, and he's got a better trained ear for it. But I can do it. I did it before.

So I told them what I wanted... and I was sure to flirt with each and every one of them. Shamelessly. I could feel Tommy's irritation growing, and he became snappier the more I flirted. Eventually he just growled at me to leave them alone and let them record already. "Stop doing my job!" Those were his exact words. Touchy much?

We started recording the backing tracks almost immediately afterward. I thought it sounded fine, but Tom had other ideas. First he made them do take after take until their fingers were damn near blistered. I pleaded with him for mercy and leniency, but Tom ignored me. They're not used to him being _that_ exacting, as much crap as they give him for the long studio hours, they're usually the cause of them, not Tommy. They're always goofing off or missing notes or playing the wrong thing for kicks half the time, so Tom plays the role of keeping them in line. S.M.E. tends to rub off on me, too, and if they do something silly, there's a fifty-fifty chance I'll go along with it.

All of us took a break for dinner, but it was a short one... maybe twenty minutes. Greasy, disgusting fast food. I was too anxious to eat much of anything. My stomach was revolting, and I didn't trust myself to eat because I felt like I was going to throw up. No one really noticed. I was wired. Afterwards Lord Squinty Frown decreed that each of them had to record their part individually. Kyle and Wally got off relatively easy because they usually defer to Tom. Tommy gave them a few instructions and was quickly satisfied with their work after a few attempts.

Speed, however, suffered a far worse fate. It didn't matter how bouncy or jaunty he played it, Tommy was unsatisfied with every last one of his power chords. I couldn't really distinguish between his tracks. They all sounded good to me. I really wasn't picky about how it sounded, but Tom was right about something. S.M.E. wasn't enough. The song was missing something from the way it sounded in my head, so I agreed with Tom and put up with his perfectionistic attempts. See, I thought Tom was just being his usual perfectionist self. I didn't realize how much worse it was than that.

After one particularly fantastic take, one of his best, Tom once again interrupted. Tom shook his head, signifying that it wasn't quite good enough. Let's just say Speed got pretty damn fed up with all of it. He damn near threw the headphones at Tom, ripping them off his ears. Tom was nonplussed; Speed was feeling confrontational. "Is your feed even on?" Speed snarled. "You and I both know that was a great take." There wasn't much more he could do with it, really. There's only so many ways you can play a song.

Tom-the-Bomb rolled his eyes. "I can hear you just fine... I just think you can do better, and what you played wasn't exactly what I was looking for." Tommy said somewhat tersely. He paused for a long moment. "Play it like Jude just knifed you in the gut by making out with another guy in front of you," He ordered. It had been a particularly good riff. I tried to protest, to tell Tom that was good enough for me, and it was _my_ music, after all, wasn't it? So it should be good enough for him too, but of course Tom didn't listen to me. Speed's eyes darkened, and I looked down, feeling somewhat ashamed. Speed glowered at Tom, annoyed that he knew about Speed's feelings for me and had the nerve to bring it up. The two had never really gotten along, but I was never really sure if that was because of me or because their personalities were simply incompatible.

"Oh, like you, Squinty? Is that what this is about? You pissed that Jude's flirting with me instead of you?" He countered somewhat irritably. There was a challenging look in Speed's eyes, and he adjusted his stance a little to be more intimidating or something, I guess. I felt sorta bad about that because I had made out with Tommy in front of Speed. Speed's got this thing about provoking Tommy. He's got balls, all right, but he doesn't know when to back down. Also, he seriously underestimates Tommy's control over his anger. It's even worse because he actually knows how to make Tommy mad and not only that, but he succeeds at it.

For instance, when Speed said that, Tom's eyes narrowed. His fists clenched on the soundboard. Now Tom was already in a bad mood. I don't know if it was S.M.E. or just the song, but whatever it was, Tom didn't like it. We were also fighting, so multiply his already pissy mood by ten. Tom gave him this look, like he didn't want to be associated with me in that way, like it was an insult or something. "No, Vince, this has nothing to do with her. This is about you and how you play the guitar. And I don't like it. So stop fighting me and wasting my time and just do what I say, got it?" Tom rejoined coolly.

Me, I was just surprised he hadn't outright said that I was _just_ his artist. Speed made a face at Tom. Of course he was going to fight Tom. "This has everything to do with Jude. You don't like _me_, Quincy. And if you don't like the way I play the guitar, then why don't you just do it yourself? After all, you're the better guitar player, aren't you, Little Tommy Q?" He retorted with a sneer, bringing the guitar over his head, taking it off. His fingers were red, and I sucked in a breath at the sight of them. That had to hurt.

Okay, now that was just stupid. Tom's jaw clenched. He was literally itching to punch Speed, and I had the awful feeling that he was going to do something stupid and probably violent. It scared me to think of it. "Don't call me that, Vincent. I'm the producer here, and you _will_ show me the respect I deserve," Tom damn near snarled. What he didn't say was that he didn't want to play the guitar part. But Speed is a guitar star, you know, and Tommy-Whommy doesn't give him any credit. There is a line, though, and Vince is crossing it. Not that I could feel too much sympathy for Tom. His tone, though, had the underlying threat of violence.

Speed rolled his eyes. "Or, what, you'll strangle me with your shiny parachute pants? I'm soo afraid... Now, we both know I've played more than enough good takes, so why don't you just pick one of those and let me go home... I've got homework to do," Speed rejoined sarcastically. He was impatient, and dude, we had gotten a lot of homework. Plus it was nigh midnight, and the other guys were just hanging around the lobby, sleeping, eating some of Kwest's sandwiches, doing their homework... whatever. Speed and I had both been cooped up in there for like... eight hours, more or less, with like two breaks... one for the bathroom and another for dinner, and we were both a little stir-crazy.

I did snicker at Speed's comment, wounding Tom's ego. For a second, I thought he was going to smack me in the shoulder or something, but Tommy refrained, instead staring moodily into space. "I can kick your ass, and I won't hesitate to do it if you piss me off any more," He hissed. Then he paused, rubbing his temples, realizing how ridiculous he sounded threatening a seventeen-year-old. He sighed heavily. "Whatever, Spiderman. Just play it one more time... play it _right_... and I'll let you go," Tom instructed impatiently, motioning for Speed to go on. He started a countdown from five, showing it with his fingers, pressing the many nameless buttons and switches. Smiling grimly, eyes fluttering closed, Speed started playing exactly like Tom had ordered. There was so much anger in his chords. Every note hit like a punch to the gut and had Tom wincing, but it was so dead-on, and so, so perfect that I felt like going groupie. I was thrilled.

As soon as Speed finished, he pulled the guitar over his head and walked out of the recording booth. He looked relieved. His hair was plastered to his head, bangs kind of wet. He was pretty sweaty and hot from spending over three hours alone in that booth. And tired, too, of course, but he swaggered right out of that room like it was nothing, like he was some rock-and-roll bad-ass. Then he saw me, just standing there, hands on my hips, dropped his guitar and walked over to me.

Given that his guitar is one of his most prized possessions, Speed dropping it rather surprised me. I mean, it's a pretty fancy cherry-red Gibson SG. Costs more than his entire wardrobe, I'm pretty sure. When Speed came up to me, though, it became pretty apparent why he dropped his guitar. He grabbed me with a surprising force and pulled me into a rough kiss. He kissed me hungrily, wet and open-mouthed, like a starving man. His hands roamed all over me, and it felt _good_. My eyes rolled back in my head, I swear. I hadn't been kissed like that in entirely too long. He dipped me down low, too, and I almost fell over because he almost dropped me. It lasted a really long time because Speed has a very impressive lung capacity (have I mentioned this before? I feel like I have)... not that I minded. Hell, he was certainly a better kisser than my own boyfriend.

Boy might be clueless, but he's a damn good kisser, you know what I'm saying? Especially for our age. Then, when my lungs were straining for air and burning from the lack of it, Speed pulled away and jerked me back up, pulling me flush against him in the process. I panted, breathless and ridiculously turned on, and a slow smile swept across my face. "I'm kinda in love with the way you just played the guitar, you virtuoso, and I wanna be your groupie... That was so hot," I mumbled in a rush of words. I'm pretty sure I was blushing like mad, but I didn't really care because as soon as I caught my breath, I put my hands on his face, smoothing his cheeks. And I kissed him like there was no tomorrow, hands in his hair, jumping up, throwing myself at him, wrapping my legs around his waist. Speed took a step backward, clearly surprised, staggered somewhat with my unexpected weight, but he supported me by twining his arms around me, under my ass.

I'd completely forgotten Tommy was in the room, of course, but he finally looked up from his soundboard and equipment and headphones enough to notice what was going on. Naturally, he objected, trying to pretend he was my big brother or friend/mentor, just looking out for me. He cleared his throat, loudly. "As hormonal and horny as the two of you are, I'm sure, I won't have anyone having sex in my studio. So, Speed, how about you head home?" Tommy quipped, sounding pretty pissy. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and noticed he was shooing Speed out of the room... or at least trying.

His hands were folded over his chest, and disapproval was etched into his features. Not that I particularly cared what he thought of me. Speed made my head go pleasantly hazy. Tom, on the other hand, was like cold water thrown over your head, you know, snaps you back to reality, makes you go cold all over. I pulled away from Speed slowly with a rather satisfyingly grotesque pop, just for Tom's sake. And I smiled smugly, a smile stretched from ear to ear, too broad. "You mean anyone but me, don't you? Because as professional as you pretend to be, Producer, I seem to remember more than one time when you've been... uh... otherwise occupied... in the studio," I replied coolly.

Speed raised his eyebrows, but I doubt he was surprised. Tommy, however, was apparently surprised that I knew. How could I miss it? He'd made out with my sister more times than I was willing to admit or think about in there. We'd had a couple kisses and stuff but nothing really in the studio. And then there were the bimbos he'd actually screwed there. He didn't like to think I knew about those, and I didn't like to either, but I did. Never when Georgia was around. Always when she was gone. He liked to keep it mostly out of the studio, but it happened a few times with some of those slutty interns or one of those temp receptionists we keep getting. The studio's small. You hear about these things.

They spread 'round, you know, like STDs do when you sleep with hookers. Tommy would know. Like I heard this story about him and one of those dumb little interns doing it in the bathroom, up against the tiles. The bleach-blonde bitch was positively screeching about it, shooting her mouth off like crazy. She said it was the best sexual experience of her entire life, which I believe. I rolled my eyes or made some comment, and she said something snide, like... "what would you know, little girl?" Bitch didn't know who I am, who I was. So this is what I told her. "Well, I know Tommy a **hell** of a lot better than you do, and I'll you exactly what's going to happen with that, okay? He'll use you once and then throw you away, okay, because you're just some cheap, tacky, fake blonde who gives it up for free. And if he was having sex with you in the bathroom, it's because he was too ashamed or too horny to take you to a motel or a bed. Having sex with you there shows _exactly_ what he thinks of you... so I wouldn't be bragging about Tommy Q screwing you up against the wall of a grungy bathroom." Dumb thing, she was.

Dear God, that was a little after the Music Helps benefit. When we were getting along again, and I wasn't really jealous. It was just like... really, Tommy? Your standards have dropped that low? She was a pretty girl, busty, wore too much make-up, but she was as trashy as the day is long. He wasn't getting so much action in those days, since the album was winding down, and we were spending so much time together working on my album. I guess that's where Sadie comes in, isn't it? Ugh.

Then there was that crazy girl with the curly, multicolored hair that everyone thought was a lesbian. Who, of course, in pursuit of Tommy, straightened her hair and started dressing differently. Girl became terribly obsessed with him after a quick screw in the janitor's closet. He didn't quite have to get a restraining order, but it became terribly awkward. So Georgia had to fire her and made a prominent point to remind Tommy not to get involved with the staff. Of course, being Tommy, he responded by promptly having a several-week fling with this one really pretty intern with hair the color of a flame. That one, thankfully, did not end in disaster. But sometimes I've actually heard him, you know. It's... not exactly a pleasant feeling.

So my comment definitely left him speechless. With that said, I attempted to follow Speed out of the studio for some more nice... "conversation." Tom, being himself, thwarted my plans. As he thwarts any attempt I have to get lucky. I mean, really, you'd think a guy like him wouldn't block my attempts at gettin' some, but he's such a man block, you know? I'd call him a cock block, but I'm not a guy. Seriously, it's pretty damn disturbing, if you think about it. I mean, he interrupted my dates with Shay, crashes my date with Taylor, stops Chaz from having his way with me (not that I'm pissed 'bout that), foils even my attempts to screw HIMSELF, and then keeps me in the studio so I can't make out with Speed. You don't have to be blind to spot this pattern. He's worse than my dad. I seriously think Tommy doesn't want me to have sex with anyone, wants me to remain pure and untouched and virginal (ha!) for the rest of my life, despite being sexually attracted to me.

Oh, he didn't dare to touch me. Just like he hadn't called me by my first name, not even once. Harrison, that's all I get. Even to Speed, he doesn't use my name. It's just as well, I guess. After all, I can hardly even say his name without coming undone. Tommy smiled tightly. His fingers shot out, almost like he wanted to grab my arm. But of course he couldn't do that. So he held me there not by force but by his voice and his will. "Speed, she stays. Jude and I need to discuss her new song... in private. So your sexual urges are just gonna have to wait. Bye-bye Vincent!" Tom stated bossily. There was no room for question in his voice, and the little smile on his face was smug as all get out as he waved goodbye.

He'd said my name, though, sending my heart shooting up into my throat. Every stupid little nerve fluttered. That had to mean something, right?

I'm so in over my head here.

Speed looked at me somewhat helplessly, silently asking if I was okay being alone with him. I found the gesture heartbreakingly sweet because he didn't even know we'd had a falling out or that we were together or anything. It almost made me leave with him, say screw Tommy and all that. But the dangerous look on Tommy's face made me relent and stay. Rather than enjoy myself. I forced a smile, squeezing Speed's arm. "Look, Speed, I'm sorry... but Tommy's right. We do need to talk... about the song. You just go home, sleep, do your homework. I'll see you tomorrow at school, okay?" I reassured him. Speed nodded slowly and left like a little boy who had been disciplined; the fire had gone out of his eyes. He looked almost defeated.

Tom wasted no time in speaking. As soon as the door shut, he rounded on me. We got into a huge and illustrious argument. Our conversation in general was largely pointless and a waste of time, and we didn't wind up talking about the song very much at all. We did, however, both agree that it was missing something, briefly. He tried to convince me not to sing the song once again, and again I refused. We argued for a long, long time, until both of our voices were raw. We talked without saying much of anything, and the whole argument was such nonsense that I'd prefer not to rehash it. Neither of us won that argument, and we both left unsatisfied (Tommy's _always_ leaving me so unsatisfied). I left an hour or so later when I looked at my watch and reminded Tommy I was a whole hour late for my curfew. Tom had to let me go after that.

I was fully intending to go home when I left, and I did. I snuck into the house, stole into my bedroom. No one was waiting up for me. And I slipped into my bed and tried to close my eyes. I was dead tired, after all, so sleep should've come easy to me. But it didn't because I was still so worked up and fed up with Tommy, and it didn't help that my mind kept reliving all the bad moments over and over again, thoroughly depressing and distracting me (funny, Travis seemed to think focusing on the bad would help). But it really only made things worse, and try as I might, I couldn't relax enough to go to sleep.

So I called Patsy up, changed clothes, and snuck back out of the house. We went partying, and I was drinking massive quantities in search of oblivion. I wanted to just forget, to get all those awful memories out of my head, but then the good ones came back, and I just kept drinking more and more until the bartender wouldn't give me any more. I guess I went on a rampage; I don't really remember. I'm kinda crazy when I'm drunk, and apparently I thought I was a go-go dancer and started dancing on top of a table. I danced a lot that night, and everything was so funny to me. I was laughing my bleeping head off.

Pats says I can drink like a damn fish, even though I act like a total dimwit when I'm drunk off my ass. She said it's a wonder I didn't get alcohol poisoning, and apparently I either blacked out or passed out because there was definitely an unconscious period, but I didn't really get any good sleep. But I waited until we left to do that. Patsy did admit, though, that the quantity and speed at which I was drinking worried her, and so she made sure my drinks were watered down or that I was given virgin versions. That was apparently what stopped me from dying. I have never, _ever_, by the way, been that drunk in my life. She said she had to keep the guys away from me because I almost made out with like... ten guys... and she thought I was well on my way to being gang-raped or something.

And, when I threw up terribly afterward, Patsy was the one who held my head over the toilet. And smoothed back my hair, and cleaned me up at her friend Iggy's place. Nice guy. Let me use his shower and everything to wash up. Patsy kinda... lives in her car, so that makes things a bit difficult. But she lives by this quote that everything you own, you should be able to take with you. She's surprisingly gentle and almost... sweet... when she wants to be, and you completely wouldn't expect it. She makes this great hangover cocktail, too. Coffee and some liquor... just a little bit... and aspirin. Lots of aspirin, and some weird yummy stuff. I wasn't going to question it. Saved my life, though. Helped perk me up a bit. So, in short, I owe her my life now. She's also the one who picked up my school things and a change of clothes and hauled my ass to school. I am so grateful.

She told me I was thanking her the whole time I was drunk, just about, and she said I was probably still a little bit drunk and to go easy on it and call her if I needed some help. And then she actually went to school (said she ought to surprise the teachers once in a while by actually showing up so she could, y'know, graduate). I love Patsy. I mean, seriously, I'd give the girl a kidney, though she'd more likely need part of my liver.

Ah, but you're wondering about Travis, aren't you? Because here it is, Tuesday, and I've neglected to mention any of the times I've seen him at school. There's a reason for that... We've been lying pretty low. Nevertheless, he was ridiculously nice and understanding to me, so of course that made everyone suspicious, even Joan. So I just had to shrug and say, "We spent Christmas together." I had to explain to some of those other catty bitches that he was my boyfriend's brother, and that I'd stayed with their family over the break. I didn't say he was Tommy's brother because I didn't think Travis wanted that to get out, although people would sure have no trouble believing that.

He used that gentle voice and asked how I was, and I told him I was fine. And he touched me casually, just like on the hand and stuff, so I quietly reminded him how suspicious that was. He stopped. His touch (in public) made me feel both warm and uncomfortable. It was comforting but nerve-wracking in the classroom, you know? Travis played it pretty low-key after that. We didn't meet after class or anything, but I told him I'd call him later. The next day he overcompensated and tried to be a little bit more of the jerk I was used to. It didn't really work too well because his true colors showed through easily. I was mostly silent in class, tired and hungover, and... generally annoyed. Tommy was on the forefront of my mind, annoyingly enough. I told Travis I'd call him or drop by later that night, via a relatively coded note I dropped on his desk.

When I came to the studio, I was still in a pretty dark mood. To make matters even worse, the jetlag had finally caught up with me. E.J. took one look at my outfit and berated me for the choice, saying that I had to maintain my image by not wearing skeezy clothes. I had dressed without care this morning. I told her once a punk, forever a punk... which generally isn't true... but I'm not going to change because the industry wants me to. I am what I am. And, hell, what I am was even good enough for Tommy... before it wasn't. Tommy walked over to me smoothly and saved me. "E.J., you know as well as I do that she can't let the paparazzi run her life. Besides, she's definitely presentable. She's not wearing anything that would make me ashamed to be photographed with her," Tommy drawled in that charming tone of his that makes people do what he wants.

A warmth spread from my head to my toes. It was a compliment, the first sign he'd really given that maybe he still had residual warmth for me. Then Tommy surprised me even further, putting his fingers loosely on my elbow to lead me aside. I hadn't expected him to touch me. Those damn butterflies I'd forgotten fluttered traitorously. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to borrow her," He told E.J. He didn't mean borrow, though. He meant steal because he wasn't going to let me return. I thought he was my hero. But, of course, I was terribly, horribly wrong. He just led me to the studio, pinching my elbow a little. It turned out, quite unromantically, that all he wanted to do was talk about the bloody song.

He once more briefly tried to talk me out of it. I dissented, naturally. He wanted me to do the vocals that day, but upon hearing my voice and how worn and awful it sounded, Tommy sighed. He snapped at me to get some water and tea for us, tea for me, instructing me to put honey in the hot tea, even though that's not the way I take it. I was to come back after accomplishing that. Of course, the first thing Tommy said when I entered was, "You look like hell, Harrison." Which kind of evaporated all those happy thoughts I'd had about him complimenting me. And of course, he'd just said that to get what he wanted. Why do I ever believe him?

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Quincy. You flatter me so." The way I said it, it sounded almost as if nothing had changed. As if I thought we were still friends who bantered and did all that stuff. But we weren't anymore. But I couldn't say anything about his appearance because once again, he looked perfect. He'd made sure to look especially good, as if he was rubbing it in my face or something. Thank God Tom didn't notice I was hungover, or else he would've been really pissed and made me work like a damn horse, but he did feel sort of guilty for my throat.

So Tom got off his ass and acted like a real producer. He turned to me and asked me how I wanted the song to sound. I requested listening to what we had so far, and Tommy played it for me. Once again we both agreed that something was missing. I told Tommy it needed an additional drum track, and Tommy agreed. But I didn't know what kind of drums we needed, so Tom brought one of the studio musicians in, a guy who specialized in drumming. I told Tommy kind of how the drum track should sound, how it should be a staccato beat, repeated over and over again. He understood.

We ran through all kinds of variations in key, note, rhythm, and drums. That took up most of the day, but we eventually settled on something. We had a few to consider by the end of the day. When I asked Tommy which one we should pick, he didn't have an answer. He was strangely interested on how they all sounded together. I thought it was a little much, and say what you want... but Tommy's not generally wishy-washy, especially when it comes to music. He seemed almost unsure or insecure about it, probably since I was being so assertive about what I wanted, and I'd written the song without any help from him. Plus he knew as well as I did that I had one song under my belt already, not that anyone but the two of us would ever hear it.

Now that I think about it, that was about as good as it got. That was the closest either of us ever came to putting it all behind us. The problem with putting it all behind us was all the different factors involved; they were too combustible for any of it to work properly. Anyway, he song was still missing something, but neither Tommy or I could figure out exactly what. Seeing that it was almost nine, Tommy told me to clear out. He said he'd stay and mess around with it a bit more. He gruffly demanded that I get some rest, which reminded me of how he'd been in the early days, caring but reluctant to show it. It made me nostalgic.

Well, first off I went to get me a burger, fries, and a coke, even though Tommy had specifically told me not to drink soda. It's bad for your voice. Go figure. Hasn't stopped me before. I didn't want to go home just yet, so I parked, ate my food, and called up Travis. I told him I was going to stop by in fifteen or thirty minutes, and he gave me his address and directions, or else I would've gotten terribly lost. It took me another twenty-five minutes to get there from where I was. I also called up my parents and told them I'd be at a friend's house, and I might fall asleep there, but we were just going to do homework. Then I called Kat and asked her to cover for me, just in case.

Normally I'd blurt out all the details about my night with Travis, but it was rather uneventful, especially for Travis. No indecent proposals, no sexing, no poetry, no flowers, no attempt to seduce me (not even a half-hearted one). It was basically just a lot of wearing talking in which I tried not to tell him about Tommy's weirdness but wound up telling him most everything, and he attempted to console me and succeeded to a certain extent. He also aided me in psychoanalyzing and explaining Tommy and his motives. We listened to music, wrote a bit more of that song together, jammed for a bit, and wound up falling into bed together. Trust me, it was much less romantic than it sounds. We were both wearing clothes. There was some kissing but nothing too intense. It's kind of hazy in my memory.

Anyways, back to my Travis-free world... i.e. the studio, which was my more pressing concern. Surprisingly, the days afterward were reserved for determining just what, exactly, the song was missing. The Salads had an album due out soon, so Tommy delegated the task of mixing it to Kwest, which meant he was in the studio with us less often... meaning we were left alone more often. I had no idea Tommy's means of determining the missing element involved trying everything. Literally everything. I merely walked into the studio Thursday, and there Tommy was, setting up equipment for... wait for it... a string quartet.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. We don't often use string instruments aside from piano and guitar in my music, but I supposed it could be a welcome change. "So, wanna tell me when you decided the Philharmonic should be involved in this little production?" I asked. Is he trying to buy me some class? Because I'd say that's pretty damn impossible.

"Trust me," Tommy said, sounding utterly sure, "It'll be fantastic." I shrugged. Trust me, he'd said. It made me bristle. Okay, whatever. I'll let this little experiment pass. I nodded and helped Tommy lug the bass in. The other musicians were insistent on carrying their own, and they all seated themselves very professionally. I tried to introduce myself, but they were a little snooty... or preoccupied. Perhaps they didn't realize they were recording for a barely-seventeen-year-old-rockstar. Soon-to-be-rockstar. But when exactly are you a rockstar? Is it when you've got a platinum album... or is it something greater than that?

They tuned their instruments, and it was a beautiful sound. It took a bit, though, and Tommy coached them through it. Since they were professionals, they left in a brisk two hours. He respected them, so he didn't want to keep them too long. He did look pretty satisfied when they were through. And I'll give it to him; they sounded great. Like musical poetry. Tommy really knew how to bring out the best in them. "Sonic perfection, yeah?" Tommy asked me almost playfully.

I smiled, sighing and rolling my eyes dramatically. "Fine. You were right, Quincy. They _were_ fantastic... but I'm not sure that's what the song needs. And I bet they didn't exactly come cheap," I admitted. There was, however, a warning note in my voice. I was starting to realize that he was surpassing himself dangerously in his perfectionism. It was reaching strange new heights. Tommy just shrugged; he didn't care. But I knew Georgia did. It wasn't like G. Major exactly had much money to share, you know? Especially with all those threats of hostile takeover and those offers to buy Darius had made. "So," I said, changing the subject, "What drum tracks are we using?"

Tommy glanced up thoughtfully, eyes briefly glazing over. "Snares and the timpanis, I think... in addition to Kyle's initial instrumentation. We need to boost the snares or something... something's off about them. I can't exactly put my finger on it, and Kwest isn't around to listen..." So does he want me to give my opinion? Maybe he did. Tommy pressed a few buttons, adding in the newly-recorded tracks and the drum tracks he'd recommended. We both listened in silence. I wasn't sure if something was wrong with the snares, because what the hell do I know about that? But it was still off. Maybe it was the volume?

I suggested that, and Tommy tweaked a few things, turned a few of those knobs. It sounded a little better, I thought, but Tommy just made a face. "The levels aren't right." I blinked in confusion, wondering why Tommy was getting so worked up over a song he didn't even like. Hearing it so many times would've gotten to me by that point had the song not been already stuck in my head. Hearing it so many times for me was cathartic, but it just seemed to slowly drive Tommy mad. Not that he wasn't already on his way there.

He added in electronic loops as we were speaking, and it sounded somewhat better still. I told Tommy so. Then an awkward silence ensued as we continued listening to the song. So I stuck my foot in my mouth as always. "So... what'd you do after I left Montreal?" I asked stupidly. Tommy turned to look at me, and the wide look in his eyes showed clearly his surprise. He seemed to debate telling me for a minute, but eventually he relented and spilled it.

His eyes suddenly got dark. They returned to stare at the soundboard and the tools he was working with... in this case a laptop and a hard-drive that the rest of my recordings (for the most part) were saved on. His fingers drummed the backbeat idly. "I left, same as you... I went to Paris. I've got a lovely place there. I... I always go to France when I'm licking my wounds. It's nice there," Tommy remarked dimly. There was a strong underlying pain in his voice.

I let out a little laugh in spite of myself because I felt like crying. "You went to the City of Love?" The rest of that sentence went unspoke. You went to the City of Love to get over me, to get over whatever we had? Tommy nodded slowly, and I suddenly noticed the shadows under his eyes. I swallowed hard, well aware we were in dangerous territory. I fought back the tears threatening to form in my eyes and started laughing harder to make up for it. That and the fact that it was just so sad and terribly ironic. "Taylor and I went there for the last two days. We stayed in the Ritz, and he said you had a place around there. He kept saying we should drop in and check it out because he'd never seen it..." I told him numbly. But I said no.

All of that, and we were so close! And I didn't even notice. Taylor had actually suggested staying there, but I told him it'd be rude to stay at Tommy's place without asking. In reality, I just didn't want to be surrounded by his things. After all, that's what Travis had told me to do. Tommy looked over at me, eyes still wide. "My place is down by the Opera-Garnier. It's a ways from 15 Place Vendôme," He said dryly. But he looked not-so-secretly glad we hadn't dropped in for a visit. I didn't know whether to be happy or sad about that, but my heart was leaning towards depression. So close and yet... so far!

Tom sighed and looked over at me. "Did you and Taylor have fun in London? He called yesterday, you know... Couldn't stop talking about it. It sounded like you two had a lot of fun," Tommy said in a clipped voice. He looked so awkward talking about it. His tone was devoid of much feeling, but I could sense the bitterness behind the words. I shrugged, and honestly, I was kind of surprised Taylor had told Tommy about it. I wasn't aware they were that close. However, I knew what Tommy really wanted to know.

He wanted to know how I felt. If _I'd_ had fun in London. Taylor... there was no question there.

So help me, I looked over at him and was instantly caught back in his snare, captivated yet again by the force of his stare. And what I was going to say became null and void. I couldn't speak, say what I should say, what I needed to say. So I lost all control over my mouth. And I went there. I said what I was feeling, opened myself up again, just a bit. "The whole time I wished he was you," I whispered. I felt like crying, like something in me had given in, fallen, bent a little, and the pain was slowly creeping back in. I was letting myself think about what might've been again, letting myself feel.

Tommy inhaled sharply, and the room suddenly felt like all the air had been squeezed out of it. I looked away from Tommy, embarrassed, clapping a hand over my mouth, silently gasping. Then he exhaled, and the breath oozed out of him like a long drag. All of our breaths seemed to hang in the hair heavily, filling up the now-stuffy room. It was suffocating. The silence was prickly, beyond awkward or uncomfortable. It made me shift in my chair, and I suddenly noticed how absolute the silence was. The song had long ago stopped playing, leaving only silence and the low hum of equipment, the fuzzy sound of static and electricity just waiting to be unleashed, like the sound of an electric guitar that's plugged in and raring to go.

Then I saw out of the corner of my eye that a small, sad smile lay low on his lips. He nodded just barely. "Good. Then I don't have to pretend to be happy for you," He said in an equally low voice. Oh, God, did he sound relieved. My whole body tingled, almost like a warning that we were going too far, that we'd said too much. But I couldn't resist the pull of that moment. At that moment, I turned to look at Tommy and turned to meet his startlingly blue gaze head-on. And, just like that, I was breathless and sucked back in, just a little. We stared at each other for a long time, both afraid to make a move, to reach out and touch each other.

Me, I was terribly afraid of backsliding... and I can't even begin to wonder what Tommy was thinking. I leaned over a little, closer to him, not breaking our stare, and I placed my hand gently on top of his. Tommy intertwined our fingers immediately, absentmindedly rubbing the side of my hand with his thumb. His thumb brushed against the sensitive underside of my wrist a few times, sending little shockwaves throughout my body. My eyelids fluttered closed as my whole body absorbed the sensation. I let out a tinny little sigh. "I missed you, Tommy," I murmured, hoping I didn't sound too pathetic.

To my surprise, Tommy reached up with our entwined hands to pull me towards him, to bring me up against him so that I was leaning on his shoulder. He wrapped that arm around my slim shoulder. "I missed you too, girl," He replied quietly, pressing a kiss to my hairline. The familiar nickname warmed my cold, lifeless heart. I just wanted to fall back into him. I sighed blissfully and leaned further into his embrace. It felt so familiar, so warm. I was holding on to him like some sort of life preserver. And I didn't know what any of it meant, only that it was too good to be true, but it felt so right. "I thought about you the whole time I was in Paris. Couldn't get you out of my head, no matter how hard I tried," He continued.

That sharp intake of breath was mine. I felt a spike of guilt enter my heart. I felt a little bad that I'd gotten him out of my head for even one moment. That I'd tried my hardest to distract myself from the ceaseless thoughts of him and it had, to a certain extent, worked. I'd been so busy the past two days being angry with him, being tired and apathetic, and I guess I thought I was getting over it, getting over him... But really I just wasn't facing it. I was avoiding the problem, and it was an admirable effort, but I couldn't do it forever.

There were so many things I could've said in that beautiful moment of infinity, but I said none of them. Certainly many things were running through my mind. I wanted to tell him I loved him more than anything else in the world, like a gift or something, but nothing good would come of it. I can't _breathe_ without you. I've been dreaming about you every night. We could be so happy together if you only let it happen. I miss you. I miss this. "And I couldn't get you out of my heart," I mumbled, feeling broken, hoping he wouldn't hear how utterly miserable I sounded and make it all come crashing down.

Oh, but I should've remembered it was doomed from the start. Those damn tears were gathering in my eyes again, and I felt so safe and happy in the cocoon of Tommy's embrace, pulled up against his side. He placed two fingers under my chin and gently tilted my head up. There was this terrible sympathy in his eyes, soft and blue like a clear sky, as transparent as raindrops. I knew I wasn't going to like what he had to say, but he was so gentle, and his eyes reminded me of all those damn blue flowers Travis had bought me, pliant and fragrant and petal-soft against my red nose and swollen eyes.

He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, tucking strands of hair behind my ears almost lovingly. The so completely devastating sorrow I saw reflected in those eyes made me freeze up inside, cold and tight. "I wish I was in love with you," He breathed in a voice that made my eyelids flutter. The way he said it, it was a prayer. The way he said it, he should be kissing my eyelids too, but he didn't do that. Every word came out a blessing, his fondest wishes for me, and that broke my heart. Where was the ill will he'd harbored towards me? Had that all been just a show to push me away? It sounded like he regretted it, but you can never be sure with Tom.

Tears leaked out against my will. I wish you were in love with me too, I thought. It was a painful reminder that he wasn't in love with me. You think I'd get that through my thick skull by this point. He spoke again, and the desire in his voice was both palpable and painful for all involved. "I _want_ to be in love with you... I wish I could be, but you know I can't!" He pleaded. His voice broke in the middle of a sentence, and after that his words got louder, more desperate. His voice sounded strangled, like it had gotten caught up inside of his throat. That broke my heart more than anything, that he wanted to feel the same way as I did but was unable to do so. He wanted to feel that way, I guess, just so he wouldn't have to hurt me.

And I thought that was just about the sweetest thing I'd ever heard. So... unselfish for Tommy.

But he was hurting me, and he didn't-couldn't-wouldn't love me. There was no other way. Things weren't different. We weren't different.

And after all, maybe he was just trying out a nicer way of letting me down easy. Even then I knew it wasn't going to end in happy Jude/Tommy land, and the moment we'd just had was probably a fluke or a blip on the radar... and Tom would most likely be ashamed or embarrassed and try to forget it. Like always. Damn, I wanted to kiss him. I hitched forward, just a little. A part of me knew my lips were never going to hit home, but I wanted to see how far I could push it. I moved a breath closer still, and Tommy drew back abruptly.

That hurt like a bitch. His eyes were wide and scared, as if he'd suddenly realized that I was all over him as a result of his own doing. This realization... that he couldn't even trust his own body... really did him in. He shook his head like a wet dog, trying to scramble the thoughts he was having. Tom looked ridiculous but still adorable. Even when he's breaking my heart, he's still drop dead, you know? "No, Jude... I don't even forgive you," He said, attempting to be infuriated with me. I saw right through his lousy attempt at anger.

He tried to pull away too, but I wasn't having it. I moved decisively so that I was sitting across his lap; in other words, I accidentally wound up straddling him. Or not so accidentally. Tommy groaned, clearly taken aback by my sudden arrival in his lap. He moved as if to get up, and I pushed him down with both hands on my shoulders, keeping him firmly planted in his seat. "You're always saying you can't! _Yes_, you can! Yes **we** can, Tommy!" I was practically shrieking, so desperate to hold on to this one last piece.

Tommy looked back up at me with that dreadful look in his eyes. It's a wonder he didn't knock me off his lap. I would've been expecting it, as sad as that is. He bared his teeth. A breath hissed out from between them. "Don't push me, Jude. It's not in my nature to control myself... And you're driving me **crazy**!" He barked, running a hand through his hair anxiously, leaning backwards in his seat. I knew it wasn't in his nature, and I know it was wrong to push... But he was driving me insane too! Unspoken in Tommy's voice was the plea. I can't take much more of this, don't know how much more I can take, that was what he was really saying. Well, me either, Quincy!

I leaned forward on my knees, sliding my hands up his forearms. My hair fell down around him, my forehead rested against his. "You think this is easy for _me_, Tommy? You've got to be just about the most complicated guy on the planet... but I'm still here. You can't fight this forever!" I told him, on the verge of screaming, getting in his face. I made it impossible for him to not look me in the eyes. Tommy swallowed hard, able to recognize the truth I'd just shoved in his face. Something dark flickered in his eyes, and he brought up his arms, knocking me back and off his lap.

"Just watch me!" He spat, rising from his chair and turning to exit before I could reach out and stop him. I had fallen against the soundboard, and I fell even further when he got up from his chair. Tommy stopped at the door, shaking his head. Lightning sparked on his face, in his features, and his eyes flashed devastatingly. "I _can't_ want you, Jude... I don't want you," He stated bluntly, making sure to enunciate each word so as to strike me. Denial much? I couldn't help but think that would've been a lot more effective had he not said the first sentence. 'Cause with the first sentence, then it's just kind of like, well, you're obviously lying to me.

Just because I knew he was lying didn't mean it didn't hurt. It just hurt a lot less than it would have if he actually meant it instead of just trying to mean it. Besides, it was easily countered- but you do. Not that I dared to say that aloud. His face was already florid and stiff like a craggy cliff, but I guess it was more like those cliffs you see on the side of highways, made of that yellow-orange-tan rock that crumbles and splinters off if you apply just the littlest bit of force to it. I opened my mouth to say something snappy, but Tom slipped out of the room and shut the door before I could get even a single word in.

I sighed, slumping against the soundboard. Guess that means he's taking a break. Fine by me. I grunted, slowly pushing myself up back into a standing position. Suddenly, it felt a whole lot like I was at war. Oh, I'd show him all right. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stared at it for a long moment. My body was telling me to call Travis and get some advice. That would be the smart thing to do. But the rest of me... my heart, my will, whatever... wasn't so convinced. Travis doesn't cure all wounds. And my instincts were telling me to keep on keepin' on, in the words of the Great Heartbreaker himself.

Sue me. I'm impulsive. It's a well-established fact, and we all know by now that I do stupid things without thinking. And generally Tommy is a part of that equation. Okay, pretty much nine-tenths of the stupid things I've done involve him or revolve around him or some other such verb meant to imply how deeply he's implicated.

Like, let's see... signing with Darius, for one. Kissing Tommy in Montreal, although he was really just a partner in that... Pretty much every time I've ever kissed Tommy, but especially that first time... going to London with Taylor... dating Taylor... breaking my sister's nose... Tommy's engagement to Sadie as a result of my doing... my Under the Mike performance... that dumb music video... the whole lying about sleeping with Tommy thing in the first place... making out with Travis... telling Tommy I love him... practically jumping Tommy on multiple occasions... And that's just the beginning, really.

Hm, decisions, decisions. To be honest, a significant part of me didn't even want to leave that room at all, as heavy as the air was with memory and potential. But I needed to breathe fresh air, so I picked myself up and left the room. I felt twenty pounds lighter in the hallway and then the lobby, no longer weighed down by forbidden love and Tommy drama. Tommy was off sulking somewhere or something like that, so I breezed past the kitchenette and slipped out to the fire escape. I exhaled, wrapping my arms around myself. I'd forgotten how cold it was here.

Nevertheless, I walked over to the staircase and sat down, dangling my feet in the air. I leaned back on my hands, gazing at my surroundings. Just your typical alleyway, gray and drab, unimpressive. Still, the alley was still and empty, and there was a certain urban beauty to it. There was something different about the air that made it cold and fresh. I absorbed the peace and serenity of the area and its silence. I looked down at my phone again, staring at Travis' picture and marveling at its likeness to that other Quincy.

Eventually I decided to just bite the bullet and call him, but just as my finger was about to press the button, I looked down and caught Tommy taking a drag below me in the alleyway. I thought he quit months ago. And suddenly I remembered how, months ago, he'd said he smoked every time he wanted to kiss me. Maybe he was smoking again for that very reason. Suddenly stress was once again heaped on my shoulders. Next thing I knew I was dialing Travis' number. Somewhat unsurprisingly, I got his answering machine. "Hey, it's Jude. I'm coming over tonight. It'll probably be really late, so be ready."

My voice was like steel, unflinching. A moment later, I hung up, tossing the phone in my pocket. I'd never taken my eyes off Tommy, and without the phone's distraction, I was able to focus even more of my attention on him. My eyes followed his every movement, from the bending and twisting movements of his fingers to tracking the smoke coming out of the cigarette, swirling around his lips, those pretty pink lips of his. Lips that were still swollen from my kisses.

I exhaled deeply, pressing my hands to the sides of my head. To quote Britney Spears, I'm in too deep. _Way_ too deep. And not in the fun "Drives Me Crazy" way. In the dangerous bad way. Like "Toxic." Everything about this sick relationship we've got going is toxic, from the cigarettes he breathes to my suffering to his stupid talk about me being poison. I tore my eyes away from Tommy and sat out there until my ass was numb, and my hands shook, and I couldn't stand the cold anymore. Then I took a deep breath, pulled myself up, and headed back into the warmth. By that time, Tommy was no longer in the alleyway; he'd managed to compose himself and was in the studio waiting.

Kwest was there, just as he'd been before. I recognized it for the desperate gesture it was. Kwest was his back-up, intended to reign him in and keep him under control. When I walked in, Tom didn't even look at me at first. "What took you so long, Harrison?" He barked shortly. He never once took his eyes off the performers in the sound booth.

"Smoke break," I damn near spat a bit vindictively. I wanted to get him to look at me, and I watched the expression change on his face... but he didn't so much as turn his head a millimeter. His jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything either. Then I crossed the room and plopped down next to Kwest, quietly asking him what we were listening to. He explained that Tom had brought in a horns section... saxophone, trumpets, French horn, trombone, and tuba. Not that we used all of them (okay, so we dropped the tuba)... I was too surprised for words.

"Yo, Producer Man, I love ska and all, don't get me wrong... but I wasn't aware I was branching out into that particular genre any time soon..." I commented pointedly. This time Tom actually did turn to glare at me. Kwest held his hands up, clearly planning to stay out of this fight. Fat chance, buddy. Tom motioned for the horn section to keep it up, briskly turning to talk to me. He didn't look happy about it.

His eyes flashed threateningly. "Just trust me, Rockstar. It'll sound great. This might be exactly what the song's missing," He interjected. I highly doubted it and made a point to snort loudly. It probably was something with the levels or guitar or something. And he'd said those words, managing to thoroughly infuriate me. I wanted to throw another glass ashtray at him or throw him through one of the damn glass windows that surrounded us so he could get up close and personal with his little horn section.

Tom then turned back to the horn section, boosting their volume. As if we'd discussed it, and that was the end of it. Oh. Hell. No. That's what I've got to say about it. I rose to my feet in agitation. My ire rose with every moment that passed, and my heart beat faster and faster. "**Trust** you?! After all you've done, you have the _nerve_ to ask me to trust you?! How flipping **stupid** do you think I am, Quincy? Every time you ask for my trust and I give it to you, like a _sucker_, all you ever do is break it. Unlike _you_, I learn from my mistakes. You don't deserve my trust, and I'm never going to trust you again!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

If there was anything in the room that wasn't nailed down that I could've thrown at him, I would've. But there was no hot (or even lukewarm) coffee. If I had magical powers or something, I would've used them for evil to kill him. I was imagining new and inventive ways involving massive electric shocks and strangulation and cutting him. It was a dangerously unstable, dangerously unsettling feeling to have. Oh, I was gonna make him listen… and, okay, so maybe I was overreacting a little, but I've got a lot of pent-up rage and confused emotions and crazy hormonal action goin' on. What do you expect?

Naturally, I didn't stop there. While my trust issues are the big thing, the more pressing issue was him disregarding my opinion. Like my music was his domain, and he had full control over it. What am I, Britney Spears? No. The producers aren't doing most of my work for me. I need to have creative input in my own work. "And it's _my_ music, Trojan, last time I checked... not just yours. So if you want to change my sound, you're gonna have to get my approval first. And I say that horns have no place in my music unless I want them there... and horns are not a part of this song. Period. You can't do this without me, and contrary to what you may think, my opinions do matter here," I continued loudly, glowering at him something fierce.

For his part, he just looked pissed off. The look on his face was absolutely blank. He didn't even get up from his chair. He just looked at me disinterestedly. "It's my music too, Harrison. And this song, just like any other, will go out with my name on it. I will not settle for substandard work. I know what I'm doing, so please leave me alone to do my work. After all, you don't have to be here. I don't need you until tomorrow, so if you don't approve of what I'm doing, you can remove yourself from my studio," Tommy countered coolly. Midway through, he looked away from me and acted as if I wasn't even there anymore. The whole damn thing was so supercilious that I was surprised he hadn't mentioned how much more experience he had than me, so he would know better about my sound than I would.

I don't need you until tomorrow. I don't need you. The stupid words rang in my head and... it hurt. It hurt a lot worse than the other things he'd said before. So I swallowed down the pain, forced it back, and smirked for all I was worth. "Not now." Like I was going to do what he wanted me to do? I plopped back down in my chair. "I think I'll stay a while longer, just to piss you off," I chirped gleefully, crossing my legs and putting my feet up on the soundboard for the same reason. For a moment I wished that I was wearing a skirt, just so he could be distracted by my bare legs.

Oh, Tom definitely shot a brief glare my way, of course. Not that I noticed. I also failed to pay attention when Tom snapped at me to get my feet off of his soundboard. From what I heard of the horn section, they weren't sounding too hot, but that could've been a direct result of the tension and Tom's increasingly foul mood. Tommy kept them in there for three or four hours as a result, and, by the two-and-a-half hour mark of hearing them play the same tune over and over again, I could take no more and walked out.

It was at least nine by that point, and a couple hours later, I got a text from Kwest saying that Tommy had left the studio. Finally. I deleted the text because Kwest was sounding all concerned, and I couldn't have him asking questions. So what did I do after that time in the studio? I tried to keep busy any way I could. I camped out in my car in the parking lot (didn't need that text after all, Kwest, because how could I miss his ugly old Hummer?), doing my homework. Yeah, I know; I feel like a stalker. I did all of the reading I needed to do and then read ahead until the light inside my car died.

Less than five minutes after Tommy left, I left too, just barely resisting the urge to follow him. My first stop was at the first fast food place with a drive-thru that I came to. I believe it happened to be KFC. I ordered immediately a vast amount of chicken, legs and thighs, juicy as they come. Then I parked in some deserted parking lot in front of an office building and ate the whole thing. I was ravenously hungry, couldn't stop, couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten. So I gorged myself until I was full, but the feeling of emptiness didn't go away. I washed my hands in the sink of a random gas station a few moments later, noting that it was twelve-something.

Then I headed to Travis' place. Before walking in, I eyed myself in the mirror, twisting it this way and that way to get a better look at my features. I'd washed my face earlier, so it was free of make-up. I quickly reapplied eyeliner, mascara, blush (to hide the pallor of my cheeks), and a healthy dose of the raspberry lip-gloss Travis had given me. For a moment, I wished for some perfume, so I wouldn't smell like a mixture of grease, Tommy's cologne, and the stale studio environment. But that would have to do.

Looking at myself grimly in the mirror, I pulled my shirt down so that I'd have more cleavage, and then I grabbed my bag, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and got out. I waltzed right into Travis' building as if I owned the place, determined to do something. Knowing me, determined to do something stupid. I confidently climbed the stairs up to his apartment, and then I stopped in front of his door, placing a hand on my hip and knocking on the door. Travis opened the door immediately.

He had this little-boy look on his face, like he was excited to the point of screaming. He smiled widely and welcomed me in. "Jude..." I practically slammed the door shut behind me and tore my coat off, throwing it behind me haphazardly. Travis noticed a change in me. "Are you okay?" No, of course I'm not. But I can't talk about it. I shook my head no and flopped down on his couch, flinging my bag on the couch next to me. Travis swarmed in my vision. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, so concerned.

Travis' concern repulsed me. It disgusted me, having him smother me like that with all his kindness and try and touch me and make me tell him things. No, I don't want to talk about it! I stiffened when he touched me, felt my whole body become unpleasantly tight, like a top that had been wound too far. Wound too far, and my strings are unraveling hopelessly. I looked past Travis, kept staring straight ahead. And I was clenching my jaw and trying my best to fight off the rage seething inside of me. "I just had a rough day, that's all," I told him in a too-serene voice, lying unabashedly through my teeth.

Why had I come here, of all places? I didn't want to be comforted. I just wanted to be left alone... but not left alone to deal with all those stupid memories of Tommy, or I would surely lose whatever bits of a mind I had left. I clutched my head as the day's events washed over me. Just getting through the day had taken so much more out of me than I'd realized. Tom's like a leech; he's sapped all the energy from my weary bones... but I can't sleep, can't rest, can't slow down, or he'll win. Can't let him win. He'll sweep me off my feet again if I let my guard down, and I can't love him. Not now. I don't want to love him.

Slowly but surely, I felt everything I'd worked for start to slip out of my hands and fall out of reach. I wasn't just backsliding anymore; I was sinking in the quicksand. And everything had shattered into a million little pieces, pieces that were just now beginning to fall apart. All my progress undone... and I was even closer to collapse. I could feel the end coming, but I couldn't think of a way to stop it, to slow its presence, to make it cease. I was losing control.

I wanted to forget, to block everything out, to drown everything out but one thing... That's why I came to Travis, and I'd forgotten it. Travis was saying things, but I wasn't hearing any of his pretty, soft words. I was consumed in a hell of my own making, going crazy and spiraling out of control. His mouth was moving without sound. My head ached. I leaned back into the soft leather of Travis' couch, trying to make myself more comfortable. It didn't work. Travis sat next to me and tried to put an arm around me. His embrace didn't comfort me.

"Jude, something's obviously wrong, and I think you'll feel better if you get it off your chest," Travis persisted. I shook my head and didn't look at him, knowing his resemblance to Tommy would make it all the more painful. Travis ran his hand up and down my arm in a manner that was supposed to be soothing. I flinched away from his touch. It felt like all my nerve endings were on fire, and any touch, no matter how light, burned.

Even if I could speak, even if I wanted to... what could I say? Oh, there was an incident with Tommy today... I almost kissed him? And suddenly the whole wide world I'm living in just kind of... collapsed... around me? Everything's not what I thought it was? "Jude, babe, look at me," Travis urged. When I didn't do as he asked, he turned my head for me, tilting my head up. I didn't want to look at him because I had the feeling I would do something monumentally stupid.

Ladies and germs, I do not disappoint.

But then he made me look, and suddenly I'm latching on to him like I need him to survive, feeding hungrily on his lips, running my frozen hands over his warm skin, skimming my fingers underneath his sweater. "Maybe I don't want to talk." I had this sudden desire I couldn't articulate, not in words, only in these desperate actions, the desperate motions of my feverish hands. They were the actions of a woman on the verge... a girl-woman on the verge of losing it all. Desperate to maintain it, to keep it, to hold all my shattered pieces together.

I clung to Travis like a sloth on a tree, throwing myself against him blindly. Arms winding around his neck, fingers in his hair, lips trailing down his cheek. I was a wildfire, hopelessly out of control and consumed. So help me, I wanted to bury myself in him (so much, so deeply) so I could forget Tommy had ever existed, to replace him fully in my thoughts and mind. I needed to do something that would get me over him, something drastic. No half-measures, no backsliding... just all the way over. Rip off the damn band-aid already.

Every touch was numb, meaningless, empty. I could feel everything, but only dimly, fleetingly, and still painfully, pins and needles. So I took more, touched more. Anything to feel alive.

But it silenced my thoughts, finally shut them off, and it calmed me in a way I hadn't thought possible. No more tape to loop over and over again. The little voices died and faded, and a silence so loud it buzzed reigned instead, like static. It was a relief not to think about the mess my life was, the mess I was making even then. That relief washed over me, loosening me up even further.

And I _needed_ Travis. Urgently. I crawled onto his lap like a little sex kitten, lapping up every drop of affection he gave to me. I kissed him deep and slow, sliding his sweater up, off, and all the way over his head. I raked my nails down his back as hard as I could, viciously attacking that neck, sucking on it, savoring the salty taste of his skin. _And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back, I hope you feel it. Well, can you feel it? _The thought gave me a brief moment of pause, a gasp for breath before I dove back into it (him) wholeheartedly.

My eyes had been closed the entire time. Looking at that familiar face, so like Tommy's, would've killed me. But then I had a thought, and I realized that maybe it would be good to stare at that face and see Travis instead. I needed so badly to get Tommy out of my system, to get closure... and I thought that maybe if I... if I did this with Travis, then I could achieve that. That I could fool myself into thinking he was Tommy for just a few moments, just long enough to get this done with and get that desire for him quenched and out of my bloodstream for good.

Because everything was left so unresolved with the real Tommy, and that unfulfilled potential was what was really eating me up inside. All those stupid might-have-beens. Could-have-beens. Just one time, I told myself. One time, that was all I needed. A bizarre form of comfort sex, one last fix.

But I'd forgotten Travis was just a quick fix. He was an imitation at best, like Splenda or Sweet 'N' Low, not the genuine article. And as much as I wanted to pretend, he wasn't gonna pass. Not for any more than a few minutes, at best. Travis was like the baking soda in crack, the cut, not the freebase, not the pure stuff. Tommy's a lot like crack, you know. Addictive, intense, a rush, and then a hard crash when he runs out. Of course, I don't do crack. Tommy's my drug of choice, and he's more than enough for any addict.

And so I opened my eyes and forced myself to stare, forced myself to look at him. Closure, I repeated. Let him kiss my neck, let him wrap his arms low around my waist. I shifted in his lap, allowed him to pull me closer, to pull his fingers through my hair. I kissed him so hard it hurt, as hard as I could, as savagely as I could, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't feel it, was only aware of the buzzing in my head. I was scarcely even aware of my own actions, only that I _had_ to do this. Couldn't stop, couldn't think, couldn't pause for even a moment. Could only touch, take, grab, have all that I could.

I pulled back a little, peeled off my shirt, and wiggled closer to him, sliding up to him. Travis' hands were hesitant on my back. His touch was light, his fingers barely there, lingering on my lower back, almost like he thought he was pushing it. I stared at that face, told myself so many things, that this was Tommy, that I was sticking it to him, that I was finally getting what I deserved. His fingers rubbed slow circles on the small of my back. It felt almost nice.

My hands slithered up the sides of his legs, over his jeans, tugging on them teasingly. Then he got a bit more aggressive. Travis kissed me harder, nipping at my lips, sliding his tongue across my bottom lip, pulling me forward further onto his lap. His lips were so soft. I moaned somewhat wantonly. I ran my fingers greedily over the taut skin, feeling the sinewy muscles beneath it. I dragged my fingers across the plane of his chest, the sharpness of shoulder blades, feeling the hardness of the muscles as they flexed.

I kissed him blisteringly, and I kept at it until I thought my lips were going to fall off. I hated myself so intensely. And when I finally pulled away from his lips to catch my breath, I met his eyes for the first time all night, looked right into them. Of course I knew they were green, but suddenly, there it was, and I was facing it head-on. Couldn't deny it or look away. His eyes were light green and in a way, sort of see-through, like real emeralds.

Emeralds are brittle stones, easily damaged, often scratched. Breakable. They're fragile, touchy. They're hard but full of inclusions, rather unreliable stones... treated with oil to look better, shinier, prettier. Just like Travis' eyes, they vary greatly in color, from blue tones to yellow tones, sometimes with a gray cast. All emeralds are vivid, though, and more green than anything else. The very best emeralds are completely transparent, far from cloudy. And I guess in some ways, Travis is like that. He is an emerald.

Now that, seeing his eyes, gave me pause. For a moment I just stared at him blankly. No hesitation, I reminded myself. I couldn't wait. This couldn't wait. And so I grabbed his face again and kissed him with all I had, thrusting against him. Something was wrong, though. I could feel it. I'd felt it before but not like this. My feverish, relentless pace was too much for him, too fast for him. Travis jerked and pulled back, damn near knocked me off his lap. His arms reached out to catch me, grabbing my forearms before I fell all the way, and he held me there, panting in silence, for a moment.

He opened his mouth to say something, managed even to get my name out. But I pulled away, shaking my head, backing away from him. And I hated myself so much in that moment. Because even Travis didn't want me. And all those things Tommy said came back with full force the moment Travis pushed me away, louder than ever, 'til his voice was damn near ringing in my ears, repeating over and over how he didn't want me. I felt like a ho, like some cheap, dirty little slut... and I remembered what I was doing to Taylor, something I'd sworn never to do, not after what Dad did, not after what Shay did. Because Taylor was my boyfriend, and it didn't matter how long we'd been going out, not if he loved me, and I had reason to believe the poor boy did.

"I-I can't do this," I stammered, slapping down Travis' arms, prying his hands off of my skin. I pulled myself away from him, practically vaulting off of him. I whirled around and snatched my shirt up off the floor, pulling it over my head in a flash. When I turned around, I ran right into Travis, whose hands fell down to my somewhat bare hips. My shirt was riding up a little. I shook my head, refusing to look at him or listen to the soothing things he was trying to tell me.

Instead, I pushed past him, grabbing my bag. Travis got in my way yet again. "Look, Travis... I gotta go. I'll see you at school tomorrow, okay?" I declared a bit snappily, shoving him a bit and brushing past him. I picked up my coat, putting it on hastily. Travis protested some more, said it wasn't safe for me to go out, that it was too late, so late, and where would I go, and that I didn't have to leave, and that I was being irrational. Not that I listened. Not that I was thinking about where I'd go or the consequences of such an action. I just needed to get away from him.

"Bye," I said half-heartedly. Ignoring him, I yanked the door open and walked out, slamming the door behind me. I didn't look behind me, and, frankly, given the state I was in, I was pretty damn surprised Travis didn't run after me and drag me back inside. I just kept trudging on angrily, feeling so incredibly numb and empty. There was this big void in me, an emptiness, like something that I'd lost and couldn't get back. That something I just knew was... Damn, can't say it.

My body was cold all over, so I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth. Made sure to zip up my coat to try and keep the cold out. And I left Travis' building and walked back to my car. I put the key in the ignition and turned it hard, waiting for the car to warm up. I was trembling, but I didn't realize it at first. For those long minutes it took the car to warm up, I was wondering where to go.

Of course I could always go home again, even this late. It was the one place in the world where I was always welcomed and always loved. Lately, though, the comfort of home wasn't quite what it used to be. The days of holing myself up in the house after a bad break-up were gone. Their comfort would be like small platitudes because neither of them would or could understand. No one knew what I was going through or how I felt, and it didn't seem like I had any reason to be so upset.

Mom didn't approve, and she wouldn't get it. Sadie would understand, but she was the last person I wanted to tell. And my father... well, he always could see right through me, and he sorta knew, better than most anyone, but he... wouldn't react well. My parents and my sister were so wrapped up in their own lives and problems that they couldn't offer me much attention or comfort. But I couldn't blame them for that because I was wrapped up in my own life and my own problems, just like them. So I didn't want to go back home to the familiar and the safe, to that big, empty house and my lonely bed.

Travis wasn't an option, and I wasn't keen on sleeping in Patsy's car. Jamie might be the best option, but there was Kat to consider. He wouldn't ask questions, but it would look bad. BFF or not, I'd still be a girl sneaking in her best friend's boyfriend's room in the middle of the night. Kat was technically an option, but I couldn't really sneak in her house. Her mom would ask questions, too, and she didn't like me sleeping over on weeknights. The studio was obviously out... and knowing a bit about the home situations of my lovely bandmates, I wasn't comfortable enough to impose on any of them. So that left one place.

My rehearsal space.

Did I mention it's in a horrible neighborhood? Let me just tell you right now... scariest night of my life. I didn't even bother with trying to sleep because my eyes burned whenever I tried to close them. Instead, I stayed up all night writing, song after song after song. I poured out every last confused feeling inside of me so that I was a blank slate, even emptier than I was before, jotting out my thoughts on paper like diary entries. I just kept churning out the hits, singing softly, playing my guitar. If you'd asked me, I would've said I was writing my masterpiece. Note after note, words scribbled across pages, around corners, sideways.

It got to the point where I was hardly aware of what I was writing. Anything that came to mind was scribbled down, and then I'd reread things and scratch out words and write new ones and bunch little lines together and attach them to melodies, if they didn't have them already. My handwriting got to the point where it was hardly readable, scarcely better than chicken scratch, but I could still understand it, and that was enough. All the words started to bleed together, and my thoughts grew progressively more disorganized.

Every little sound was amplified, and I was so jumpy that every new noise alarmed me. I flinched and jumped and kept an eye out for anything. For a few hours, I just stared at the door, so paranoid and terrified that someone was going to walk in. Not all of the sounds I'd heard were nothing, you know. I heard something that sounded an awful lot like a gunshot, some glass breaking, a fair amount of shouting, cans rattling, the hisses of enraged animals. I was anxious and antsy and absolutely quaking in my Converse.

By that point, I'd been awake for, more or less, two or three days. I was jittery; I hadn't gotten much sleep at all in the past few days. Travis and I had stayed up most of the previous night and morning talking (and a fair share of not talking), but I'd gotten a decent hour or so in. Still, I'd stayed in bed with him, staring at the ceiling blindly for a long time, unable to sleep, before I got even that little bit of sleep. When I was with Patsy, the only sleep I'd really gotten had happened when I blacked out, and maybe thirty minutes or so after I threw up. I'd gotten some precious minutes of sleep in class, but other than that... nothing, and, boy, was I starting to feel it.

At six or seven, I managed to scrape myself off of the uncomfortable sofa and pry my hands from the guitar. They'd been damn near melded there. I picked up the piles and piles of full journals (they seemed to have multiplied; I didn't remember owning, let alone bringing that many), the torn-out pages covered in words, and I shoved them in my bag, my backpack. I stood up too fast, and the whole world swayed. I stumbled, was unsteady on my feet. I felt lighter than air, and my head felt kind of like I was swimming in fog. I put a hand to my head, briefly closing my eyes, still reeling like I'd been hit, but it didn't help.

There was a pinching feeling deep behind my eyes, lodged firmly in the innermost recesses of my weary brain. I hoped it would go away because if I didn't, I was going to have to bum a pill or three off Patsy. Slowly, I sat back down on the couch, on the edge, though. Couldn't let myself get too comfortable. I stared at the cracks in the blinds. Little rays of sunlight poked out from between the slats, soaring through the air and hitting the floor hard like tiny spotlights. I watched, fascinated, as the dust particles in the air swirled around in the light.

And that was when I decided I was skipping school.

My achy-tired body didn't want to drag my sorry ass all the way there in last night's clothes, the ultimate walk of shame. There wasn't a single decent reason I could think of to go to school. What was the point? None of my classes really held my interest... or would've, given the wretched state I was in. And beyond that, I absolutely did not want to face Travis. Not after last night. The mere thought was as appealing as gouging out my eyes with my fingernails. How could I face him? I didn't want to see him or even have to look of him. The imagined possibilities of such an idea made my stomach churn like butter... or, more aptly, like a flushing toilet or an overfull beer cup.

I felt so absolutely, unbelievably lousy that part of me just wanted to crawl up in a hole and die.

I felt, in the words of Natalie Imbruglia (wow, two nineties girl break-up song references in one day! Going strong, Jude!), _cold and I am shamed_ (not a-shamed, just shamed, thank you), _lying naked on the floor_. So, basically, lonely and like a dirty slut-ho. Who just had sex with her crummy ex-boyfriend who cheated on her on the bathroom floor at some party. Or a girl, **me**, who let a friend feel her up and almost had sex with him on the wood floor of his best friend's apartment for all the wrong reasons.

Torn. 'S what I am. I did that. For Tommy. That's the wrongest reason there is.

Love makes you do crazy things, though. Awful things, terrible things. And I regret doing them, but I'm not sorry I did... and come to think of it, I'd probably do it all over again. I am one sick puppy. One sick bitch masochist. It's like I like it.

Anticipating that I was going to spend the night with Travis, I'd brought a change of clothes with me, so I pulled the clothes out of my bag. Still felt dirty, of course, because I hadn't showered. My mouth was all furry and disgusting and like a feature flick for Morning Breath or Gingivitis or something. Halitosis, I mean. I ripped off the clothes I was wearing. Clothes that were stale, stiff, but not quite soiled, and smelled like cigarette smoke and Travis' cologne and something musty and a little dangerous. Like that black mold or something.

Took my time putting on the clean clothes, folding up my old ones first and stuffing them in my bag. I shimmied my way into the too-tight jeans, pulling them up and tugging the zipper upwards, buttoning them automatically. I slipped into the long-sleeved shirt, put my arms into its sleeves, wrapped the soft blue cardigan around myself and buttoned it up slowly. My hands styled my hair as best as they could, pushing it up into a bumpy, haphazard ponytail. My greasy bangs hung annoyingly down in my eyes and wouldn't go to either side. The ring on my finger burned like a brand, so cold and simultaneously hot that I almost shook my wrist hard enough to fling it off so that it'd fall heavily to the floor.

But I didn't, and I damned the stupid star he'd gotten me for it. Wishing I could really, truly erase that part of my life. Wishing that I could remove the ring and remove him entirely from my life so it'd be easier. But I couldn't do either of those things because he was a part of my life, and a damn important one at that. And just throwing that away wasn't something I could do. Because that ring is a part of me more than anything, an integral part of my identity... and by throwing it away, I'd be throwing a huge chunk of myself away with it.

I ran a hand over my face, trying to rub away the oil on my forehead, nose, and cheeks. It didn't work too well, but I didn't care much. I'd just be at the studio anyways, and Tom made it pretty damn clear he would only insult me. Then I left the apartment, clutching my belongings timidly, scanning the empty halls and stairwells with wide eyes. The sky was a dull, depressing gray when I stepped outside. The sun was overcast and dim, and, in short, the world looked more or less like I felt. Even the snow was dirty, that nasty gray-black sludge color.

Placed my things in the car. And I went the first place that came to mind… G. Major. Not that it really came to mind, per se, as it was an unconscious decision on my part. I couldn't go anywhere else, even if I wanted to. Honestly, I shouldn't have even been driving because I was scarcely aware of it. My hands were moving the wheel on autopilot, and with my mental state and sleep deprivation the way they were, I was fortunate not to crash. So I pulled into a parking lot, dimly registering it, and I sat there, idling for a while, just staring up at the building. I didn't even realize where I was for about a minute, and I was kinda horrified when I did wake up. Because there I was, and this visceral part of me knew I'd picked a bad day to skip because I was bound to run into Tommy first thing.

But that didn't stop me.

See, I figured that there was no point in postponing the inevitable. And I wasn't going to avoid the studio and my producer, not when there was a song that needed to be finished, a song that I needed to sing. Besides, it was going to be far more awkward for him than for me. I reminded myself of this fact, forcing myself to hold my head high as I walked into the building that had become my second home in the past year. Act like you own the place, Harrison, like that asshole does when he walks in all pretty and gorge-ified. So I tried my best to have that attitude of his, that attitude that I usually had… but it wasn't working. It was hard and wearying to try to maintain a façade.

And, as it so frequently happens in real life, just when you've finally gotten all relaxed and decided that maybe you didn't have to be on your guard anymore because that bastard who chopped your heart up into little pieces and drowned them in soy sauce to make a kind of bloody stir-fry wasn't actually there, lurking, waiting to come when you least expect it and completely overwhelm you… you run into that very person.

It was like something out of Hey Arnold. My life disturbingly mirrors cartoons like that. Because basically I'm distracted and not really looking where I'm going, and thinking of maybe eating a muffin, and I'm probably saying something to someone… and next thing I know, BAM, crashing into Tommy. And we bonk heads and noses and the works, and I basically fall back and land on my ass and then, of course, because this is just my luck, flat on my back with my knees still bent like I'm delivering a kid or something so I basically look like the slut I'm sure he likes to think I am. Unfortunately I didn't immediately know I'd run into Tommy, so I sat up quickly and started to apologize. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I just got out of my head for a minute..."

Ah, can you just imagine the horrid look on my face when I looked right up into a pair of stormy, hateful blue eyes, as dark as I'd ever seen them? I bared my teeth and did my best to return his dark glare, but I had a feeling I fell terribly short, as I always do whenever this wretched man is involved. It took me a good couple seconds of me gaping blatantly at him in my mortification, jaw wide open, for me to realize that something was off about him.

Everything was not right in Tommyland. I realized this slowly as my eyes swept over him leisurely, indulgently, like a lover's caress. His appearance was what tipped me off. His style that day can be expressed in one word: DGAF, and, friends, that is by no means the Tommy Quincy I know. No matter how bad Tommy feels, he always has to look perfect, and I've rarely seen him so disheveled. Even in the final days of recording and mixing my first album, Tommy found time for hygienic measures such as showering, cologne, shaving, and meticulous haircare measures (meaning, of course, hair gel).

He was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt that looked a little too big. The hood was pulled up over his head, and Tommy's hair was messy and utterly free of hair gel. His bangs hung limply against his forehead. There was no art to it, even, no style whatsoever. He had shaved, but he seemed to have done a haphazard job of it, as it looked like he'd nicked himself quite a few times. Furthermore, he had dark circles under his eyes and looked about as tired as I felt. His features held a pinched, irritated look, and it looked a little like he'd lost some weight with the way his skin was stretched almost painfully across the bones of his face.

Most telling of all, though, Tommy wore black, black shades inside. The Wayfarers had slipped midway down his nose so that his eyes could peer at me darkly over the edges of them, and they made him look strangely dangerous. For a significant period of time, Tommy just sat there, staring back at me defiantly. I wasn't sure whether he didn't want to move or couldn't. Finally, Tommy decided he'd had enough, and he pushed himself up roughly, leaning back on his hands. Something vaguely tiger-like flitted across those narrow eyes of his.

Tommy stood up, towering over me. Since he's no gentleman (and no friend at that), he didn't offer me a hand up. I half-expected him to say something intimidating or something snarky about my clearly subpar appearance so that I could insult him right back, but instead Tom merely offered a rather lame, "Aren't you supposed to be at school?" I rolled my eyes. Tom had tried for some venom there, but it had hardly stuck. Unless he suddenly morphs into one of my parents or maybe Georgia, he can't intimidate me with that statement.

At that very moment, I wanted nothing more than to lie down on the cool floor and take a great big nap, but I knew I couldn't. Instead, I rose to my feet somewhat unsteadily, feeling off-kilter and unwieldy. I tried my best to give him a sexy little smirk, but for all I know, it probably came out as nauseous instead. "Oh, Tommy, I think we can both agree I've been taught more than enough lately," I replied sultrily, softening my grin so he'd see just what I was insinuating. Needless to say that I was pretty damn proud of the way Tommy's eyes darkened and glittered. My inviting smile widened just a little bit, and I made sure to take a whole step closer to him, reaching out almost as if to touch him. "Any more instruction and I'll be _irrevocably_ ahead of the learning curve," I informed him rather smugly. And what a tragedy that will be. Hardly.

Tommy took it for the warning it was. I had almost said private lessons. My fingertips barely grazed his jawbone, and I saw the way Tommy clenched his jaw and set his eyes as a result. My voice dropped even further and turned ice cold. "So I'd say it's time for that long-overdue break, now, wouldn't you?" His jaw damn near dropped, and I felt pleased that I could rub that in his face like it had been thrown in mine.

He swallowed a bit harder than he probably would've liked, betraying some of his doubts and insecurities about the issue. "Well, I was the one who suggested it in the first place. You don't see me arguing here… but an education is a terrible thing to waste," Tommy countered, trying to get in on the game and one-up me. I rolled my eyes again; he'd gotten the saying wrong and managed to mix messages again, but I definitely understood. That second part, though, made me wonder if he was talking about us or my actual schooling.

I smirked even more at that last sentence. "Oh, I know, Tommy. But who said I'm going to waste it? I can find others to tutor me, after all... Besides, I'm sure your big brother would be all too willing to… **teach** me," I rejoined coyly. Tom clenched his fists and turned a shade somewhere between red, white, and purple. He was pale and dark at the same time, embarrassed, disgusted, not even wanting to think about the possibility. I grinned widely and obnoxiously. "If I asked." And I had.

And he was pretty damn pissed. "For all the times he called you a whore in my presence, he wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole," Tom rejoined snappily. He didn't say it the way he ought to have, to regurgitate the word harsh enough, in a way that cut me. You don't know your brother very well, now, do you, Tom? I just barely bit back a laugh. If you only knew where I was last night, Quincy. Where your brother _almost_ was.

I kept right on smirking instead. "C'mon, Tom… we both know your brother a little better than that, don't we?" I told him, walking around him. I tried not to think about just how well, exactly, I was getting to know said brother. Tom was trying to do the same thing, I could tell. His face was drawn, his spine stiff, posture disdainful. Really, I was a bit disappointed. I'd expected more from him. Because here's the deal: if Tommy has it, Travis wants it. More or less.

Tom-Tom really couldn't say anything to that. He waited for a good while, though, before speaking. His voice was gruff, signaling that our unproductive conversation was over. "Well, since you're here, might as well get you in the studio," He muttered with a shrug. I saw it for the resignation and acceptance it was. Tom promptly turned on his heel, clearly expecting me to follow him without instruction. I did so somewhat timidly, following him at a distance. Tommy continued commenting as we walked. "This song of yours is really a bitch, you know that, right?"

This meant, of course, that it was getting the best of him. I told him I knew or understood or whatever somewhat curtly. Tom continued ranting about the song as we entered the studio. Kwest was nowhere in sight, and I resented him for that, having the feeling that we would need a mediator. Tom walked over and grabbed a pair of cymbals that were conveniently sitting in a box. I plopped down in the seat, and Tommy walked over to me, coming just a bit too close for my comfort. "I'm gonna record some extra cymbal tracks, so I need you to run the board for me," He requested somewhat brusquely. It was less of a request, really, and more of an order.

But he'd placed his hand on my leg, just a little above my knee (so I guess it was technically on my THIGH), oh so casually. Only it wasn't. It didn't feel like that. I could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin denim of my jeans, and his hand's mere presence burned me slowly. I'd choked back a gasp, biting my lip hard to stop my mouth from opening. I was so surprised and simultaneously delighted and terrified and a million other confusing emotions that I felt like screaming, but I held it in. His touch was uncomfortable to the point that I wanted to move my knee, jerk it and just throw off his heavy hand... but I couldn't. I couldn't bare to do it, not when the times he touched me now were so few and horribly far between. It was dreadfully familiar too, though.

It was an awful dirty thing to do to me. "Please?" It was an unfair form of physical-emotional coercion, emotional blackmail through touch, but Tom could've done worse if he really wanted to convince me. "You do remember how to work the soundboard, don't you?" Tommy asked in a lilting tone that I found somewhat patronizing. I fought back a comment about how it just involved pressing the right buttons (something I like to think I do pretty well) and that a monkey could do his job. After all, Tommy was the one who'd taught me. So I nodded dumbly and timidly agreed, not wanting to see any more of his pretty persuasion. His eyes had gone all soft on me for a minute there, and that was dangerous.

He just nodded and walked into the studio, cymbals in hand. What, no thank-you? I rolled my eyes, watching him put on the headphones and set up the equipment. When he was ready, he signaled with a hand for me to play the backing music and then start recording. Naturally, being himself, Tommy did it perfectly in one take with no sheet music. I kind of resented him for that. It wasn't very often that I managed to do that, but Tom is just so much more experienced than me. With everything.

When Tom emerged from the studio, he left to put the cymbals back, and I took a deep breath, trying to steel myself for whatever was to come. His silence was destined to be short-lived. Shaking my head, I got up and left, heading for the kitchen. If I was gonna make it through the day or be remotely pleasant to be around, I needed coffee. There was already a pot on, so I got a mug and started to pour myself a cup. Normally I pour in all sorts of sides like sugars and creams and honey and pretty much anything to make this sludge taste decent because it's work, not Starbucks, but today I decided black suited me.

I turned around, coffee in hand (and well on its way to my mouth), and just about crashed into Tommy once again. My coffee sloshed around menacingly, and I couldn't help but fear it would scald me. "You'd better watch where your going, Harrison." Why did that sound like a warning? And why is it always like this with us? One of us is always crashing into the other one, and no matter what, we always seem to collide. Tommy mockingly batted his eyelashes at me. "Is that for me? Thanks, Jude, you shouldn't have," He remarked charmingly, snatching the mug right out of my hand before I could even think twice and immediately taking a sip.

He looked surprised, actually. "Just how you like it, isn't it, Tommy?" I quipped somewhat bitterly. Because it was always like that, and I was more than a little pissed. I shot him a scowl and turned around, finding a mug and pouring myself another cup. The whole time I was trying not to think about how close he was, how if I just moved this way or leaned back just the slightest amount, we'd be touching.

Fresh cup in hand, I smiled at him thinly, "No, Tom, _you_ shouldn't have." My voice was dark and even more bitter than the coffee and Tommy's much-beloved espresso put together. Honestly, the low vibrations of my voice shocked the both of us, but I was too numb to care. I gave him a dark look to match. Then I brushed past him, hoping I was playing it as cool as I thought I was. I probably wasn't.

We retreated to stony silence for the rest of the day. We spoke only when it was required. Tom scarcely ceased alternating orders and insults. We started off with thirty minutes of exhausting vocal exercises. The majority of the day was spent recording my backing vocals. I did take after take after breathless take, guzzling down nothing but water. I lost count of how many I did on a dry, thirsty throat. Tom didn't even have enough time to let either of us have a proper lunch break. He just texted Kwest to bring him a sandwich. I didn't even get enough consideration for that.

It was as if he'd forgotten that, damn it, I had needs, too. I bristled a bit upon seeing that, but I didn't dare say a word. Truthfully, despite the emptiness in my stomach, I remembered that uncomfortable overfull feeling from earlier, and I didn't want to eat at all. I still felt somewhat nauseous, like even the coffee had been too much. That was actually one of the reasons I'd had so much trouble singing even the back-up vocals. I was hardly an ideal musician, as I was almost incapacitated, unable to concentrate, and immensely distracted.

Eventually, though, I did get a break. Tommy had to take a leak, and he'd said we were done anyways. We had thirty minutes or so before the choir got there. I think it was a children's choir, but I wasn't really sure... maybe it was a church choir. Either way, Tommy was overdoing it.

I appreciated the time to myself all the more. And for once in my life, I didn't want to see Tommy. At all. Not even remotely. A part of me even thought that I'd be better off never seeing him again. My entire body resented him that much. I left the studio like a bat out of hell, marveling at how bright and colorful and full of life it was. Then I sucked down so much water I was surprised I didn't die from overhydration.

But I was still thirsty. So I downed two cups of coffee, as I was wavering and growing more tired as the day went on. I desperately needed a pick-me-up. Being around Tommy nonstop, thinking about him nonstop, was freaking draining. Like he was sucking all the moisture out of me until all that was left would be a pile of dust or a pillar of salt. I was still thirsty, but I couldn't drink anymore, and I needed something to take the edge off.

Badly. So badly I could taste it. While the liquor I knew I'd find in Tommy's office was tempting, it was a bad idea, and since Tom was nowhere in sight, I assumed he was either out or in his office. Besides, my body was begging for a cigarette. I hadn't smoked much, but the addiction was still there in my veins, just waiting to come out. So I did something pretty stupid.

Since I couldn't legally buy cigarettes on my own (or, for that matter, leave the studio), and Travis wasn't around to give me any, I went hunting. Tommy had left his jacket and sweatshirt in the studio, so I snuck back in like a thief and rifled through his pockets until I found what I needed. A pack of cigarettes and that fancy silver lighter of his.

Snatching up the pack, I retreated to my refuge, the fire escape. The very one that reminded me so damn much of Tommy. My legs were weak and shaky from standing so long without rest, and they practically buckled beneath me. I fell a little, to my knees, and then I sat, leaning against the bars, holding them with white knuckles, legs and feet dangling over the edge like lead weights. And, like a child, I gingerly took a cigarette out of the pack, set it between my lips, and held the flame up to the tip until it started burning. I inhaled the cigarette, sucking in the hot, thick air, and exhaled in relief. I coughed almost immediately. Too strong. My eyes watered. The smoke tasted browner, a bit more bitter, heavier... and quite a bit familiar.

Despite tutelage and practice, I was still not used to the sensations, or, in this case, the taste. I grimaced and looked down at the label. Tommy, ever the Frenchman, smoked Gauloises. Travis, my usual smoking buddy, chain-smoked Pall Malls (still a bit too heavy for me) but bought me Lucky Strikes. My throat burned unpleasantly, and I kind of wished they were menthols so I didn't choke every time. But no, of course Tommy would want full sensation in his lips and mouth.

Nevertheless, I forced myself to keep on smoking because it sort of felt good. Cathartic, familiar. I already felt like my skin was melting or stinging every time Tommy touched me, and my every sense was painfully alive in his presence... so why not actually feel the burning starting from the inside-out inside of me? At least this way I could exhale it, angrily purge myself of it rather than have the molten lava churning inside of me. I deserved it. I didn't care what it was going to do to my voice, and a perverse part of me relished the burning sensation trickling down my throat and sticking there, lingering almost tenderly, for a couple moments before wafting back up and exiting my mouth in a puff of smoke.

There was something comforting about the mundane little gestures, and every drag made my head pleasantly cloudy. A heady fog enveloped me, but my disordered thoughts cleared themselves. Besides, God, I tasted like Tommy, and I smelled like Tommy, and that was a good feeling to have again, especially when I knew that smoking his cigarettes was going to be the closest I was going to get to him. I closed my eyes and savored the feeling, let it wash over me.

Then it was time to drop the cigarette in the alley below me carelessly and stand up and hungrily gulp the fresh, cold air. I could never be satisfied. So, of course, I whipped out another cigarette. I'd just lit it and was in the middle of taking a big, reassuring drag (not to mention slowly acclimating myself to the taste) when I heard the door creak open. That never meant anything good, so I didn't even bother to look or tell the person to go away. Who knew, maybe there really was a fire?

I leaned my forehead against one of the bars. The metal felt cool on my skin, and I closed my eyes, absorbing the feeling. Moments later, mid-drag, I was interrupted by an all-too familiar voice. "Jude, I've been looking for you forever! We've got to get back to the studio. Break's... over," He decreed. It was Tommy, of course. I grimaced, squeezing my eyes shut, and moaned a little. He just had to show up.

But I didn't move or even open my eyes. My whole being could sense him. My nerve endings and skin hummed with his presence. I should've known. If I sniffed hard enough, I could almost smell him. I heard and felt Tommy coming towards me. Tap, tap, tap. He didn't touch me; I knew he wasn't going to touch me. "Earth to Jude! It's time to go back," Tom insisted loudly, moving closer towards me. I pointedly ignored him, didn't even budge an inch. All I did was exhale the smoke and then suck it back in.

By that point, he must've bent down or something because he finally realized that I was smoking. "Jude, what the **hell**?! Since when do you smoke?" Tom snarled, ripping the cigarette out of my lips. It kind of hurt. My eyes snapped open and immediately glared at him darkly. Oh, I don't know, Tom, how 'bout since you _dumped_ me? I just barely managed to avoid spitting out those acrid words. "Do you know how bad this is for you? Smoking is like giving yourself a death sentence. It's like committing suicide. It kills you, and it's a great way to ruin your vocal chords forever, not to mention your career!" Tom growled, bending down to yell at me. What a freaking hypocrite. Him, the chain-smoker, getting on me about one and a half cigarettes?

I turned away, not wanting to listen to him. "You knew we were going to record later on today... I don't see why you would do this... This is the freaking stupidest thing you've ever done!" He continued viciously, incredulously. Really, Tom-Tom, you think it's even stupider than me lying to you? Guess I'll have to hold you to that. I rolled my eyes at him. "You've wasted my time. You can't sing with your voice like that... you'll sound hoarse and... how many of these things have you smoked anyways?"

I took his moment of silence as an invitation to speak, unable to really bare any more of his needless shouting. I shrugged. "So **what**, Quincy? Lots of singers smoke, and they do just fine. Hell, Tom, even _you_ smoke!" I retorted irritatedly, pausing briefly as I debated whether or not to light another. It was terribly hypocritical of him, after all. "And I'm not stupid. It's a bad habit, but I've got a lot of those... and I've certainly got worse habits. Besides, wasn't it Kurt Vonnegut who said smoking was a classy way to commit suicide?" I interjected stubbornly, badly wishing I still had that cigarette.

My eyes flicked up in such a way that it was clear that Tom was my worst habit of all. I didn't want to go back inside. "Well, you've got to stop," Tom insisted. He grabbed my upper arm and tried to pull me up. I remained planted where I was, shaking my head at him vigorously.

"I don't want to stop, Tom," I hissed, twisting and moving my arm like a wing. His grip grew harder, more punishing, bruising me like a peach. Clearly he didn't agree.

"Damn it, Jude, I'll make you stop. Now why did you start smoking?" He snapped, determination lighting up his eyes. What, like I'm going to tell him the truth? I glowered at him fiercely, trying my damndest to jerk away from him. I was aware his squatting position had to be uncomfortable, and being seated, I held a distinct advantage over him.

"You can't tell me what to do! You're not my father, Tommy!" I screamed back, struggling with him, trying my damnedest to prevent his hand from catching my other shoulder and pulling me to him. I am not one to be controlled, and he was crazy if he thought he was getting me under control. I moved forward just slightly, getting the right angle and then I twisted my arm around just in time to ram it into his stomach. Tom teetered on his heels and fell back with a loud thump. The metal clanged. He groaned loudly in pain.

When I looked at him again, he was gritting his teeth, almost gnashing them, with a sneer curling on his lips. He recovered quickly like any good fighter and was soon moving close to me again. "Yes, _I_ can," He insisted. His gaze was steely and unrepentant. The desire for control overpowered even his rage. I was sick of being domineered and broken and pushed around and misled and confused and beaten by this man. "When it comes to your music, I am the authority, and you will do what I say," Tom hissed demandingly. His tone left no room for questions, and the glint in his eyes practically dared me to challenge him.

It was only a matter of time before he reached out for me again, but I was ready this time. I flinched and anticipated his hands, shying out of their way, shifting, dodging his grasp. And then Tom came real close, so close we were almost nose to nose, and I didn't move away because I wanted to drive my point home. "This is **exactly **why, isn't it, Tommy? Isn't this exactly why you can't? Because you're in a position of _authority_ over me?" I made sure to stress the right words and look at him in just the right way, that dangerous, provoking way. I made sure my eyes followed the right path down along our bodies, skimming over the places where we were connected.

I was lying half on my side, the most of me leaning against the ice cold steel, hair tangled and splayed out beneath me. It was an awkward, uncomfortable position. Tommy was basically on top of me, on his knees, hands gripping tightly my wrists or shoulders... I don't remember which... My hips were positioned at a funny, somewhat painful angle, and Tommy's legs pinioned me in, forcing me to remain like that. I remember the way he pressed against me unconsciously, how natural it was, how easily it came to him. It could've been good, but as sexual as it sounds, it wasn't like that. It was a power struggle, pure and simple.

His weight did not feel reassuring; he felt like a trap, a big, heavy trap. He was too close, invasive even, up in my face, breathing heavily. I couldn't move, and I was torn between not wanting to and wanting to tear him off of me. Either way, his body over mine was a prison, just as good as bars and security, only prettier. He had all the power, and he relished it. He was on top, and I wasn't. Tom was firmly in control, more firmly than he'd ever been, but it had come at a price; he'd lost something to gain this. And so when that statement registered with him, when he finally understood and took it in, it struck a deep chord within him.

Because I was right. "Authority figure... Well, I couldn't think of a more apt term if I tried. You sure do have _power_ over me, after all. Like using it, too... and abusing it, of course. Do you get off on it? I think Travis does, and you two are just so alike, you know?" I found myself rambling without thinking. I spoke with the absent precision of a missile, launching my words spontaneously yet skillfully, aiming to destroy him. My words were level, bland, and cool like ice, and I was spewing the most hurtful things I could think of. If he's going to break up with me because he feels like a pedophile and that guy and all that, I might as well make him feel worse. It's the least I can do to live with myself.

His face tightened like a screw, and his whole body flinched. I felt it. But, strangely enough, despite the fact that I'd blatantly called him out on his behavior, Tommy didn't get off of me. I eyed him pointedly, and when he did nothing, I spoke again. It seemed like he was getting heavier. Parts of him brushed against me from time to time, fleeting moments that tingled like electricity. His cheek on mine for one hot minute. My palms were pressed flat against the bumpy metal. One of his hands was right next to my head, pressing somewhat painfully down on my hair, tugging on it irritatingly. The pain made me angrier and more vicious, like a hurt animal. He seemed to bear down on me even more, to lean against me even more heavily. His presence was suffocating.

We were breathing the same hot, used-up air. His breath hit my face, unavoidable. "I know I'm comfortable, but I am not a pillow or a bed for you to lie on. And your reflexes are a little slow, now aren't they? Because for a man who so desperately wants and claims to be better, you seem to me to be just as bad as before, only now you're a hypocrite. Seriously, could you act a little less like you want to jump me? Either have your way with me here or just get off already!" I snarked back rather irately. This indecision's killing me. To quote The Clash, "If you don't want me, set me free." Either way, I'm going to make him stick to his decision.

I don't even care anymore if it's not what I want. I'm going to make him stick to it because one of us has to be strong here, and it's pretty clear that that person is clearly me. I should just be done with him for all time, but I can't do that. Everything in me is screaming to give _this_ up, to give this _man_ up, but for whatever reason, I just CAN'T do it. But maybe I need to walk away from this to save myself. But how do you just walk away from the unavoidable?

Tom still didn't move. He seemed somewhat distracted. Whether it was the view or the feel of my body, or simply unwillingness to move, I may never know. His lips absently brushed against my jaw. His breath hot, heavy, and moist on my ear, creeping down my neck. Either way, it had to stop. I felt like I couldn't breathe, and with every moment that passed, I felt increasingly more claustrophobic. So I spoke this time with a desperation to get him away from me, deliberately trying my hardest to scare him off. I spelled it out. "In case you don't remember, Tom, the last time we were horizontal, we were just about to get it on. And that also happened the last two times we were vertical, for that matter, so forgive me if this whole scene feels a little like history repeating itself for my taste."

My words were bitter and annoyed. It wouldn't be much of a problem if he was actually doing something, but he was doing nothing, and he wasn't getting off of me. This reminder was apparently not enough for him, so I decided to reinforce it by remembering the most graphic, gory details I could think of. I didn't want to touch him to accentuate my statement and possibly lose control, so I changed my voice instead, adopting the low tone I reserved for dirty talk. "Remember the times before that, Tommy? Do you remember how my skin feels? The way I breathe your name? The look on my face? The way my eyes change color? Do you remember how _I_ feel, Tommy? Or... what it's like to touch me?" I practically purred, pausing to take a deep breath. "Because I do."

"I remember everything. I remember how you made my breath hitch. I remember seeing stars behind my eyelids. I remember how you made my skin flush with just a look, just a word. I remember how you made my knees buckle. I remember the way you looked at me with your bedroom eyes. How the heat pooled inside of me. How you said my name with such reverence. That certain, special smile you save just for me... I can't forget what it's like to touch you and be that close to you. Or how easily you let me in... I can't erase how much you wanted me. I still remember waking up with you and falling asleep in your arms. I can still _taste _your kisses, still _feel_ your touch, still remember how you held me. _Oh_, Tommy... I remember how you feel and how happy you made me," I murmured in a husky, deliberate tone, sighing at all the right moments. And I love you for it, I said to myself, quietly, in awe of it. The depth of my love for Tommy continually amazes me.

A red glare crept over Tommy's face, and I recognized it for the embarrassment it was. He was blushing (but I could not fault him for this, as my own cheeks had gotten hot at the remembrance)! He had the decency to look ashamed for what I'd reminded him of, those lazy afternoons and mornings we'd spent exploring, touching, kissing. That had been my intention, but I too had gotten caught up in my reverie. And it had been good, so very good. I wondered idly if he and I were remembering the same things, if he saw things like I did.

Either way, he was silent and still and so placid and peaceful that I had to ruin it. The stubble of his cheek rubbed against my face, then cheek, uncomfortably. It felt like sandpaper, and I'd felt it before from time to time, but this time it didn't seem to let up. His beard grated, scratched my skin, left my soft, white neck red and irritated. He was CRUSHING me. My voice hardened and wavered in an awful way, and I felt like crying all of a sudden, but I needed to regain my sobriety. "I remember how you shattered me like an eggshell and how I slipped through the cracks, broke again, ripped in two, and oozed out of my skin like an egg yolk," I told him a minute later with a hard edge to my voice.

Best not to get lost in it.

He flinched like the coward he is, and I hated him for it. And then, this light dazzled across his eyes, and he started like a rabbit, twitchy and anxious. His eyes went a sort of light, brilliant, dynamic violet, like death or amethysts. Or lush velvet flowers. The light lasted only a minute before it settled in and then faded away to the denim dimness I'd seen as of late. He pushed himself up and away from me like a zombie; that peculiar look in his eyes had been the realization I'd waited for, longed for, and still hated bitterly. I felt lighter, but I wanted to fall back fully against the grooved steel and just lay there, close my eyes, and let the world all fall away.

Until all that was left was the darkness, the light streaming through my eyelids, the wind brushing over me, and the metal underneath me, cold as death. I could breathe again, but at what cost? I didn't really want to. I'd rather have him over me, smothering me like an oven or an electric blanket, even if it meant that all the air was forced out of my lungs (at least I'd be warm, too hot). That was more of a life, however brief and fleeting, than this cold void.

It's like Kurt Cobain wrote in his suicide note... It's better to burn out than to fade away. Neil Young knew what he was talking about. Because at least if you burn, that means you caught fire, caught a spark, a moonbeam, a star once upon a time. It means you got too close to the sun. Too close to the fire and it devoured you, burned you to a crisp, but for a time, you were _really_ living. You had passion, and it burned itself all out when you had no fuel. If you're lucky, you go off like a firework or maybe self-combust in a dramatic explosion or in a violent conflagration like a forest fire... until you stop.

Fading away, though... You were visible once, but you disappeared quietly, slowly. It's a long, painful death that drags on and on. You vanish piece by piece, slowly fading into the ether, the vast emptiness of space. And it's a lonely way to go. You cease to exist to other people and wind up easily forgotten. And then, finally, you cease to be at all, and it's a relief.

I don't want to fade out. I don't want to be a blown-out candle. I want to be a supernova.

He looked at me warily, like what had just transpired was entirely my fault, like I'd entrapped him. I felt a hot flash of rage burst up in me... but then it passed and just... died. I couldn't bare to be angry with him; I didn't have it in me. There was a haunted look in his eyes. He was staring at me, lips parted a tantalizing amount. He breathed a shaky breath, still affected. And then, as if he'd resolved not to be this way anymore, he straightened like a ruler. I could see the change pass over him. The alteration of his countenance was such that I scarcely recognized him. His features were proud, aloof, and inexpressive, utterly devoid of emotion.

All business once again. And I knew instantly at that moment that he was going to act as if nothing had transpired. And it made me sick. "If you're going to make me waste my time producing this song that's not even going to be on your next album, you're going to be there every step of the way, Harrison... You want input? Well, you damn well better _earn_ it," Tom snarled, clearly pissed about me wasting his time. He scowled at me so darkly I was almost afraid of him. "Now get off your back already, Jude. You can go back to waiting like a desperate slut for the next guy to screw you on your own time. And until we finish this song, your time is really _my _time. Your time does not exist as a phenomenon. My time, however, is precious, and I sure as hell don't have time to wait for you to get laid or take a smoke break. So get up off your lazy ass and work," Tom snapped in a tone that was needlessly vicious.

Finally, his words stung. It felt like a slap to the face. And I felt just the tiniest bits of anger building up inside of me because he called me a slut. He called me a slut when he knows I'm a virgin, when he knows I haven't been with _anyone_. And that hurts. He used cruder language than that, too. Made me feel dirty all over. The look on his face was so menacing that I was half-afraid he was going to hit me or roughly grab me, so I scuttled to my feet like a crab. I backed away unconsciously, not even wanting to be near him anymore.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't say anything back. And I felt so low and so awful that I probably would've let Tom say any damn thing he wanted to with no rejoinder. If Tom was surprised, he didn't show it. Doesn't mean he didn't exploit it, though.

There was such a forbidding look in his eyes, such a venom that radiated from him, a profound wrath etched into those terribly familiar features, that I raced past him, stumbling over my own feet in my desperation to get away from him and his unpredictable rage. He might as well have told me he was going to work me to death because I knew it from the look in his eyes.

The choir was already busy warming up when I got in. They looked at me with some curiosity and interest but soon forgot about me. Tom entered the room seconds later, and I was glad to notice that Kwest too was in the room. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. It came out like the air from a balloon. Tom was overly cordial and polite with them, smiling like a damn politician. Overcompensating. I hated him for it, for the way he didn't pay any attention to me except to make snide little remarks and glare and... nothing positive. The choir didn't last long. They performed as needed, and then Tommy graciously thanked them and walked them out of the room.

Kwest and I were left alone, and the minute the door closed, I knew he was going to say something to me about it. I bit my lip, trying to think of a good lie to explain the problem away. "Tommy just doesn't like the song" wasn't going to cut it. Saying he's just being his asshole self wouldn't do either. Maybe... Taylor? No one but me, Tommy, and Travis know what really went down over Christmas Break, after all. Okay, I can spin that. I could feel Kwest's eyes burning a hole into the side of my head.

"Mind telling me what that's about?" Kwest's voice interrupted my thoughts. I held my breath and said nothing, focusing on the recording booth. Kwest's hand on my shoulder made me jump, and when I looked at him, I saw the concern written plainly across his face. "Jude, I know something's going on... Tom's on edge. You've barely said a word all afternoon. Both of you look like death. The way he's obsessing over this song... his hatred for it. Don't think I haven't noticed how he's put off your vocals for days. He hasn't said a single good thing about you or the song all day. Tom barely looks at you, barely speaks to you directly. He hasn't said your first name once... What happened?" Kwest said in a hushed tone, squeezing my shoulder warmly.

I knew he was worried about me, but he was asking questions I couldn't answer, putting two and two together, and I could tell he was close. So I was panicking a little. More than that. I glowered at him. "Oh, go make out with your wife!" I retorted peevishly, but my heart wasn't in it. It sounded more pouty than pissed.

He rolled his eyes at me. The comment just rolled right off of him. "You might as well just tell me." I gave him a wary look. Since when do I bear my heart and soul to Kwest. I don't confess to him.

But something strange came over me nonetheless, and I told him something true. "Honestly, I couldn't tell you, even if I knew." Literally. There was a whole lot I still didn't know or understand about what was going on between us. All I knew was that I couldn't handle much more of this. Kwest gave me a bit of a funny look, and I suddenly worried I'd said too much, so I continued speaking, only this time out of my ass. "Taylor," I told him evenly, composing myself a bit. I looked away from him, into the bare glass. Tommy would be back soon, and I didn't want to risk upsetting him even further.

"Taylor, as in Tommy's kid brother?!"

His surprise seemed genuine. I rolled my eyes. But where has he been, under a rock? "Yes," I told him primly. I exhaled heavily, rubbing my sore neck. "We've been seeing each other since Tom's birthday party. Off and on, you know, nothing too serious..." I briefly glanced over at Kwest, who was clearly wondering what the hell this had to do with me and Tommy not getting along. I licked my lips, trying to convince myself it wasn't too much of a lie, so that I didn't feel bad for not telling him the truth when he was being so damn nice to me.

I exhaled heavily. Heavily like the feeling of Tommy's body resting over mine. Not an image I need. "Well, it's gotten a bit more serious lately... And I took him to London with me for a week over break. I guess he's mad about that. We had this huge argument before I left about... "Frozen" and my relationship with Taylor. He said I should break up with Taylor, but I couldn't do it, you know?" Tom would be proud. Lying just like he taught me.

When I turned to look at Kwest, his eyes were wide and incredulous. "So let me get this straight... Tommy wants you to break up with Taylor. Instead, not only do you _not_ break up with him, but you go to London with Taylor!" I glowered at Kwest, really not liking the tone of his voice. It made me feel stupid and disingenuous. Kwest bit his lip, looking like he wanted to say something but wasn't quite sure whether he should or not. Eventually, though, he made up his mind and came out with it. "Tommy thinks you slept with his brother, doesn't he?" He blurted.

My blood ran cold at that statement. At first, I let out a little bitter half of a snicker. Because, really, if he only knew! But then I started wondering... does Tom really think I had sex with Taylor? Is that why he called me a slut? I bit my lip, suddenly uncertain. "I... I don't know," I told Kwest, resting my forehead against the soundboard and closing my eyes briefly. I pulled myself back up a moment later. "But what the hell was I _supposed_ to do, Kwest? Not go? Break up with Taylor for... for what? For someone I **can't** be with who only wants me when I'm with someone else? Why dump the sure thing for someone who's only gonna flake out on me in the end?" I remarked bitterly as a means of justifying myself. And suddenly I wasn't talking about this made-up story anymore. I was going to dump Taylor for Tommy, but Tom beat me to the punch.

Kwest looked understanding but somewhat nervous. I'd put him in an awkward position here. Not that I cared. I just wanted someone to see my point for once. Kwest patted me awkwardly on the back and swallowed. "I know this is none of my business, but did you sleep with him?" He asked hesitantly.

I froze like we were playing Freeze Tag. Did he know? He can't, can he? Did Tom tell him something? And then there was the niggling kwestion... ha ha... of whether he meant Taylor or Tommy... or, hell, even Travis. The possibilities alone were horrendous. I went with my first reaction and lashed out at him. "You're _damn_ right it's none of your business! My sex life is no one's business but my own! And... Tommy's **nothing** to me, so why should it matter?! He's not my... not my b-b-boyfriend... not my father... and sure as hell not my h-h-hu-hus-" I trailed off. Kwest got what I meant, though. He was hinting that Tommy basically considered me his, hence his irritation, and... I was hung up on the fact that I'm not. My voice broke, and my eyes were horrifyingly filling with tears. I couldn't say it, so I at least tried my hardest to hold back the blubbering. I fanned my eyelids, held my breath, tilted back my head, and blinked and sniffled ridiculously. But I stopped.

Kwest had wrapped his arms around me, sensing something was desperately wrong, pulling me into a half-embrace. He opened his mouth to speak words of comfort, but I shook my head. I neither deserved nor wanted them, and they wouldn't have worked. "But no... No, I didn't sleep with him," I informed him. I still felt pathetically like crying, so Kwest held on to me for a little longer, and I closed my eyes and leaned against him. I felt marginally better.

At least, until Tom entered the room moments later. I sensed his scowl immediately. Tom's comment was cutting. "Industry groupie much? Yesterday it was Speed, earlier today it was me, now Kwest? What next, Jude, you gonna hook up with my older brother in the studio at school again?! And, you know what, my old buddy Chaz is available! I know you're his type. After all, you two didn't quite get around to doing the deed that one time, so you might as well pick up where you left off... but I'm afraid my apartment floor's off limits. After all, I don't want it to get _dirty_," Tom spat, exuding waves of disgust. He played dirty, and I felt lower than a bottom feeder. I just... couldn't believe the hate in his voice, and I pulled away from Kwest slowly.

Oh, I opened my mouth, but it didn't work. It was like my vocal chords weren't functioning. I couldn't talk and say what I needed to say. What I had to say, the truth. So I peered over at Kwest, who was staring at me open-mouthed, digesting everything Tom had let slip in anger. Where to start? Me and Speed? Tom thinking I was trying to mack on Kwest? The comment Tom had made implying I'd made a move on him when really it was the other way around, basically. That bit about Chaz and me on the apartment floor?

What hurt the most, though, was his comment about Travis. That one probably surprised Kwest the most because he'd acknowledged him, albeit without bitterness. But it hurt the worst because Tommy knew about that as few other people did... and he knew that it wasn't what I wanted. He knew that Travis had tried to rape me there... and he just said that like I was... some slut who'd wanted it. Like I was unfaithful or whatever. And it stung a little because I'd always kind of felt like it was my fault, no matter what anyone said, even Travis, and it was close to the truth, of what I was doing with him now.

He'd effectively silenced me into shame. And my silence said things I didn't. But I felt so guilty, so I sat up straighter in my seat and didn't look at Kwest. Tom greeted me with a mockery of a smile. Then he sat down stiffly. I watched as he pulled out a bottle of aspirin, poured himself a handful, and popped the pills. No water necessary. He screwed up his face as he swallowed them. I watched as his Adam's apple bobbed, remembering dimly how I too could make him do that. He pressed the buttons and played the music back, looking to Kwest for help. "Do you feel that? It's like something is missing?"

Kwest looked to me uneasily. We listened to the music in silence, and I nodded hesitantly. Kwest nodded a moment or two later. "It sounds... off, if that's what you mean," Kwest said. Tom rolled his eyes and motioned for Kwest to elaborate. Kwest bit his lip, somewhat unnerved by the strange new current in the room. "I don't know what it is... but how can you possibly think anything's missing? You put everything and the kitchen sink into this song, Tom," Kwest countered somewhat harshly.

Tom's only acknowledgment of what Kwest had said was a frown. Otherwise, he ignored him, listening himself. "Yeah... you're right... I think it may be the tempo. How 'bout this?" Tom continued as if Kwest had never said anything. He tweaked the tempo to different speeds. Slower, slower, slowest. Fast, faster, fastest. Kwest sighed, warring with himself for a moment before coming to a conclusion.

He turned to Tom, attempting to intervene before it got worse. "You wouldn't be an artist if you weren't a perfectionist... I get that. But don't you think you're going a bit overboard, man?" Kwest interjected somewhat worriedly. Tom finally found the right tempo, and I grudgingly acknowledged to myself that it sounded better. I didn't utter one word to Him. The violence and suddenness of Tom's reaction was rather stunning.

Almost immediately, Tom whirled around to look at Kwest and gave him a glare so intense it could've melted the glass barrier between producer and artist. Ironically a barrier Tommy's already broken, shattered like he broke my heart. "Look, I'm not going to let you, or Darius, or _an-y-one_ make me put out crap music, okay?" He snarled, voice harsh like a jagged piece of glass. His eyes burned like obsidian, just turning cool and turning from fiery liquid to hard, flinty rock. Kwest raised his hands up in a surrendering position.

And, just like that, he gave up. Bastard.

Tom growled, "You're up, Harrison. Remember, this is _my_ time. So you'd better not waste it. And you'd better do what I say." I was surprised he didn't throw something at me. But I did as he said, getting up slowly. My legs were wobblier than I thought. I walked through the door, ran through the motions, slid the headphones over my ears. Suddenly, I had a burning desire to prove myself to him. He can think whatever he wants about me. It might hurt, but I don't care anymore. But I'm not gonna let him think that I can't do this. I'm going to overcome this. I'll beat him at his own game, do whatever he says.

I nodded at Tom, meeting his gaze levelly. I gave him a stare with all I had in it and then gestured for him to start. I am going to nail this. In one take if at all possible. The music flooded in my headphones, and I counted beats to myself. One, two, three, and... G- "Are you even paying attention, Harrison? Do you have better places to be? You just missed your cue... Seriously, do you even want to get out of here?" I swallowed down the words about how I'd just been about to sing and gestured for him to run it again.

I didn't apologize. This time I made sure to start a half-second early, lest he cut me off. "_You got time if tii-_" I began, only to be once again interrupted by Tom. The asshole-bastard-face.

"Too fast this time, Harrison. Guess you're just always a little fast, huh?" A prick of pain. Another stab at my virtue. The virtue I still have. I wanted to explode at him, but I had to maintain control, to take whatever he dished out with dignity. I couldn't have him getting even more furious with me, after all. And even if I did... there was no guarantee the words would come out right.

But I was getting frustrated. I gestured for him to play the music again. What else could I do? As usual, I counted down the beats in my head, nice and on time. I didn't look at Tom this time. Maybe that was, after all, the problem. A deep breath and... "_You got time if time is what you ne-_"

Once again, Tom's voice cut into my thoughts. I stopped singing automatically. "Sloppy. Kind of like your relationships with men. Don't take a huge breath before you sing. Makes it sound like you're a damn fish gasping for air." I seethed but vowed to do as he said. I know I'm probably not in the best mood to do this right now, but I'm not about to back down. And I can't be that awful, now, can I?

I nodded again, frustration building within me fast. A hand and the music began again. "_You got time if time is what you needed... You're not-_"

"You sound breathless. Did you forget to breathe before singing? Because, you know, air is kind of required in order for you to get the words out... And, really, we can't be having that, you sounding like the whore you are. God, that voice was just one step away from a moan!" I flinched, unable to believe he'd just said that.

HIM, of all the freaking people in the world. Pot to the kettle anyone? Not only that, but the man was giving me contradictory advice. That one I wasn't about to take lying down. My eyes narrowed, and I leaned into the microphone. "Well, you would have the sound of my moans memorized, now wouldn't you?" I retorted.

Panic flashed briefly across Tom's eyes. Danger Tom Quincy, Danger! He cast a surreptitious glance at Kwest, who looked very much confused and also very deeply disturbed. He faltered for just a second before uttering his rejoinder almost instantaneously. "Me and every other male in my family!"

It was, honest to God, like he'd bitch-slapped me. I didn't even wanna know what Kwest probably thought of me now. I almost made a comment about how the only reason I'd kissed all of his family was because they looked like him. Didn't want to be vulnerable. It kinda pissed me off, you know, because I only just kissed his dad, and Taylor wouldn't know, believe me... I'm not that big of a slut, you know? "Well, maybe if you _satisfied, _I wouldn't have to!" I yelled back, making sure to lean into the microphone even further because Tom was obviously hung-over. He grimaced, and Kwest's jaw dropped. Attacking Tom's manhood was always a good place to go.

We exchanged tense glances and then unofficially called a truce. I motioned for Tom to start up the music yet again, content with winning this small battle. I bobbed my head to the beat, snapping my fingers. It was only a matter of time before Tom called me too folksy or something to that effect. Nevertheless, I leaned back into the microphone. "_You got time if time is wha-_"

When he interrupted this time, I let out a strangled noise of disgruntlement. "That's the wrong tone entirely. You're in a lower register than it should be, and you're off-pitch to boot!"

Tom was going to continue, but I interrupted him for a change, realizing that I might never satisfy him. This wasn't about me or how I was singing it, no matter what he said. It was about the song and me, and his feelings towards both. He didn't like either of us very much. He didn't like our fixations on his mistakes, on the relationship that never happened. "You wouldn't know if I was off-pitch or not because you didn't even let me get through a whole sentence!" I exclaimed irritably. My throat was already sore, and maybe he had a point about me not singing it high enough, but it was my job to sing, not his.

This is my song, and it should be my song without Him. My mistake was ever getting him involved in the first place. "I didn't need to," Tom said as cool as ice. "I have perfect pitch, and it was going to be a bad take." What, Tom, do you dream the future? Can you see five seconds ahead of time? How the hell do you know?

I scowled at him deeply. "Ease up, Stalin! I'm doing the best I can... And if you keep riding me, I'll ask Georgia for a new producer!" I grunted, not sure how much of my threat was idle anymore. It came out sounding horribly passive-aggressive, so much so that Tom laughed in my face. He rolled his eyes and scoffed. You wish, Harrison, his eyes communicated.

He shook his head confidently. "You can't fire me." He chuckled again. "And you won't fire me." I would and I have. In my head a million times. He sounded so freaking sure of himself there that I almost fired him on the spot. Why, Tom, because I stupidly got attached to you? Sorry, but your job kinda rests on us getting along and me actually liking you. So, given that I basically hate you right now and can't bear to be around you, I wouldn't be too cocky if I were you. Even you don't have that kind of job security, Quincy, and if you really wanted that kind of job security, you'd have signed a contract or at least screwed me to seal the deal.

"Stop calling me something you know I'm not, Tom. I'm doing what you ask. The name-calling is unnecessary and awfully personal for an argument over music. This is business, after all. I'm doing my share, so why don't you get down off of your high horse and act like the professional you claim to be?" I requested quietly. My voice was level and even like a neatly pressed shirt. I was eerily calm externally, but a horrible mess on the inside. It felt like there was a gaping hole, a black hole in my stomach, growing within me, sucking my insides in and ripping them apart bit by bit until it devoured me whole.

My tormentor looked the slightest bit guilty and ashamed. The personal attacks were unnecessary and the exact opposite of what he set out to be... professional. I'd beaten him at his own game, but it gave me no pleasure. It didn't mean the end of my fighting with Tommy, just the end of his more insulting comments. He still seemed determined to criticize everything I did. I never got out anything more than a few lines of the song without a comment from Tom. Worse still, I was starting to second-guess myself, although it had become clear that he simply was looking for any excuse to get out of not hearing me sing the whole thing.

After several hours of this unproductive work, I was getting tired again, and it was starting to show. My voice wasn't sounding too hot either, and Tom knew, the bastard. Part of the reason he'd gotten so hard on me was because he'd found me smoking. He wanted me to do my penance for it, so I wouldn't do it again. So whatever I had wasn't quite enough, wasn't good enough. I had to be twice as good. I had to be perfect. I had to do it his way. Only I was so weak and so tired and aching all over, and I didn't feel very good.

It got to me, you know? So I asked for a bathroom break, which Tom granted somewhat impatiently. He snapped at me to be back for more. I'm no glutton for punishment. I didn't ever want to go back into that studio again, with him glaring at me from behind the glass. The walls were starting to close in on me. But still, I knew I had to, and I had a burning desire to prove I could do this. To prove that I could be everything he asked of me. To prove that I wasn't going to quit or give in like he wanted. That I was serious about this song, that I took my music seriously. That my vision did matter in a song. So I resolved myself to return.

Though it would've been much easier to just run out via the fire escape. So many memories on that thing. I ought to never go out there again.

I felt like I could breathe when I stepped out of that horrid room; I was finally out from under the cloud of Tom's wrath. Ironically, I felt like singing.

I immediately headed over to hospitality for some water and some coffee, thirstily consuming as much as I could handle. My nervous stomach twisted and threatened to revolt if a solid passed through my lips, and I didn't have much of an appetite anyway. I was headed to the bathroom when E.J. found me. She grabbed me by the arm in a way that pinched and swiftly pulled me over to the front desk. A bouquet of flowers was waiting for me, and E.J. looked so excited for me that I kind of wanted to cry. "Go on, read the card! Maybe they're from your dreamy boyfriend!" She practically squealed.

I smothered a rare laugh. It was unusual for E.J. to be so carefree. For some reason, my lovelife had always fascinated her. So I humored her with a weak smile and looked at the bouquet. It was an impressive array of white lilies, so I figured they were from Travis. He was the only one who ever sent me flowers anyway. My smile dimmed a little. I picked up the note and read it.

_Pick the flower when it is ready to be picked_, he'd written clear as day. I swallowed hard, having a sinking feeling he was referencing last night. I didn't even want to think about last night; it made me sick and uncomfortable to remember it. Embarrassed too. I shook my head, staring at the words. It was a terribly Tommy thing to write, too.

There was some blank space, but then Travis had written some more. It was a bit of a deviation from his norm. He usually sends me poetry. It was also strangely uneloquent for him. Travis usually improved in the written word. _I'm sorry about last night... It's not that I don't want you... I just... didn't feel right about it. _There was a small line by those words, as if he'd wanted to cross them out but had hesitated and ultimately decided it was better to leave them. It felt like someone had slashed me across the stomach because he reminded me so much of what had happened with Tommy.

A little further down, _I missed you in class today. A lot. Where were you? You okay?_ No, I'm not. The outpouring of concern was surprising but somewhat touching. Travis didn't want to throw me away, so that was reassuring. Then at the very bottom of the page... _We should talk. Call me, C._ Well, that's slightly ominous, but it's probably because he knows something's wrong. Or he actually wants to have that really awkward conversation about me trying to jump him. E.J. peered over my shoulder. "Soo, who's your secret admirer?"

Then she saw the C. Her brow furrowed in confusion. My not answering the question didn't help, but I was distracted and kind of in another world. "CHAZ? Chaz is sending you flowers with cryptic messages?!" She exclaimed so loudly that I'm sure everyone within fifty feet heard. I was mortified. Tom probably even heard inside the studio and was going to make more comments about how I should throw Chaz a bone. I turned to give E.J. a dirty look before snatching a pen from the receptionist.

I shook my head, bending down to scribble on the back of the card. "Chaz is just a friend, despite my uncanny resemblance to his ex-everything... This is from another friend of mine," I told her firmly. I avoided writing anything about last night just as I avoided thinking about it. _Men's vows are women's traitors!_ I'd written back as a reply. I kept my responses brief. My hand was shaking, my handwriting edgy like volts of electricity and thin, spidery in a way. _Studio. Recording. Very Busy. I'm fine._ That one word was the hardest to write. _Might call later. See you Monday, J._

I refolded the note and handed it to E.J. I wrote Travis' address down on another piece of paper and handed that, too, to E.J. "Send the flowers and note to this address," I instructed before leaving to go to the bathroom. "Thanks," I threw over my shoulder as I headed back into the studio.

He was waiting for me impatiently as ever. When I got in the room, he looked somewhat... undone. Kwest wasn't there anymore. Tom's hair was messy, as if he'd been running his hands through it. His eyes were dark and forbidden, and he was more impatient than I realized. He cleared his throat and acted as if he'd never told me to sing. He jerked his head towards the studio. "You. Play. Now."

Not even a please. I nodded numbly, wondering why he needed this from me. We already had Speed's extra tracks. We didn't need any more, but try telling Tom that. It seemed like just another excuse for him not to hear my voice. Like he couldn't bare it if he heard my voice. Heard the pain in it. It was easier not to fight, to just do as Tom said. I played guitar like an automaton, passionlessly, and every time he found reasons not to be satisfied. My heart wasn't in it. I was barely awake, barely alive, barely cognizant of it.

He was the opposite, on edge, jittery. He stiffened a little more every time he heard the starting chords, swallowed a little harder every time I got into it. His jaw tightened like a vise. He didn't want to do this, but he insisted. He insisted on supervising, on perfection. He was going to see it out until the end. There was a sharpness to his features, something haughty about the way he held his head. I made a lot of mistakes, but I had the worst headache. "You can do better," He said. "Once more, this time with feeling," He said. "C'mon, you can do better than that." Trying his best to provoke me.

There was that point where I just didn't care. I did what he said. I knew nothing else than going through the motions. No hunger. No pain, except the splitting headache, though my feet and legs would later ache from standing too long. I gritted my teeth and bore it. Hours later, Tom saw me swaying and left. He returned gruffly with a cup of coffee, which he thrust at me because he couldn't. It went down warm and smooth and velvety, and it felt like heaven. As soon as I finished it, Tom practically pushed me back to the studio and demanded I play for real this time. So I did.

But I didn't look at him. I looked above him the whole time, probably with this soulless look in my eyes, and I finally concentrated on the music. Because I realized something. The music's what I've got. It won't leave me, and I've always known that, but I guess I forgot how wrapped up in Tommy I'd get now that he's back. Because it's easier to malign him and forget when he's not there. But when he is... he kind of has this way of sucking all the air out of a room and making life this gloomy valley that you can't see out of. And I'm stuck.

I could hear his voice in my ears taunting me the whole time, and I fought my hardest to rise above that. But it felt a lot like I was just treading water, trying to keep my head up, trying not to drown in my despair. I kept soldiering on, kept playing until I heard the right words, the magic words... that I was done. That I was good enough. Not that Tom would ever say them, because I've never been good enough for him. Not when he's had supermodels and movie stars and popstars and the world's sexiest women and my perfect older sister and an older version of me. He doesn't even want me when he's sober.

By this point, it was getting late. Past ten, I think, but I lost all track of time in that studio. I snapped out of my trance upon hearing Tommy's voice, which was rusty from disuse. He hadn't spoken in hours. All he'd done was gesture and shake his head and make grunting noises I couldn't understand to express his disapproval. Finally, he said the words I was longing to hear. "That'll do... I guess that's enough." Anticlimactic, I know, but he almost said my name that time. Almost is the watchword with this guy.

My eyes flashed over to him immediately. He didn't look good at all. His cheeks were pale and hollow, and he was pinching the bridge of his nose as if he was in pain. He glanced up at me briefly before glancing down. "Look, I'm beat. It's been a long, frustrating, unproductive day, and I don't feel too hot. If I stay here any longer, I'm afraid this song is going to be the death of me... So I'm gonna head out," He told me somewhat unnecessarily. I started getting excited against my will that he was entrusting me with such unnecessary details. But I shouldn't have.

He pulled his hand away from his brow, looking at me intently in a way that made me both uncomfortable and hyper aware of him. Our eyes locked momentarily in a stare, a battle of wills. Somehow he won, despite looking away first. But then again, he always wins. "You should stay here for a while... Practice some more for tomorrow. You sounded awful today, Harrison. I expect you to be ready to go when I get here tomorrow," He ordered with authority in his voice. I felt instantly awful and like... such a failure. That, when it was kind words I wanted. But, at least, I rationalized, he hadn't said anything about my distracted guitar-playing.

Tom stood up slowly, proud with every inch, inspiring fear and admiration. I watched him eagerly, soaking up every little bit of him. He looked really good at that moment, despite looking the worst I'd ever seen him, and there was something so inherently desirable about him at that moment that I could've jumped him. That's how you know it's love, friends. He stretched, flexing his arms over his head, and I gasped a little, biting down hard on my bottom lip as I watched how his shirt stretched taut across his chest and rode up a little. "And while you're at it, spend some time listening to what we've got and try to tell me what's missing aside from your vocals... Something's wrong with it," He added in a tone that was slightly less bossy.

I nodded eagerly. Could I be any more of a loser? Tom smirked a little, correctly reading me, I'm sure. And, aww, how cute and how pathetic, Harrison! I didn't even need him to say it because it was written across his face, and I knew he was gonna say something hurtful, I just knew! It didn't matter because his voice in my head was telling me the same thing, and it was exactly like he was saying it to my face. "You don't know the meaning of discreet, now do you? Try to make your longing a little less evident, Harrison. It's getting pathetic," He sneered in a voice that was both mocking and full of disgust and loathing so intense it made me flinch. His smirk widened a little, but I didn't say a damn thing. "And that stunt you pulled this afternoon? Smells like desperation," He snarled, sounding as downright vicious as a German shepherd. Almost as if he was overcompensating for his reaction to the aforementioned stunt and really didn't want a repeat.

But he was wrong, and my whole being cried that out. Because that wasn't me being desperate, although it hurt to hear him say that, and it hurt even worse to see the dark little laughing look in his eyes that said, ha, fat chance. That damn look that said it wasn't happening, period, no matter what I did. _You're never going to get me back._ So why should I demean myself by trying? But I wasn't even trying! I was trying to push him away. He was the one who pounced. I was the one who was pushing him away, and he would've known if I was trying to seduce him... As usual, the bastard blames it all on me when it's his damn fault!

Yet I was tongue-tied and compliant and unable to say a word to him. Because what could I say when I couldn't find the words that usually came so easily and instinctively? So I just stood there, mute, like a freaking statue. And Tom just barely held back a snicker. Sadist. He seemed to enjoy my misery, to relish it, to cherish the fact that he was the cause of all of it. Had he ever been my friend? Were we doomed to this?

"I'll see you later. Bright and early tomorrow. Nine sharp. Be there," Tom instructed. His eyes narrowed. "And if I catch you smoking again, I will make you regret it," He growled, meaning it. What would he have said if he knew that half the reason I smoked was because I smelled like him. Tasted like him. Because I missed him, and the cigarettes were a poor substitute.

The words flowed out of my mouth before I could stop them. They came out in a surprising burst of passion. "Why do you think I smoke, Tom?" I spat. "I smoke because I regret it!" I might as well have said I smoked because of him. Because I regretted him. But, really, it's like that Flux A.D. song, "It's a drag of your cigarette... breathe deep in your regret." And that's what I try to do. Replace one unhealthy addiction with another.

He stiffened and glared at me, almost like I'd hurt him or something. Almost. "Like I said, don't smoke. Because I will make things very unpleasant for you if I even smell it on you." What, you'll kill me before the cigs do? How sweet. But you're a little late for that, aren't you? Dead girl walking here, practically a zombie.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, how cute, Tom. Are you actually going to be coming close enough to smell me now?"

Obviously he had no answer for that, and he left me there without another word. I was left with a faint feeling of victory, but it was a Pyhrric one, and I wasn't really any better off for it. I waited for five minutes and then let out a huge breath, slumping against the wall. And then I surprised myself by actually doing what he said. I practiced my singing. When I was sure he couldn't still be there, lurking, I snuck out and drank like an elephant, gobs and gobs of water.

Then I looked down at my hands. They were raw, red and dry. My fingers looked stubby and so unpretty, and some of my fingers were bloody. The blood had mostly dried, though, crusted under my nails or laying like a thin coat of pain on my skin. I didn't feel the pain until I looked at them. My throat, however, hurt something awful. My voice was so dry that I sounded entirely awful, and it'd be a wonder and a credit to myself if I was even able to sing at all tomorrow. But I had to because Tom expected me to, and I couldn't fail him. I couldn't fail myself or the music because I knew Tom was just waiting for an excuse to call it all off.

With my hand protectively on my throat, I went to the bathroom. My body felt so neglected, and I realized that my needs had been severely neglected, but I hadn't had the time to care or do much of anything about them. I washed my hands thoroughly with hot water, so nothing would get infected. I didn't dare look at myself in the mirror out of fear for what I would see. And after that, I devoured water from the sink before wiping my face off and returning to the lobby.

By that point, it was maybe close to one, I think? All I know is it was pitch black outside, and the studio was deserted. Closed, even. Tom had turned off most of the lights, and so all I had was the moonlight and a few less intense lights. So I went back to the studio because it was familiar, and I didn't know what else I could do. I crawled back into that booth because it felt natural and I sang the song to my heart's content, but my voice was all wrong, and it hurt to listen to myself as my voice broke off like that.

When I could take no more (I didn't last long), I made my way back to the familiar couch in the lobby, and I lay down there and tried to sleep. I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. Yet I was so tired. Every time I closed my eyes, though, I saw his face. And when I opened my eyes, his face swam before my eyes, even though I knew he wasn't there. I didn't want to see his face, so after that, I just kept my eyes open.

The only time I closed my eyes after that was when I thought about food, and my stomach responded with waves of nausea so intense I thought I was going to vomit right then and there. I closed my eyes against the pain, but I did not cry. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. My hands felt like paper, thin and fragile and cut. Eventually, though, it passed, and a wave of nervous energy swept over me. I couldn't sit still anymore, and I couldn't lie there thinking about him because it was torturing me.

So I retreated back to what I knew. Music. Writing songs. And I wrote my feelings, taking time to imagine all the intricacies of how the chords would sound all put-together. The words I forgot, but they suited me. They were written hastily because I didn't want to devote too much thought to it and get caught up. And, you know, it's true. What Bob Marley said. He said, "The great thing about music is that when it hits, you feel no pain." And believe you me, it felt good to be numb and to get my mind off of everything but the melodies.

So hit me with music, and hit me hard, because right now, just thinking about Tommy hurts like crazy.

The next hours I felt kind of like I was on coke. Or some bizarre stimulant high that was really sleep deprivation. I seemed so much more productive; I was doing so much. Singing and recovering and writing melodies and doing homework and cleaning up. Around five or six, I headed to the bathroom. I peeled off my sweater, pushed my bangs out of my eyes as best I could, and splashed ice cold water on my face, taking a deep, shuddering breath as I did so. I finally looked in the mirror and found that I barely recognized the girl staring back at me.

'Cause she wasn't me. This girl had pale, pale, almost lifeless skin that was practically translucent. She had painfully dark circles under her eyes, bags too, so violet they looked like bruises. Her lips were chapped and swollen, painfully cracked and a blistering whitish color. Her eyes were a faded blue-gray, washed out like the rest of her, and unfocused. Her hair was messy, dull, tangled, dirty and unkempt. It hung limply over her eyes. Her frame seemed somewhat shrunken, her shoulders were tight and firmly set. She held her head a little lower and didn't look people in the eyes. She didn't walk as tall, and she didn't have any energy to spare. All the vibrance, all the color was gone. She looked so small.

Like a broken doll. Something was terribly wrong with her.

And I couldn't fix it. Travis couldn't fix it. So I did what I could, and I tried my best to cover it up. I washed my face with hot, hot water to bring color to my cheeks. I caked on the foundation and cover-up I never wore to hide the pallor and camouflage the circles. I slicked chapstick and lip-gloss and lipstick across my lips. I smeared blush on my cheeks and circled my eyes with eyeliner and eye-shadow, hoping it'd be enough. But I was still the same girl, only a little more put together. Nothing had really changed.

I found myself back in the studio a couple hours later, gazing at the hard drive that held my heavy, clogged-down song, waiting for Tom's storied arrival without saying it. The door opened quietly, and I barely glanced up, so dazed was I. My eyes caught a flash. It was just Kwest, come in early to do some mastering and catch-up work. I disregarded him immediately, both relieved and annoyed that he wasn't Tommy. My heart beat faster in spite of myself. I resumed staring at the hard-drive, hearing the song loop in my head. His words came back to haunt me. "Just look at it, sitting there, staring, _judging_..." I muttered to myself.

Kwest sighed and shook his head, sitting down next to me. I heard rather than saw the movement. I knew he was worried, and while I wasn't always very fond of Kwest, particularly in regards to his feelings towards the idea of a me-and-Tommy, he was a friend. And I didn't want to see the worry, the pity in his eyes. "See, that's what you get for pulling an all-nighter. It's just a hard-drive, Jude," He told me, trying to reassure me.

No, it's not. I shook my head. "You don't understand, Kwest." That hard-drive houses Tommy's faith in me. It has the remains of our relationship, the not-so-pretty, gritty revelation. Its contents were borne of a struggle of wills, and my will has to prevail. It's my saving grace. That hard-drive is my way of proving myself to him. Of proving my usefulness... of proving that I don't need him. Of expressing myself as an artist. It's my way of talking about it! It's so much more than that. And, without it, I honestly don't think I could keep going.

Underneath all that, a more painful, secret truth. One that I can't face so easily. It's the culmination, the final act of Jude and Tommy. It's all I've got left. It's _all _I've got. "I just wanna make it good," I replied defensively.

He cleared his throat impatiently, wanting me to look at him. I didn't, so he grabbed my arm, and it felt so hard. So I looked at him, and he backed away a little. "Look, Jude, are you all right?" I nodded determinedly, making a point to look him in the eyes with all the fierceness I could muster. But I didn't answer. He bought it well enough, though. His eyes were sad and soft. "You sure, Harrison? You don't look too good." He pushed a little bit more.

I smiled tightly. It felt like there was a vice on my head. "I'm fine, Kwest." I wanted to snap at him but lacked the energy for anything more than a terse response. "I've just been wracking my brain trying to think about what this song's missing, and I think I've listened to it so much I'm starting to go a little... crazy." Kwest raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "You think?" I ignored it and continued steadily. "It's not the tempo... It doesn't sound like it should in my head... And I kind of want to scrap all the extra instrumentals, but Tom would flip if I tried, and... I don't know what to do," I rambled. He expects me to have something for him.

The worry, the fear creeping up in my voice, I hated it so. That, what, now I was scared of his disapproval? What is he, God? He can't smite me if I displease him, and that's all I've been doing lately. I'm starting to think it's all I know how to do. My companion offered no advice. "Look, Jude, the music... that's your business. It's your song. Tom's going to have to do what you want eventually." You'd really think, wouldn't you? Pause. "Anyways, I'm gonna get coffee and a doughnut or two. You want anything?" He asked casually.

I shook my head stubbornly. My stomach was so, so empty, but I scarcely felt it. Besides, I had gotten so accustomed to feeling empty lately. I hadn't been hungry in a long time. It felt like I hadn't been hungry in days. All the stress and Tommy and everything I was feeling filled me right up, and I had no appetite whatsoever. Eating seemed unnecessary. My body didn't want it. "I'm not hungry."

Kwest sighed and nodded. He opened the door, which creaked softly, and turned to face me one final time before leaving. "Uh, Jude, you've kind of got something right there..." He informed me, gesturing to his chin and then pointing to my neck. I frowned and felt around my neck. Had I missed something? All the marks Tommy had left me with had faded long ago, except the ones on the inside that had turned into scar tissue. I felt the raised sandpapery-dry skin and flushed despite myself. "That looks like a rash. What happened?"

What else, I thought, rolling my eyes... Tommy Freaking Quincy! I've been burned by his razorburn. How fitting. Even when we're apart, he leaves his mark on me when we do collide. I struggled to think of an adequate lie. "Oh! Uh, I tried a new perfume today, and, um... I'm apparently allergic to it." Allergic, addicted... same thing, really. _And I'm addicted; I can't break free... I won't resist it, so don't make me..._ floated through my head, that song from a distant dream where I was so incandescently happy. Dreams aren't reality, though. That's why they're dreams, because they never come true. I rubbed my neck subconsciously, nervously, but Kwest bought the lie like pie. And left, just like that.

I waited an eternity for Tom to show. Kwest stopped by once more, trying to get me to eat. I assented and walked into Hospitality, trying to find something small I could munch on. I don't remember what I ate, but it was only a couple handfuls of... peanuts or Goldfish or pretzels or something salty and leftover and forgotten. Like I'd been that night. I groaned, tugging on my hair. Why did everything have to remind me of him? It just made it worse. I was so nervous that I felt like I was going to throw up what little I'd consumed, so I downed a lot of water, hoping against hope he would be satisfied.

He was an hour late, of course, and it pissed me off, but what the hell could I do? I couldn't even comment on it. The sense of my own futility and inability to do what I wanted overwhelmed me. Tom just breezed in the studio without missing a beat, as if he wasn't affected at all. I'd almost say he wasn't, but he didn't look like himself either. He was dressed in all black, loose-fitting clothes. This time, it didn't even look like he'd bothered to shave at all. His hair was standing on end as if he'd been running his fingers through it for hours, and his eyes were bloodshot. It didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep either, and a small, malicious part of me was glad for it.

Tom cocked an eyebrow and regarded me coolly. His eyes screamed of a challenge that all of my being wanted to rise up to. "So, what have you got for me, Harrison?" He drawled, seating himself next to me. His eyes were expectant, and he leaned forward, waiting for what I had to offer.

Though secretly I was panicking, I shrugged as casually as I could and told him what I knew. "It's too much... All the sounds... it's overwhelming." Come to think of it, I felt a lot like that myself. I swallowed hard and didn't look at him. "And it's a simple song. So, I say... Strip it down to the basics, Quincy," I advised anxiously.

That wasn't the right answer, and I knew that before the words had even come out of my mouth, but I decided to say it anyways. Even if it didn't make him happy, it was the truth. Maybe he would see that. Of course, being the stubborn jackass he is, he didn't. I wasn't too surprised. He merely shook his head, scowling, and he completely disregarded my words. "Wrong again, Jude." His voice sounded bitter, patronizing, sounded so much like the mocking voice in my head that taunted me for ever thinking I had a chance. He shook his head and chuckled a little to himself. "Everything stays. Everything stays," He repeated numbly, but his voice and gaze were distant like he was lost in his own world.

Oh, I knew enough about him to let that be. He listened to the song for what felt to me to be the millionth time, and a part of me hated it so much. Because it rang of him. Every peak and valley of the music sang of him. And I needed so badly to finish it, to get _him_ out of my system. I couldn't have this song in my veins any longer. It was poison, like snake venom, and it needed to be sucked up and spat out. Tommy's my drug.

He tweaked some minor bits, broke each track down and examined it, hunting for flaws where there weren't any, but he refused to let me leave. There was nothing I could do but listen and try and think of ways to entertain myself. Tom didn't give any credence to my suggestions, and he seemed to only be aware of me when it was convenient for him. No, Tom foolishly insisted I stay if I wanted to learn all about the process of making my music. Because I had to be involved at every level. So I stayed, if only so he wouldn't have an excuse to scrap everything.

We were in there for hours, sitting there in mind-numbing silence save for that terrible, all-important song. My heavy eyelids fluttered and pricked at the corners dangerously. I was long bored out of my skull and considered it a sheer credit to my willpower that I'd managed to stay awake so long... I'd lost count of the hours spent in the waking world, of the hours of sleep I'd missed. But now that Tommy was here, I could scarcely keep my eyes open, and it hit me slowly that it was because his presence, even then, was still soothing to me, comfortable. And maybe I couldn't sleep without him, couldn't face the empty space, the cold bed, or waking up alone, without him wrapped all around me. Not now that I knew what it was like.

Every time I'd start to fall asleep, or every other time or so, he'd look over and see me and snap at me. "No sleeping on the job, Superstar!" And I'd jolt awake immediately, so desperate was I to please him. "I'm wasting my time on this Bridge to Nowhere, and you're not even taking it seriously. I can't believe you." Disappointment and irritation coated his voice, like he thought me ungrateful. "Look, Kid, do you want to do this, or do you want your blankie?" His voice rose precipitously as the furious color spread across his face like blood splattering. "Why are you even here if you're just going to sleep? You might as well just go home and take a nap." I did none of those things. I remained stubbornly, firmly where I was. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me give in.

He said other things, too, more caustic things, but I didn't say a damn thing. I was paralyzed, afraid and petrified at the amount of control I'd lost and so, _so_ desperate to prove him wrong. My mouth was sewn shut, and I couldn't have spoken, even if I had wanted to. So I picked at my nail polish compulsively instead, chipping it, removing it bit by bit by bit, watching it splinter into black flakes. That way I didn't see him.

Then, just once, Tom grabbed my chin and abruptly jerked my head to face him, eyes blazing like a tall bonfire stretching towards the skies, licking the branches of trees. "You're going to stay until you finish this," He decreed determinedly, glowering at me. The look in his eyes left no room for question, and afterwards, after the hours passed idly like that, he had me in the studio again. I didn't get any further than a few lines. It didn't matter which verse I did; he found fault with everything. Tom took a late lunch break, and Kwest snuck in, offering me a sandwich which I declined politely.

When Tom returned, he responded by popping a handful of aspirin. I stared at him through narrow slits, fully jealous. My headache hadn't at all abated, and I was beginning to feel unpleasantly lightheaded. At first I thought it was the sleepiness or... that it had something to do with Tom (and, to be fair, it probably did), but as time went on, I realized that it probably wasn't. It made me feel dangerously instable and unsteady on my feet. But Tom wouldn't let me sit, and as the day went on, I became increasingly worthless. I lacked focus, couldn't concentrate, and I was beginning to think my eyes were playing tricks on me.

I had to beg Tom for a break, and, honestly, I don't remember too much of that day... Just the sensations all coming together to overwhelm me, and I was too tired to fight back anymore. I was unable to look at him, to properly hold my neck up. The weariness had crept in down to my bones. Maybe he sensed this, or maybe he just greedily wanted, needed a break. It was starting to wear on him too, these long hours in the studio, sitting in that uncomfortable chair. He granted me thirty minutes of my own, doled out forty-five minutes of my own free time, and it felt good.

So I used the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face to wake me up a little. I briefly stepped in to see Kwest, who immediately tried to force-feed me Chinese food. I pushed it away and instead munched on a few old coffee beans for some energy, and the bitter black tar mud taste in my mouth seemed a perfect summation of the black hole my life had become. Then I headed unnoticed outside, back to the damn fire escape for a couple cigarettes. Before I knew what I was doing, I'd smoked three and was well on my way to a fourth, one after another. Me, a chain-smoker.

The hot, thick air shook me up a little, made me relax. It surrounded me like a warm, comforting blanket of fog. I liked the feeling of the wind whipping my hair around my face. I soaked in the coldness of the air. It was warmer than it had been yesterday, and my clothes were too thin, but I appreciated the cool feeling. I alternated short puffs and long drags, sucking down the smoke like it was a punishment I deserved. I didn't care what Tom thought or what he'd do if he found out. I was so beyond that, so mired in my own suffering that, well, what _else_ could he really do to me? Nothing worse than anything I wasn't already doing to myself. Or anything he'd already done.

Then I placed the box of cigarettes back in my pocket and crept back into the studio, where Tom was waiting. My cheeks were flushed from the chill and the thrill and probably guilt, but Tom didn't look at me. He merely gestured absently for me to return to my rightful place and sing again. The forty-five minutes had definitely passed, but he didn't nag me this time. In fact, he sat through the entire song like a passenger. Only he wasn't listening to the words.

His eyes were vacant; he wasn't really there, present. He just sat through the first whole version of the song, which was rough, and, admittedly, very raspy and not quite always in key. He just barely managed to press the button to end recording. Tom said nothing. It was as if he was in a trance. And I started to get upset because even I knew it wasn't good enough, and I didn't want him to be setting my song up to fail. Then he blinked and calmly asked me to sing it again, this time minus the raspiness.

So help me, I tried countless times, but I couldn't make my voice stop being husky. As I kept on singing with no hydration, my throat became thick and sticky and clogged and so dry with thirst. The taste in my mouth faded to the smell of old books and the back of stamps, musty, unused, and ancient. My voice deepened unconsciously, broke some times, wavered, became an unreliable and out-of-tune instrument. And the worse it got, the more frustrated I became, and the worse it became. The harder I tried, the worse I seemed to sound. Nothing was working right.

The disappointment seemed to be etched permanently into Tom's face, as was his disinterest. He seemed scarcely aware of how poorly I was doing, like he'd blocked it all out, and sometimes he closed his eyes and focused solely on the music. His expectations were falling. My feet were so tired, and I was wavering on my feet, swaying slightly, weak as I'd ever been when Kwest came in. Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and gestured for me to come out.

I seated myself in my chair, grateful to sit and even more pleased to be able to rest and put my feet up on the soundboard. Kwest insisted on sitting in and shooting the both of us none-too-subtle looks of concern. He was holding a box of Chinese food and tilted the box towards me, silently offering me some and trying to get me to eat, but I pretended not to see it. He kept jabbing it toward me, and I pushed his hand and the box away, not even a little hungry. Kwest offered his input and asked a lot of questions, told Tom how it was going with the mastering and the work he'd been doing with Mason lately.

Tom wasn't an active participant, so Kwest left shortly afterwards. Tom bent over and in a swift motion knocked my feet off of his precious soundboard, shooting me a dirty look. Being myself, I tipped over, taking the chair with me in my glorious head-over-feet fall. My life was really beginning to resemble an Alanis Morissette song by that point.

At least he didn't laugh, right?

He grunted for me to get up and pointed back at the booth. I glowered and pushed myself up with unwilling hands, gritting my teeth as I walked back to that little room I despised so much. I sang some more, sang my best for him. This time I got through entire versions before he broke down everything I did wrong in a bored monotone. I was sure that at least one of them had to be good enough, but my voice didn't sound too great. I'd put too much stress on it.

"We _will _finish this thing tonight. We're both going to stay until it's done," Tom insisted later, as the day waned and grew into night. We knew no sense of the passage of time in the studio, only what our cellphones said. "I don't care if you're tired. We've wasted more than enough time on it. And as soon as I get a decent recording out of you, we're going to burn it to a CD and forget about it until it's time for your next album," He continued grumpily. It was getting quite late indeed, and he seemed to be more tired than I did at that point, so I gave him a skeptical glance in response.

Tom sighed and proposed another break, said he was going to drink some coffee. He added gruffly that I should down some water too. Privately, I agreed that he had a point. My vocal chords chafed. So I grabbed a water bottle and headed outside for some fresh air. I was beginning to haunt the fire escape. It was chilly and I wasn't wearing a jacket or a sweater or anything, but the chill was refreshing in a way. Almost immediately, I downed half of the water bottle. My grateful throat glugged it down, absorbing every drop of moisture.

Then I twisted the cap back on the bottle and once again drew out the mostly empty pack of cigarettes I'd stolen from him. I liked having even a vestige of his smell on my skin. Sighing, I lit one and brought it to my lips, breathing in deeply. I sighed, exhaling the heat and leaning into the cold of the night and the banister. My eyes fluttered shut, and then they opened as my head flew back to take in the stars, firmly set like diamonds in the black velvet of the sky. The sight was gorgeous.

The door swung open violently, practically off its hinges, and of course I knew it was him, but I didn't stub my cigarette out. I merely drew in another breath of poison and waited for him to find me. I'd given up being afraid of his reactions and his irrational anger. Sure enough, when Tom showed, he was spitting mad. I merely blinked, wishing he could leave me alone. But no, no, he stalked over to me, tried to snatch the cigarette from my hand. I resisted.

"I can't believe you could be so stupid." I gave him a look. Well, I was stupid enough to think I had something with you. By comparison, this _is_ smart. I don't really care much about my life right now or what I'm doing to myself. All I know is that this relaxes me and that it feels good. I don't care about tomorrow. "I tell you not to do something, and you deliberately go and do it just to piss me off!" He's getting pissed now, but I simply don't care.

"Yes, because _everything's_ about you, Quincy," I reply sarcastically, meaning to spit it out like I did in the past but finding myself unable to do so. I bring the cigarette to my lips and inhale fire deeply. Not everything's about you, except when it is. And we both know it is, has been lately.

He scowls at me, but I just look away. He wants to bring up my voice, and I can see that, but that won't convince me. "How dare you disobey me." I can't tell if it's a question or a statement or an expression of anger, the beginnings of a lecture, or simply disbelief. I tell myself the difference doesn't matter, and at first, for a long time, I don't respond. But then I do because I'm not about to let him get away with talking to me like that. Like I have to obey him.

I rolled my eyes at him, hard. "Forgive me, but I **dare**, Tom. And what is it to you, anyway? You're not my father. You're not even my boyfriend anymore. So why do you get a say in my personal life and what I want to do to myself? It's none of your business," I pointed out jadedly, sucking some more on my cigarette. It feels like a crutch in my hand, and I blow the smoke into his face, sneering at him.

As expected, Tom flinches at the word "boyfriend." I shake my head to myself. This, from a man who was engaged as many times as he was and married? He stiffens, and his whole being seems to get tighter and taller. Then he looks in my hand and sees the pack of cigarettes, realizes that they're his. His face turns a whole new, even brighter shade of red. "You stole my effing cigarettes!? What the **hell** is wrong with you? You don't just do that!" He snaps, shouts, full of disbelief and outrage. He's clearly suffering without the nicotine, so I thrust the cigarettes towards him.

"Well, I did. Want one?" I ask coolly. He is anything but cool, and his eyes are dark and bitter and accusing. And they keep flashing why, why, why like a broken record. So I answer because it's time I freaked him out. "It makes me feel closer to you, okay? My lips on your cigarettes, my fingertips on your lighter, me haunting your favorite spot for a smoking break. I breathe you in; I breathe you out," I tell him in a voice that sounds hollow more than anything, and for a shining moment I feel pathetic not in the slightest.

Once again, this deer-in-headlights look comes across his face, a whole-body shudder this time. I can't tell whether it's from my words or the cold. Tom reaches out for a cigarette. I light it for him carefully, but my hands are half numb and shaky, so it's an awkward gesture. Unbelievably, I chose this precise, tenuous moment to make things even more awkward. It's stunning how poor and pitch-perfect my timing is. "Do you think I had sex with Taylor? Is that why you're being such an asshole?" I blurt. It came as such a shock to him that he damn near dropped his cigarette.

For a long time, too long, Tommy doesn't say or do anything. Then he shrugs coolly, like it's no big deal. Like he doesn't even care if I did or not. And I don't know what hurts worse, him not caring or the possibility that he might think I actually did it. "I can't deny that the thought hasn't crossed my mind and tormented me once or twice." He takes a deep drag and directs that moody stare of his elsewhere. He's playing it nonchalant, but I can tell it's kept him up at night, tossing and turning. He's remembering... or imagining what we were going to do, I just know it. That's why his mind even jumped to that channel. And he can't see it, but there's a sick look on his face. The look on my face matches his.

The thought of screwing Taylor is kind of that repulsive to me right now. It just doesn't compute. He's not a sexual being to me.

"It shouldn't." Tommy's head snaps up at that, surprise written all over his face. He knows what this means. I shake my head at him. "You know me better than that. You should know I wouldn't do that. I barely know him. Do you really think so little of me that it's easy for you to imagine me running to the arms of a virtual stranger just to get over you?" I continue, disappointment in him showing through in my voice. I hated the genuine hurt in my voice, how I was disappointed he thought so ill of me, how it betrayed me.

"They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else," He retorts a bit snidely, sneering at me through the smoke. It hits me like a rock in the head. Fair point, though. After all, wasn't that the basis of my "relationship" with Travis? The physical stuff? Him comforting me? I wasn't so good as I'd pretended. But Travis was the ideal choice. I've known him for months, and he gets me. And he looks just like Tommy, and maybe that's only impeding my progress, but it's still something, right? Because as alike as they are, as they seem to be, they're really entirely different.

"And you would know? You've never been attached to anyone enough to _have_ to get over them. Hell, you get over someone when you're still under someone else!" I rejoined harshly. Upon realizing a moment later that what I had just said made little sense at all, I cleared my throat and straighted up a little.

I didn't look at him as I said it. "Well, for your information... even though it's absolutely _none_ of your business... I didn't screw him. Or anyone... Not even you." My voice is hard like diamonds. I almost choked on the bitterness of my own voice. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, retreating back to my lonely cigarette. He's made a face and is clearly going to make a comment about me lying to him about that, I can sense it... but, oh, heavens, he looked so terribly relieved. Like an angel or something.

Luckily for me, he decided against saying something nasty and went for the sincere route. Not that there isn't some kind of excruciating pleasure in having to face the truth, or a means for pain in it either. Truth hurts more than every cruel lie because it can't be dismissed. "For the record, I didn't really think you did," He admitted, letting out a big sigh. I'm inexplicably proud of him for this. He gestures to himself, puffing on that cigarette. He looks jittery, leans forward, looks kinda shady. Like what he's about to say isn't something he should tell me.

And it isn't, of course, but he does anyways. And I'm glad. "And this... It's not because of Taylor. It's because I'm an asshole. Always have been, always will be. I can't be anything else. I can't be better," Tom tells me bluntly, but I don't believe him all the way. He is an asshole, and I know this, but he's been better. I've seen him better. A minute later he shrugs, realizing that his statement hasn't had much of an effect on me. "This is my way of dealing with it... It's all I know how to do, and I'm good at it. I _have_ to make you hate me so you won't love me anymore. Because I'm **not** worth it, Jude," He reveals a moment later, and his voice is so full of self-hate that it makes me breathless. My heart breaks a little more for him.

And then I'm falling even further down, like he just pushed me off a swing in mid-air or shoved me down the slide. I'm splitting down the middle and falling apart at the seams. Because he doesn't _want_ me to love him, doesn't appreciate the gift I gave him so freely. He spat out the word "love" like it was a dirty, shameful word. It's always words like that with him... I'm not worth it. I don't deserve you. I'm not good enough. I'm bad for you. I can't. And as much as I want to hate him and despise him forever, I can't because he's so flawed and so messed up and so broken and so much more vulnerable around me and so, so _wrong_ that my heart aches for him, and I regret causing him any pain by foisting my feelings on him.

But he doesn't want me to love him. He said that like my being in love with him was some catastrophe that was going to end the world, like it was his mission in life to make it (me) stop. To make me hate him and fall out of love with him forever. But I can't do that, not really, because no matter how hard I try, it all comes back to him in the end. Like a vicious cycle or some damn circle of life or that stupid recycling triangle thingie. Hate and love aren't mutually exclusive, and feeling both at the same time is a hot and cold hell.

I sighed, leaning forward, against the railing. "You'll always be worth it to me. You're never not going to be worth it, Tommy. And you really should know by this point that you can't make a person fall out of love with you. You can be the world's biggest prick, and I guarantee you that some demented part of me is still gonna love you. And that's my curse," I told him matter-of-factly, glancing at him from time to time as I took one last puff on my cigarette before smashing it into the railing and twisting it, effectively extinguishing the stump of a cigarette that was left and then dropping it to the ground below.

I whirled around and turned to face him expectantly, wanting to wash the unpleasant feeling of this conversation off my skin. Suddenly I felt so much older, like a whole different girl. Maybe like a woman. Someone who was prepared to suck it up and get over him. "We've got to get back to work, don't we?" I asked in a quieter voice. Tom nodded and stomped out his cigarette. He practically pushed ahead of me to get to the door first, and when we walked into the lobby, he stopped at the front desk.

There was a vase of flowers there filled with soft pink and white flowers, blossoming branches, a fuzzy willow branch or two. Tom gestured to the vase violently, picking up the crumpled-up card and throwing it at me. I caught it and frowned at him. "Care to explain to me why my big brother's sending you flowers with love poetry and cryptic messages?" He snapped, glowering at me. If he could've, I was half sure he would've thrown the vase at me. I felt violated that he'd read the note before me. It wasn't meant for him.

It was obviously meant for me.

And how did he know it was from Travis anyways? Travis signed his flowers with a C. I ignored Tom and looked down at the message Travis had written this time. _T__**he**__y can cut down all the flowers, but t__**he**__y can't stop spring. _The message was clear, meant to cheer me up. _Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos._ I blinked, confused by the sudden infusion of Spanish letters. It was the third time he'd mentioned flowers in a note. I looked down further. _Seriously, Scarlet Letter Woman, call me! I'm worried about you, and I'd be really happy to hear from you. Please... let me be there for you. I __**care**__ about you. Yours, C. _

It was nice to know that he was worried, but I still didn't understand that one sentence. He did seem awfully concerned about me. Was that how Tom knew? The words? The handwriting? Tom rolled his eyes at me. "Travis is big on letter-writing and sending flowers to his various paramours. He loves poetry, and Neruda's one of his favorites. He used to send bouquets with letters to Kate all the time with stuff even sappier than that," He explained with an edge in his voice. I felt somewhat less flattered by realizing it was something Travis regularly did. I didn't want to feel like I was usurping Kate's (or Joan's) place in his affections. "Plus, Neruda never fails to get him laid."

Tom made a face. Way to act like a jealous boyfriend. Ex. That's what you are. Ex-everything. Ex-boyfriend, ex-lover, ex-friend... My eyes narrowed, my skin flushed, and I felt cheap. I remembered that Travis had said the other night that Tommy was more of a Rimbaud type. I didn't understand what Travis meant until I looked Rimbaud up on the internet. "I want to do to you what the spring does with cherry trees. Travis isn't exactly subtle, is he?" Tom sneered. I flushed at the implication. Cherries. Damn him. But what does spring really do to cherry trees? It makes them blossom. When I thought about that, it made me smile a little. Still, it didn't stop me from turning over the card and scrawling a message on it.

_There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart, like the eye of violet._

I couldn't quite remember where I'd found that line, or who it belonged to, but it expressed my emotions so clearly. I'd have someone send it to Travis tomorrow. For the time being, I shoved it in my pocket and looked back up at Tom. "Maybe he's sending me love poetry and flowers because you never will," I informed him a bit spitefully. After all, I didn't want him to think there was actually anything going on between myself and Travis. Then I turned on my heel and marched back into the studio for more heartbreaking work.

It went on the same way it had before, with me singing and singing and singing. Tom was snappy, and I grew increasingly tired as the night wore on unproductively. He had no good words to say to me, only insults, and it got to the point where they didn't even hurt anymore. They rolled off my back like water, and I neither heard nor comprehended them. I felt so weak, but I steeled myself as best as I could, tried to hold my neck up, to hold myself up high.

I bit my chapped lips hard enough to feel, picked all the nail polish off my nails, flexed my muscles, did everything I could think of, but it kept getting cloudier. I paced; I wobbled; I wavered. At one point, I was so weary that I leaned against the wall, looking stunned and dazed, barely able to keep myself upright. I wrapped my arms around myself protectively, wanting nothing more than to close my eyes and be dead to the world. I knew no desire more urgently and fiercely and desperately than the urge to sleep. I never knew a hunger or thirst of its like, and while it was all I wanted in the world, a part of me didn't want it quite so much. A vicious gleam flashed in Tom's eyes, that challenging one that only pushed me further, but I didn't see that warning sign. "That all you've got, Harrison?" He taunted, sneering a little.

And, just like that, I was a little bit more awake, and so painfully stubborn and determined that I gritted my teeth and pushed myself off of the wall. "Not a chance," I replied breathlessly, in a fierce, desperate voice scarcely above a whisper. I was still dazed and distracted, though, as I took a hesitant step forward. I walked like a drunken woman, and he scoffed at me.

He fixed me with a look, softening just a little, as if he was encouraging me, bidding me to do as he wished. "You're so tired... and you don't look very well. I understand if you need to sleep. Your body is growing, after all, and you do need your beauty sleep. Why don't you just go home and get into your nice warm bed? It's much more comfortable to fall asleep there than it is here... Don't worry, we can finish later on this afternoon. You just get a good night's rest. You look like you need it." He said all of it in this cooing, supposedly soothing voice, but I wasn't buying a word of that crock or his fake concern. It made me want to gag.

He was being so damn condescending and acting like he knew what was best for me. And the whole thing was so offensive, especially with all the things he implied... And, damn it, I didn't want to be weak! So I forced myself to perk up a little bit, to ignore the heaviness of my eyelids and the burning sensation in the corners of my eyes and the dryness and the pain of standing for so long. And I shook my head hard. "No. You sleep. I'm gonna stay. I'm gonna finish this," I proclaimed loudly in barely coherent sentences. He raised an eyebrow and looked bemused.

Nonetheless, my determination to live up to that promise woke me up fully again, and I gave it my all this time, literally threw myself into the music. I was proving a point to myself too. Tom was surprised, but he quickly resumed hitting me with insult after insult. He wasn't quite as tired as me. I couldn't find it in me to disagree or even fully listen. Honestly, I'm not even really sure he ever wanted me to go home. Because now that I look at it, it seems like he just wanted to hog me, to keep me all to himself as his prisoner of war.

There was this sharpness, this order that came to my heavily sleep-deprived mind then. This complete ability to focus on this one obsessive task that meant more than anything else. I tried my best, worked my ass off, so Tommy couldn't say I was a wuss or a pansy or a weakling who gave in too easily. Again, I don't remember much of that, except the trance-like state I was in. In the morning, there was a brief bathroom break. Tom didn't take the lack of sleep as well as me, but he was just as committed to finishing the damn song.

He rubbed his eyes a lot, yawned so much I had to look away, drank coffee in front of me, ran his fingers through his hair. He popped aspirin after aspirin. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding against each other. His eyes narrowed, and his disappointment was etched permanently into his face. His bitterness and dissatisfaction were in the hard soft line of his pursed lips. He clenched his fists and stiffened his spine, shifting in his chair. He looked uncomfortable like a guy with a rod up his ass. He was like this every time the song played and my voice hit the words. Sometimes he winced, and I pretended not to notice. It was obvious that he despised the song, and that he abhorred it when I sang the words, as if they were too much.

The black, naked hate swirling and burning out of his eyes was the worst of all. Worse than his harsh gruff voice spitting nasty words and insults and critique almost incessantly. It got to the point where it hurt just to look at him, so I stopped.

My voice was raw, but I didn't acknowledge that. I was running on fumes, but I didn't know it. The weariness had become such a part of me that I found it easy to ignore and push past it. Every word I expelled was a battle; compared to this, sleep was nothing. Still, my head spun, and the bright light hurt my eyes, and that ache in my head had been there for so long I'd forgotten what life was like without it. But I pressed on.

At ten or eleven or something, Jamie walked into the studio. He had no idea what he was walking in on. He and Tom had a minor altercation, I think. Tom probably made a fuss, but I didn't notice, lost in the safety and security of the song. Jamie was pleading with me too, maybe, but it was so easy not to pay attention to him and so convenient too that I scarcely heard a word of it. "Jude, please, come home... Your parents sent me here because they haven't seen you in practically a week, and they're worried. They say you haven't come home in days. We're _all_ worried about you... Me, Kat, Speed, Wally, Kyle, Sadie, Joan... Even Travis the assh-" I tuned him out, already forgetting most of what he'd said. I had far bigger concerns.

Besides, if my parents really cared, they would've come down here themselves and dragged me away. I realized dimly that I'd forgotten to call them the past couple days. I barely acknowledged him, scarcely able to believe his existence, let alone focus on having a conversation with him when the song was so much more important. "We miss you... And it doesn't look like you've been taking care of yourself ver-" I was too busy wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me like they had before when I'd sworn I had seen Travis. Travis and Tommy's faces blurred in my mind a couple times in this room, once I even thought I saw Travis in the seat next to Tom. Jamie understood, though, better than I could've ever imagined.

He understood the minute I opened my mouth and croaked out the words to the first verse. He read it in Tom's body language, in the way he reacted so stiffly and instinctively. "_You got time if tiime is what you needed... You're _NOT_**mine**__! I'd rather not believe you're __**fi-ine**__... Rather think you're up alll night..._" At this point, I did level a stare at Tom. He'd been up all night, after all. I think Jamie knew, though, when I spat "You're not mine" with such bitterness and emotion welling up inside of me that there were ashamed, burning tears in my eyes.

I soldiered on, blocking out Tom's complaints, waving them off. "_You're all right... You knew me when you met me. Let's not fight... I'm just a little __feisty__. May-be, maybe I will looose my __**mind**_," I continued drunkenly, teetering dangerously on my feet. Jamie knew from the pleading undertone in my voice. He knew the way I was and wasn't looking at Tommy, so terribly intently sometimes, and then other times not at all. And he knew from the way I laughed and cackled like a madwoman after that last line. And he knew the most from the way I accepted and ignored all of Tom's rude comments and didn't say a word. Or maybe he knew it the minute he laid eyes on me in my demented state, and the pity in his eyes was so strong that it made me falter just a little.

If he had any doubts left, they were quickly extinguished when I reached the pre-chorus. "_I don't want to let you go away! I don't want to let you __**go**__... boy!_" I screamed, pleaded, demanded, urged. I'd been throwing so much of myself into it, no matter how I sounded. My ears couldn't even hear my own voice as they were supposed to. And I could tell Jamie was surprised at the atonality of it, perhaps, or perhaps at the strangled, primal sounds I made.

As always, I threw the most of myself, every little last piece of me, into the chorus, the veritable heart of the song. It was at that moment, the heart of me, the core of my being. And I cried out what my heart was crying out, closing my eyes so hard tears formed. "_I just wanted your __**love**__! I just __**need**__ a bit of your love! I just __**wanted**__ your lo-o-ve! I don't wan-na __**let**__ you go!_" I shrieked and squalled so painfully and so completely desperately (desperation more than anything fueled me) that both other parties winced for me. I was wreaking hell on my vocal cords, wrecking them and probably ruining them completely, but I didn't give a damn. It was like a part of me was dying, like I was physically being ripped apart or burned alive. That's how I sang that verse.

Tommy looked like he was also in physical pain, as if he was being roasted alive or tortured with thumbscrews or all cut up with razor blades and then dipped in alcohol. Not that Jamie would see that. He couldn't see the way this was eating Tommy up alive inside too like I could. Jamie just saw how it was affecting me. Then I stopped and sucked in a deep breath, but it didn't work. My breath still wasn't coming. I was breathless and practically hyperventilating, and I noticed a pair of concerned brown eyes but blinked them away because they probably weren't real and couldn't do anything.

My vision was real blurry by that point. Things were looking awful hazy, and I kept reaching out for things but only catching air. I just wanted something to hold on to. My whole body was tight and heavy like a bag of dead puppies and so sore, all twisted up, permanently in flex. My hands shook faintly and then then the tremors got worse, like I had a neurological disorder or something, but I continued with my white-knuckled grip on my headphones. Jamie protested, but I didn't hear him.

All I heard was Tom's voice in my ears. "Do the second verse again."

Jamie's voice grew louder and louder, but his body looked like a blur, an unrecognizable blob. "I need to do the second verse again," I repeated stubbornly for his sake, nodding as Tom sent the music to me. I was so close to the end I could taste it, and I wanted it so bad! I'd have killed for it. "_You got steam, wheels are turnin'... It's just _me_, a-n-nd I'm __**crashing**__, and I'm __**burning**__ ou-t!_" I sang, accompanying my words with a bit of a shake to stay awake and on my feet. My voice sounded like it was dying out. I was like a candle burning out. Crashing and burning, yep, that's me!

I smirked a little, squinting in Tommy's general direction. "_Shouldn't we be making out?_" It dropped with all the subtlety and joke of an atomic bomb. I shook my finger at him, shame on you, barely able at that point to keep the lyrics straight, let alone remain upright without swaying. The cacophony of noise in my ears and all around me was distracting enough to drown me in a wall of sound. "_You got guts, guts is what I need now... I don't mind...I'm starting to believe it's __**oh**__-verr_-" I continued mindlessly, just barely holding it together. And then, all of a sudden, I wasn't anymore. Over, that's what it was.

My control evaporated, and my body rebelled. My knees buckled, and I went boneless in the worst way, and my whole body just shut down. I fell into the neverending black. I blacked out, so all I remember is that one moment I was singing breathlessly, and then I had no breath because, well, my body gave out on me. That one damn word did me in, finally killed me with all the stress. _Over. I'm starting to believe it's over._

Most of what happened next I don't remember, as I was close to unconscious and have a memory lapse of much of that general miserable weak of my life. So I have to go on half-recollections and dreams and what people have told me. I know that Jamie saw me falling, wobbling, wavering, whatever, and he rushed through the door almost at the same exact moment as I started to fall. Miraculously, he caught me as I fell and kept me from injuring myself severely. He sank to the floor with me and lightly slapped my cheeks, not hard enough to sting but hard enough for me to feel the pressure.

Amazingly, I did not fall into a coma and actually started to wake a little about that, but I felt so cheated out of sleep that I drunkenly batted his hands away. His voice told me things I've forgotten, but Jamie told me something about a comment I made. "Just let the darkness have me." Or something like that. "Just let me rest in peace." Just let me die. Something confusing and vaguely suicidal conveying a sense of leave me be. Jamie persisted in trying to wake me up with no help from Tom.

It took five minutes to get me cognizant enough to understand, and when I finally did, I scrambled to my feet. I'd forgotten what I'd been doing, which I was doing a lot lately, so I pushed Jamie away and scowled at him, told him to leave. "I need to do the second verse," I repeated stubbornly, gesturing for Tom to play the music. Jamie loudly protested, gaping at me as if he couldn't believe it. He couldn't because, well, who would? I was insane and didn't remember that I'd passed out singing it.

Tom scoffed at me, a secretive little grin on his lips, like he'd been victorious. "Take five," He muttered dismissively, cool as an ice cube. I felt bewildered and belittled, and I did not want to do what he said. At that point, I wasn't really sure of much of anything, except that I couldn't trust it. Jamie came in and grabbed me, pulled me out, and I fought him like a rabid dog. Tom didn't glance at me or even look worried, and I could sense in the tightly coiled lines of Jamie's body that he was absolutely furious with Tom.

Yet I couldn't bring myself to be. Jamie ushered me out of the room, shooting Tom a disapproving glare which Tom gladly returned. He escorted me to a small, quiet room and set me on the couch and asked lots of questions. When was the last time you slept? When was the last time you've eaten? When was the last time you showered? Can you sleep? Why haven't you gone home? Why'd you go to London? Why is Travis worried and asking me about your whereabouts? What can I do to help? Why are you being such a bitch? Why does Tommy suddenly hate you overnight? Since when are you a zombie? Why aren't you answering any of my questions?

Because I can't. In a calm and level voice, he informed me of what had happened. "Jude, you collapsed in the studio." Honestly, it didn't change much for me, knowing and remembering, but I did burst into helpless, hapless, horrible tears. Loud sobs of desperation and sorrow, the tears I'd kept inside of me since that night, and little wheezy breaths. I was convulsing and crying so hard I gasped for air, trembling furiously, half-screaming and retching. The fat tears streamed and rolled down my cheeks. I was crying like the world was ending.

Not to mention babbling idiotically. The blurred look I saw in his eyes and the soft tone of his voice told me that his heart was breaking for me. He asked me what was wrong, and I told him I couldn't tell, just like a little teasing child. That he didn't want me to and any other little thing I could think of. Then, finally, I hiccupped out, "Everything's wrong. My whole life. And it's not ever gonna be right again, nuh uh, never... I broke it with my lies, and I don't know how to fix it." As pathetic as it is, I'd reached rock bottom.

At that moment, I wanted to die. I slumped to the couch. "I can't believe he meant it," I gasped, sucking in air. I wrapped my arms around my legs, rocking slowly back and forth. "I can't believe he meant it." I literally felt so awful and overwhelmed and hurt and confused and tired and hungry and thirsty and desperate and in such pain that I wanted to be dead. I just wanted it to all go away. Because I was at such a low point that I didn't see a high, and I'd been driven mad with Tommy's presence and the lack of sleep. It was hard having to face something I'd never have, had never deserved, something I'd once had but now didn't every single day.

Jamie hugged me warmly. "It's gonna be all right, Jude. I promise," He swore, pressing a kiss to my forehead before stalking down the hallway, making quite a fuss. That word made me start crying anew, but I stopped the minute I heard him say that name. His voice was sharp like a piercing whistle as he called Tommy's name. His wiry frame surprisingly backed him up, and he emerged once again, dragging Tommy in by his collar. His eyes were accusing, and if he could've, I'm sure he would've tried to throw Quincy around. Still, it was obvious Tom himself was a smoldering pile of rage and was only letting Jamie do it. "What the hell is wrong with you, Quincy?!"

He had a lot of nerve, more than he should have, more than I'd ever seen him have in previous dealings with Tom. Jamie pressed on, releasing Tom and not giving him a chance to rebut his statement. He stayed close to him. "You've been overworking her. You're treating like a damn horse!" Tom smirked at that, and I had this feeling he was thinking _riding_ instead. Jamie gestured to me, undeterred. "Look at her! She looks awful! This is what _you_ did to her!" I stiffened because it was true. Tom's eyes darkened, a silent acknowledgment of that fact.

Tom turned his gaze to me, silently asking if I'd told him. I hadn't, but I didn't have to tell Jamie something had gone terribly wrong for him to know. He is my best friend for a reason. "Looks to me like it's something she did to herself, kid. I didn't ask her to be here. She's the one who decided to stay."

Typical way of escaping the blame. Naturally, Jamie was more than pissed. Me, I was just trying to stay awake, wouldn't comment or defend myself. "And I'm sure you had nothing to do with it," Jamie retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "My point is that you had no right to keep her here, to make her keep working. She's clearly not in any state to work, and if she's really been singing all night like I think she has, she can't sound very good either. So you're keeping her here for your own selfish reasons... because you've got a personal beef with her, and you want to make her suffer!" Jamie growled. Tom's eyes became narrow slits. Believe me, he doesn't need any help to make me suffer.

He rolled his eyes. "She wanted to work, and who am I to stop her? It's not like she listened to me when I told her to go home." I didn't, and I wouldn't; that much is true.

"You're her producer! You're **supposed** to look out for her! You should've made her go home. Instead, you sit idly by while she burns herself out! She looks like death under your watch! It's your _fault_ she's like this! And you don't even care!" Jamie shouted, full of outrage, calling Tom on his negligence. Tom couldn't feel good about that, but he'd contributed to my state a lot more than he was admitting. Jamie crossed his arms over his chest, leaning forward just a little and scowling at me. "You know, Tommy, sleep deprivation is an illegal form of torture. It violates the U.N. Convention Against Torture," He pointed out a bit smugly.

Tom clenched his jaw and set about to defending himself, since Jamie had just called him a torturer and was only an analogy away from comparing him to the great torturers of history, a list of notables including Dracula, Ivan the Terrible, the Nazis, Latin-American dictators, and so forth. There was a devil-may-care look on his face. "Listen up and stop talking about things you know nothing about. This is none of your business... and Jude's the one not looking out for herself here. I have no control over her behavior," Tom countered smoothly, leaning a bit forward, close enough to make Jamie uncomfortable.

Suddenly, it was all about being the bigger man, and it was generating into a territorial pissing contest over my welfare. Not that Tom cares, really. Jamie rolled his eyes and did an admirable job of not showing his nerves. But I could still tell, and Tom was still aware of it. He can smell fear like a panther or Chuck Norris. "You're either seriously deluded or lying to save your ass, Boyband. Because I think we all know that's not true. You know that what you say matters to her, and I bet you said some pretty bad stuff. She listens to you, expects you to give her good advice because you're _supposed_ to be her mentor," Jamie spat.

At this, Tommy stiffened like a cat. If he had fur, it would've been standing on end. "What exactly are you trying to accuse me of, Slim Jim? Being a bad role model?" Tom snarled, taking another step forward.

Jamie swallowed visibly and a predatory grin gleamed on Tommy's lips. But Jamie held fast, and I admired him for it. He laughed bitterly. "Oh, Tommy, you're no role model... unless the mentees in question are perverts and wannabe sex offenders. What I'm trying to say is that you want to be more than her mentor. And that you have an undue influence on her and her life, and you wield a lot of power over her."

Normally I would've protested this because Tom is not this God-like figure. He's not really in charge of me. And I don't let people control me... most of the time. Tommy can't just make me do anything, you know? But I didn't because I was too tired and too out of it to even care much, let alone speak. I knew that one stung Tom 'cause his jaw went all tight. "You better watch that big mouth of yours, Gollum, or you'll say something that'll offend me. I don't like being called something I'm not, and I'm not a sexual predator," Tom snapped.

He was going on the defensive, and Jamie noticed. He cocked an eyebrow. "Aren't you?" Tom glowered, and it suddenly became clear to me that he was pissed enough to snap and hit Jamie. Tom had a tenuous grasp over his rage at best, and he grew up with a coping mechanism of punching or seducing things. "Besides, Quincy, you didn't deny wanting to be more than her producer," He pointed out smartly.

Jamie seemed to be in control here, so he didn't give Tom a chance to deny that comment. As if he suddenly remembered that I was in the room, he turned to me, looking at me. "Did he do something to you?" He asked me urgently. I could only blink, stunned by the question. I wasn't sure I could find the words, let alone answer it. I didn't even really think I could speak. My thoughts were fragments. Jamie mistook my muteness for confusion, so he repeated his demand, slower this time, "Jude, did Tommy do something to you?"

He moved towards me a little bit, putting his hand on my arm and trying to see into my eyes. The answer was certainly a yes... but what did Jamie think Tom had done to me? What should I say? My eyes connected with Tom's for the first time in a while. His eyes were darkly furious and forbidding and ready to turn on me in an instant. Don't tell him a damn thing, they said, or else. Or else what? Furious, Jamie demanded of me yet again, "Did this boyband teenybopper _trash_, this womanizing **bastard**, this _unfeeling_ son of a bitch, do anything to you? _What_ did he do to you, Jude!" There was a frenzied look in Jamie's eyes, and it made me almost scared of him. "You don't have to protect him anymore, Jude! If he took advantage of you, if he hurt you in _any_ way, you can tell me," Jamie pleaded with me.

Secretly he wanted me to tell him some awful story just so he knew, just so he could finally have that excuse he needed to do something about Tom. But I stayed loyal to Tommy the way an abused dog stays loyal to its master, half out of fear and half out of love. And I didn't want Tommy to go to jail for something that wasn't his fault. The crime was breaking my heart, not anything we did together. I just shook my head, whimpering slightly, and Jamie turned back to Tom with murder in his eyes. He knew better than to believe me, and he knew that Tom was the problem here, the cause of my downward spiral. He's a smart guy, that James.

Tom was looking predictably smug. "See, Gumby, I told you. I didn't do a damn thing to her. This is all her own doing. Now, if you say anymore about me doing inappropriate things with minors, I'm going to get annoyed. And when I get annoyed, I like to punch _jokers_ who are stupid enough to mess with me. Because I'm a serious guy, and I hate it when people don't take my warnings seriously. So just walk away and stop trying to blame me for this. After all, _you're_ the one who didn't know where she was for _three_ days. Most people would've filed a missing persons report or found her sooner. But you didn't. So which one of us really cares or knows about Jude here? Because you can say a lot of stuff about me, but you're so much worse."

Jamie did look a bit guilty, but Tom's speech didn't make me really feel mad. I barely felt alive at that point. Still, Jamie pressed on like a bulldog or Doberman, walking back over to Tom. "Like I believe that, Quincy. This mess has your handiwork all over it. You're the one who **broke** her. Just like you've ruined all the others. Breaking hearts and destroying people who care about you is your specialty. So don't stand there and have the _nerve_ to tell me you didn't do one damn inappropriate thing to her because one look at her tells me you did. Don't lie to my face and say that you didn't notice her self-destructing. You know the signs well enough. You noticed full well, and you wanted to punish her for something, something you think she did to you, so you turned a blind eye to it, let her keep it up, and even _encouraged_ it! You could've stopped it but you wanted to see her in pain!" Jamie screeched, sounding more furious than I'd ever heard him.

He was so pissed off he was shaking from it. Tom's eyes darkened, and he motioned for Jamie to come towards him. Jamie responded by charging over to Tom and slamming him up against the wall. He literally picked Tom up a little bit, towering over him menacingly and I think all of us were surprised by that. "What, Gollum, you gonna hit me or something? Because I don't think you've got the nerve," Tom rejoined with a smirk. "If you want to hit me, then just hit me. Just do it. It's what I would do. See what it gets you."

I'll tell you what it'd get Jamie. A punch in the face and then his ass kicked. Even Jamie wasn't yet that stupid. Tommy's grin widened a little bit at the knowledge that he was getting to him. He saw that Jamie was still unsure and so pissed off, and he knew how to turn that to his advantage. "Let's be realistic here, Half-Pint, this whole superhero act is for Jude's benefit. You still want to win her over, and isn't that just _so_ adorable? You think it'll win points with her, and that maybe she'll ever see you as something more than the Best Friend or the Boy Next Door. Fat chance. You, Boy, have **no** chance," Tom taunted brutally.

Jamie's grip wavered a little, and Tom swelled up with pride at hitting a sore spot. He continued to pounce in a way to regain control. Normally here's where I would've tried to diffuse the situation because I knew something crazy was going to go down, but I was unable to do so. Tom tilted his chin up in an aristocratic manner. "That's what this whole thing is really about, isn't it, Screech? You've been jealous of me since Day One. Jealous that someone was usurping you as Jude's best friend. Well, I don't want to be Jude's friend, and I don't want to be more... So don't worry about that, Band Geek. However... Jude on the other hand..." Tom trailed off suggestively.

Jamie's jaw clenched and his eyes darkened, I think. I didn't have the greatest view, but I knew Jamie was going to reach his breaking point and do something stupid and get hurt. I was also really dazed at this point. Tommy went on simply because Jamie let him, and he wanted to make a cutting remark. "Because mostly you're jealous that Jude's in love with **me**, and she'll _never_ be in love with you, no matter how much you want her to be. She'll never love you the way she loves me, and that just _kills_ you, doesn't it?" Tom snarled as the perfect finishing stroke.

That was what got my attention because I remembered that conversation I'd had with Jamie a couple months ago, and how he'd admitted that to me in confidence, and how similar it sounded, and I wondered if Jamie thought I'd betrayed his secret to Tommy or if it was really that obvious. Jamie did look stricken. Enough so that he'd moved back away from Tom, looking conflicted. I pushed myself up off the couch and strode over to them, furious myself. Because Tom had said flat-out that he knew I was in love with him, like he'd known it or something before I told him, and that was something we weren't supposed to speak of.

I moved between them, a kind of human shield. I wanted to avenge myself and protect Jamie. The hurt in his honey-colored eyes was all too palpable. Hearing the ugly truth from Tom's smug lips was the worst of all. "Oh, so _now_ we're going to talk about this? Okay, **fine**, Quincy!" I shouted, glowering at him. I sneered, gave him the best disgusted look I could muster. "Jamie's _twice_ the man you'll ever be. Because all you are is an overgrown, oversexed, attention-seeking little boy who can't get over himself and his issues. And you'll _burn_ for it someday, Quincy, when you look up and realize that you have NOTHING. Unlike you, Jamie owns up to his feelings and takes responsibility for his actions. He's a grown-up, and..." I spat bitterly, saying the most vicious, hurting things I could think of. I was going to leave a bad aftertaste in his mouth.

I had stalled momentarily upon realizing something, so I continued with that train of thought, "You know what? You're right. You've been right all along, and I was just too dumb to see it. You _don't_ deserve me or my love, and someone like Jamie does. And, so help me, I wish I'd fallen in love with him instead. You don't get to pick who you love, but if I could pick, I'd sure as hell un-do **you**. In a split second." I spat the last sentence mockingly, recalling his earlier words to Kwest. It felt good being so nasty. And I knew then that I'd marry someone like Jamie, someone nice who treated me right, like that dream with Travis.

Tom and Jamie both stared at me with open jaws, and I retreated back to the couch, unable to remain under their stares. I eased my body onto the couch, and Jamie resumed his previous position. "Hear that, Little Tommy Q? Even Jude knows loving you is a waste of her time. Even _she_ knows you're a lost cause," Jamie countered. Not too vicious, but it did hit hard. I also winced, hearing the St. Jude parallel.

You could say it's a bit of a watchword with him. And, oh, I could feel his eyes on me, accusing and ironic and a million other things. "Saint Jude would know, now wouldn't she? But that's the thing... She talks a big game, but she doesn't give up on lost causes," Tom replied knowingly. He shot me a look, but I evaded his gaze. "Now, are you going to stand there all day, or are you gonna do something about it? I know you want to punch me, so why don't you just go ahead?" It became very clear by this point that Tom was spoiling for a fight. "I can take it. So, come on... Hit me!"

He said a bunch of other stuff I couldn't really hear, teasing and taunting poor Jamie, bringing him to the brink. At one point Jamie grabbed him, and Tom just smirked. "You know you wanna... So just end it here. Bring it on. I _**dare**_ you, Gollum," He insisted, baiting him. He was so obnoxious finally, saying all sorts of things I don't remember, that Jamie suddenly sent a well-deserved fist into Tom's stomach. A suckerpunch. Tom wasn't expecting it, so he didn't have time to dodge, and at first he bent over, in pain and almost wheezing or something.

But then he straightened up, and Tom got this determined, utterly vicious look in his eyes. It was pure evil, and that look as good as said, "You just made my day." His lips turned up at the corners in what some might have called a smile. I, on the other hand, would've called it a sneer. There was this vindicated look on his face. So unholy. He had a Clint Eastwood squint, the kind that meant business, the kind that said my squinty eyes are going to be the last thing you see before I kick your ass. The kind that said watch yourself or I will kill you. His fingers twitched, and we all knew he'd been itching to do it for a while. He was just waiting for an excuse. And Jamie had just given it to him like a moron.

However, Tom was a bit slow to act. He was so caught up in relishing the moment that his fist didn't start swinging until it was too late. I dimly registered the familiar click-clack of high heels, and the door flew open. Georgia swept into the room like a sultana, Kwest trailing her (and a few curious bystanders coming to peer inside). "Thomas Quincy! I expected more from you!" She screeched upon seeing Tom's fist heading towards Jamie. Her eyes were wide with equal parts alarm and horror. Tom froze cold, fist halfway to Jamie's face.

Jamie shivered involuntarily, still terrified. Georgia motioned for Kwest to shut the door behind her and stalked over to the duo. Her gaze was dark and piercing, the kind of look that cut right down to the bone. "Stop terrorizing the poor boy, Tom. You're supposed to be above bullying teenagers, and, frankly, you're supposed to be past solving your problems with your fists. Now, I know full well that you two don't like each other, but would one of you please inform me as to why you've come to blows?" Georgia ordered, looking between the two of them, trying to ferret out an answer.

My best friend was all too happy to give it, especially when Tom lowered his fist and backed away almost shamefully, like a reprimanded child. His jaw tightened, though; he was still utterly furious. "We were arguing about the way he's treating Jude," Jamie told her helpfully. But oh-so vague.

Naturally, G wasn't too thrilled with his lack of description. She just rolled her eyes. "Of course." Because of course Tom and Jamie would be fighting over me. She waited impatiently for more of an explanation.

Here Kwest jumped in the ring. Tom didn't look happy to see him. Kwest walked over, putting a hand on my shoulder. I flinched at the pressure. "She's not eating. She's not sleeping." He knew, of course, but he hadn't tried to stop me either. He'd tried to feed me and make me go home, but he hadn't stopped either of us.

Jamie too walked over to me, all too happy to get away from a murderous Tommy. He nodded, agreeing with Kwest, and put his hand on my back. "You've been acting squirrelly ever since you got back from London," He added with the suspicion heavy in his voice. I wondered if he knew that Tom had been gone then too, and if he thought I had been with him that week. Oh, but my traitorous eyes shot over to Tommy's smoky cobalt eyes at the word, and I took in a shallow, shaky breath at the mere word. Tom's gaze was hard.

He wasn't revealing anything. I swallowed, feeling suddenly put on the spot. "What is this, an intervention? I'm not the one who was getting into a fight," I countered somewhat weakly, laughing weakly, wanting so badly to get off the topic of London and what had happened.

Georgia cleared her throat. Her eyes scanned me lightly, and the look on her face changed, softening up a little. "Clearly there's something going on here, and no one's willing to tell me. I really don't like to feel like I'm the only person in the room who's out of the loop. Anyone care to fill me in?" Georgia stated somewhat irritably, glancing at each of us in turn. Jamie and Kwest might be complicit, but Tommy and I are the only ones who know the full story. We're the ones who know for sure. "Jude?"

I shook my head quickly, eyes flashing with a kind of fear. I couldn't, no matter how kind and simultaneously demanding she seemed. Georgia frowned. "If _you're_ not going to tell us what's going on, I'm going straight to Tommy," She proclaimed, focusing the full brunt of her stare on him. Tom stiffened but remained silent and unwilling to talk.

"Georgia, **don't**!" I cried in a weak, hoarse voice. It sounded like a whole nest of frogs was lodged in my throat. By the look in her eyes, she immediately read the desperation in my eyes and realized that she'd stumbled into something she wasn't expecting, a deeper problem. She blinked, wondering what it all meant.

Once again, Jamie chose this moment to blurt out his answer. Ever protective and loyal, isn't he? Like Scruffy. Only Scruffy really likes Tommy. "Did he do something to you?" He insisted yet again. Georgia's eyes widened, and she slowly turned to look at Tom. It was as if she hadn't even considered that. Kwest's face was twisted into a grimace, but there was a kind of hope in his eyes that Tom hadn't. Tom himself was as stiff as the cardboard cutout of himself in Sadie's closet. The look in his eyes was inscrutable.

"No! Just leave it. Leave it. It's fine," I asserted, shaking my head no vigorously. It was half of a lie, but half-truth all the same. He had done something to me... many somethings... But not, not like what you think when people ask that question. Nothing that bad. That same desperation to leave it alone crept into my voice, and Georgia picked up on it but wisely didn't say a single word about it.

Oh, was I grateful she didn't embarrass me! It was already bad enough that they were arguing about my love for Tommy like I wasn't even in the room. She merely nodded coolly. "I'd like to know what, exactly, Tom's treatment of Jude has to do with all of this. Kwest, Jamie, either of you feel free to answer?"

Kwest looked down guiltily, knowing the most about the situation but loyal to his best friend above all. Jamie didn't know much, but he gave Georgia all the information he possessed. "Her parents haven't seen her for a week. She hasn't gone home in days, and it doesn't look like she's slept much. For crying out loud, she fainted while singing! Clearly that's a problem! She's been singing for a long time, and she's in no condition to work. Quincy knows this, but he's kept her here to finish the song... and he didn't even try to make her take a break or go home. And when she was singing, he either didn't pay much attention or just gave off a long list of things she'd done wrong."

Next Georgia turned to Kwest for confirmation of these facts. Kwest looked away from Tom and sighed. "To the best of my knowledge, Jude's been here for the better part of three days. Even before that, she was staying late. And to say that Jude and Tom haven't been getting along is a massive understatement. It's a long time since I've been in a studio as hostile as that. They've been having disagreements about the song, and both of them have unhealthy fixations with it... And I haven't seen Jude eat or drink much of anything," Kwest admitted a bit reluctantly. He didn't really betray Tom, though, because he blamed the both of us.

Georgia nodded primly. "Thank you both. Now, Jamie, Kwest, if you'll excuse me... It seems that I need to have a conversation with Tom and Jude," She declared, motioning for them to go outside. Her gaze was firm and unrelenting when she turned back to us. "Okay... Given the fact that I had no idea you two were working on this song, I think it's time I finally hear it," She proclaimed, grabbing the both of us by an arm and walking out the door and into the studio. Don't think I didn't notice the stairs.

Her nails dug into my arm painfully. Upon entering the room, I fell upon the chair. Tom muttered some excuse about it not being done that I disagreed with half-heartedly, and Tom pressed a few buttons and was playing the song for her. It was a bit rough, and my vocals could've been more polished, but it sounded good. A wave of happiness crashed over me as I heard my voice finally interspersed with the music. Finished, that's what it was. My soul felt free. I couldn't help but smile at my creation, and at the way it still made Tommy cringe. Hell, at that point, hearing those damn chords made me cringe too, but it felt good.

It felt like victory and vengeance and a little bit like closure and a million other things all rolled up into one. My victory was diminished however when Georgia scowled. She shook her head and started in on Tom. It didn't feel as good as I'd expected. "You should know better, Tom. This song is shamelessly overproduced. God, did you put every instrument in existence into it? I swear I heard triangle and glockenspiel..." Georgia told him a bit sharply. I wasn't used to hearing that tone from her. "You're clearly letting your personal feelings cloud your musical judgment."

Well, duh. Tom looked even more pissed than before, but he knew she was right. "And then there's the second matter... Your treatment of Jude. I know Jude will go to bat for you, Tommy, but I believe Jamie when he said you were overworking her. I think it was a lot worse than either he or Kwest knew, and you pushed her far too hard. She's a teenage girl and a human being at that, and she deserves better than that. You should be ashamed of yourself, Tom. Your mother raised you better than this," Georgia said shrewdly, knowing exactly what to say to affect Tom.

She shook her head, and a pained look crossed her face. "I haven't seen you act this way sinc-"

Tom interrupted, trying to salvage his reputation. Which involved slandering me. His eyes were darker than usual, and I had the feeling that Georgia had just almost mentioned something she shouldn't have, an old sore spot, something I wasn't supposed to know. "I did tell her to go home, Georgia. She didn't listen to me. _She_ was the one who insisted on working on the song. She's the one who didn't sleep or eat or go home... for her own reasons. And I caught her smoking twice! I might not have intervened like I should have, but I don't want her to die!" Tommy argued. I stifled a groan. Great. Way to sell me down the river.

I'm not addicted to smoking like Tom is. I just... sometimes you need a pick-me-up. "And I'm sure you didn't make it easy for her," Georgia retorted with a flinty look in her eyes. Then she whirled to face me. "Smoking? Jude, what are you thinking? And this self-destructive streak of yours... It's like you don't care about yourself anymore. I'm worried about you, Jude. You're obviously not okay." Her voice was at first high, but then she lowered it and put her hand on my shoulder to soothe me.

"It's okay, Georgia. I'm not an addict or anything. It's not a habit. It just... helps take off the stress. I just really had to finish the song, and that kinda took priority over everything. And I'm fine. Really... I've just been working too hard lately," I explained quickly. It was only afterward that I wondered how much of that exactly was a lie. There was a lot more truth there than I'd expected.

Georgia looked sideways at Tom almost accusingly. "You know, Tom, right now she reminds me a lot of you in those last months before Boyz Attack! went under," She commented pointedly. You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you? That's what she practically added. But I'm not that self-destructive.

And I wasn't, really, not even then.

Either way, Georgia clearly didn't believe that I was okay, so I felt the need to add more. "My life hasn't completely fallen apart like that. You know, it's kind of a mix of things... stress, hormones, being an adolescent, peer pressure, competition, the paparazzi, my management...."

Yeah, Georgia didn't buy that either. I got a skeptical eyebrow raise before she turned back to Tom. "Regardless of Jude taking up smoking, you know how to deal with that, and you haven't been doing it well. What you've been doing lately is clearly hurting her voice. And you might not see it, Tommy, but you're hurting her too. It's not right; it's not fair, and you're going to stop. You're going to be a professional about this. Do not mistake me, Tom, cease and desist mistreating her or else I **will** give you your walking papers," Georgia continued authoritatively, connecting her gaze with his. Her eyes were black like coal.

Her eyes narrowed further as she leaned forward and jabbed Tom in the chest to punctuate her statement. "Mark my words, Tommy, I do _**not**_ appreciate you messing with my artist's head... You're _supposed_ to be her mentor and maybe her friend," She stated clearly, and I realized with a vaguely sick feeling the implication behind her words. She knew something was up all right, that he had been something more to me. She was flat-out telling him now to confine his relationship with me to those previously accepted boundaries and nothing more, to not confuse me and mix me up. Don't have a relationship with me, basically. I got the feeling that maybe they'd had this talk before. Tom got the message all right, as his jaw tightened in a grim acceptance of the facts. An unofficial truce was slowly being forged.

She looked at him levelly, as if evaluating him to see if he could keep his word (NO!), and then said rather quietly, "I think you may have forgotten that. Your job is to look out for her interest and well-being." She paused for a moment, thinking, and then her eyes lit up and briefly focused on me for a second or two before turning back to Tom's face. She made a bit of a face. "Oh, and let's roll it back on the late nights and all-nighters, okay? As much fun as a studio sleepover is, what you've been doing this week violates child labor laws. And it's tantamount to child abuse," She suggested, though it was more of a decree than a suggestion. In her tone was the underlying question of what his mother would have to say about that.

I smirked widely at her choice of words. Oh, I really enjoy rubbing that in Tommy's face. After all, it is the reason he dumped me, so it's really the least I can do. "And we wouldn't want that, now would we, Tommy?" I replied faux innocently, imagining him in black and white stripes. My smile only widened further and further, especially as he started to turn the whitest, most delightful shade of pale. He looked a bit like skim milk (at that point, my skin looked like spoiled milk). "And it doesn't exactly look right, does it?" I posed innocently.

His jaw dropped, and I stifled a snicker and silently congratulated myself. For a moment he was silent, then he spoke up. "Oh, please. Darius put me through worse stuff on a daily basis when I was younger than her."

His tone indicated that I was some sort of pansy, some little delicate whiny flower, and I was kinda pissed. I had half a mind to chew him out but Georgia did it for me. I love Georgia. She shook her head swiftly, rolling her eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, the world doesn't work that way anymore, Tom. Boybands and popstars no longer rule the world. It's a different place now than it was for you. For instance, we don't coke up our artists to perform anymore," She remarked somewhat acidly. I cocked an eyebrow in surprise. They drugged them up to perform? No wonder Chaz is an addict. Georgia forced a smile. "The last thing we need to do is give Jude's parents a _legitimate _reason to press legal action... right, Tom?"

Okay, at that one, my jaw dropped because it was wholly unexpected. Georgia making an allusion to Tommy and legal action? Tom was plenty surprised too, let me tell you. She turned back to me, smiling warmly. "Your voice wasn't the best, but under the circumstances, you performed admirably. And, contrary to what this lunkhead told you, you did some takes perfectly. What we need to do is get a fresh pair of ears in on this song, so I'll sort through the tracks myself and sort it all out," She explained. Her compliments were music to my ears. I couldn't help but smile.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced from me to Tommy and back. "Now, I don't care what's going on between you two... and don't try to tell me that it's _nothing_ because I know better. I know you aren't going to tell me, and I'm fine with that. I'm probably better off not knowing. I don't even care if you hate each other... However, you two should, and when I say should I mean _will_, leave your personal business out of the studio because it has an adverse effect on your work together. G. Major can't afford that, so you're going to have to figure out a way to work through it. And I better not hear that these problems of yours are resurfacing," She pronounced quite decisively.

The "or else" was an implicit promise to switch producers and make Kwest my producer. I think the both of us were strongly tempted to suggest that very thing, but it would be a rash decision. And, as much as I hate to admit it, Tommy is the better producer because he's more experienced and can do just about everything. Wow, does that sound as dirty as I think it does? Because I totally almost made a sexual reference there. But, then again, Tommy is a sexual generator. Georgia was reluctant to do it because Tommy and I work so well together.

Either way, we weren't going to work the same way together maybe ever again and certainly not for a long while, but she didn't think of this. We weren't going to suddenly be all simpatico again. Nevertheless, both Tommy and I nodded and agreed to her terms. Tom left the room at Georgia's request (gone home to sleep, no doubt), and then it was just the two of us. "Jude, over the past year, I've gotten very... attached to you, and I've come to see you almost as a daughter. Honey, I want what's best for you. An-nd I know you may think this is it, but there's more to life than music," Georgia admitted softly, squeezing my hand. I felt a sudden burst of affection for her. She was the way I'd always wished my mother would be.

Don't get me wrong, I love my mom and all, but she's never understood the music thing. And she's never really understood _me_. And I've always wished she did. I know she wants what's best for me, but what she thinks is best for me isn't best for me at all, it's best for some other girl who wants to go to college and cares about school and so on... It's best for Sadie. Then Georgia gave me a knowing look. "Now do you want to tell me what you're hiding? Why are you so obsessed with that song?" She inquired kindly.

"I had something to prove," I answered too quickly. Georgia didn't believe me for a second.

"Want to tell me the real reason?" She urged, giving me a look.

No, not really, not when I'm just barely holding it together. But Georgia just kept looking at me like that with pity in her eyes and affection in her hands and cheeks, and so I broke down again. I hated myself for breaking down yet again, for being weak, for crying over him again, but it was all too much... and I was just so tired. "The m-m-music... it's all I have left. It's the only thing keeping me together," I told her tearfully. I hated myself for each and every last tear, and I wiped them away so furiously that my hands left angry red marks on my face.

Georgia pulled me into an embrace. "Oh, you poor thing... He really did a number on you, didn't he?" She murmured. I stiffened. He who? She better not mean Tommy. Georgia pulled away a couple moments later with this look of such great, terrible understanding in her eyes that I couldn't breathe.

I shook my head, biting my lip nervously. "I have no idea what you mean... We just... We got in this huge fight... about Taylor and other stuff... and he said a lot of awful things. He practically disowned me. And we were both so furious at each other, and... It just feels like I've lost the one person in the world who understood me completely over some stupid mistake. I just... didn't know he was going to be like this. I didn't know it was gonna hurt this much. I-I didn't know he was so important to me," I sniffled.

Mentally, I congratulated myself for spinning it that way, rather than actually telling her the truth. Better still, I hadn't used any names, but I'd managed to make it sound that he was only a friend to me, and that was what this was all about. Georgia's eyes were sympathetic and understanding, and it made me smile a little. "I'm sure he'll come around eventually. He can't stay mad at you too long," She replied comfortingly. Tommy kept a grudge for five years. I think he can.

Georgia cleared her throat, becoming my boss and cutthroat businesswoman once again. "That's an amazingly complex and emotional song you've got there, and you should be proud of yourself. While I admire your willpower and determination, you definitely overdid it this time. So go home and get some rest, be with your family, maybe even see a doctor. You deserve it and you need it. Anyways, I absolutely refuse to see you here again until at least next Wednesday. I'm sure Jamie will take you home. Now, remember, you can talk to me about anything... music, life, boys... Tommy... Get some sleep, okay?" Georgia ordered, escorting me out of the studio.

It was strange how she could do what no one else could and reassure me that everything was going to be okay. But I felt such a relief come over me at her words. Because I knew she was right. Still, though, if everything's going to be okay, my question is HOW.

How can I sleep? I even tried sleeping pills the other day and that didn't work. I... I just don't think I can sleep without him. I don't know if I can, but that's not the issue.

Because even if I could... I still don't want to.

* * *

Okay, so now I'm bringing back Loren's recommendations. Because I have space for them now, so yay! It's weird to me because now there's like multiple generations of IS writers, you know, and I'm first-generation, and I look back and look to what's going on now and think just... whoa, you know?

First, we've got There and Back Again by InStrFan, which is this great AU story based on what would've happened if Tommy left in Hey Sister. I'm kinda partial to first season AU fics, in case you haven't noticed. ;) Anyways, it's got everything... great big nasty secrets that threaten to completely ruin relationships, trust issues, drama, suspense, romance, tension, banter, Tommy as a disillusioned rockstar (because he was always meant to have a solo career), Georgia, and of course some wonderful OCs. Like Johnny. Johnny is wonderful. He's one of the best original characters I've ever seen, and he's like... so organic. He just fits in perfectly with Jude's world and Instant Star and everything. If I didn't have Travis I'd be really envious. But I do, so I'm only a little envious. Or a lot. But, anyways, marvelous, wonderfully entertaining stuff and unique too. Plus the girl's been an updating fiend lately.

Then there's Without You by HopelessRomantic984, which is lovely in a heartbreakingly frustrating way. Which means it's good because I love that stuff. I've seen a plot similar to it done before in the past but it was done so much lamer, and I like how what actually happened is no one's fault, but the aftermath of it got all crazy and intense and straight to that darkish place. And, of course, I love comedies of remarriage. Only it's not a comedy but whatever. The central issue, too, comes from such a raw, deep place, that you wonder if there's any hope of reconciliation...

And, of course, there's Sweet Surrender by Sixteen Candl3s, and her many other fics, of course. I know few people who work as hard as she does! The girl's constantly revising. She's also so great at stripping things down to the basics somewhat while still leaving them so complex, and there's a lot of interconnection in her works, I dunno... An emphasis on relationships. And her writing's deliciously dark, of course. She's not afraid to go there, which is always refreshing. In many ways she's a lot more daring than I am. Anyways, she always manages to inspire me, and mmm, is the forbidden love angle with Sweet Surrender hot and yet, at the same time, so, _so_ wrong.

But my total favorite right now, I gotta say, is Rock of Love by carenicoleIQ. And, okay, I put off reading it for a long time because I was a silly person who judged it based on the title and Jude being his personal assistant. And The Bachelor angle is usually botched somehow, even (and especially) on the dating TV shows. But I couldn't have been more wrong because this fic is pretty much perfect. It's seriously a masterpiece. It's satirical, witty, polished, vulgar, romantic, hot, (in)tense, hilarious, realistic, utterly fascinating, long, unpredictable, amazing, musical... basically the works. Jude and Tommy's dynamic is... well, I want to say dead-on, but I actually think she outdoes the show's writers. By the way, it's rated R (sorry kiddies) and magically wonderful. And I like that, even though things are completely different, a lot of the same characters/elements are still included. So if you haven't read it yet, then you definitely should, and seriously, if you haven't, then what rock have you been under? GO! READ!

- Loren ;*


	47. Never Give Up

So, I know this chapter took me forever. I mean, I really didn't even intend to finish it tonight, but I was just like... okay, whatever, I'm finishing this bitch. And I hope some of you didn't lose faith, but I didn't intend not to update. Or to abandon this fic. Because I love it, really, I do. There was just a giant lack of inspiration, mostly, and lots of other factors, I guess. Also, sorry it took me so long to come up with this chapter. It really isn't anything personal, y'know. I was really tired after Just Wanted Your Love, for starters... It's just that this is a difficult chapter since there's like... Tommy doesn't really have a **physical** presence, per se... and it's kind of a weird chapter. And I had no inspiration, plus there's a lot of complicated plot things, and date chapters always take forever because I don't really like writing them... And I promise the next one will be done faster.

Because it's more interesting, plot-wise, and I get to introduce two new characters. Which is exciting. And you get to see how Jude and Tommy are interacting now after the events of last chapter. And, also, I'll have like a whole month of Winter Break to bust in on that. Plus it's exciting, and I get to do these fun storylines I've been waiting for. Such as Jude doing Cory Stacks' talk show, the press conference about Jude's virginity, etcetera... Stuff inspired a lot by the episodes, obviously. ;) And there will be more of Travis. I'm sorry I keep giving the poor guy the shaft, actually. I don't hate writing him, obviously. It's just the Tommy-pain is associated with him, and that's awkward. But you will be seeing more of him. But not next chapter, prolly. Because that one's all T.

Okay, so the part about Jude on the first date is mostly taken from my own past experience as a youth, so I apologize if it's not like that everywhere... And I don't know if the bit from date two is true about all restaurants of that particular persuasion... doubtful, okay, but when I was in Paris there was this restaurant there where they did that. The plates thing. And, you know, maybe these people are just really special. Anyways. Also, the Tim part was kinda weird for me to write. I mean, not that Tim isn't always difficult because of so many other reasons, but, see, there's a small level of irony in this... I share a bathroom with a guy named Tim, so I keep thinking of him when I write Tim, which is fairly distracting, to say the least.

I don't own "Fluorescent Adolescent", Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Chuck E's, Rock of Love, the various hair metal bands of the eighties mentioned, any IS songs, any IS characters, IS, Pokemon, "I Touch Myself", and OMG (there's a Michael Jackson joke in here, and I swear I must've written that ages ago, like in June, but eh, I'll leave it. So don't complain about it being tasteless or whatever because I wrote it before, way back when I started this chapter), Chapstick... I do however own most of the things that go in Jude's box, just fictionally, but the places Jude goes in date number two are completely real Toronto landmarks, except the restaurant, which I invented. Although Toronto does have a Greek Town. And, damn, I should really be sleeping. It's those Cokes, you know, man.

* * *

I've learned from my mistakes. It's amazing, really, how much clearer your head is with a couple days' worth of decent sleep and meals. There's this clarity that comes with properly caring for oneself, and it feels pretty damn good... but as they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

So, anyway, I'm finally taking Travis' advice. I got this big-ass box and just started putting everything in it that reminded me of Tommy. Of course, everything reminds me of Tommy, so I might need another box or two, but it does help to purge my room of these mementos. First off is every scrap of paper I've ever saved... concert tickets of all sorts, notes, invitations to parties, posters, movie tickets, plane ticket stubs and confirmation information with both of our stupid names, the envelope he'd given me the tickets in, fragments of wrapping paper, bills, notes, recipes, letters, postcards, everything that I wrote to him, that he wrote to me, anything vaguely connected with that. That note he wrote with the cake, and the plate are just one of many things to line the bottom of that box, the one he gave me for my thirteenth birthday, and so forth, and Travis' stupid come-on Post-It.

Every photograph I can find of him in my room goes into a littler plastic box with a snap-on lid, the signed ones, the candid ones, the ones I've taken, the ones where we're both together. The ones from Christmas alone take up a box twice the size of the others, and I hate how goddamn happy I look in nine-tenths of the pictures. It's like I'm freaking glowing like some kind of demented nightlight. It takes me six boxes to pack all the haunting images up, and I seal them up tight with duct-tape just to make sure. Because I can't look at his face everyday. I just can't. In go the boxes of photos. All the cut-outs from newspapers and magazines and tabloids fly into the box, fluttering helplessly in the breeze. They look kind of like newborns, fragile and like little bits of paper fringe. Next, I even dump in all of the negatives, sealing them in their own little envelope, because heaven forbid I do something idiotic like make extra copies in a moment of weakness when I decide I pathetically want to see his face.

Trust me, I'm a wily one! I'm liable to do it! It's like I'm making a Tommy-capsule. A Tommy time-capsule. No more Tommy Time for me, though. Maybe one day I'll open it in about a kagillion years when the world is over, or no, maybe someone else, and I'll laugh or gasp at the depths of my obsession... my love... whatever... because it was just the love of a child, and I didn't know anything about anything. Assuming, of course, that this isn't the real thing and that I'm ever gonna completely get over him. And it'll be like going back in time.

Carelessly, I tossed in every notebook I've ever written a song about him in, which is most of them, a hefty stack they make. The lyrics for "Worth Waiting For" are written in one of those notebooks, and it'll hurt me too much to even look at them for a while. I made a promise to myself that I would never sing or record that song, not until this thing with Tommy is resolved and I'm finally past it. When I can think about that time and the feelings connected with it without wanting to shoot myself. That song's better off left forgotten and never performed, I should think. Since I'll never be Tommy's girlfriend ever again. Let's face it; he's not going to wait. I'll probably walk right back into the studio and see him there with some other chick. Travis' stupid ha-ha-ha I'm-so-clever gifts go in there too, with a bit more punch, the massage oil, the red silk sheets, the jumbo pack of Trojans. Because, really, when am I ever going to use those?

I'm not sleeping with anybody right now, and if I did, it'd be Travis. And I'm not gauche enough to use his own Christmas presents for me intended for usage with Tommy on him. It'd make me feel freaking dirty. I add my travel books, brochures, and maps of Quebec and Montreal because I want to forget that that godforsaken city still exists, that it ever happened to me, that the worst and best moments of my life have occurred in that city in that stupid castle of a house he has. I suddenly hate the whole French-speaking province. And, really, I had a bad feeling in New Brunswick? Clearly that feeling was off.

Various Boyz Attack! t-shirts join the growing pile in the box, including the one he autographed, including the one he loaned me that could fit a six-year-old, including the one I sleep in sometimes that's way too big. I chuck them in, don't bother to fold them, don't care if they wrinkle, don't want to look at the bright blue fabric and jaunty bubble-writing ever again. Inexplicably, I find a white bandanna that's musty but still smells just like him, and I curse myself for bringing it to my nose and inhaling it deeply like cocaine or something. I drop it in the box as if I've been burned. It's probably diseased anyways.

I find other things in my room, like my mugshots, the ones Tommy bought off the police (I want to tear them up but keep them instead), the series of napkins with the lyrics to "Liar, Liar" scribbled on them drunkenly and embarrassingly, the bandages he applied to the back of my head after that punchbowl crashed into me, still stained with my blood, tapes of my performances on Under the Mic, including that very special rendition of "Skin", a marked-up copy of my contract with Darius, Tommy's stupid sex tape which shouldn't be in my room in its cheesy as hell cover (And I really hate that I can only look at the little slut with envy because I'd give anything to be in her place, even with the cameras, because if that's how it had to happen, that's how I'd take it), Sadie's old Boyz Attack! CDs that I borrowed forever ago and forgot to give back because, damn it, I can hear his voice, leftover footage of "Minor Liaison", tapes and _tapes_ worth, little bits of glass he took out of my hair, and that one piece I removed from his forehead that still has a reddish tint to it.

All of that is flung into the box, soon joined by the original "Frozen" demo which I for some reason still have. Some stupid fanmail about him winds up in there too, instead of in the trash where it belongs. It's worse then because I started to find his clothes, anything that's been on his body, really, and most of it still smells like him, so in it goes... The belt he left under my couch, the belt and jeans I borrowed once that are still too big for me, the thin towel I practically felt him up with when he showered here, the robe he foisted on me before I left for London that I cuddled with far too many nights, Evie's bra, that sapphire-blue bra he was so fond of, t-shirts that are too big for me, clothes he gave me to wear, those clothes he left here when he stayed over for the weekend, my leather jacket, and anything else that I own that reminds me of him, including that damn silver dress we ended everything in, the evergreen church one, my awards dresses, the red one, the stuff I wore for the video shoot that I got to keep, my ruined Un-Sweet Sixteen dress (which now not only reminds me of Tommy kissing me in the rain but also being groped by his brother in a supply closet), etcetera, crumpled up and sure to wrinkle and ruin and fade from the absence of light.

Stale licorice, red lipstick, fruit punch lipgloss (because he tasted like fruit punch after the dance, and I'll never forget that), dried flower petals, all of these find their way into the box. Then come the Christmas presents, the sapphire drop earrings from his mother because she thinks I'll be a part of the family (maybe, but not with Tommy, never by Tommy), my namesake, the single his father gave me, signed and vintage and too perfect, the framed singles in gold and platinum Tommy himself gave me as fake presents (I can't bear to look at them, especially the one for "Minor Liaison", where I'm barely clothed and we're so close I bleed on the inside to see it because I still feel like I came _that_ close to him), the overly extravagant sapphire and diamond necklace Taylor gave me for my birthday that I don't deserve. I don't have to hunt too hard to find Tommy's presents for me, that lame vending machine ring of desperation that's still so sweet, the expensive diamond star earrings... I slam the velvet box shut and toss them in like the lady in Titanic throws the necklace in the ocean, vowing to never see it again.

After all, why want a remnant of the tragic love that brought me down, almost made me drown? Other stupid things fly in there, like that Bowie record we found together in Montreal when we were antiquing, quite a find, the rare one he bought for me and let me keep. And that stupid adorable rabbit, Floppy, that Tommy won for me at that Winter Carnival. I felt bad for abandoning the bunny like that when I'd had so little chance to love it. I can bet you Tommy doesn't feel like that about me. The Tommy LP and DVD that never fails to make me think of him joined them. I drop the mostly-empty pack of his expensive imported French cigarettes in too, and his classy silver lighter follows it with a light thunk.

Every CD I have that his name is printed on goes in there... Shay's album, The Salad's last release, even my own album. Any copies of tracks I've laid down just for him on a CD are pushed down in the side, almost to the bottom, best to be forgotten for ever. If I could cram the keyboard he gave me in the box, I would, but I can't, so instead, I banish it to a dark and lonely corner of the basement to collect dust. I hunt through my music selection for bands he told me about, or bands that remind me of him, and I rip all of those CDs out of order, setting them on top of the fluffy dresses. I see the writing on one, Paper Moon, and it makes me swallow hard. Flashes of that night where I lied to him wash over me, crash over me, like waves, and I'd take the lie back if I could but I can't and it was really doomed anyways, wasn't it?

My French books nudge their way into the box. I don't want to think about his mother tongue or how sexy he sounds when he speaks it. My car keys and his apartment keys (because I don't need to go there, not when I don't belong there, and, damn it, I'm not his girlfriend!) clink when I let go of them, and I shove them down so that they sink and settle in the bottom of the box. There's no going back. My car keys remain visible, though, and I only got that stupid car because it reminds me so much of his, but for all I care, I'll never use it again. Maybe I don't like the rush of speed and the feeling of wind in my hair anymore.

I realize my phone has pictures of him on it and phone calls from him and his freaking number practically engraved as Number Two on my Speed Dial, so it tumbles into the box too, but I make no effort to conceal it. My hands are shaking, even though I've eaten and slept today, so it must be a physical reaction to my Tommy-withdrawal. I really should talk to Chaz. He'd know all about rehab. Slowly, I take off the Quincy family ring Travis slipped on to my finger as means of an engagement ring, the one with the family crest and all. It's easy because the ring is too big, and I mostly wear it on my thumb anyways. Because he is his family, and I know Travis won't be happy because it's kind of an unofficial symbol that we've got something going on. But this is what I have to do to move on, and I'd like to think he'd understand that.

He, of all people, would, right? The best Christmas present I got from him, that heartbreaking CD of love songs, my favorite songs, songs he's written about me, all sung by him and in his voice, all thirty-six songs of it, the one I've never been able to listen to because I know it'll make me break down completely, well, it lands on top. Because I can never listen to it, or I'll believe him. And I'll do something idiotic like fall hopelessly in love with him just a little bit more. And listening to that CD, every last song, will, no doubt, kill me. Even I'm not that much of a masochist. I'm reluctant to leave it there, so I tear my eyes away from it because if I don't look, then I can't rescue it from incarceration.

The St. Jude medallion he gave me so long ago still hangs around my neck. It's weird to think that that was over a year ago, because that feels like a lifetime to me now. Nevertheless, I know what I must do. Despite what he said, despite who I am, it's time for me to finally turn my back on this lost cause. I need to give him up completely because he's absolutely hopeless. It's harder than I think to grasp the chain of the necklace and slowly pull it over my head, detangling it from my hair somewhat painfully. I stare at it for a moment longer, pass my thumbs over the worn face, turn the medallion over in my hands, feel the smooth metal run through my hands like water. My eyes linger on the edge, on his name, T-H-O-M-A-S, spelled out, carved in there. Then, for the first time, my eyes follow the edge, and I notice something I've never seen before on the rest of the edge but on the other side.

Going down this edge, much like the other side, is another engraving, a little deeper, a little bigger, but somehow so much less noticeable. J-U-D-E, it reads, Jude, _my_ name, and Tommy's confirmation name. It feels like it's fate or something. Upon seeing it, I can't help but tear up, and I let the medal and chain fall out of my hands guiltily. Blinking back tears furiously, I sigh deeply, and then I know. I know the last thing I have to do, to give up, in order to be free of him.

My ring, the star ring that started it all, this piece of otherwise worthless jewelry that's such a part of me, of my personality and psyche, and so integral to my identity and mental state. But it has to go because He gave it to me, and my identity is NOT a Tommy-defined one. The ring knows I want to get it off, but it doesn't want to come off as I pinch it between my middle finger and thumb and tug hard. I use my index finger too, but it's still a battle of twisting and swelling and angry redness with a bit of pain to get it off. But I do, eventually, and it's triumphant for a moment. But I can't bear to drop it, to risk losing it forever because I'm ridiculously attached to the dumb inanimate object.

Like it's a person.

And, in a way, it is.

Only it's me, not Tommy.

So, of course, I'm fatefully holding my ring over the box, ready to lose it for eternity (funny, I was ready to do the same thing with my virginity too, with Tommy, of course), when all of a sudden Sadie and Chaz come into my room. Without knocking. The door was shut. I think this is slightly dramatic, especially how they just barged in like the idiots thought I was going to slit my wrists or something. Hello, you do that in the _bathroom_!

And, hell, I'm not going to kill myself. Tommy's not worth that, and the both of us know it. Plus, if I did, it wouldn't be in a room in which I almost had sex with Tommy. There are, of course, a lot of rooms like that in the world, but never mind that. My blonde sister and her... um, whatever that is... barreled towards me like a bullet. They both had these really incredulous looks on their faces, and I was really wondering what they found so shocking about the scene. Their reaction seemed terribly melodramatic to me, but what do I know?

Naturally, they asked me what I was doing, and I told them quite decidedly because it really IS that simple. "What's it look like? I'm boxing up everything that reminds me of Tommy. Obviously I can't stare at it all the time... or I'm gonna lose my mind or something. So it has to go. I'm pretty much done, I think... so can you, like, get rid of this for me or something, Sades?" I informed her, gesturing to the box. Sadie took this opportunity to peer into the box, astonished. What, are you mad you didn't think of it first?

I mean, just getting under someone else and moping around for a while is not going to help _me_. I have to resort to more desperate measures. Of course, picking his older brother as rebound guy or whatever, cuddle buddy, friend-with-benefits... Probably wasn't the wisest move. I mean, they're alike in pretty much every way that matters, so it smacks of really a profound desperation. Especially since it's like, illegal, and he's engaged and in love with my friend, and, oh, there's the whole fact that he's my TEACHER and could go to jail for this whole thing. What is it with me and authority figures?

It's really quite fortunate I wasn't adopted or that Mom and Dad didn't divorce. With my luck and taste, I'd doubtless have fallen for a wannabe daddy figure. But, ew, Don was so gross, you know, and, besides, I don't like blonds anyways, authority figures or not.

And, yes, I do realize that my boyfriend's blond. And that Speed's, part-time-friend-and-band-member and also part-time-make-out-buddy, kinda blondish. I am so very full of contradictions, you see.

Oh, right. Now I get it. Sadie's been off in the clouds with Chazzie, and I haven't exactly related the particulars of my lack of a relationship with Tommy. And I'm being really obvious about this whole thing, because this is totally something a girl in a break-up does, and I bet you anything Chaz sees through me. Sadie, you see, doesn't know too much about all of this because I can't tell her. I mean, dude, I was with her freaking ex-fiancé! Like, what, two weeks after they broke up? And when I got back, I didn't want to burden her with all of my crap because she was finally starting to sparkle again, you know?

Perhaps I should go into all of that, then. What happened after I collapsed in the studio, and there was that confrontation. What a great disaster all of that was. Well, at any rate, Jamie got me home, and my parents were seriously putting up yellow ribbons and lighting candles for me, and a private detective (who apparently must suck, since he didn't find me. I am a very predictable girl) had climbed his way up to number three on Dad's speed-dial. To say they were worried and happy to see me is a monumental understatement.

Now, by that point, I was barely standing upright and wobbling on my feet, so of course both my parents crushed me in a hug, and my damn knees almost buckled again. They really wouldn't let go of me. However, if you're wondering why they didn't call the cops, well, it involves friends covering for me, and assurances that I was safe in the studio, and the perception that we were just all missing each other. Apparently, to my utter astonishment, Tom called them on Saturday or Sunday and explained that we were going to be pulling an all-nighter. Because there were very few times we were apart that day, and I was torn between thinking that was terribly presumptuous or musing that he really did know me quite well and that I appreciated the gesture.

My mother had some ideas, too. Now, either she'd been talking to Jamie or she developed these ideas on her own... Either way, I'm not entirely sure where she got these delusions, but one of the first things she asked me was whether Tommy had done anything to me. It was becoming less and less of a lie as the time passed. He'd done a lot to me, but nothing of that sort, nothing I didn't want except the whole horrible termination of the affair. When I shook my head no vigorously, she proceeded to ask me whether he'd made a move on me. And it's like, woman, where do you even get these ideas?! Him not making a move on me is kind of the problem here. At any rate, they soon perceived that I was really in an awful state, and I basically passed out on the couch in moments.

When I woke up, there was a mammoth breakfast waiting for me, and my parents were still worried because I'd slept for about a day solid or something like that. I'd only gotten up to go to the bathroom or drink some water, and I'd entirely forgotten that, of course. Anyways, they exchanged anxious looks for a while before Mom said I was going to see the doctor. Yeah, whatever, I was fine with that... Only they had that damn private doctor of the Quincy's here, and there he was, looking at me almost knowingly, and I wanted to vomit from the intensity of my hatred for him. Made me wonder which one sent him.

Did Travis feel the need to make up for this too? Was Tommy trying to atone? Was Taylor worried for my health, given the fact that I hadn't much talked to him in four days? Was Tory somehow involved? Or is it just a general familial concern for my welfare, since I'm as good as one of them?

You know, I wasn't very nice with him when he was checking me out. Because, damn it, I'd missed near a week of sleep, and I was more than a little grouchy. And hell, this VERY man had ruined everything for me! I'm not stupid; I know I ruined it all myself. It would've fallen apart eventually. It's like this No Doubt song I've been listening to a lot lately... _I kinda always knew I'd wind up your ex-girlfriend._ I so did, and I was just lying to myself, but it felt good to blame the man who'd exposed me.

Plus, really, can you blame me for smacking his hands away? I'm uncomfortable with where the hell his hands are, and I'm not gonna let anyone touch me where I don't want them to, not even a bloody doctor! And, yeah, I really hate it when non-British people use that word, but whatever. This is meant to express the great deal to which this heartless, emotionless, blank slate of a man pissed me off. And, like I said, the sleep-deprived know no courtesy. He's lucky I didn't punch him in the nuts. I mean, I don't let people I don't like touch me, period. You have to have some sort of relationship with me first, you know?

It's not unreasonable one bit, really. And, um, I'm not too keen to be nice to people who've so greatly humiliated me. And RUINED MY CHANCES WITH THE LOVE OF MY LIFE. You don't just forget that, not that I've ever been one to forgive and forget. I might forgive, but I **never** freaking forget! Ugh, and people who've seen me naked? Yeah, I'm bound to act a little weird around them too. I also happen to act, well, rather different around people who stick things into me and look between my legs. Because, see, that requires trust, okay?

And... I don't trust many people like that. Okay, I don't really trust anyone like that. With two notable exceptions, one of which being this doctor (who'd been ungraciously forced on me, so I hadn't really had much of a choice in the matter). The other exception, of course, being Tommy. But it's really best if I don't think about that. Those are some dangerous thoughts.

Basically, I was kinda like a slightly vicious, deranged animal, hurt and angry and unsociable from my week spent in the studio. So obviously I didn't take too kindly to the poking and prodding and general invasiveness of his presence. What an asshole. Like, I didn't even think I could dislike this man more than I already did, but I was so, so wrong, you know?

There was a fancy sleep specialist, too, but I couldn't very well tell him that I couldn't sleep without my ex-boyfriend. Who no one but his older brother whom I was presently having an affair with knew about. He asked me about my dreams and tried to give me pills. Actually, he foisted the pills on me as a back-up and ran over the instructions with me. I found this a little irresponsible. I mean, hell, I might be addicted to whatever habit-forming drug he gave me. Ambien or Rozerem or whatever.

And there was an eating disorder specialist. She did not believe me when I furiously insisted that, no, I did not have any particular problem with eating. Because of course I couldn't tell her that I hadn't eaten because I wasn't hungry, because I felt chronically nauseous around my ex-boyfriend. Because break-ups and love do that to you. So I made up some bogus stuff about changing or recently having the stomach flu, which is really the whole damn cause of my freaking dilemma, that damned stomach flu! Not that she bought it.

Finally, there was the shrink, who was paid for by my parents specifically. I had to go to a lovely white asylum place for that meeting, and the room kind of made me feel like I was losing my mind. Even more than I already had that sensation. They kind of wanted me to stay there, too, but I flat out told the lady I would stab her with a fork if they kept me there any longer than was physically necessary (um, guess Patsy's been rubbing off on me?). Oh, and I despise psychological professionals, naturally, because they try and push your mind into all these directions you don't want it to go in and double-talk and whatnot, and I'd really prefer not to be psychoanalyzed based on my results on an ink blot test. So, naturally, I just tried to seem as normal as I could, which was impossible, so I resolved instead to avoid mentioning Tom as much as possible to avoid incriminating him, obviously, and just try to pass off my exhaustion (thank God the parents hadn't had me hospitalized! How very bye-bye Mariah Carey's career that would be!) as a result of stress. And completely not a result of a break-up that didn't happen.

Because that would be riiii-diculous. I spun some really inventive lies in there. Pretty much anything I could think of that could be accepted as somewhat reasonable. I recounted entirely made-up events, for instance, with an impressive alacrity. Off the top of my head, too. I was quite proud of my Tommy-like lying abilities. But, see, unlike Tommy, I can apparently lie to everyone _but _myself. Myself I never really lie to. I don't see the point in keeping secrets from myself. Obviously myself is not that easily convinced, and I see through it.

And, of course, I said some things to deliberately mess with him, naturally. I am a mischievous little tramp, you know. So I might've hinted that I like older men (and, of course, given him the eye), and possibly pretended to have three other personalities, one named Dominique, the other Annie, and then the last one Scarlet. Or Ruby or something. Oh, and I recounted incredibly detailed fantasies I'd supposedly been having for weeks about a priest, and I told him how keeping this secret was tearing me apart, and hinted at the possibility of the feelings being somewhat reciprocated by the Father himself. I'm a devious wench when I want to be, you know, but clearly these lies are easy to see through if one knows me well enough. Especially since, oh, I'm not Catholic? So I was sure that reporting these details to my parents would naturally insure that I never saw the psychiatrist ever again.

I do not want to be ever again confined in that terribly white little room. I could just imagine the straightjacket pinning my arms to my sides. Because, really, how far off was I from true madness? Not near as far as I wished. And how many times had I said that Tommy Quincy was going to drive me insane before he finally did? My sanity's hanging by a thread as is.

Back to reality, though, because as unpleasant as it is, these memories are actually worse. I just smiled at Sadie, totally faking it of course. "What the... Why are you doing this, Jude?" Sadie asked in a murmur. I sighed, wiping my forehead with the back of my head and severely fought the urge to roll my eyes. You'd think Sadie would know that seeing this was her like, what, a month ago? I briefly glanced at Chaz to see if that horrible flicker of understanding was in his eyes, but our gazes locked for an instant, and I looked away immediately. I guess I didn't really want to see anything there.

So I just kept on forcing that smile. Keep on keepin' on, you know? I've just got to keep moving. "Early start on my spring cleaning?" I suggested cheerily. Wow, yeah, even I can't buy that. Sadie gave me this dirty look because she knows I never clean, and besides my room is twice as messy right now. My smile faded just a bit, and I looked away, stretching. "I've got too much crap of his around here anyways. All the clutter was getting to me. There was no space for the important things," I told her in a tone that pretended at being lighthearted. It came out sounding bitter, and I looked up just in time to notice Sades and Chaz exchanging worried glances.

Well, I had basically said that Tommy wasn't important to me. Which, duh, is a massive lie. If he wasn't important, this wouldn't be such a freaking big deal. They made a decision over my head, and Sadie sent the task of fixing me over to Chaz, who was more adroit at dealing with Jude-and-Tommy issues (not to mention age-related-dilemmas). Chaz took a couple steps towards me. "Jude, what's all this about? You don't mean that..." He said, trying to reason with me.

Needless to say I did not appreciate it. I whirled around to glower at him. Dear God, had he even been around the studio lately? "Who are you to tell me what I do or do not mean, huh? In case you haven't noticed, Chazzy-Pants, I say what the hell I mean, okay? I'm absofreakinglutely tactless. So trust me when I say that I mean it," I snapped, moving towards him predatorially. Okay, I'm defending a lie. I know. But I never said I always told the truth. Chaz looked somewhat taken aback, and I huffed, trying to calm down. The situation does not merit my tireless passion.

I placed a hand on my hip. "Seriously, Chaz, where have you been? Holed up in my sister's dorm room all week?" Sadie had the grace to blush, and I remembered my resolution to ask her about the extents of her relationship with Chaz. I mean, I'd like to think she'd tell me if she lost her virginity to him. Or maybe she's just a tease like me. Actually, of course she's a tease. Me, I'd actually be having sex for the most part if people didn't keep ruining it for me. The ambiance never right or some nincompoop is always interrupting. But, yeah, that's another thing I don't need to be thinking about. I smacked down the flaps of the box angrily.

"Tommy is **nothing** to me. He is _dead_ to me, you hear me?" I damn near roared, feeling the color flood into my cheeks. A moment later I realized the stupidity of that statement. Way to act like you're completely stable, and that this is completely normal. You've really fooled them. Jeez, Jude, why do you always have to be so darn melodramatic? Both Sadie and Chaz were taken aback by this, and Sadie shot Chaz a somewhat confused look, as if asking what this meant or why didn't he understand.

Chaz merely shrugged. Because why would he know? It's not like he's Tommy's best friend. Or that he works with us or anything. Or that he doesn't know how I feel about Tommy. Or like his ex-fiancée was staying with us for a couple weeks. Nope. Why on Earth would he have any clue?

Sadie was the first to find words, more accustomed to my emotional outbursts. She put a soothing hand on my shoulder, clearly sensing that something was wrong. But no, I'm not going to talk about it. I practically growled this out, and Sadie backed off a little. She took a deep breath and attacked me with logic, peering into the box. "Jude, do you really need to put all of this away? It's a bit drastic..." I glared at her fiercely as she sorted through items. Yes, I do. When every freaking thing reminds me of him, and I want to die; yes, Sadie, yes I freaking do. I'm just lucky there aren't more things in there.

My sister is used to ignoring my glares, so she continued her box-spelunking expedition, rummaging through my... no, Tommy's things? Biotch. Without asking, too. Sale Pute. Damn it. No French. Ever. Not even in French class. I'm boycotting the whole damn language. She pulled something out, no doubt one of the things on the top. "Jude, what the hell? You can't throw your cell phone into a box! People need to reach you. After this weekend, you'd think you would know that!" Sadie exclaimed loudly, brandishing the stupid Tommy-filled phone that I never wanted to see again another day in my life. I rolled my eyes behind her back, and Chaz gave me a confused look.

Oh, he didn't even hear about my psychotic breakdown? Literally, too. Sleep deprivation and psychosis have the same symptoms, you know. That's what the shrink said. I think she thinks I'm a psychopath, but I don't care because on as little sleep as I had, it's a wonder my sense of right and wrong was left intact. Especially after Tommy because that's supposed to be wrong, isn't it? And that's kinda the whole issue for him. Anyways, no wonder ole Chazzy isn't in the loop. Now he knows how it feels to be me.

Sadie tossed my phone at me. Predictably, it smacked me in the head. I hoped it broke on the floor. Stupid little bitch phone deserves it. Sometimes my life is just a bitch like that. Scratch that, my life is _always_ a bitch like that. FML. That's just all that I can say. I feel someone needs to say it because I can't stop thinking it. Life's a bitch, and then you die, y'know? So I'm a little bit jaded... "Hey, Wench, could you watch it? Head trauma is _just_ what I need right now, on top of everything else!" I retorted irritably, rubbing my head.

She shot a bitchy look over her shoulder, and I made a face at her. A moment later, she turned back to her scrounging and triumphantly pulled out my car keys. "Your car keys are in here, Jude! Did you know that?" I rolled my eyes, leaning against my chair. Well, gee, I just plumb had no idea. DUH. That was kind of the point. I just shrugged and Sadie meanly threw the damned things at me. This time Chaz intercepted them, catching them and presenting them to me. I took them but dropped them and felt like stomping them underfoot. A second later, there was another squall.

My poor ears. "Hey, you _bitch_, these are my Boyz Attack! CDs! You never gave them back! You borrowed them like a year ago!" Sadie snarled. I was beginning to fear that rolling my eyes so much was having an adverse effect on my vision. I waved it off. Fine, take them. But I can't promise I won't sneak off to your room to listen to the horrid things. To hear his voice. Gawd, I'm pathetic. Besides, a year is so an overstatement.

Chaz looked mildly amused by this and was giving me a look. And then he was snickering. He looked like he was going to start making fun of me. Honestly, I would've welcomed it. Because laughing hysterically at yourself is better than crying all alone over a damn box. So I made a nasty retort to Sadie's comment. "Oh, like you need them! You've got your own personal Boyz Attack! jukebox to cuddle up to at night!" I felt a pang at that statement. Once upon a time, I'd had one of those too. Like a singing teddy only less soft and less fluffy and freaking huge and hot and... never really mine. "Besides, I hardly imagine hearing Tommy's voice would help you get over him," I said a bit bitterly, because I felt a little like she'd completely forgotten about him.

Plus, it was true for me, and I didn't need that temptation to torment me. As if it's not bad enough that I see the boy every ever-loving sonuvabitch day? Dark looks passed over both Sadie and Chaz' faces. Like a flinch. They'd forgotten about that. I knew I'd said the wrong thing, but I didn't care. Because, hey, I wasn't much better, trying to use Travis to get over Tom. Sadie shook it off, effectively silenced, and went back to the box. Apparently she decided I was right about the CDs. Of course, less than five seconds later, she pulled out another CD. "Poison?" She questioned, raising her eyebrows.

I shuddered reflexively. That word is enough to make me spasm. I feel like an epileptic whenever I hear it. I nodded grimly, frowning. "I shouldn't have even had the stupid thing because they're such a crap band. It was probably a present from Speed or something," I remarked disinterestedly. I have, on occasion, argued the necessity of cheesy eighties faux-metal hair bands to any music collection, though I prefer Twisted Sister, Mötley Crüe, The Scorpions, and Skid Row to, say, Warrant, Poison, and Guns 'N Roses. Sadie knows I love metal ('cause, duh, the GWAR concert with Speed?), but I really hate most power ballads.

Since they were both looking at me funny, I sought to defend myself. "What? I freaking hate Bret Michaels. He's nowhere near hot or interesting enough to merit his own reality TV show on VH1. He's a has-been." I was forgetting, of course, that VH1 deals mostly in has-beens. The Sur-Real Life, anyone? "I mean, ew. He's old, and he's obviously had work done. I realize that those girls are groupie hos just looking for their five minutes of fame, but, seriously, there are better ways to do it than whoring yourself out to the man who sang "Talk Dirty to Me." Can you say sleazy? Plus, if you're going to fall in love with an eighties metal frontman, go for Sebastian Bach! He's a better singer, better looking, and he's got better hair, plus he's, like, ten _million_ times more awesome! And any man who can't find his own "Rock of Love" clearly doesn't deserve to have one!"

Sadie and Chaz just stared at me for a minute, fully amused by my outburst. And then they burst into laughter. My chest was still heaving from the force of my argument. Sadie dropped the CD, still laughing hysterically. "But you watch Rock of Love..." She sputtered between giggles. "Religiously... You make Mom tape it for you." True enough. So we all have dirty little addictions, guilty pleasures. Like Tommy and Gossip Girl. Wait, ew, am I Tommy's guilty pleasure? Gross. Ordinarily, I would've laughed along with Sadie, but I wasn't exactly in a laughing mood.

She frowned and looked down, picking something off of the top of the pile of stuff. She turned to look at me with this completely floored look on her face. "Your ring? What's your ring doing in this box? You never go anywhere without it!" Sadie interjected disbelievingly. I'd dropped the ring when they came in the room and forgotten about it. My middle right finger missed the feeling of the reassuring metal around it, and I felt like a part of me was missing. Yet, still, I felt emptier, more relieved.

Even that ring, that symbol of me, came from Tommy. I'm sick of my identity being so tied up in him. Sadie just kept persisting when I wouldn't come answer. She walked over to me, shouting and yelling until I finally snapped and shoved her away. "I put the ring in the box because _he_ gave it to me, okay!" I screamed, turning away and trying to collect myself. My outburst surprised Sadie because she didn't understand, so Chaz put a supposedly soothing hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off, but he slowly made me turn around.

My sister was frowning at me. "What are you talking about? You had that ring before you ever met Tommy... Didn't you buy it yourself?" She asked obliviously. I glowered at her. No, of course you wouldn't know. You didn't really give a damn about me until I won Instant Star. You said I was your second-cousin.

I rolled my eyes at her. "I met Tommy at a Boyz Attack! concert when I was twelve. Guess you could say I made quite an impression because he sent that for a birthday present. Do you remember that birthday, Sadie? 'Cause I do. I remember how my parents abandoned me, how I was all alone at home with nothing to eat, and how that was the _only_ present I got," I told Sadie matter-of-factly. Sadie blinked at me in confusion, her jaw dropping.

Even Chaz looked surprised. "But that would've been right after..." He trailed off, but I knew what he meant. It was a little bit after everything happened with Ruby. He thought Tom would know better than to follow his example. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Yeah, Chaz. I know. Relax. My age has _always_ been more than enough to make Tommy pause. No doubt because of your legal trouble. Now, really, can we stop talking about him already? I'm really sick of my **whole **life revolving around Tommy Freaking Q. He's not the center of my universe! And even when he's not in my life, he's still making it miserable!" I snapped rather irritably, making a big show of shoving the ring on my finger. I waved at the box dismissively. "Look, Sadie, I don't care what the hell you do with that box, just get it out of my sight! And I'm not in the mood to answer any more questions about it. Just put all of that where I can't find it. Throw it in the _trash _for all I care!" I ordered perhaps a bit melodramatically... but what can I say? I was freaking pissed off and sick of everything.

Sadie looked quite taken aback. I've probably never spoken to her like that, with that much authority. And pretty much no jealousy in my voice. But, really, like I care. Honestly, I would care if she threw it away. I'd be sad later on and pine for it, but at that moment, I just didn't want to see it, period. Sadie scowled at me. "Are you kidding me, Jude? There's no way I'm throwing this away! You've got diamond earrings, sapphire earrings, and this freaking huge Quincy family heirloom necklace in here!" She exclaimed, once again peering through the box. Typical Sadie with her materialist concerns. I was really surprised she didn't mention the valuable designer dresses.

But I guess that's not fair. The earrings meant a lot to me. The sapphire earrings, well, that's like a symbol of Tommy's mother's respect and affection... Damn it, I shouldn't be thinking of her like that. I should be thinking Taylor's mom, because he's my boyfriend. Maybe Travis' mom, but that's a little inappropriate... Georgia's friend... Or my lawyer because that's just what she is. She's not going to be my future mother-in-law or anything. And the necklace, well, that's... Not as important because Taylor gave it to me, only I hardly deserve it and didn't he kinda steal it? I fought the urge to correct Sadie by saying that it was actually a Ruelle heirloom. The fact that I know that Theodore Thaddeus Quincy is the descendant of working-class Irish immigrants a couple generations removed and a Greek-Italian mother while Victoria LaFramboise-Ruelle is the descendant of two high-class, old money French-Canadian families, is, frankly, a little disturbing to me.

I think I know more about Taylor's family tree than he does. I just rolled my eyes at her and waved it off. Surprisingly, Sadie threw the ring Travis had given me at me. I blinked at her in confusion, but I found myself very lucky that she hadn't found the CD. I had a nasty feeling that disc of love-songs from Tommy would result in even more unwanted questions... and I'm half-convinced that they probably already think something's going on, and, duh, they'd be right. I'm really not that good of a liar. Chaz _must_ see through me by now. I cleared my throat awkwardly, grimacing as I bent down to pick up those foul car keys. "Well... I'd better get to the studio."

My sister full-on scowled at my attempt to make a quick exit, no doubt remembering my recent obsession with the place. It had been a wonder I'd gotten my voice back so early, but I'd drunk a lot of water and honey and consumed massive amounts of soup, lozenges, and vitamins so I'd recovered relatively quickly. "I don't really think that's a good idea, Jude. You were just there yesterday for hours... The last time you stayed in a studio so long, you collapsed and almost died," Sadie replied, bristling. Chaz' jaw dropped, and I sent Sadie a severe look.

"I was there for four hours maximum. And I recorded two songs. I ate; I slept; I drank water... Hell, I even found time to do my homework..." I trailed off, not-so-amused at her revealing my supposed dirty laundry. I was thinking of how I'd also found time to schedule a date with Tim and chat with Travis substantially. Well, and flirt with Travis. Hehe. I wasn't lying. I'd dropped by after school yesterday. Tommy was avoiding me like the plague, naturally, probably because Georgia or someone recommended that we steer clear of each other for a while. As much of a relief as it is not to see him, it's not going to help.

First off, they say absence makes the heart grow fonder. That's not wholly true, mind you. Because when someone's not around, it's a lot easier to think bad things about them... unless, of course, you know that they don't want to be gone or when they're coming back. My absence from Tommy sorta works in a similar way to the first case, sadly, because it allows me to think that he's really not that bad, and not that much of an asshole when I don't have to face him everyday. Plus, the more I see him, the more desensitized I become. I'm not freaking afraid of him, and I've got nothing to be (too) ashamed of.

He broke up with me; I fell apart a little... That was bound to happen. You get so invested, and then after a letdown like that, you just kind of have to break down. It doesn't make me weaker because I'm not weak. I might feel weak for letting him get to me, but he's Tom Quincy. He was always going to do that. He's under my skin like the damn song. The point is that I've put up with so much of his crap that this is _nothing_... or it should be. This is nothing compared to him almost marrying my sister. This is nothing compared to him sleeping with Ruby. This is nothing compared to when I found out he was dating my sister. This is nothing compared to his cheating ways. This is nothing compared to him changing his mind all the damn time. This is nothing compared to that awkward first kiss. This is nothing compared to him ruining my sixteenth birthday even more.

Okay, so, duh, I'm lying. He's put me through a lot, but I guess I've done the same. This... is everything. Because at least those other times I had a relationship with him. Not what I wanted, granted, but some kind of a relationship when now all I've got is silence and dead air and him not being there. I want him there, damn it. I want him as a friend at least, but... he probably hates me, and I hate him a little, and sometimes it hurts a little to look at him when I let myself think about it... We're barely even producer and artist now. But, but maybe this is the way it has to be now.

Because we really crossed that line this time. And maybe neither of us can really pretend it never happened. Because we can't go back to the way things were.

And I'm in love with him. I got excited and invested and so damn _convinced_... that it was going to work. I got so dreamy and so happy and so lovestruck and so, so, so lost in it. And, ugh, I was stupid enough to tell him. He doesn't feel the same, and he denied our entire relationship. Said it never happened, that I have to keep my mouth shut, and now I feel like a dirty freaking little secret, and I hate it. Just another regret, and, ugh, now I'm quoting a damn song. Everything's changed, and I'm being so pointlessly philosophical, and I hate it. I hate everything.

So I recorded those two songs with Kwest, and we were done so fast, I couldn't believe it. I told him how I wanted the songs to sound. We got SME in there to lay down some rudimentary backing tracks, and then Kwest mixed 'em together, and I sang. It was so fast that I could hardly believe it. I pretty much nailed the songs, too, in only a couple takes. Still, I insisted that Kwest run them by Tommy nonetheless because, duh, I want perfection, and I'm pretty sure both of those songs are going on my album. Kwest might have magic fingers, but he's not the perfectionistic type I'm used to... and he's a little wet behind the ears yet. Kwest gave me this look like, "girl, are you crazy?! My boy is not gonna want to hear that, your mopey songs about him."

That's not completely true, by the way. One of the songs I recorded is an old one I wrote when Jamie was mad at me, "Wrong About You." It's not really so much about Tommy. The other one is... I told you I've been prolific lately. I wrote it yesterday morning when I couldn't sleep because I was thinking about how empty and... frameless, I guess... my life is without Tommy. It's nowhere near as fun or as exciting, and it's all so damn predictable. But the song's really about him not being in my life. It's about how all of it's faded to black.

All the memories... everything. A part of it's in my point of view but some of it's in his. Because Tommy's unmoved and afraid to fall and bulletproof, and I'm the basketcase crying about it. It's called "Fade to Black" because apparently I'm creative. Just wait. I really think this whole break-up aftermath is gonna get more entertaining for you guys.

To be fair, I've also heard a rumor from E.J. that Tommy's actually really busy because we're branching out, and he's slacked off on Mason for me, and there's still a lot of work to do on Chazzie's album before the March or April release date. This is probably true, as E.J. cannot keep her mouth shut. They've hardly done any publicity yet, so E.J.'s working on advertising. She's slipping samples to all the right people, trying to get Chaz a gig. Of course, everyone knows the best way to get an album publicity is a single. And a music video. So I have a hunch we might be filming something... and from what I've heard, "Ruby" sounds like a pretty strong frontrunner.

Only problem is that it'll stir up some interesting feelings with his ex, and, apparently, my sister, who doesn't know, and is his current main squeeze. And the song's more or less a confession, isn't it (and everyone's forgotten about it)? Plus name songs are kind of rare nowadays. Nevertheless, it's an interesting subject, and plenty of people are curious. But, really, I can already see myself starring in it. Because, really, the only other option is the girl herself. Can we say awkward? Which would make it the second time Sadie's boyfriend and myself will have starred as the romantic leads in a music video. Without Sadie knowing.

Of course, none of this is set in stone yet, but I bet you ten thousand bucks it'll happen. I should probably tell Sadie, though, so there isn't a snafu. I don't want her to be pissed at me again for making a video with her boyfriend. But, hey, at least this time I won't be sexing him up, right?

Back to Sadie, who still looked somewhat irate. Of course she didn't want to see my point, but she was going to prevent me from leaving. "Look, Sades, I've got to go. I have two albums to finish, and I'm at least a week behind, and I've been doing nothing but writing songs lately... And Tommy's not going to be much help," I told her urgently, picking up my guitar (one of the few belongings I had that didn't remind me of Tommy), slinging it over my shoulder, and trying to move past her.

Sadie backed herself into the doorway with a rather impressive alacrity. She shook her head determinedly, and something flashed in her eyes, something fierce. "Something's going on there, and I want to know what it is. You're hiding something. Because Mom and those doctors asked an awful lot of questions about him, and Jamie seems to be convinced that Tommy did something to you... And you haven't been the same since you came back from London..." Montreal, actually. London was a high point compared to that last night in Montreal.

Since all of this had immensely confused Chaz, he had to chime in. He looked terribly worried, too, that Tommy actually had done something to me. "Yeah, and Tommy's been really out of sorts lately... working like a fiend. Kwest even said he's on probation at work or something?" He interjected. I blinked, pretty darn confused myself. I hadn't known that. He actually got in trouble with Georgia, like, hard-core? Nevertheless, I shook off my surprise and forced a smile.

Damn straight I didn't want to answer it. But of course I had to say something. "I swear to God I've already answered that question. Like a million times. We're not friends anymore. There you have it. We're **done**. And that's all you need to know. That's all _anyone_ needs to know," I told them forcibly. They were rather slack-jawed, so I had a feeling that I could finally escape without being stuck with one more question. I was about to make my lovely dramatic exit, but then my phone started ringing. Thank God it wasn't Taylor's bitch of a ringtone.

"_Am I who you want, am I what you need?_" I practically fell to the floor in my haste to answer the phone. That particular ringtone belonged to Speed. I pushed myself up, ignoring Sadie and Chaz' curious looks, and clicked the button to answer my phone. "Hey, Speed... What's up?" I answered breathlessly.

"Hey, Dude... Um, so, hey, what are you doing right now?" He responded, sounding rather nervous. It was pretty cute, actually, hearing him all flustered. I bit my lip though. What could I say to that? Oh, nothing... I'm just boxing up Tommy's belongings. Did you know he was my ex-boyfriend? No, of course you didn't. Yeah, that's _so_ not going to work. Nevertheless, I smiled just a bit despite myself.

"Nothing much... I was about to go to the studio, actually. But Sadie and Chaz are kind of getting in my way. How 'bout you?" I glanced at the aforementioned fun-spoilers, who looked rather engrossed in my conversation. I rolled my eyes at them, grabbing a puffy green vest and zipping it up. It was hard to be all casual, especially with my sister and her... whatever... listening in.

Speed cleared his throat anxiously. "Good. I'm... not doing much right now. But, well, actually, um... I was wondering... So, I'm going to this place, and Wally and Kyle don't want to come... and I was wondering if you'd wanna come with me? Do you wanna hang out?" He stuttered. Okay, that time the full smile really came out. It was so cute. I mean, okay, saying that the guys didn't want to come kind of made me a little concerned and... a little not so flattered because it made me sound like a damn back-up plan. Chaz and Sadie definitely noticed the change of expression and looked happy for me. I wasn't really too keen on them eavesdropping on my conversation.

I tossed my hair. "Are you asking me out, Vince?" I asked playfully, twirling my hair around my finger. I heard his sharp intake of breath and giggled a little. I mean, this is less of a big thing for me because I've already asked him out a couple times, and he's asked me to hang out before or asked me to come somewhere with him but never quite like this. "By the way, this is me saying yes..." I added after a long pause, grinning to myself. I heard Speed cheer in the background, and my smile widened. "So, when are you going to come pick me up?"

His response was immediate. "Now." I waved to Sadie and Chaz and walked past them. Speed laughed. "Okay, five to ten minutes. Out front." I grabbed my biggest purse and started stuffing things into it: a make-up bag, two pairs of boots, tights, clothes, a coat or two, sunglasses, a hat, a scarf, a curling iron, hair dye, contacts. I had a date later that night with Taylor, and then after that I was meeting Tim. Do I feel like a slut? No. After all, I'm not going to meet with Travis. I have no plans of making out with people in coat closets or anything like that.

After filling the duffel bag, more or less, I headed downstairs, snatching my magenta parka and zipping it up. "Okay," I told him, "I'll see you outside soon." I was still wearing my school clothes. Hopefully wherever we were going didn't require fancy clothes. I shoved my phone in my pocket and glanced down at my watch. It was a little after four. Hm, I had about three and a half hours until my date with Taylor, hm, and if I can get ready in a half-hour... True to his word, I heard a horn outside within five minutes and sprinted out of the door. Speed's got this really beautiful blue Mustang that I very much admire and covet, and of course it's totally hot. I know for a fact that the only reason why my beauty queen mother first spoke to my dad was because of his Mustang convertible.

I threw my bag in the back and flashed him a smile as I climbed into the car. Speed smiled sunnily back at me and started to drive. I turned on the radio reflexively. "So, Speed, where are we headed?" I cringed a moment later when a certain Tom Quincy song started to play and scowled full out. Speed snorted, no doubt recognizing Tom's voice. "Ugh. I thought this was an alternative station." I changed the channel and settled on a song by The Arctic Monkeys with some relief. _You used to get it in your fishnets... but now you only get it in your nightdress..._

"It's a secret," Speed pronounced mysteriously, refusing to tell me where we were going. I didn't recognize any of the buildings we were passing. I pouted at Speed, who leaned over and ruffled my hair. A moment later, one of my songs just happened to come on. Speed gave me a look but turned it up. "Well, Jude, it looks like I get the added pleasure of listening to you." Yes, listening to me talk about how much of a manwhore Tom is. I grimaced a bit but kept listening to it because it was good to hear me trash him, and I forced myself to sing along. He smiled goodnaturedly and joined in, mimicking my sassiness.

Honestly, I'd forgotten how good of a singer he was. Our voices harmonized so well but nowhere near as perfectly as mine and Tommy's did. Idly, I decided that I ought to have him sing with me on a couple tracks. Also, it'd be much more convenient than having Tommy do backing vocals. Well, not necessarily more convenient but much less awkward than having Tommy sing back-up on a song that just so happens to be about him. I voiced this thought to Speed. "You know, you should definitely do back-up for me on the album. Besides, "Anyone But You" is a fan-favorite." We still hadn't recorded it just yet, but I was waiting for the right time, you know, when I wasn't completely depressed. It's a peppy song.

Speed looked flattered and said of course he would, and I continued telling him how great it would be to sing together. And next thing I know, I'm asking him if he and SME, of course, are free this summer, and would they like to go on tour with me 'cause I'm touring the States with something a lot like Warped Tour only a kabillion times better, and did you know Green Day's going to be there? Yeah. I know. I'm hyperventilating a little myself. And I sorta maybe let it slip that SME could open for me, do some of their own garage metal stuff. Speed was looking at me like I'd given him the world, so we kinda almost crashed into a Beemer.

"Whoa, there! Hold on, Dude!" Speed shouted, swerving abruptly and running the light. My life didn't flash before my eyes this time. When we were safe five blocks and three minutes later, Speed turned to look at me, a little breathless. "Are you okay? I mean, that was a pretty rough turn..." He said apologetically, even looking a little embarrassed. I pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes and smiled, finding it endearing.

I nodded, smiling genuinely, brushing it off. "Are you kidding? Of course I'm fine! My life didn't even flash before my eyes, you know! Honestly, I think the guy in other car was a bit more petrified. He looked like he was crapping his pants!" I interjected brightly. Speed laughed and agreed with me. I leaned on his seat unconsciously, and Speed turned back and smiled a bit smugly. "Besides," I continued animatedly, "I've driven with Patsy before! That was a much more dangerous experience. Half the time I thought I was going to blast out of the car!" Speed agreed, knowing full well how Patsy drove.

Oddly, I expected him to be more talkative. He'd never had a problem with that before, but maybe he was just nervous. Still, it was weird. We'd hung out together before, but I guess this was different in some way. Probably because there wasn't the whole awkwardness of Lord Squinty Frown between us, since his presence in my life is now nonexistent. Only, if that was really the case, I wouldn't think of him so damn much, like when I'm on a date, trying to have fun with a completely different, awesome guy. But is it sad that my first thought when Speed swerved was of Tommy's reckless yet safe driving maneuvers?

Okay, that's a rhetorical question because obviously it's effing pathetic... Anyways, I tried to banish Tommy to the corner of my mind. Like cobwebs or dirty clothes shoved under the bed. But you still know it's there, and if you look hard enough, you can see it, which is entirely the problem. Shortly after that, Speed pulled up in a parking lot. I didn't really see any attractions nearby, or at least any place that someone, even Speed, would take a date. "Speed, where are we? You're not going to maul me or anything, are you?"

Speed scoffed, getting out and then coming around to open the door for me. "Of course not, Jude. Betty is sacred. I wouldn't dare fornicate in my temple!" Speed said a bit more sternly than I expected. His car is named Betty, and he is very, very proud. He ought to be; he restored the whole thing himself, and it's a nice car. Can't really say I blame him. He actually gives a crap about his car. I just misplace mine or let Mason have it half the time. Unfortunately, I don't think I've made out with anyone in a car, which is, frankly, a pity.

Well, okay, Travis first kissed me up against my car. And I probably came on to him in his car that night when I was drunk... but neither of those count. Okay, so I've scanned my memory and, yeah, I actually did make out with Travis in my car. Damn, I should've christened the thing with To... and that's never going to effing happen so I should just forget about the whole damn thing. I was actually pretty damn impressed that Speed opened the door for me. Who knew he was a gentleman? Speed smiled at me lopsidedly and took my hand.

Then he clapped his hands over my eyes. Of course I freaked out, stiffening and even struggling a bit. It was a familiar position, but not with Speed. My back arched involuntarily, away from him. "Jude, relax... Come on, dude. It's me, Speed... I just want it to be a surprise. Don't you trust me?" He whispered into my ear. While saying this, he stepped forward, absently pressing against my back. I nodded weakly, somewhat breathless. I've rarely been this close to Speed, and, honestly, it is more than a little nerve-wracking. This whole getting back into the saddle thing. "Okay, now I'm just gonna guide you there, and I promise you we're going to have a good time. I swear I'm not abducting you or anything, Harrison. Plus, we're in broad daylight, and you're a celebrity, so someone would definitely notice," Speed continued.

I laughed in spite of myself, calming down somewhat. "You better make it worth my while, Vince." If Speed was another guy, he might've smirked at that, the teasing, light, flirty tone. But I don't need to think about smirking assholes right now. Being himself, he winced instead at the hated first name usage. I suddenly realized just how unusual this strange scuttling pace must look to onlookers. I was stepping awkwardly, half baby-steps, like a very mistrustful blind woman. We traveled awkwardly like that in slow darkness for about five minutes before Speed pulled me back suddenly, sending me crashing against him.

"Okay," He said, "You can look now." He took his hands off of my eyes. I was suddenly very curious to see where we were. Knowing Speed, I was relatively certain that we would have a good time. Speed was always good for a good time. He really knows how to loosen up and have fun, and he does it in very interesting ways. Like, he's down for the typical concert venue, but he's also up for stuff like touch-football (which ALWAYS turns into tackle football, inevitably). And when he's not doing stuff like that, he's either playing in a gig or good for a movie or a game or Caveman Days or something. The thing is, though, that Speed's ideas of fun tend to be a bit childish. But it's one of the reasons why I love him, but not _love-_him-love-him, y'know what I mean? Because obviously that's reserved for asshats who dump me and will never love me back.

So where were we? Standing right in front of Chuck E. Cheese's! Where a kid can be a kid! And it was exactly what I needed, so I was kind of ecstatic. "Best. Idea. Ever!" I kinda loved him for that. I jumped up and down and impulsively hugged Speed, who looked pretty satisfied with himself. I wisely ignored this and grabbed him by the hand and dragged him inside, thinking of all the fabulous associated things. My mind skipped from awesome thing to awesome thing, and, to be honest, the rest of me was skipping. Because some times, okay, a lot of the time, I forget that I'm still just a kid. It's really frustrating being surrounded by adults and being expected to be like them and work with them but they still treat you like a five-year-old.

Everyone expects me to be this grown-up, you know, and I've had to do so, so, so much growing up over the past two years that I've kind of lost some of that girl I was. I don't really get to be a kid anymore. Because I was just thrust into this very adult business, and I'm just in over my head most of the time. And then I've been trying so damn hard to be an adult, to be mature, to not be what people expect me to be, that it kind of kills me. And then there's the whole Tommy debacle, which, to be honest, is way beyond my maturity level (and Tommy's own) about half of the time. But I have to be this grown-ass woman about it, and it really wears me out.

So I like the opportunity to chill with the homies and kick back and relax. And be seventeen instead of denying it all the time... or being someone's girlfriend. Or pretending I'm older. Or dealing with stuff like the press that a teenager shouldn't have to deal with. Because the pressure is slowly crushing me.

In this case, I was gonna enjoy eating cheesy yummy pizza and running through tunnels and playing arcade games and jumping in the ball pit. Speed gestured for me to go first. "Lady Harrison." I smiled and practically dashed over to the bright red podium where they sign you in. Speed followed, swaggering behind me. "Two, Speiderman." I snorted at Speed's attempt at class. Remember, I've been to fancy joints, and this was hardly one. The worker at the desk cocked an eyebrow and glanced between the two of us with a faint expression of distaste. So what? We're only a tad bit older than the average customer. She eyed us skeptically.

"Can I see some i.d.? We have a policy that the escort has to be over eighteen," She said dryly, waiting for one of us to produce the required identification. I was relatively mortified because neither of us were over eighteen. Obviously. Speed's birthday is in the summer, so he's still sixteen, for crying out loud! Nevertheless, Speed was prepared. He grinned like a pro, placing a hand on my arm and telling me not to worry about it. Honestly, I'm not so sure why I was worried. After all, I did have a fake i.d. with me. For some reason, though, I wasn't thinking of this. It didn't matter, though, because Speed smoothly produced an absolutely beautiful fake i.d. which proclaimed that he was nineteen. Tall and lanky as he is, the woman grudgingly nodded and accepted this, albeit with a somewhat miffed look on her face.

Then she stamped the both of our hands with that invisible ink that glows a milky bluish-white under black light. 4. I stared at the number in awe for a moment before Speed grabbed my hand and tugged me along, pulling me up with him to the front counter. He flashed a bright smile at the cashier and glanced up at the menu, looking at me sideways, as if to ask what I wanted. But then Speed turned back to the cashier and said in a commanding voice, "We'll have the Fun Saver package, please. Our pizza will be half Hawaiian and half pepperoni, thanks." I was somewhat surprised at the authority in Speed's voice, but with the way the cashier jumped to it, it became clear that Speed was probably a regular patron.

Speed had already pulled out the money when the cashier handed him cups, a number placard, and cups for our tokens, which were flying out of the machine. I suddenly realized that it was time to pay and pulled out my wallet, but Speed paid before I could do anything. He grabbed the things the cashier had given us and steered me to a table. I was still fumbling to pay, intent on paying my way. "Speed, how much is my share? I have to pay you back," I persisted, even as he forced me to sit down.

He shook his head and refused to hear of it. But I was like, well, he doesn't have the money, and I do. "You're not paying a cent, Harrison. This is a date, remember? _I'm_ paying," He insisted and continued to insist despite my protests. He seemed rather proud of that fact. Then Speed surprised me by pulling a giant plastic bag out of the backpack he'd brought in with him. The bag was filled with game tokens, and he handed me more than I knew what to do with, in addition to the twenty-five I already had. My token container was full. Speed put them in my hands, smiling benevolently.

"Go," He said, gesturing around the expansive room, "Have fun." I sort of stumbled to do it because it wasn't really what I was expecting, but of course I played the games, every one I could. If only they had had the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles game from my youth. I was a beast at that game. Nah nah nah nah na-nah, turtle power! I often ran into Speed, and he'd join me in two-player games or competitions (such as racing games), which was honestly really fun. The whole time kind of whizzed by, and then our pizza came, and Speed and I inhaled the whole thing. Nam. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I'd eaten half a pizza. I also kinda forgot just how damn good it was. When I was licking my greasy fingers off, Speed was staring with rapt attention, and I rolled my eyes at him. Of freaking course.

Then I got back up, suddenly full of energy (courtesy of the several sodas I'd had. God bless free refills), and went back to spending the tokens I'd been given, playing Whack-a-Mole and Skeeball and so forth. I learned that I generally suck. Speed, however, is, of course, a magician. Because he has more practice and better hand-eye coordination, obviously. After that, I made him take a picture of me with Chuck E., which was uber-exciting. Ha, and then I made Chuck E. sign it for me, which was nice for a change, because I was rather sick of signing autographs. I could've sworn Speed was jealous that I hugged the big mouse, too. Full body contact. Yeah, I know I'm devious.

So after that, I decided to go up into the tubes. Obviously my frame's perhaps a bit grown-up for them, but I've definitely seen adults go around in them on their hands and knees looking for their precious baboos. So I figured I was okay, and besides I'm on the small side. Speed, on the other hand... was a bit bigger, so it'd be more uncomfortable for him. Not that crawling around in plastic tunnels is really that comfortable, especially on the knees. But anyways, I kind of wanted him to chase me in the tunnels, like how I chased this six-year-old who gave me the finger when I was like, thirteen, so I didn't tell him that's where I was going. So I climbed up, twisting around the surprisingly wide but still smaller than I remembered tunnels.

It was especially annoying to have to maneuver around the tykes there, but I had a good spirit, so I didn't give them my bitch glare. I like children, obviously, and I had a lot of fun with some of them. And, ew, before you think I'm a predator, not in the Michael Jackson way. Most of them didn't even recognize me, too, so they just thought I was this cool lady who wanted to play with them and said funny things. The key, I find, to dealing with children is that they can't understand your sarcasm... plus you have to keep up with them, which is a task in and of itself. So I made it to this gorilla cage thing that had a padded floor and that you could rattle a bit to make jungle noises, and I glanced around for Speed. I scanned the floor but didn't see him anywhere, and I found myself frowning. Boy better not have ditched me, or I'll kick his ass.

So I was maneuvering through the tunnels, of course, trying to decide whether I should go to the look-out point thing, from which you could see the animatronic floor show slash birthday parties, or the fighter pilot thing that made little noises and lit up a bit. I opted for the look-out point so I could see if Speed was over there. When I made it there, I peered through the bubble-shaped plastic window but couldn't find for the life of me that familiar blond shag, so I sighed and turned around, heading for the fighter pilot section. I turned right into Speed, of course, which meant that we bonked heads.

"Ouch!" I muttered, holding my head, falling back a little onto the meshy red fabric-y texture. Speed, having an even harder head than me (I know this is almost impossible to believe, but we used to call him Helmethead. Both because of his messy bowl-cut and because he has survived some severe head trauma. He's a legitimate headbanger), just smiled at me and moved forward.

"You know, Harrison, you're a hard girl to track down. I don't know how long I've been going around in circles in here," Speed muttered. From the looks of it, he seemed pretty uncomfortable. Probably because his shoulders brushed the sides of the tunnel, and his head had probably knocked into more than one connecting piece from the looks of it. I smirked at him, leaning up on my elbows.

I felt kind of like quoting "I Touch Myself", but that doesn't seem like something you do on a first date. Except that one date with Travis. But, before you think I touch myself to thoughts of Speed, which I don't do... It would've just been the one part, "_I lose myself/I want you to find me/I forget myself/I want you to remind me._" Hardly fodder for a porno mag. Instead, I just laughed. "Well, I try. These tunnels were a lot bigger when I was little, you know," I said, adjusting myself so that I could sit somewhat comfortably in the look-out point. I had to sort of duck my head down and twist my body around awkwardly.

Speed nodded, emphatically agreeing with me. For a moment, we just sat there in silence. It was a companionable silence, at least, not too awkward. I was looking out the window at Chuckie, but when Speed started to speak, my eyes came to rest on him. "You having a good time, Jude?" He asked a bit hopefully. I smiled easily. My thoughts were starting to wander a bit into dangerous, depressing territory. My mind was elsewhere.

Still I looked at him, smiling faintly. "Yeah, Speed. I'm having a real good time," I told him, and I really meant it. I'd had a good time with him today. It felt good to be a kid, to let loose and just... stop... being serious for a while. And I love Speed for giving me that chance. Because I can't be like this around most people I know. I guess Speed knows me better than I thought because he gave me this quizzical sort of look.

"You know, Jude, you're not the same. You're not yourself lately," Speed said with a surprising depth and tenderness in his voice. Speed moved a little, slithering and twisting into the look-out point with me. Or, at least, halfway into it. His limbs remained in the tunnels but out of the way of people trying to get past our little bubble. My smile fell a little, but the truth remained that Speed was right. For a long moment I wondered what to say. While I was wondering this, Speed took the opportunity to speak again.

He took a deep breath. "Look, Jude, I'm sorry. I know I've been a jackass lately, but... I just don't know how to act around you sometimes. And, being me, I make an ass of myself twice as much when I'm around you, no matter how hard I try to be cool. And I'm sorry for that," He said apologetically. It was probably one of the sweetest things he'd ever said to me. And it was true. Being around me magnifies Speed's jackass power, but it also seems to magnify his caring side.

I smiled at him, patting his hand affectionately. "Oh, Speed, it's fine. I've dealt with my share of jackasses and assholes, and trust me, man, you are at the bottom of the list, okay? Heck, I probably deserved half of it," I told him brightly, waving it off. Compared to Tommy and Travis, Speed at his worst is really nothing. Hell, my boyfriend's asshole qualities quadruple in my presence. They all make Speed look like an angel. I felt the need to further voice this. "Seriously, Speed, you saved me from being abducted and forced to marry Travis. You're practically an angel."

Speed almost laughed, but instead he made a face. "That's what he was doing? He was trying to marry you? I thought he was just trying to seduce you and abscond with you," Speed exclaimed, sounding somewhat surprised. His mouth was half open, and he had this funny look on his face as he was staring into space. I snorted and shoved him a bit, laughing.

"Well, that too, of course," I added with a smirk. I'm really glad I made my peace with Travis. It makes my life so much less stressful, not having all that to worry about. Plus, now I can see that Travis really is a decent guy, despite the act he puts up. I ran a hand through my hair, pursing my lips at Speed. "I mean, who wouldn't be mad for my form? I am damn hot stuff, Spiederman," I continued in jest, batting my eyelashes.

Damn it, now this time, Speed laughed! I gave him a peevish look in response. Because typical Speed, never taking me seriously. There was a brief, comfortable silence. Then Speed reached over and ran his fingers through my hair, pushing my bangs out of my face. The moment was strangely quiet. "Trust me, I know, Harrison," he muttered. He leaned in, and the way he was looking at me was silent and intent.

And then, of course, a herd of kindergarteners stormed past us, upsetting Speed's balance. Naturally, Speed fell down on top of me. He managed to hold his arms out to brace himself, but his body was still on top of mine. He grinned down at me. "I think I like you this way, Harrison," He drawled flirtatiously before leaning down. His bangs brushed my forehead. "Jude, I really like you," Speed murmured almost dreamily. Without any ceremony, he kissed me afterwards, probably so I couldn't say anything. I don't think I would've known what to say to that, honestly, and I didn't even get to gasp. Except, of course, when we were making out, and I pulled him over me, and he did that thing with his tongue... And Speed's hands slipped up the back of my shirt, and well, suddenly there I was, making out with Speed, rather like a wanton whore. But I was hardly sexy in my green puffy vest, t-shirt, and jeans, and he wasn't even getting to second-base, so I really don't get why that bitchy mom came in and gasped and made a big deal about everything.

This lady reaches over, practically bangs Speed on the shoulder, and then she unleashed this giant rant. "I cannot believe you two! This is a place for kids, and here you two are, making out like... like teenagers! It's disgusting and despicable and utterly heinous! You're corrupting my children! And, frankly, children shouldn't be witnesses to semi-pornographic sights such as this one! Oh, for God's sake, stop going at it! Get a room, not a tunnel! And, jeez, you know, I saw you all the way from the Pizza Pavilion! You're in front of a damn window, for crying out loud! So, for the love of God, control yourselves!" The mother screeched. Way to blow the mood, by the way. She was dressed typically in Mom jeans, wearing a boring beige cardigan, and fluffy socks. Even had the dorky mom haircut, you know. Booring and frumpy and very soccer-mom-ish.

Her son was apparently having his birthday party here. And she'd come all the way up here to bug us and stop us from having fun. Hell, we _are _kids! And we're entitled to make our own fun. And by that, I don't mean babies. It's not the first time something like this has happened to me, though it is the first time this has happened to me in a Chuck E's, so I handled it gracefully by pulling away from Speed (and not even blushing) and wiping off my lips. I smiled awkwardly. "Um, c'mon, Speed. Let's go play in the ball pit," I decreed, trying to maneuver around him and the crazy lady, who was still shouting. Plus, how creepy is it that she was watching us?

I was still a bit hot and bothered, though, and I'd forgotten how damn uncomfortable the tunnels were on my knees. Anyway, so we got to the ball pit, and, in order to alleviate the slightly awkward feeling, I chucked a ball at him and hit him in the head. Speed growled and jumped on me, raining balls down on me. I scowled at him and leapt away majestically. Until he grabbed my leg and pulled me down and tried to drown me in the balls. I realize how disturbing that sounds, yes. But I grabbed a couple and nailed him right in the face. The fight continued epically for about fifteen minutes until a hapless kid wandered in and we were forced to stop so that we didn't injure the poor dear. After that, Speed and I laid there, stretched out on top of the uncomfortable plastic.

My eyes closed briefly, fluttering open when Speed started singing softly. There was an implicit challenge in his voice, and I rise to every challenge, as you well know. "_I wanna be the very best_," Speed began. It was a very familiar, distinctive tune, as I'm sure you can attest. I didn't even bother getting up. I missed the background music, all early nineties and fabulous with random background singers and electric guitar and that weird beat, all synthy-pop and unforgettable.

"_Like no one ever was,_" I chimed in, smiling a little. I felt the balls move underneath me, and Speed was suddenly standing. He was standing in a very heroic pose. "_To catch them is my real test!_" He announced, tossing a ball at me and, when it hit me, adopting a victory pose, complete with victory sign, like I was a rare pokémon he'd just caught. Well, I suppose I am kind of like a rare pokémon in some respects. Hard to get a hold of. I caught the ball and mock-scowled at him, shifting into a sitting position. "_To train them is my __**cause**__!_" I proclaimed, pointing a finger at Speed and holding the ball up in the air.

Speed stretched out his arm, motioning to the area around us and walking like a traveler. "_I will travel across the land... Searching far and wide_," He sang loudly and proudly, hand on his brow like a person who was searching for something. He looked kind of like a village person. I scoffed and rolled my eyes and finally got up. "_Each pok__é__mon to understand... The __**power**__ that's inside!_" We chorused, leaning our heads against each other, side-by-side, clutching each others hands, or, fists, more like.

"_Pok__é__mon!_" Speed shouted. "_Gotta catch 'em all!_" He twirled me around. "_It's you and me. I know it's my __**destiny**__!_" I sang, pointing at him and myself, flinging my hand in the air in a sweeping gesture. "_Pok__é__mon_!" Speed shouted, jumping in the air. I giggled despite myself. "_**Oh**__, you're my best friend,_" I cried, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards me. Speed threw an arm around me protectively. His face turned serious. "_In a world we must __**defend**__!_" He declared melodramatically. I rolled my eyes at him.

"_Pok__é__mon!_" He screamed again like an enthusiastic child. "_Gotta catch 'em all!_" I warbled, jumping up in the air with Speed excitedly. When I landed, I placed a hand on my heart, moving my body. "_A heart so tru-ue!_" I smiled at Speed, grabbing his hand and walking forward. "_Our courage will pull us through_," I announced cheerfully. Then I pulled Speed around, taking his other hand, and started whirling around with him. "_**You**__ teach me, and I'll teach __**you**__!_" I sang, voice rising, dizzy and giggling. "_Pok__é__mon! Gotta catch 'em all! Gotta catch 'em all! __**Po-k**__**é-**__**mon**__!_" We sang together, collapsing on top of the balls again, which showered down on us. I was still giggling afterwards, basking in the glow of being a ten-year-old again.

And then, I kid you not, a little kid started clapping. He said it was, and I quote, "The bestest song he had ever heard." That's 'cause we're professionals, buddy. Anyway, when I wasn't seeing stars, I glanced down at my watch and noticed that I had a date with Taylor in like, fifteen minutes. And I panicked, of course. I jumped up. "Ahhh! I'm gonna be late!" I screeched, careening out of the ball bit and practically falling over, slipping on one of the tubes. Poor Speed ran after me, beyond confused, but I was already hurrying over to my things. I ripped off my vest, unzipping the bag with one hand and shoving the vest inside. I dropped in my sneakers, pulling out black leather boots and the dress I intended on wearing.

Then I marched over to the bathroom, but Speed stopped me on the way to the door. "Where are you going?" He asked, looking puzzled. I sighed and looked down. It was a rather embarrassing situation, having to explain to Speed that I had a date with my boyfriend in, like, thirteen minutes. And had to get ready. In the bathroom at Chuck E. Cheese's. And Speed was kind of my ride, furthering the awkwardness.

I cleared my throat, biting my lip. "Look, I'm really sorry to cut and run like this, Speed... But I've got a date with Taylor in, like, practically ten minutes. And I'm completely not ready and across town probably, and I'm really sorry, but I have to go and get ready," I rambled, in a hurry. Speed's face fell completely, and I gave him an apologetic look. "Speed, I'll be right back. This'll just take a minute, and then I'll be back, and then I have to leave again, but... I promise I'll say goodbye, and um, I have more to say to you, but I'll say that later 'cause I've got to hurry. Be right back!" I mumbled rapidly before dashing into the bathroom. I jumped into a stall, pulling off my t-shirt, hanging it on the hook. I set my boots on the ground, unbuttoned and pulled down my jeans, and then pulled my sweater-dress over my head.

I kicked off the jeans and was about to zip up the boots when I remembered that I'd left my tights in my bag. I made a face and hustled out of the stall with my clothes. I put my hair up into a hasty ponytail and washed my hands. I debated calling Taylor for a minute but decided to wait and grabbed my stuff instead, heading outside, where I ran right into Speed. "Oh. Hi," I said awkwardly. Speed looked me over, and it was a disapproving look. His eyes lingered on my legs, as if asking if I was going to go out bare-legged like that. Hell to the no. I realized suddenly that he was a little jealous. "I'm gonna put some tights on," I announced, walking back over to the table, shoving my t-shirt and jeans inside and pulling out my tights, which I sat down and promptly pulled up. I think Speed and the creepy dads were a little too fascinated with me pulling the nylon over my legs, but whatever. I'm a little too used to the stares of creepy old men for a seventeen-year-old girl.

I wonder how many old men have posters of me on their walls. Ew. I really don't want to think about that. I mean, I'm pretty damn sure Tommy had my Solid cover spread up in his bedroom, you know, the naughty rock 'n' roll schoolgirl? Anyways, after adjusting my tights, I slipped my feet into my boots and zipped them up, rising and throwing on a black pea coat that was a little nicer and longer than my parka. I zipped up the bag and looked at Speed, who was staring at me hungrily. I offered him a faint smile, refusing to think about how tired I was or the date that was to follow, which would inevitably drain me even further. "Anyway, Speed, I had a great time. I... really needed this, you know? And you're the only one who knew I needed it. I really appreciate it, Speed, and, um, I'll see you at school tomorrow. Bye, Dude," I told him kindly. And then, surprising the both of us, I put both my hands on either side of his face and pressed my lips against his hotly. He tasted like pizza and cola. Then I pulled away, smiling, and thrust my tickets into his hand. "They're yours."

I hefted my bag up on my shoulder, fingering my phone, trying to figure out what to do about the whole Taylor situation. I'm supposed to be there in like, five minutes. Speed, bless his heart, still looked a little stunned. He winked at me. "I'll get you something really pretty. Maybe a stuffed animal?" I laughed and nodded, waving it off. And then, he seemed to recover some. He surprised me by pulling something out from behind his back: a massive bag of cotton candy. It was a gesture that truly touched my heart. He handed it to me, and I went aww, basically. Speed shrugged shyly. "I saw the way you were eying it the whole time. So, here, it's yours." I smiled at him and kissed him again. With tongue this time. Because he's good at that.

Then, I turned around and left, leaving a silent and somewhat depressed Speed behind me. So, basically as soon as I get outside, I dial up Taylor. And promptly get his answering machine. I hate answering machines. And the least his emo ass can do would be to pick up the phone when it's his girlfriend calling. Then again, he might've turned off his phone for the date, which is kind of sweet. But very problematic, since I don't know where the hell I'm supposed to meet him. "Um, hey, T-taylor... This is Jude, you know, your girlfriend... And, um, I'm calling to tell you I'm going to be late. 'Cause it's like five minutes before, and I'm across town out in the boonies, kind of, and it'll be at least twenty minutes until I get in, if not more... Anyways, I was gonna call to ask you where to meet me, but, um, guess that won't work. And, um, anyways, I'm gonna catch a bus, and hopefully I'll see you later." Then I hung up.

And if I wasn't in a public place, I would've started screaming. Anyways, so I walk down to the bus stop, getting some very weird looks, might I add, and I wait there, half freezing my ass off, for five minutes. And by that point, I just really don't give a damn about the date with Taylor. Taylor can kiss my ass, you know, boyfriend or not. I'm really disturbingly ambivalent about him for a guy who's supposed to be my boyfriend... guess he hasn't really won me over yet, huh? And, you know, I'll just get back into town and meet Tim instead. Which will make me happy, since Tim knows me and he knows what I like. Unlike Tay-Tay.

So, just as the bus comes, Taylor calls me, mildly irritated. Here is a condensed version of the conversation. Taylor: Where the hell are you, Jude?! It's seven, and you're not here. Me: We girls are always late. (As you can see, I was clearly desperate for any excuse, but Taylor should've known better. By that point in time, I wasn't even wearing make-up. Just Chapstick basically. Hot stuff, I know) Taylor: Jude, I've been waiting for like, fifteen minutes. Me: You didn't get my message? I'm running late. I told you that. I think it'll be like twenty minutes before I get, um... there. (I did not know where there was. Still) Taylor: WHAAAAT?! Me: Plus, Taylor, I happen to have no idea where _here_ is. Do you expect me to be back at my house?

Clearly, he did. Taylor: Where the hell are you, Jude? Did you forget about our date tonight? Me (rolling my eyes): No. Something just came up, and I lost track of time. Plus I'm not exactly in the city. I'm a ways out, but I'm on a bus... and, you wanna meet me somewhere? Taylor: Jude... (in that patronizing, frustrated tone, of course, and hadn't I heard that just one time too many from the other brothers?) Okay, fine. Meet me on Yonge. (Taylor, not being a Toronto native like myself, does not know certain things. Like directions) Me: Taylor, Yonge is the longest street in the world. You're gonna have to be more specific. Taylor: Um... Okay, so, Yonge and Dundas, I guess. I'll meet you there in twenty. Bye.

I was shaking my head at the awkwardness of the conversation. All this and I still had no idea what the hell we were doing! Anyways, naturally, I use the time to do my make-up. Yep, this is the glamorous life of a rockstar. Doing my make-up while riding a city bus downtown to meet my boyfriend at a public square after an afternoon of fun and games at Chuck E. Cheese's. The laypeople think we just gallivant around in private limos, drinking champagne and snorting illegal substances with c-notes and just come out looking this fabulous all the time. In reality, I look like crap seventy percent of the time. Maybe more.

The odd thing is that I ran into Taylor while walking, meaning we got there at about the same time. Finally, perfect timing! He greeted me with a cheerful hug, but I was cold, grumpy, and rather uncomfortable, so I couldn't really appreciate it. "So, what are we doing?" I asked, because someone had to break the silence. We'd started walking, arm in arm, but I didn't really feel much warmer. I wasn't dressed for walking. I should've asked him how he was doing or something to show I actually gave a damn, but you know just as well as I do how I botch things with boyfriends.

Nevertheless, Taylor managed a movie star smile, and said brightly, "Well, since you live here, you don't really do the touristy stuff... right? So we're going to walk along Canada's Walk of Fame." Sometimes I forget that he's a tourist here, more or less. He does have a point, though. When you live somewhere, you don't go see the touristy sites unless you're entertaining tourists. But, hello, going to a walk of fame at night seems counterproductive. As if I could even see anything under the snow, much less in the darkness. I avoided voicing these concerns, however, and kept walking with him.

"So," I said, clearing my throat, "How was your day?" Taylor turned that mega-watt smile on me, pleased by my question. I returned it somewhat awkwardly and glanced around surreptitiously for those supposed stars. Knowing myself and Taylor, I had a funny feeling this wasn't going to work out quite the way I'd hoped. Not that anything ever does.

Admittedly, I suck at paying attention to Taylor, and it has come to my attention that this may be something I need to work on. He's just... rather dull, sometimes. "Oh, my day was great! We filmed my first scene today, and we're going to start recording the songs tomorrow," Taylor said cheerfully. I nodded brightly and made sure to inquire about how it went and play the ditz (because what do I really know about acting anyways?). It went well, and he had a plethora of you-had-to-be-there-acting stories... But I was actually kind of glad to hear about them because I've always been curious about how filming really works. I was about to ask about the songs when Taylor had a question for me.

"Can you give me any pointers? I've never really been in a recording studio before, and I'm afraid I don't exactly understand what to do and how it all works," Taylor asked hopefully. He looked more than a little nervous about it, honestly. I felt a little guilty for keeping him out when he could be resting or practicing. Nevertheless, I figured I could offer him some advice because I'm all about supporting other singers. Unless they happen to be Eden Taylor. I do have a bit of a dislike for actors-turned-singers, though, mainly because they usually suck at one.

Take Mariah Carey, for instance. Girl's one of the best singers in the world, but she can't act her way out of a paper bag. It's like, why do you feel the need to expand into other genres if you've got a good thing going for you? Or, for the actor-turned-singer example, take any Disney star (overproduced, much?) or someone like Eddie Murphy. Which I only say because he's the best example of someone who can kinda sing but not well enough to consider a musical career.

I realized a moment later I'd never heard Taylor sing. "Oh, come on, Taylor. You've definitely been in a studio before... if only to visit a family member. You're from a family of professional singers. You have nothing to worry about." I didn't say his brothers or their names because that was dangerous territory, and I'd already filled my ex-boyfriend-name-quota for the day. Taylor gave me a look that said that he wasn't at all reassured by this, so I had to step it up a notch. "Look, Taylor, don't sweat it. Just get some rest, keep yourself properly hydrated... When in doubt, trust in your producer. If you don't know what to do, he'll tell you. If you're doing something wrong, he'll tell you what you can do to fix it. And, if you suck, he'll cover it up," I told him matter-of-factly.

Taylor suddenly stopped, causing a poor pedestrian to run into his back. I had to catch Taylor's arm so that he didn't fall over. He gave me a grateful look and a smile, which I could only return with a grimace. Because it was effing cold, and I was shivering, and after Taylor finished saying whatever he had to say, I was gonna ask a random stranger for directions. Because I was certain of this one thing: this was not where the Canadian Walk of Fame was. There was a strange, intense look in Taylor's eyes. "So that's what Tommy does for you? All that?" He asked in disbelief. For once, he wasn't jealous; he was just surprised.

It was all I could do to avoid flinching at his name. I thought it over for a minute. I wanted to say that he did all that and more, but I couldn't really say that now, could I? "Depends... sometimes he does more, sometimes he does less," I told him, trying to be flippant but coming off distracted. That's what he's supposed to do, but we both know he's been a hell of a lot more to me. And now... nothing. Ha, I wish. Eager to get off the subject of my producer, I turned to a person walking past, "Excuse me, sir, but where's the Canadian Walk of Fame?"

Turns out it's on King and Simcoe Streets. I took my poor, clueless boytoy to the metro. He had no clue how it worked, so I bought the sucker some tokens and all that, and directed him about. We switched lines at Spadina and got off at St. Andrew, and then we walked a couple of blocks until we found the walk. It was kind of unimpressive, really. Not half as many stars as I thought... But, then again, Toronto's no Hollywood. That being said, I do want to one day be on this walk, somewhat dumpy as it is, and hard as it is to get on it. Taylor turned to me, boyish smile firmly in place, and said, almost in a whisper, "It's my dream to one day be famous for my acting and get on here."

Why here, I wondered, and not the Hollywood Walk of Fame? You're more of an American than a Canadian, after all. Tommy has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, you know. Okay, so it's a Boyz Attack! Star, but it's a star nonetheless, and I think it's next to Britney or something... Damn, I thought about the bastard again. I smiled at Taylor nonetheless, squeezing his hand. Then, after examining the names of the people we were walking on, we headed back to the metro station, where Taylor asked someone for directions. He didn't, however, tell me where we were going. "Oh, come on, Jude... I want it to be a surprise! You'll like it, I promise," He pleaded with me, and of course I couldn't say no.

But you'll get lost is what I wanted to say. I respectfully refrained, hoping that wouldn't happen. Taylor and I got off at Bathurst with some reluctance and confusion, and we came out and walked a block or two to Bloor and Bathurst. I was looking up at the bright lights of Honest Ed's, a Toronto establishment. It's also a very colorful discount store. It's known for its super low prices, witty slogans, and selling pretty much anything. They have parties outside on the street sometimes, and there's all these really cool signs and lights. Inside, it happens to have a pharmacy, dentist's office, immigration services, stamps, wine racks, key maker, ticket station, and hair stylists. Apparently I'm a cheap date. I gave Taylor a questioning look. "Wow, you really spend a lot of money on me, Taylor. You're just rolling out the loonies, aren't you?" I joked.

Taylor rolled his eyes at me good-naturedly. "My dad used to take me here every Monday when I was a little kid... He always made sure to have his afternoons free so that he could pick me up after school." His eyes were misty talking about it. I hadn't known he and his dad were that close. Taylor smiled fondly. "Dad always made time for me. Mom was busy paying attention to Travis because everyone else was paying attention to Tommy... Dad was there, you know?" Taylor murmured.

I nodded because, in a way, I knew exactly what that was like (though, when you think about it, isn't that him neglecting the middle son when all he wanted was his parents' attention? No wonder the kid's effed-up. His parents stopped caring about what he did past like, his twelfth birthday). The smile I gave him back was genuine. "My dad's the same way. He always supported me. He always wanted to be a musician, only he can't be... 'cause he can't sing a bar. So Dad taught me how to play the guitar, and, you know, he understood that music was it for me," I confided. Taylor looked pleased he'd gotten to know me on a deeper level. With a pang, I remembered that I'd said Tommy was it for me too, and there was the bastard's name again. I tried not to think about how Dad had been supportive of _that_ particular endeavor too.

To my horror, Taylor decided now was the time to talk about said brother. As if I wasn't already being reminded of him enough. "Tommy did all kinds of crazy things to get attention, you know. He was always getting into fights with the other boys... He even got expelled from school in seventh grade for fighting. Mom sent him to this reformatory juvie place after that, and then Darius sprung him for Boyz Attack!, and she was so pissed... She was always angry at Tommy for something growing up... for whatever stupid stunt it was that week, you know?" Taylor mused. I tried to stop the details from implanting, tried to make myself not feel sorry for the asshole who broke my heart, but I'm afraid it didn't exactly work. Damn.

So, I did what I could and changed the subject as freaking fast as I could. "Hey, so what are you going to do here?" I asked, slightly panicked. Taylor grinned almost wickedly, throwing an arm around me.

"Milady, I'm going to take you out on the town!" He declared foolishly and loudly to boot. Actors. Oy. It was a sweet gesture, though, especially when he linked arms with me like a gentleman and led me inside. We had fun looking at everything, and, hell, I liked picking up things I needed and had forgotten that I needed. Although, I must say, we did cause a pretty big fuss. Lots of folks asked me for autographs, and it was really kind of embarrassing. Especially when Taylor bought me a pair of pajamas for like, six bucks or whatever, and someone asked if we were sleeping together. And I blushed like crazy because I really wasn't ready for that, and I hoped Taylor wasn't really expecting anything.

I mean, we were at Honest Ed's, for crying out loud, and he'd bought me maybe twenty dollars worth of stuff. I've gotten diamonds from other men and not slept with them. Hell, my ex-boyfriend (Shay, not that other one) has spent more money on me. When we were broken up. Plus, you know, I've been through so much with his brothers that sex is kind of the last thing I'm looking for right now. It's tiring giving so much of yourself to one person, you know? And then getting nothing out of it.

I had a far better time than I thought I would. After all, who doesn't like shopping? And candy?

But... Silly me, I thought the date was over when we had our stuff rung up. I was wrong. After that Taylor gave up on the metro and got us a taxi in approximately two seconds, which thoroughly impressed me. He had one of those sharp, piercing whistles, you know. He'd lived in New York for a significant period before moving to L.A., thus explaining his familiarity with taxi cabs. He told the driver to go to Greektown, explaining to me on the way that he knew this really great restaurant down there that I simply had to go to. His lovely costar, Audra Turner, had taken him there after they'd started filming as a celebration. Audra was a child actress who'd starred on stage and in mostly indie pictures, and not quite as famous as his last costar. She was fresh from Broadway and very, very sweet. She came from a stage family but grew up in a tranquil, happy Midwestern household.

Unfortunately, I was full on pizza, soda, and candy, so the thought of more food kind of made me want to vomit. Nevertheless, I plastered a smile on my face and set out to grin and bear it. We arrived at the restaurant, which was charmingly Mediterranean and romantic. Taylor'd been desiring it and raving about it for apparently a week, and I felt bad that I couldn't enjoy it with him. When he arrived, the owner greeted him by name and went out of his way to make us feel comfortable. Taylor asked me what I wanted, recommending things on the menu to me, but I merely shook my head, which probably made my face pale even more. "No thanks, Taylor... I'm not really hungry. I think I'll just use the bathroom, actually..." I said awkwardly, getting up.

He'd briskly ordered a huge lamb and chicken kebob platter with pita bread and those special yogurty sauces before I'd declined the food. I wasn't gonna upchuck or anything, although I knew that if I crammed one more piece of food down my throat, I would. I really had to pee, actually, but Taylor thought the worst. He frowned at me. "What, Jude, aren't you going to eat? I didn't think you were one of those girls..." I rolled my eyes at his concern, exhaling shortly. No, Taylor, I am not one of those girls who watches her weight obsessively. I do not have an eating disorder except that I love junk food. Still, the concern was a bit flattering... yet also annoying, because, damn it, I'm pretty damn used to taking care of myself (plus Taylor totally should know better because he saw how much I ate at Réveillon).

"I'm stuffed, Taylor, and I have to pee. If I eat anymore, I will throw up. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the ladies'. I'll be back," I told him somewhat tersely. He brings out the worst in me more often than not. When I came back from the washroom, Taylor was doing his best to make up for our awkward little moment. He was in the middle of buying a red rose from the flower man, and as I walked over the table, I watched him slip a twenty to a mandolin player. It was a sweet gesture that I pretended I didn't notice as I reseated myself. Taylor smiled at me brightly, and just then the mandolin player came over.

He started playing the strains of a song that sounded very familiar, although I couldn't first place it. It was a nice song, but it didn't quite sound like it was suited to the mandolin. I forced myself to ignore that niggling impulse and focused all of my attention on Taylor. "So, when we met, you said you were a huge fan..." I began, leaning on my hand. I smiled at him coyly. "Well, if that's really true, T, I want to know what your favorite song of mine is," I continued, watching him.

Taylor pursed his lips and dipped his finger in his glass of water, tracing the rim of the glass. He seemed to be seriously thinking it over, and while he was silent in contemplation, I wondered whether or not there was a right answer to this question. I'd written lots of songs over the years, and Taylor can't have heard many of them. He's probably listened to my debut album and my songs on the radio, and maybe a live performance or two, but he can't have heard much of my new stuff... I've only done that one full concert. "That's a tough choice," Taylor said, glancing up at me. For a second, I wondered if he'd lied about that, about liking my music, and if he even had an answer. The look on his face was eerily serious. "I guess my favorite is probably "24 Hours"," He told me finally, flashing me an unsure smile.

My jaw might've dropped open because that wasn't really what I was expecting at all. "24 Hours" is, of course, a long-standing personal favorite. For a brief, painful flash of a moment, I wondered which of the songs had been Tommy's favorite, but I cast that song aside (either way, I knew which song was his _least_ favorite). Maybe Taylor knew me better than I thought. I asked him why, and Taylor smiled kind of unconsciously. "Well, it was always the one I related the most to... My whole life people've been telling me what to do, saying I'm too young and... When I heard your song, it was like someone had put those feelings into words for me," He told me surprisingly eloquently.

Then, a moment later, while I was still kind of speechless, he looked down, as if ashamed, and continued, "Actually, I'm usually more of a ballad person... and your voice is just, amazing... You're like, the next Celine Dion or something... And I always really liked "Let Me Fall" too, because that was what it was like for me when I told my parents I wanted to become an actor. Neither of them thought I was really serious about it at first, and Mom tried to call in some of her connections for me, but they didn't really understand that it was something I wanted, no, _needed_ to do on my own." I smiled back, realizing that a newfound respect for Taylor was blossoming in me. "And... I like "Time to Be Your 21". A lot. Tommy came to visit me this summer, and I think it kind of bothered him that I was always playing your CD and... I dunno, trying to find out about you. Bullying him, really, trying to get him to agree to introduce me to you. But Tommy was really against it, and now I know why... He wanted to keep you all to himself, and, after meeting you and being with you myself, I can't blame him," Taylor told me, reaching across the table to grab my hand.

Sometimes it's hard to see Taylor as anything more than an extension of his brothers, but he's trying so hard to be his own man and to make his own way, separate from them. Still, that didn't mean I could just sit there and listen to him talk about his brother who'd broken my heart. I was flattered that he'd gone to such lengths to meet me. It was one of the sweetest things he'd probably ever said to me, and that stupid dickhead was wrapped up all in it, and I hated him for taking that away from me. Because I should be able to enjoy a compliment from my real boyfriend (who I _can_ be with in public) without feeling guilty or like I've betrayed somebody. I squeezed his hand and offered a tight smile in return. Every time I heard that name, it was like someone was shoving knives into me, twisting until he hit home.

Maybe that was what it was like for Tommy, hearing that song and _knowing_. Crap, I thought his name again. There was this cute little confused look on Taylor's face. "I still don't understand what that song means, though... Maybe you could explain it to me?" He asked flirtatiously. I tried my best to be the good girlfriend and smile like I meant it, but that song will always get to me.

"Well, that song's very personal to me," I began promisingly, hating the tears that beaded uncertainly in the corners of my eyes. He was looking at me adoringly, and I felt sorry for him. He really didn't know the half of it. I faltered a little bit, unsure how to explain it. As always, I decided to go with what was closest to the truth. "I wrote it after my sixteenth birthday because... There was nothing in the world I wanted to do _more_ than just grow up already and be twenty-one and free and on my own... I was so sick of people telling me I'm _too young_, to slow down... of people not taking me seriously. I was so **damn** sick of my age holding me back and keeping me from the things I wanted most. And I felt that I was growing and maturing, and that I _was_ changing, but that no one could see it. And I just, I realized that **now** is the time for me to do all of that, to let go and really live and take chances!" I explained, getting caught up in the emotion and terrible romance of it.

When I snapped out of it, Taylor was staring at me in rapture. I was amazed too, at my ability to cut his tool of a brother out of that story entirely when he's completely wrapped up in it. Before he could say anything stupid and lovesick, like I'm sure he wanted to, the waiter arrived with his food. Nevertheless, I was soon impressed at Taylor's ability to maintain a cordial and interesting conversation while stuffing food in his mouth. He ate like an anorexic model on pot. I think he finished it in a record time. Either way, soon enough the waiter came over to us, asking if Taylor was done. I smiled and took the clean plate from him, handing it to the waiter.

Being me, I accidentally missed the waiter's hand and dropped it on the floor. I gaped down at the plate in horror. Great. My klutziness not only comes out on a date, but in a nice restaurant, and now Taylor will have to pay... I started to apologized profusely, "Oh my gosh! I'm so, so, so sorry! I'm such a mess sometimes, and I promise I'll pay for it... I'll even sweep it up for you-"

And then, a very odd thing happened. The waiter smiled widely and grabbed the empty plate that had been set before me. "It's okay! We do this all the time! We have contract with plate company. Here, Miss Harrison, take another... I insist!" The waiter exclaimed, handing me the plate. I shook my head, staring at him in sheer disbelief. "It's a really good way to get out the frustration... You leave the cleaning to Paulo, okay? He makes mosaics out of this." I blinked, dumbfounded, and then the waiter threw the plate on the floor. I watched, stunned speechless, as it hit the floor and shattered dramatically. The waiter, who clearly must've been insane, just clapped and practically jumped around the room in his glee. "See what I mean?" He asked.

No, I don't. I had enough presence of mind to shake my head, and the waiter gestured for another waiter to come over. "Come," He said, turning to Taylor, "have some ouzo!" Taylor blinked and stammered something but didn't turn them down. He's weak like that. On the contrary, he not only accepted the shot but downed it with barely a grimace. There was another shot of ouzo on the tray, and Taylor held it up and offered it to me.

I eyed the clear liquid dubiously because, after all this time, I know better than to mess with alcohol on a date with a guy I don't completely trust. Also, it's a known fact that me + alcohol + a Quincy = bad things. As in me being a total slut and throwing myself at them and then fooling around and regretting it/not remembering what happened in the morning. And I have made various vows about never drinking again. Plus I'm a bit of a barfer when I've got some in me, and I was feeling nauseous just looking at the liquid. I mean, I was already practically filled to capacity as it was. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Taylor?" I managed, attempting to bely my nervousness with an awkward laugh.

Taylor shook his head no, frowning. He opened his mouth to say something but was then interrupted by the waiter refilling his glass. Taylor shrugged, saying it'd be rude to refuse, and polished off the shot. Once again, Taylor held out the shot to me. My lip curled in distaste, and the liquor seemed a bit cloudy to me all of a sudden. I turned to Taylor and hissed, "Are you freaking kidding me, Taylor? Drinking that would be like drinking _Windex_!" Taylor gave me a bit of a dour look.

He placed his hand on top of mine and patted it affectionately. "It's not that bad, really, Jude," He assured me, flashing that dopey matinée idol smile at me. "Tastes like licorice," He pronounced brightly, brandishing the glass. I made a face at him, pushing the glass away.

"And I **hate** licorice," I retorted vehemently, refusing it. But especially the black kind. That stuff is just foul. Which, of course, got me back to thinking about my own black-hearted licorice-eating fiend of a producer-(gag)-slash-ex-boyfriend. And I effing hate that word. More than all his stupid licorice (but damn it if the red kinds aren't the best).

The waiter then focused back on me, and I forced myself to stop thinking about Him. "Miss Harrison, we don't wanna to clean plates. We have better things to do with our lives than worry about china. Now, here, it's tradition! Just take the plate and throw it at the ground!" He coaxed, holding out yet another plate. I shook my head slowly, but he forced the plate into my hand, looking straight into my eyes. "You have a lot to be angry about, don't you? Your life... you must feel like exploding sometimes, no? Or maybe you pretend this plate is your ex-boyfriend, huh, and you smash him up and say Opa, eh?" He said in a knowing voice.

That was more than enough for me. As if something in me snapped, I tightened my grip on the plate and slid out of my chair and chucked the damn plate at the floor with all the force in my body. I watched, fascinated, as it shattered and the pieces scattered, briefly entertaining the symbolism. And I kind of screamed, loudly. Fortunately, though, I wasn't drunk, so I didn't scream his name. The waiter stared at me in shock for a second, as did the rest of the restaurant (because it's not every day that a superstar... okay, so I'm overestimating myself a little here, but whatever, I _will_ be a goddamn superstar by the time this album comes out and goes platinum... comes in and smashes flatware). Then, however, he recovered admirably, clapping and leading a cry of "Opa!" that I joined in a moment later, laughing, practically shaking with relief and emotional release.

He was right, too, that waiter. I did feel better. And next thing I know I've smashed a few more plates, flying high on adrenaline, and Taylor's downed some more ouzo, and then I somehow wind up dancing on the table to this Greek music, and people are chanting my name. I did a few Shay moves and some stuff that was a lot like bellydancing, I think, and then some random stuff from Sadie and even that damn Boyz Attack! Booty-shake that asshole taught me. Eventually, Taylor pulled me down from the table, basically leering at me because he'd been hitting the ouzo a bit too hard. Without much preamble, he exclaimed, "My girlfriend's so hot!" and planted one on me.

It was unskillful and wet, and rather reminiscent of our first kiss only significantly better. Except he tasted like booze, Greek herbs, and licorice, which repulsed me and reminded me of my ex, so I pulled away pretty quickly, wiping off my mouth. I glanced briefly at my watch. I had thirty minutes to get ready to meet Tim, and it was just as well because I wanted to make a quick exit. "Well, Taylor, honey, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get going. I haven't been getting much sleep lately, and you know, there's school and I've got early recording tomorrow, and my parents freak if they don't know where I am lately," I babbled, making my way towards the door, collecting my coat and bag. I thanked the men for the meal, which Taylor paid, definitely overtipping, and I offered to pay for the broken plates, but they wouldn't hear of it.

Taylor followed me out and didn't seem to understand this, so I realized that I was going to have to take him home in a taxi. I sighed and tried to flag down a taxi. "Taylor, where are you staying?" I asked patiently, thanking God when I managed to get a taxi. I damn near shoved Taylor in the back seat before following him in with my heavy purse. Taylor mumbled something nondescript. Cursing him, I repeated, "Taylor, honey, you're going to have to say it a little louder than that. I know you're not that drunk. Besides, you get talkative. So, Taylor, can you tell me where you're staying? We're going to get you home."

He blinked at me dumbly, and the stupid cabdriver gave me a smug look. I scowled at him before turning to Taylor. "Oh, you wanna come home with me?" He asked drunkenly, sounding very pleased with himself. Yes, Taylor, I _really_ wanna go back to your hotel room and screw your drunk ass. When I've known you for less than two months. Cocky bastard. I don't even think I want to have sex with you period, let alone ever, and I damn near slept with both of your brothers.

The cabbie, bastard, snickered. I scowled at him once again before rolling my eyes. "Sure, Taylor, whatever. Where _is_ home?" I reiterated unenthusiastically. Taylor had this huge cocky grin plastered all over his face, and he told the cabbie the address properly. It was downtown, a posh hotel. Fortunately it was kind of near where I was going to meet Tim. Unfortunately it was like fifteen-ish minutes away in this traffic, so I ignored Taylor and started unzipping my boots. Then I pulled down my tights, swapping them out for an opaque red pair. Taylor and the asshole cabbie were both looking on with interest.

I kind of bared my teeth at both of them and put on the snowboots. I threw the other pairs of tights and boots in the bag, pulling out a black jumper/dress/tunic... whatever the hell you call it. I thrust my boot-clad feet through the jumper and shimmied it up, ignoring the intrigued looks from Taylor and the cab driver. Pervs. I didn't have much time to get ready, so I pulled the jumper up and slipped the straps over my shoulder under the blue sweater before eventually casting the blue sweater thingie off and into my bag. I then buttoned up the too-thin white blouse and tucked it into the jumper. I smoothed the fabric I was wearing, and, upon glancing in the mirror, I decided that I looked fairly presentable, but still far too much like Jude Harrison.

So I threw the pea coat in the bag and took out my real heavy-duty this-is-what-I-wear-when-I'm-stuck-in-a-blizzard-coat. Then I shoved a tuque on my head (since I was dyeing my hair, it didn't matter what it looked like now) and put on a pair of white sunglasses. A slight improvement. Both Taylor and the cabbie were outright gaping at me. "What?" I barked. "We women have skills like this." Fortunately a few awkward seconds later, we pulled up at the hotel, and I was able to pass my drunk boyfriend off to the concierge. Who could deal with him much better than I ever could, frankly.

I scuttled into the bathroom then, stripping off my hat and coat, unbuttoning the dress shirt and undoing my ponytail, pulling out my supplies. I got my hair wet, haphazardly massaged in the temporary dye, and then set about drying and curling it, also haphazardly. Then I disposed of those supplies, put my shirt back on, and shoved the damn color contacts in my eyes with some difficulty. Bitches. Then I tousled my hair a bit for effect before redoing my make-up in different colors and putting back on the hat, heavy coat, sunglasses, and the red-black-and-white scarf that was hiding in my bag. I am a master at getting ready in a pinch, so I stepped out of the bathroom with like two minutes to spare, looking like a completely different woman.

Tim texted me on the other phone (ironically my "celebrity" phone, as real friends and close associates had my personal number), asking me where I was, and I texted back saying I was about five minutes away and would be there soon. We were meeting in a nearby park, but even with this coat, I didn't want to spend any extra time out in the cold. When I arrived at the park, I must admit that I was rather confused. _Where are you? _A minute later, someone's arms wrapped around my waist, and I froze like a damn ice-sculpture because I hadn't let anyone touch me like that in a while. And for whatever reason, it reminded me of You-Know-Who.

Logically, I mean, a part of me knew it was Tim, obviously, because who else would it be, a random homeless molester? But my body played tricks on me. "Why so stiff, Jules?" He drawled, and I allowed myself to relax because Tommy didn't know me as her, and his voice was a whole register lower and more gruff-sounding. Julia, I reminded myself firmly, was another woman entirely—a real woman, not a girl putting on an act. And she knew better than to get involved with morons like the entire Quincy family. His slightly warm nose rubbed against the back of my neck. "Your skin's so cold, babe. We've gotta warm you up," He mumbled against my skin, pressing cool lips to the base of my neck. My heart fluttered faintly in my chest like a dying butterfly. He brought his arms back up to rub my shoulders, but it didn't really warm me up.

Tom had made me feel like I'd never be warm again, frozen solid, frozen forever like he was. I still felt untouched, terribly unaffected. "So, Tim, what are we doing?" I asked, pausing for a moment theatrically. "Don't get me wrong, the touching's nice and all, but we're in public and wearing too much clothes to properly conduct heat," I added flirtatiously a minute later. I felt him smile and pull back from me.

"There'll be time for that later," He murmured without missing a beat. I turned around to face him and gave him an extensive once-over. He was wearing a black tuque much like my own, jeans, a long black wool coat that I knew from experience probably wasn't warm, a gray hooded sweatshirt, a flannel shirt that peeked out from the bottoms of the sweatshirt, beat-up boots, a black ski-mask that covered his nose and mouth, and a pair of darkly-tinted aviator glasses. If I didn't know this was Tim, I would've found him quite threatening. "We're going skating," He told me authoritatively, holding out a glove-covered hand.

I shot him a skeptical look, which of course he couldn't see, but I took his hand nonetheless. When I realized Tim couldn't see me, I dug in my heels and stalled. "Skating, in this weather?" I gaped. It was freezing, and I didn't want to be outside for another minute! And what kind of date doesn't want to spring for heat? Especially of the physical kind.

Since I couldn't see his eyes, I couldn't accurately describe whether or not Tim was giving me a look, but I figured he was. "When else would we go skating?" He said pointedly. "Besides, it won't be for too long, and we'll go for hot chocolate afterwards, okay? There's a nice place just around the corner..." He continued, sweetening the deal. It was kind of disconcerting for me to see him all that covered up because it was hard to recognize him, and given that I've never seen his face, I realize full well that that makes no sense, but it was hard to reconcile, okay?

I sighed and let him drag me to the skating rink. Since it was fairly late, the rink was almost empty. Tim was right; it closed in less than thirty minutes. Admittedly, I was wary to test my legs on ice, which was a particular field I'd never excelled at traveling over, and since I didn't know Tim's skill, worried over that too. I didn't want to be typical klutzy Jude because I wasn't Jude tonight; I was Julia. That being said, Tim was a natural, and the moment he led me out onto the ice, I fell on my ass. So much for us being different people.

Tim laughed, and I scowled at him. I went to push him but remembered that I wasn't Jude, and he wasn't used to that side of me like... other people would be. And then I got slightly depressed all over again. Tim tried to spin me in a graceful circle, but, since I was clutching his hand for dear life, I wound up skating a circle in the opposite direction, inadvertently doing one of those fancy spinning moves, and throwing him against the wall. Oops. He proceeded to slip and fall on the ice, and I started laughing hysterically, naturally.

He was able to get up and skate over to me before I managed to stop spinning, and he stopped my motion with a hand on my waist. I was relieved, since I felt like I'd have tossed my cookies if I'd been spinning any longer. His lips ghosted against the back of my neck, and he pressed his body into mine for a hot second before skating away. I skated after him anxiously, glancing left and right, hoping the ice didn't break beneath me. "Catch me if you can!" Tim taunted, deliberately slowing down to make me feel pathetic. I scowled at him and attempted to speed up, but that backfired on me, and I wound up tripping and flipping in the air and crashing down on to the ice. Fortunately it didn't crack beneath me, but it still hurt like a mother.

Tim flew over to me, anxious, and I had to fight my natural urge to knock him off his feet with my skate and send him tumbling down on top of me. Because Tim isn't Tommy, and I can't do that to him. Instead, weary, I lay there and let him pull me up. He stumbled a little bit and wound up accidentally pulling me against him. I rolled my body against his to catch him off-guard and was rewarded by him taking a step back and looking slightly ill at ease. I allowed myself to smirk at him over my shoulder, and Tim responded by pulling down the balaclava and pressing his lips against mine, probably to get the smug look off of my face. Not that I particularly minded.

I was the one who pulled away from him, awkwardly turning around on my skates to face him. We were holding hands, and for some reason, that felt really, really nice. And the whole moment was completely pure and utterly, amazingly, unbelievably silent. Like the whole world had frozen but the two of us, and we were standing still, staring at each other through these filters but still staring straight into each others' hearts. It had started to snow slightly, so there was a magical quality to it. It was one of those "falling-in-love" moments, and I didn't want to ruin it by talking. It took my breath away because it was then that I remembered, or, rather, realized that this was dangerous. Because I should've learned my lesson before about falling for an unavailable guy, and it, this... it couldn't...

I wasn't ready to be that hurt again, but Tim made me happy... so consistently. And, I mean, I knew I could be happy without... Him. I'd seen that future with Travis, and I knew it was possible. But there is life beyond the Quincy family, and I mean, why _couldn't_ I end up with Tim?

Well, for starters, he doesn't know who the hell you really are, no matter how well he gets you. And secondly, not that many guys in their mid-twenties are cool with dating a seventeen-year-old, even if it IS legal. Plus, don't you wonder why you haven't really seen his face? There's got to be a reason for that, and it can't be a good one... but then again, I'm hiding my identity too here, so who am I to talk?

The negative thoughts broke the magic spell, and I wanted desperately to go back but found myself unable to do so. And then there was this little flood of thoughts of Tommy which knocked me back a step because it was so unexpected and unpleasant. I... realize that my reaction to our break-up, and, yes, I **can** say that. Break-up. Our. It _was_ a relationship, after all. I realize that it's a little strange, but it wasn't ever any kind of normal relationship.

You see, most girls, when they love someone as much as I love him, they kind of shut down. They're depressed. They cry a lot. They miss him. They keep thinking that he'll still be around. They've gotten to get used to him. Most of them don't shut down the way I did, so completely. They shut down in a different way. They have no enthusiasm, no desire for anything else. They don't see other guys; they don't want other guys. They're not interested, and they don't notice. And I do, and I'm going out with all these other guys, and I'm even kinda having a good time. Sometimes.

But it's not because I don't care, or because he means anything less to me somehow. It's not because time's made it easier because it hasn't been that long, and it's still effing hard. It's because for the past... well, really, since I broke up with Shay (or did he break up with me?)... I've been in this really awkward state of limbo, and it's a bitch. Because I have these mammoth feelings for Tommy, right, but I'm not with him. I'm still single, and as much as I want to be that girlfriend, _his_ girlfriend, I can't be. So I still think of myself as single because well, a committed relationship is worthless if it's not mutual. And not a relationship. Even though there's Taylor, and Tim, and Travis, and Speed, and all that. None of it's serious, and in the long-run, do any of them really matter?

I could live without all of them fairly easily, I'd think. Just like I can live without Tom, only that's hard.

You see, for the week or less that I was his girlfriend, I was a secret. We didn't tell anybody, and I was only his girlfriend when it was just the two of us alone together. I didn't have that much time to get used to it, and I only trusted him just long enough for him to break it and me all over again. I never had any time to adjust or change my perspective. For those short weeks he was mine, he was all I saw, all I looked forward to... he was everything. But I couldn't ignore reality. How could I think of myself as his girlfriend when no one knew, when it wasn't official, when it was just something that held at nights, and I always, _always_ knew he'd leave me in the end. And is it still a relationship if no one knew; is it like when a tree falls in a forest, and no one's around to hear it?

So that's how I never really stopped looking at other guys. That's how I can still be "normal" in this small way and enjoy myself even a little. Don't get me wrong; I'm depressed, but sometimes I'm able to forget that. I see these other guys, and maybe I even feel things for them a little bit and appreciate the attention, but I've still got Tommy tunnel-vision. No guy ever measures up. I compare every single guy to him, every last one, and they've all been found wanting. Because they're not him (not even Travis, no matter how close he is, no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much I pretend), and He's the only one that really matters. It's hard for me to stop thinking about him because literally everything reminds me of him, and I have to see him on a daily basis. But I have to try. For both of us, but really for me.

I forced myself to snap out of it, blinking wildly at a very confused Tim, who was peering at me curiously. He asked me if I was okay. People ask that, but they never expect to hear that you're not. And if I was really honest with myself, I hadn't been okay for a very, very long time. But he was my date, so of course I lied. "I'm fine," I told him a bit tightly. I didn't mean it, but I tried to brush it off. "Just cold," I said, and I was suddenly so glad he couldn't see my eyes and notice that my eyes weren't smiling with my lips. Tim nodded and used the occasion to wrap an arm around me, solemnly vowing to go to the previously mentioned café.

After a brief walk together in the snow, Tim and I entered a warm, cheery café that was open late. It was nice and toasty and had a homey romantic vibe to it. The waitress who came over to our table was plenty friendly and, fortunately, not annoyingly flirtatious when I was clearly on a date. Unlike every time Tom and I have ever eaten together. I ordered a hot chocolate, and Tim ordered piping hot black Irish coffee. I rolled my eyes at him, and as we waited for our orders, we began to slowly peel back the layers we were wearing. For me, this didn't matter too much, as Julia wore bronzer and blush and a lot more make-up than Jude ever did to give her a lightly tan, mostly even skintone.

I kept my glasses on, and so did Tim. I guess I stared at him and his face for a long time in silence because it was familiar, in a way I couldn't place, yet my blind, stupid eyes kept screaming TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMY! At me, and I knew that couldn't be true. He was sporting a substantial five-o'clock shadow, a runny nose, and pale, dry skin from the icy wind. He started to fidget and get a little nervous by the way I was looking at him, I could tell. And then he reached across the table, grabbed for my hand and squeezed it. His palm was sweaty, which was cute and... odd... because Tim had always been completely self-assured. It was ridiculous to think that me, a barely seventeen-year-old girl, made him nervous. "Why so nervous, Tim? You know I only bite when you ask me nicely," I replied flirtatiously.

Tim chuckled softly, absently trailing his thumb across my knuckles. I closed my eyes, enjoying the simple sensation. For something so nonsexual, it sure felt nice. I liked to believe that he was staring straight into my eyes. Despite them being closed. Clearly common sense is not my forte. To further reinforce this point, a moment later, when Tim broke the lovely moment by asking what had happened since he saw me last, I was foolishly honest with him. More honest than I intended to be. "Actually, I got a boyfriend over Christmas break," I told him calmly. Then, realizing what verbal diarrhea I'd just spat out, my eyes shot open, wide with something akin to panic.

He'd raised an eyebrow, and his grip had tightened on my fingers a little bit, but other than that, he seemed completely normal. "Wow... So this is what happens when I'm not around?" He questioned softly, lacing his fingers with mine. "Maybe I ought to see you more..." He said suggestively, lowering the glasses to the bridge of his nose to give me a purposeful look. His eyes, surprisingly, were a very, _very _dark hazel. There might've been a midnight blue tint to them, but he was wearing a navy shirt. I found it kind of odd, as I remembered his eyes as blue the last time I got a rare glimpse at them.

Now, I could've just taken my glasses off at that point and upped the ante, forcing him to take off entirely the frames he clung to. But I wasn't sure my secret identity would hold, and I thought he deserved the right to his privacy. If he didn't want me to see his face, I just wouldn't. He treats me well, and that's really all that matters. Besides, asking too many questions is a great way to ruin a good thing. He could be the Phantom of the Opera or Travis or a minotaur for all I care at this point. Besides, the pretty boys only break your heart. Over and over again.

I lowered my shades too. "Is that a threat or a _promise_?" I quipped, batting my eyelashes at him cheesily. Really, it was amazing I was able to get that most hated of words out. Tim smiled faintly, and I realized quietly that we hadn't talked about my ex at all. This was good. Maybe he'd forgotten. I don't tend to attract extremely intelligent people, you know.

The waitress came by with his coffee, fresh and piping hot. She apologized but said there'd been a breakdown in the hot cocoa machine or whatever, and she'd get me a hot chocolate as soon as she could. I didn't care too much, though, because I was with Tim. He resumed the conversation right where we'd left off, "Depends which one you want it to be..." Then there was a long, rather pregnant pause as he took a slow sip of his coffee. He licked his lips and then pounced. "So, about this boyfriend... Is he still in the picture? I mean, if he is, he's _really_ understanding," He said sarcastically. He wasn't even subtle about fishing.

"Damn, you're a smart one." I said that out-loud? Tim grinned at me smugly and then cocked his head, waiting patiently. I stalled for a moment, unsure of what to say (was there even a _right_ thing to say in this situation?), and then went with the truth. Kind of. "If he was still in the picture, do you think I'd be here with you?" I retorted, a little slowly but harsher than I meant to. Pause. I winced, realizing how it sounded... like, like Tim didn't even matter, which wasn't true. I clapped my hand over my mouth and flushed.

And now I'm clumsy, always-says-the-wrong-thing, bigger-foot-in-her-mouth-than-Joe-Biden, mouthy Jude again. No matter how hard I try and dull down the edges, I'm still... all rough-hewn edges and green like a pine tree. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it came out... It's just, I'd really been waiting for this a long time, like, over a year... and being me, it all fell apart, just as things were starting to get good. But what did I expect? I mean, a guy like him... I should've known it was never going to last, but I wanted it to so, so, _so _bad. Obviously we don't always want what's best for us. Ack, I'm sorry... I'm trying not to talk about this. It's really unhealthy of me," I babbled helplessly. When I start talking about him, I just get caught up in this terrible train. And it always derails. Always.

He waved it off fairly good-naturedly. "Talking about your feelings is way more healthy than not talking about them. Trust me. I've got a lifetime of experience running from mine, and it's gotten me nowhere," He told me in the weary voice of one who's lived long enough to know better. Then he took a long, reassuring sip of his coffee, black as night. There was this calm comfort that radiated off of him and on to me. And you **know** I'm not a calm person.

By any measure of the word, hence why I was wringing my gloves in my hands, anxiously waiting for the cup to give me something to do. Something to occupy my twitchy, itchy, idle hands, and something to stuff in my mouth that ran like a damn leaky faucet or a garden hose on full blast with holes in it. "No, trust me, it's better to tell me to shut up about this. I'm fixating. Like, when this guy is in my life, I have To-t-tunnel vision," I continued to ramble, stammering. My voice caught on his name. It was still verboten, a word I shouldn't even be thinking, a word I wasn't to say under all costs. Especially on a date. With a stranger, kinda. Tim tensed at this, and I proceeded to babble like a bubbling brook, "He's all I see, all I _think_ about, and that's even more unhealthy. I... Yeah. It's not a place I should be going."

I'd wanted to say something different, but I'd already said far too much. What else could I have said there? "I had kind of an emotional breakdown over this?" Yeah, way to seem _normal_. I winced inwardly, realizing I'd described myself as single of mind and purpose, interested only in the one guy who wasn't Tim. I wonder what he must think of me now. I decided I didn't want to know, so I didn't look at him, and the coffee girl arrived with my hot chocolate, which was frothy and creamy and delicate and rich and absofreakinglutely scrumptious.

Naturally, I threw myself into the foamy drink, effectively burning my tongue and scalding my throat. Much like my relationship with Tom. Tim looked up at me with a questioning glance, and it suddenly felt very accusing. I was hotly offended because he was looking at me like he thought I'd fall apart any minute. I could just tell he was about to say something, and I couldn't **stand** it! "Does this make me _weak_ in your eyes? I mean, this guy is my mother-_effing_ **soulmate**... and he went from being such a huge part of my life to _nothing_ pretty much overnight," I snapped, intending to reprimand but all the vitriol slipped out of my voice mid-way, and I sounded limp and broken. I intended to wow him with the strength of my conviction. Because I really did believe that He was the One for me, that elusive soulmate, the only person I'd ever be completely, perfectly, impossibly happy with. Ever.

But that was seeming less and less certain as the days passed. My conviction was hardly unwavering. Tim held up his arms in a surrendering position. He fumbled to say something, but then this odd surge of something (anger, I later found out) passed over his face and changed his countenance completely. "That's not what I think. You are _anything_ but weak, Julia, to put up with BS like that, to love this guy so completely despite everything. And it takes one hell of a woman to go out with someone like me after being with a guy like that," He said urgently, reaching over to grab and squeeze my hand. He drew the word "anything" out, stretching it into three syllables. He was effectively warning me that he was just like Tom and would let me down, saying I had guts to race into love again or something like it.

He sighed. "I guess it's just hard for me to see you like this," He admitted quietly, in a voice thick with concern, swishing around his coffee. I took dainty, feminine sips of my hot chocolate. He didn't look at me, and the moment was strangely private. Then he did look up at me, and our eyes connected dazzlingly in a way they hadn't before. "I mean, if this guy can't see how great you are, then he's a _loser_. Hell, he's a tool and a moron for dumping you, and he's **not** worth it. He's not what you deserve," Tim told me sternly, determinedly, freely passing judgment on Tom. And I didn't think that was fair because how could you judge someone you'd never met, and how did he know? Maybe he was even right...

But, still, it brought up a prickly question. "And what _do_ I deserve, Tim? 'Cause this is what I get. I don't have normal relationships. I have you, this joker of a boyfriend I can barely take seriously, and my dysfunctional ex..." I exclaimed bluntly, a bit snappily, even. And Travis, whatever that means, I added in my head. Because how could I express or explain that relationship, let alone quantify it to Tim? I don't know what it means or what it is, but it makes me feel out of control. Kinda, but in control at the same time. Like, what, do I say, "oh, yeah, and the teacher I'm fooling around with on the side? Who's maybe a rebound guy, maybe a replacement, and maybe something more than that?" Or talking about the crazy electric sexual chemistry there that freaks me the hell out because it zaps and burns and singes? Yeah, I'm sure Tim would _really _like to hear that.

He blinked, confused, and set down his coffee, leaning forward a little. "Wait, so you **do **have a boyfriend? Wow. You move fast," He wondered incredulously. It set me off a little bit, to have him say that about me. Because he didn't get it, didn't get how it worked out, and how he'd been there. And I didn't want to be made to feel like a damn whore again.

So I tried to keep it breezy, I guess, waving it off. "That's a very loose term. We're not exclusive or serious... He's only here for work, and he doesn't really know me. And, hell, I've been seeing _you_ longer than I've been dating him. I call him that because, well, what else can I really call him? I'm seeing a few people, you know, and I'm kind of trying to throw myself into that relationship... but I can't, not really," I attempted to explain. Honestly, I wasn't sure if that made sense to him, but Tim accepted it with a nod, throwing back his head and polishing off his coffee like a shot.

"So here you are with me," He drawled with a wry, almost wicked smile. The look was comfortingly familiar and reminded me of Travis. He held up his empty cup and clinked it with mine cheerily. He looked genuinely glad to be there with me, and that made me feel good. Real good.

I shrugged and tried to play it off behind my mug like I hadn't just inferred, more or less, that my relationship with my boyfriend of a few months was less important and intimate than my relationship with Tim. I pulled back from my drink, feeling his eyes burning on me, and I glanced up to meet his gaze, kind of embarrassed, actually. "Well, I feel more of a connection to you than I do to him... and you understand me," I told him, fingers instinctively going to find his hand and squeeze it affectionately.

He smiled for a brief moment, but then the smile was gone from his face. His voice was like the tundra, like the wind outside the door, cutting and cool. "But you wouldn't be here if you were still with Him," He pointed out quietly. He was right, too, and that was the worst part. Honesty hurts, you know? Because if Tommy was in my life like that, no matter how dysfunctional the relationship, I'd miss out on great guys and great people like Tim here... who were much more deserving of my affection.

"Tim, don't be jealous. It doesn't suit you. Green is not your color, my friend. Plus you see other people too! And it doesn't matter anyway because he doesn't love me, and even _I _amnot that much of a masochist," I rejoined dismissively, taking a long sip of my hot cocoa, kinda glad for the distraction. Jealousy from Tim was just a little hypocritical for me. We're friends first and foremost, and while I'm glad he cares about me... he doesn't get to be jealous of the other men in my life. Am I jealous of the other women in his? No. I have bigger things to worry about. I'd also very stealthily avoided saying yes or no to his statement-question.

He looked pensive for a moment, fingers tracing the rim of his empty cup. "Well, if he doesn't love you, then maybe you're better off," He said with a shrug, leaning forward. I bristled at that a little bit because he didn't know Tommy or me, and couldn't really judge. And maybe he was just the littlest bit right and I didn't want to admit it. "From what you've told me, this guy sounds like a complete mess. Maybe he's too damaged to love anyone other than himself... and if he is, then you don't want to be with a guy like that... So you'd still be with him if he hadn't ended things?" Tim continued. It seemed a bit out-of-nowhere to end the sentence like that, a bit fast to disregard what I'd said. And I didn't miss the blunt, pointed question.

I knew the answer, though. It rattled in my veins like a traitor, echoing in my ears akin to tinnitus: _yes, _probably. Even if it killed me. At least I'd die happy and with him with a proud smile on my face, as opposed to dying all alone and old. Instead, though, I feigned ignorance and shook my head, placing a hand on it like I had a headache. Like all this talk of Him was giving me a headache. "Look, Tim, I... don't know. Forget me, okay? Can we talk about something else? How 'bout you? What'd you do over the break?" I muttered, none-too-subtly changing the subject.

He gave me this look like he wasn't gonna let me get away with it but proceeded to talk anyway. "Well, I ended a family feud, albeit one that I started... Your standard holiday family drama... fighting with my brothers, disagreeable houseguests, my mother being herself... Spent some awkward time with my ex-girlfriend," He explained. He looked like he was going to say more, but at that very moment the waitress came by and refilled his cup of coffee. He smiled at her and thanked her. "And possibly ruined one of the most important relationships in my life, but that's nothing new," He continued casually, taking a sip of his coffee as if this were an every day occurrence.

For some people, I'm sure it is. I fought the urge to snicker when he jumped back a little, having burnt his tongue. Tim swore under his breath, and I decided to put the squeeze on him. He'd pumped me for facts, and now it was time for me to pump him. And, wow, if that doesn't sound dirty. "What'd you do, Tim?"

Surprisingly, Tim bit his lip and looked less than polished, for once. Sometimes it's easy to forget that he doesn't always jive with this idealized picture of him I've got in my head. "Remember that girl friend... my friend that's a girl, I mean... the one I've told you about?" Stumbling over his words as he did then made me wonder. It was so unlike him. "Well, I kinda..."

Somehow, let's call it experience, I knew exactly what he was going to say. Maybe it's from experience reading Tommy's mood and faces because that was kind of what it reminded me of. And that situation, well, I could relate, couldn't I? "Fooled around with her, perhaps led her on a little, and then messed up big time?" I supplied helpfully, downing most of the rest of my hot cocoa.

He blinked and looked at me, very clearly surprised. "More or less. How'd you know?" He admitted reluctantly. At least he was admitting it, I guess. Tommy wouldn't. To him, nothing even happened.

Only it did. And as much as I'd like to be able to tear it out of my memory and forget it forever, I can't. And I don't really know if that's a good or bad thing. Maybe a bit of both.

I shrugged. "Lucky guess. It's kind of the story of my life..." I replied with a bitter, ironic smile (and if he'd known me better, he would've been able to recognize it as such), knowing his situation better than he knew. I leaned forward a bit, placing my hand on top of his. "Now, Tim, why don't you tell me how you ruined things with this poor girl, and maybe we can think up a way to fix it together, huh?" I suggested, pausing for a moment as something occurred to me. "You _do_ want to fix it, don't you?" I asked, rubbing my fingers across the back of his hand.

He fidgeted a little bit, smiling awkwardly and confessing he was a bit ticklish. I grinned at him and squeezed his hand affectionately. Tim busied himself with drinking his coffee, avoiding answering either question... or perhaps he just needed time to think. I waited patiently, as I am wont to do, and then he sighed and set down his coffee. "Well, we had kind of a good thing going. I mean, as much of a thing as it ever gets with me... I'm not the best when it comes to relationships. Something always goes wrong or screws up, and it's usually me..." Tim began reluctantly. His free hand reached up to play with his hair but stalled when it touched his hat and he remembered. His hand fell to the base of his neck, which he rubbed, looking very uncomfortable.

It seemed kind of hard for him to look at me. But yeah, obviously I knew he wasn't very good at relationships. It's one of several reasons why I'm not officially dating this guy. He cleared his throat and continued on, "But anyways, I mean, this girl was like my best friend... and our relationship was always a little... _more_. Kind of like a friends-with-benefits thing, only not really 'cause I actually respect her." What made me sad about that was that it seemed like he didn't unconditionally respect women. Just as people, you know. I wondered what some woman had done to him to make him that way. He shrugged but it was more like a shudder. "And I never felt _right_ about it, you know?"

I nodded dumbly. He licked his lips, and I polished off the rest of my tepid hot chocolate. His eyes flicked up to mine periodically as he continued to explain. "So, yeah, we both screwed up, and maybe I overreacted, but there wasn't any other option. I realized that I was making this huge, **huge** mistake, and that I was in over my head," He summarized quickly, as if he was afraid to talk about it or explore it. The vagueness made me wonder, though, and I had this terrible flashback then that was hard to shake. His hand tightened beneath mine. "And I want to go back to what we had before, but I don't think I can. And it's my fault 'cause I crossed that damn line... and I ruined a good thing because I... I don't know." There was an earnestness in his voice, a weak kind of desperation to fix the broken thing but a sort of hopelessness attached nonetheless. He looked down, swallowing hard. "Maybe I _have_ to ruin every single **good** thing that ever happens to me."

As much as I wished it didn't, that was like a tiny little knife through my heart because I dealt with hopeless, emotionally wrecked men like this far too often for someone who's only seventeen and doesn't have any sort of Psych degree. "Oh, Tim, honey... Don't think of it that way, okay? Look at this, huh? You haven't ruined _this_... us." I told him, reacting instinctively, tightening my grip on his hand. Then there was that inevitable question that I forced myself to silence: "What are we?" And I telepathically attempted to keep him from asking, and maybe he knew better 'cause that question would ruin it.

Either way, he gave me a dark look, a look that said it wasn't from lack of trying on his part. But honestly, when I'm used to dealing with huge screw-ups like my ex and my boyfriend and, ugh, my teacher... his one-night drunkenness and former girlfriend are child's play. Like, I roll with alcoholics and drug addicts and jealous maniacs and control freaks and people who probably have personality disorders and people who've been in jail on multiple occasions and own weapons and regularly get in bar fights and know martial arts and all this stuff that is completely beyond me. "Now, all you can really do is give the girl some time, okay? That's what she really needs. Time to get over what happened. And you need to accept that things aren't going to be the way they were before. _Ever_. But maybe, if you're lucky, and if you work for it, you can get back on track. But you need to, to tell _her_ some of that, okay?" I advised him.

I guess, admittedly, I was kind of thinking of myself, only not really. Because I honestly didn't feel like my problems were something that could be completely healed by time. This girl, you know, she's kinda lucky because at least Tim _wants_ to make things better. Tim glanced up at me, exhaling almost a little shakily, like he was emotionally drained by the confession. "I'm not sure if that's encouraging or not, Jules, but thanks anyways. This isn't something I can really talk about with other people," He said quietly, a wry smile on his lips.

I shrugged. "It's supposed to be encouraging, Timothy. I mean, I'm a girl. I know how we think. And I like to think I know a thing or two about how feelings can screw up a friendship," I proclaimed, picking up my mug and, when I was sure Tim was watching, starting to lick off the foamy chocolate-and-whipped-cream residue around the rim. Then Tim was biting his lip for a completely different reason. I couldn't help but smirk like the cat who'd eaten the cream. Literally.

He threw me a look. "You are an evil woman." I beamed back at him smugly. A mischievous look flashed in Tim's eyes, and in a flash, he was getting his wallet out of his pocket and pulling out bills. I was confused, obviously, so I asked where we were going. He stood up, carefully putting on his outer clothes as I fumbled to match his pace and do the same. Then he leaned down towards me and whispered in my ear, "Somewhere a little more private." It kind of sent shivers up my spine.

And, yeah, it does sort of seem like a mood change, but we'd done the date and conversation. I'd made an ass out of myself and had hot cocoa. So it was about time for some action. I followed Tim outside, and the cold kind of hit me like a wall. Tim told me he was parked about two blocks away (and I was totally not happy about that, but then he put his arm around me and I kinda forgot what I was mad at him for), and we walked through that park we'd been skating in. It was late, poorly lit, and completely deserted.

Thing is, Tim did something really surprising and wonderful, in an odd sort of way. It was something I would've expected from someone younger, someone like Speed. He bent down in a millisecond, scooped up a handful of snow and threw the snowball at my chest. For a moment I just stared at him, unable to believe he'd just done that. Then the teenager in me kicked in and I practically dropped to the snow, scooped up two handfuls and threw it directly in his face. Tim came after me then, ready with another snowball, and I struggled to form snowballs, only mine were loosely packed and retarded-looking.

We wound up in a full-on snowball fight, and, I'm not gonna lie... His snowballs kinda hurt because he throws like a guy. He just laughed when mine hit him. And then I threw one that hit him in the groin fairly hard (and I believe I said something witty like, "Cool it, Romeo!"), and he retaliated by throwing me to the ground, only I hooked my leg around his as I went down and took him with me. I wasn't laughing seconds later when he fell on top of me, but at least we were both fairly insulated. There were all these layers of clothing between us, but the longer we stared at each other, the more they seemed to melt away.

It had been a while since I'd felt the weight of a _man _on me like this. Not like earlier in the tunnel with Speed, a different kind of weight. And, to be honest, it left me kind of breathless, because there was all of him, stomach, lungs, beating heart, ribcage, belly button, against mine, more or less. All that is life. And slowly, slowly, Tim took off my sunglasses, putting them to the side. And he dropped snow in my face, which was cold and not fun at all. But I wrapped my legs around his waist to shut him up and gave him an expectant look. I didn't want to break the beautiful silence, the serenity of the park and the snow falling and the quiet tranquility of the night, but I had to say something. "So, Tim, are you gonna kiss me or do I have to give you a monogrammed invitation?" I taunted.

Needless to say, Tim kissed me, and it made up for the fact that I was damp and my hands were frozen. It started to get a little heated in the snow, so, to give him a taste of his own medicine, I scooped up a handful of snow and dropped it in his pants. He froze and glowered at me, realizing quickly what I'd done.

I shrugged. "I'm willing to make snow angels with you any day, Tim. But I'm not making the beast with two backs, thanks," I told him saucily, twisting my hips and sending him to the side. Unexpectedly, he started laughing, loudly and almost hysterically, and I found myself turning my head to look at him. He smiled at me fondly and traced a wet glove down the slope of my nose affectionately. I smiled back, and you know, I didn't care that he was seeing my face, that he could maybe guess who I was if he tried hard enough. I giggled a little and leaned over and planted one on him, pulling back before he could turn the kiss into something X-rated.

Then he got up, brushed himself off, and pulled me up. I reached down and grabbed my sunglasses, shaking the snow off, and then we walked, hand-in-hand, to his car. He turned the car on and then looked at me sideways. "Where do you want to go?" He asked, even though I think we both already knew where we were headed. I gave him a look, and the slow, sure smile spread across his face. "My place it is, then." He paused, looking very serious. "Just for dessert. No sex, no matter how much you might want it."

I snorted and poked him in the shoulder. "Oh, yeah, Tim, because snowball fights and talking about our various exes really gets me in the mood," I retorted sarcastically. Tim was unable to keep a straight face anymore and started laughing. He didn't laugh often enough. I laughed with him, and it felt awful nice. Then the car heated up, and he drove us back to his apartment. The neighborhood still hadn't improved, but I guess you could say it looked a bit better with snow decorating it.

Tim smiled over at me crookedly. "Sorry about last time, by the way. Guess this time I get to give you the grand tour," He drawled, bringing the car into park. He reached across me to open my door for me, and then we got out. I barely remembered to grab my bag. It was kind of a silly thing to do, actually, since I'd all but forgotten the last time I'd been here. I gotta say, though, it was a relief that he was sober this time. Tim took my hand decisively and opened the door, allowing me to go in first. He led me up the flights of steps to his floor, and then his apartment.

This time, I could actually see where I was going. Tim flicked on the lights and immediately stepped in and cranked the heat. I stepped in, shivering and still kind of damp, and shut the door behind me. I quickly dropped my bag on the floor, threw off my coat, flung off my gloves, untangled myself from my scarf, and ripped off my hat, shaking out my hair. I draped the clothing on his clothes rack and toed off my boots. Tim was bent over, rummaging around in his cupboards, and I took the opportunity to admire his fine ass. "Jules, why don't you make yourself comfortable?" He suggested busily.

I glanced around the place in a kind of wonder. He'd cleaned at some point. Gone was most of the clutter. There was a lot more empty space now, I found, a lot more room to maneuver in. I made my way over to the couch and noticed, for the first time, that his apartment had a beautiful wood floor, albeit a warped and creaky one. It seemed less dusty, shinier now, and I noticed little bits of decoration; no knickknacks except the stack of books that remained in a corner but some frames on the wall, mostly prints, a poster or two. "You cleaned up for me this time, huh?" I asked brightly, stretching out on the couch languidly.

He smirked at me over his shoulder. "Only the best for my lady," He quipped, setting something on the counter. He licked his lips and paused for a moment. "Now, what kind of ice cream do you want?" He asked, bending over the low wall so that he was practically in my face. "I have... vanilla." He started tossing the carton around. "And chocolate." Two at once now. "And raspberry." He added a third and made quite a show of juggling for me. I wrinkled my nose when he mentioned raspberry because it led me to thinking about Travis, invariably, and that's too complex an issue to delve in now.

So I told him vanilla rather unwittingly. Tim tried to sell me on the fudgy chocolate, but it kind of made me nauseous. Then he said vanilla would go better with the dessert anyway and told me to come in the kitchen. Puzzled, I got up off the couch and walked into the kitchen. I forgot how silly Tim looked in all those layers. He'd peeled back the balaclava and taken off his coat and gloves, but that was about it. So I walked up to him, grinning equally ridiculously, and tugged the hat off of his head, finally removing the balaclava and running my fingers through his messy, matted hair. I pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned towards the stove when Tim grabbed my wrist suddenly. "Jules, you're inside. Why don't you take the glasses off?"

It was a good question. Keeping them on was a protection. But hadn't I already taken them off in his presence and nothing had happened? Either way, I didn't get a choice in the matter. "I want to see your eyes," He murmured, taking off my sunglasses and setting them on the counter before I could protest. I felt kind of naked... I mean, I was probably a mess after the long day I'd had and the snowball fight... but Tim was looking at me with this look of pure... rapture... that just kinda took my breath away. I tried to remember if Tommy had ever looked at me like that.

He had. Once. The first night in Montreal when I'd almost had sex with him. The look on his face when he saw me... topless. I remembered the soft whispers, the half-silenced moans, how his look had made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. And it hurt to compare the two, so I roughly leaned in and slammed my lips into his hard enough to hurt. Afterwards, Tim rubbed at his lips, frowning at me ever so slightly, but then he defused the moment by gesturing to the burner, which was on and lit.

He handed me a stick, holding one himself, and gave me a marshmallow. I grinned at him, forgetting all thoughts of heartless beasts in favor of s'mores. Tim shoved two marshmallows on his stick and increased the flame a little bit. I poked the stick through the marshmallow and plunged it into the flame. I've never been one to hesitate. It caught fire almost immediately. All it takes is one damn spark; all it takes... is an instant. Tim chuckled at me goodnaturedly and carefully held his just above the flame, spinning and rotating the stick to roast them to a proper golden brown.

As for me, I just set the molten marshmallow down on the chocolate, pressing the graham cracker top and bottom together. What was left of the marshmallow degenerated further, and I pulled the stick out cleanly. Tim was still toasting his marshmallows, but his eyes were on me as I set my stick on the counter and immediately took a huge bite of my warm, gooey s'more. The s'more oozed out bit by bit; the marshmallow was hot enough for a transient burn, a deadening of useless tastebuds. Tim blinked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. Then he licked his thumb and brushed the corner of my mouth without invitation.

My heartbeat quickened, and Tim smiled back at me dreamily before sucking the marshmallow off of his thumb. I swallowed hard, and Tim tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. "God, you're amazing, you know that?" he breathed in awe. The room was lit dimly with candles and the light of the burner, and it cast a sort of golden-red light over the both of us (but especially me, I imagine). To stop myself from doing something stupid, like, say, allow my throat to close up, I took another large bite of smore. I made quite a mess of myself. He stared at me for a long time, uninterrupted, and then he leaned in slowly, as if in a dream, to kiss me.

But our lips didn't connect, despite how much we were both looking forward to it, because his stick and marshmallows caught on fire. Tim hurried to blow them out and immediately turned the burner off, but not before idiotically waving the flame in the air (and thus increasing the size of the flame). I was unable to stop myself from letting out a loud peal of laughter. Tim gave me a kind of cross look but managed to laugh anyway and made a s'more quickly. "You make me forget," I told him fondly.

And apparently I make him forget too. Tim stopped mid-attempted bite. "And that's good?" He asked skeptically, holding his s'more an inch or two away from his face.

I shrugged. "Maybe." It's better than carrying the pain around with me like a monkey on my back. I polished off my s'more and answered, licking my fingers, "Maybe not." It beats the hell out of hurting every minute of every day and knowing exactly why and who you owe it to. I thought but didn't say. The look on Tim's face stayed conflicted, and so I put on my best grin and reached over to take his glasses off, but Tim swatted my hand away, making a face at me. I pouted at him. "Oh, come on, Timmy." His expression was akin to the screwed-up face of someone who has just smelled something bad. I made a face at him and reached for the glasses again. "Come on, Tim... You're inside. It's nighttime... Why do you need to hide those pretty eyes from me, huh?" I coaxed hopefully.

It wasn't his eyes I cared about so much as his face. Sue me, I wanted to get a proper look at the guy.

Oddly, though, Tim held firm. "No," He told me stubbornly, turning away from me a little. It stung, him acting so... cold... but I let it go because I figured he had his reasons. I just... I wanted to feel like we were on an even playing field. He dodged my grip and wouldn't relinquish his sunglasses to me. He did, however, compromise by lowering them a fraction, so that I could get a glimpse of his eyes. I know well enough to take what I can get and no more. Tom taught me that.

So, instead, I passive-aggressively pushed the s'more, gooey, hot, and crumbly, into his nose. Tim sputtered, angrily setting the other one down on the table and grabbing me around the waist before I could get away. I leaned in and licked s'more off of his nose, which was enough to cause him to forget his anger. And then we were kissing, and my arms wound around his neck, pulling him down to me, and then he accidentally backed me into the stove (and I almost caught fire, I'm sure, and not just from the stove)... and we broke apart. Tim was grinning widely as he wiped away remnants of marshmallow and graham cracker.

A moment later, Tim handed me the bowl of ice cream I'd asked for. It went well with the next s'more I made. We ate together, standing, in the kitchen, in relative silence. I haven't been comfortable with silence for quite some time now... or being left alone to my own thoughts. But this silence was good, comfortable; I didn't need to say anything or do anything to ruin it. I glanced over at him and smiled; he smiled back. Still, I did have this desire to say something to him, only because I wanted to know more about him. When I thought about it, there was so much about him I didn't know... like what he did for a living or what kind of music he likes (other than mine) or even his last name.

So, upon finishing my ice cream, I placed the bowl in the sink and settled down on his couch. Tim followed somewhat reluctantly, and I settled on my first question. Having determined that falling in love with someone when you don't exactly even know their last name is generally a bad concept... given that you can't trust someone if they either don't have a last name or decide to lie to you about it (examples: Shay and Travis)... I made this my point of origin. "So, Tim... what's your last name?" Subtle I am not. Tim gave me a weird look and sort of tried to dodge the question, which I thought was weird.

He said something dismissive like "that doesn't matter, does it?" But of course it totally does. All I knew about Tim's last name was that it started with D, and there was something alarmingly familiar about it to me. I decided, then, to start guessing. "Come on, Tim. I don't see what's the big deal. You know mine. And I think, after all this time, I should know. Now... is it Domino?" Tim snorted, which I took as a no. "Dominguez?" He shook his head. "Danner?" Another shake of the head. I decided to step up my line of questioning and blurt out every last name that started with that letter I could think of. "Dent? Durrance? Donahue? Dante? Donovan? Donnelly? Durand? De Gaulle? De France? DiMera? DiPaula? Durante? Dancer? Destin? Duhamel? Deschanel? DuMaurier? Doyle? Davies? Davis? Davids? Davidson? Danton? DuBois? DuTois? Detroit? D'Angelo? Darcy? Come on, give me a hint here!" I asked a bit too desperately to be attractive.

Tim just shook his head at me and chuckled. "Guess you'll have to be more observant," He quipped. I scowled at Tim and decided to adopt a new question. A more personal question, in my own opinion.

Personal to me, at least. I leaned back into the couch, smirking. "So, Timothy, what's your favorite Jude Harrison song?" I asked seemingly randomly. Tim looked... startled? at the question. At first he stared at bit at me in confusion, because clearly he hadn't been expecting this. Really, though, the question did matter to me a great deal. Because it told me what he thought of me, the other me, as an artist and it told me, also, something about himself. I tried not to think of how I'd asked Taylor the same question. I shrugged innocently. "Well, I know you have this secret crush on her or whatever, but I want to hear what you think about her music..."

He'd answered well, though, Taylor. Tim was... different. He was silent for a long time, thinking. Maybe he was analyzing my whole catalog. Either way, it was taking forever, and I found that I was waiting with bated breath. He looked like maybe he wanted to say something different than what he did. "Let Me Fall," He answered after an eternity. I gave him a quizzical look, and Tim explained reluctantly. There was something, though, that set me off a little about the answer he gave, and I couldn't put my finger on it. "Musically, it's very impressive. Her voice is... nothing short of amazing... in that song. And the theme resonates with me in the way it does with anyone who remembers what it was like to... be young and have everyone tell you what to do," He answered slowly, carefully. "Yours?"

I was pretty damn surprised to have him turn the tables on me like that, actually, and I was so surprised I was speechless for a long moment. First, I had to rule out the songs I'd written that no one knew about, then the ones that no one but You-Know-Who knew about, then the ones that no one outside of the industry knew about... and of the number I wound up with, I ruled out all of the kind of depressing ones and avoided "24". Which left me with about a handful, and, looking at the situation, I decided to go with the "cute" answer. I grinned at Tim. "Right now? "It Could Be You." I like the... possibilities," I drawled flirtatiously.

That got me a smile. He got up and came to sit next to me on the couch, even put his arm around me. I tugged on his sweater. "Speaking of which, Tim... What about the possibility of you taking some of these clothes off? 'Cause I don't know about you, but I'm hot and not too comfortable here," I hinted, tugging at my own clothes.

Tim's lips quirked upwards, and he lowered his shades rather dramatically. "You coming on to me, Stanley?" Tim asked, equally suggestively. It took me a solid minute to remember that he thought Stanley was my last name. I smirked and told him maybe I was, but the truth was that I was hot and cold at the same time, in a way, and it had been a long day. I was kind of sleepy and wanted to get comfortable.

Somehow... I honestly don't know what the hell I was thinking, really, because you _never_ tell a guy you want to snuggle. Ever. But somehow, I wound up telling Tim that I was kind of tired and just would really like to relax in his bed with him. Or something. Tim just smiled, and he said (and this is the _really_ unbelievable part), "I'm kind of tired too. They've been running me ragged at work lately... and it's really nice to have someone to keep you warm at night." And maybe that was why I'd said it. Because I wanted someone to hold on to for tonight, and I didn't want to leave this cozy place and go home to my cold, empty bed.

I kind of actually think I about cried and had to turn away from Tim to save myself the embarrassment. We got up from the couch sluggishly, and the first thing Tim did was pull off his sweatshirt and drop it on the ground. Then he shrugged out of the navy blue sweater he was wearing underneath, causing the flannel shirt underneath to rise up. And then I saw the tattoo, the electric blue letter standing out like a burst of lightning, low on his hipbone. J for Jude, J for Julia, J for me. Unless there's some other J in his life (as there are Ts in mine). And it sent a hot surge of lust, of possession through me.

I walked over to him and put my hands on his waist. He was skittish to say the least; he practically jumped, to say the truth. "It's hot," I growled, leaning up on my tiptoes. My lips brushed his ear, and my thumb pressed against the tattoo. It was like an electric current passed between my thumb and his bare skin. "Feels kinda like I branded you. Kinda like you're _mine_..." I murmured. I was disappointed when I felt Tim tense at the word, and it hit me then that he probably would never be mine. In the way **no** boyfriend I've ever had has ever been truly mine. There was a part of himself he didn't want to show me, a part of himself he didn't want me to know, and that hurt.

He might have the first letter of my first name on his hip for forever, or whatever that passes for nowadays, but that doesn't mean a thing. Tattoos can be removed. "I like marking my territory," I mumbled, nipping at his ear enough so that it'd hurt a bit. Tim kind of jumped and turned around.

He pushed me back slightly, a surprised look on his face. "Easy, tiger," He grunted in a voice low enough to give himself away. He was totally turned on, and I smirked at the revelation but decided not to push. I leaned in and kissed him hard before he could protest, pulling away with starry eyes. My fingers still pressed against the tattoo on his thigh like a button, an on-switch, making Tim start a little. He stared at me for a long time, and I let myself enjoy the way his eyes burned into me.

Despite, of course, the fact that I couldn't see them. I cleared my throat. "Do you have something for me to change into?" I asked somewhat shyly. Truthfully, this is kinda new to me... sleeping with a guy whose entire background I don't already know. It's much less... comfortable than it was with Tommy... or Travis. He doesn't know me like they did. Tim smiled and nodded, heading towards his chest of drawers and pulling out some clothes. He paused before walking back over to me.

"Won't your roommates freak out if you don't come back home?" Tim asked curiously, holding the clothes out to me. It was a valid question, and the truth was that yes, they would. Since I still live with my parents who are already worried about me and my lack of being at home. That being said, I was tired, too tired to drive, and I didn't particularly want Tim driving me home and ruining it all.

So I accepted the clothes, a long t-shirt and sweats, with a smile that felt a little artificial for my tastes. I shrugged nonchalantly, like this was nothing. "What am I gonna do, Tim? I'm just going to _sleep_. With you," I pointed out somewhat rhetorically. Tim looked concerned that this was a regular enough occurrence that said roommates wouldn't bat an eye if I didn't show up. And now I'm a slut. Great. I sighed when Tim didn't let up with the look. "Fine. I'll text them. Jeez," I muttered, rolling my eyes and brandishing my phone. Just stop giving me the stink-eye already.

Tim smirked and motioned awkwardly to the bathroom. "I'm just going to, um... change," He said, grabbing another pair of sweatpants and heading towards the bathroom. "Um, make yourself comfortable," He advised, shutting the door behind him. As soon as he closed the door, I jerked my tights down and off, pulling up the sweatpants he'd given me, which practically fell off my hips, no matter how tight I tied them. I raced back over to my bag and dug around for my real cellphone with one hand, trying to unbutton my shirt with the other.

It wasn't working out too well. I did, however, find my phone. I found Joan in my contacts and pressed call, sandwiching the phone between my ear and shoulder. I was free to unbutton my shirt with both hands, pulling it up as I went. The dial tone sounded four times, irritating me, and then Joan finally answered. "Hello? Jude? It's a bit late... what can I do for you?" She answered, sounding somewhat drowsy.

I sighed, shrugging out of one sleeve. "Hey, Joan. Um, I need you to say I'm staying with you tonight. If anyone asks... I'm gonna call my parents and tell them that soon, and, um, yeah, I'd really appreciate it if you went along with it," I told her quickly in an almost breathless whisper. I managed to extricate myself from the sleeve and had to switch my phone to the other side to free myself from the other sleeve. I could hear Joan's disapproval in her silence, but at least she was quiet about it.

"Jude, you know, I really don't like doing this for you... I get why you lie to your parents, Jude, but don't you think you should maybe surprise them by going home once in a while?" Joan said shortly. Joan's different... I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my parents and everything... but they've got bigger issues than me. Joan's parents would pitch a fit if she didn't show up... and maybe that's because my parents are used to it now or maybe they trust me too much or whatever... but she and I obviously have very different views on this. Joan absolutely hates lying. I didn't have the patience to deal with it, so I dropped my shirt to the floor and started working on pulling the jumper over my head.

"Look, Joan, you can save the disapproval for later. I just need to know if you'll do it or not," I managed tightly, shimmying out of the tunic-y thing. Joan huffed over the phone and paused for a moment as I was untangling myself from the jumper.

She sighed. "Where are you, Jude?" She asked finally. I didn't answer because I didn't think it was particularly relevant. Obviously I was with a guy. I never call her when I'm not. "Jude, at least tell me where you are in case, God forbid, something happens to you. I'm not gonna come find you. I just need to know where you are," Joan insisted stubbornly. I sighed, unfolding the shirt and pulling it over my head.

"I'm with a friend of mine, Tim. And I'm just sleeping. Not fooling around or anything. We're at his apartment, and I've known him for several months, okay? I trust him. I've done this before," I told Joan admittedly a bit defensively. It was true, though. Nothing bad was going to happen. I mean, for God's sake, the guy wouldn't even show me his face! "And it's probably better off that I don't drive because I'm tired, and God only knows where my car is, and is taking a bus really safe at this time of night? I think not," I continued in the same tone.

Joan sighed wearily, ignoring the fact that I hadn't given her any specific address. "Look... Fine. Whatever, Jude. It's your decision, not mine. Just... promise me you'll think before doing something stupid, okay? I don't want to be responsible for something bad happening to you, okay?" Joan conceded, finally consenting to my request. I promised her, told her yes, I would, halfheartedly. Because when do I ever think before doing something stupid? How much of my life lately has been me jumping before thinking, before looking? I said goodbye and hung up the phone and then texted my parents. With a lie, of course. Then Tim walked in.

Unfortunately, he was wearing a shirt, a wife-beater. And the sweats, obviously, which rested low enough on his hips that I could see that tattoo I was so fond of. He smiled at me lazily, still wearing those dopey glasses, and motioned to the bed. I walked over to him first. I think I was going to say something, but Tim's thumb pushed up the bottom of his shirt and stopped on my tattoo, pressing into it reassuringly. He looked down at the mark on my hip and smiled like he was pleased. "You know, I think you're right, Jules. This is kinda hot," He murmured in a low voice. He stroked the mark affectionately, making me shudder all over. "Having my initial on you. So... permanent," He muttered, bending down slowly and pressing his lips to the letter wetly. And my eyes fluttered closed for an instant, and it was good... but for a minute it was as if I'd gone back in time.

And that was horrifying. To open my eyes and know it was a different man. One who mattered but not... _The_ One... And I hate Him for this, for always ruining everything for me. For making me capitalize His damn stupid worthless easily forgettable ten-year-old-boy name. I pulled away from Tim as if burned, jolted, and practically bolted towards the bed.

I knew he was probably confused by my sudden change of behavior, but I didn't care. I wanted to sleep, to forget. A traitorous thought occurred to me that in the dark, with my eyes closed, I could pretend. But that was dangerous. And I was sick of doing that because that was what Travis was for. So I got in bed, under the covers, without saying anything. Tim, bless him, took the hint and extinguished the lights in silence before coming to join me. I heard the click of his sunglasses on the table as he climbed into bed with me. His arms wrapped around me immediately. I forgot how reassuring a feeling that was, even if it's not the same guy.

He's handsy, you know. That one. He's a very physical guy, but you know that already. Travis isn't. As bizarre as it seems, Travis kind of likes to keep his distance. When he touches you, it matters. Which is, I guess, a good strategy, a cautious one. I'm not so cautious. I hate how this whole time I'm telling myself I'm not thinking about that asshole, but I am, and it still stings.

We didn't say anything, really, because we didn't need to. We whispered a bit, about stupid, trivial things, but the both of us were really tired, and I'd just started to drift off... when my everloving phone rang. Thank God it wasn't Taylor's moronic ringtone. I grumbled and rolled over, groping around for it in the darkness. My fingers finally found the dumb thing, and I sat up, opening the phone and holding it to my ear. Obviously because it could well be an emergency. "Hello?"

I mean, why else would someone call me at this time of night? So, I was mentally preparing myself for the worst... and what I got instead was Patsy, who was obviously in a bar. "Hey, Red, what's up?" The loud music, shouting, and glass breaking tipped me off as to her location, as well as the natural slur in her voice. I grimaced and turned away from Tim, who was fortunately unconscious. I hoped he didn't wake.

"Pats... you called me. Plus this is a really bad time. And I'm real tired. Why'd you call me?" I said in a whisper, clutching the phone to my ear. Patsy's not the kind of person who asks for help or for someone to rescue to her. She doesn't answer to anyone, so she doesn't need me to lie for her, so I don't get what this can be about. Unless she wants me to hang out with her at whatever the hell time it is. Who am I kidding? That's _exactly_ like Patsy!

"Because, Harrison, I'm at this joint, and I thought you'd dig the vibe. Very avant-garde stuff. Experimental, and I know you're not really into too much of that, but you're always talking about how you want to incorporate different kinds of music into your stuff... So I thought you'd be into it. Anyways, I'm at The Chain if you wanna come down. I know it's not usually your scene, but it's different tonight. Kinda like hipster punks have taken over, and they've actually tried to make it a place where they don't get their asses kicked," Patsy rambled. She didn't sound completely like herself, but the music I heard in the background was admittedly interesting.

And I kinda knew I was going to regret it tomorrow, but sometimes you have to do things you don't want to for your future career. So I got up and started to get out of bed reluctantly. "Okay, okay, Pats. I'm up." I thought for a minute about how I was going to get there (a cab, damn it), and then I actually got out of bed. Though I knew where The Chain was, I made Patsy repeat its address and attempted to properly decipher her drunken slur. A difficult feat for anyone. Then I let the sweatpants drop to the floor, reaching into my bag for my jeans and boots. I pulled them on and grabbed my parka and then dragged myself to the mirror in his bathroom to do something with my hair. I wound up putting it in a messy bun and then throwing on the tuque I'd come here wearing.

I felt bad about leaving like this, like a thief in the night, so I found some scrap of paper and scribbled a note to leave on his bedside table. I don't remember what I wrote, probably something about having to leave or whatever. And then, for a while, I just kind of stood there and stared at him in profile like I'd never seen a man before.

I wanted to say something to him, even though he was unconscious. "Tim, I lo-" I paused. What made me want to say that to him? It wasn't true. I didn't feel that way about him at all. _Yet_, at least. Give it time, girl. Reflex? I cleared my throat and started over, hoping it didn't sound as awkward as I thought it would. Like I wasn't idiotically about to say "I love you" to him after one really great date. You'd think I'd have learned by now that that was a bad idea. "Tim, I... really, really, _really_ like you." What am I, in second grade? I sound like a preschooler minus the cute little lisp. What next, am I gonna say I "like-like" him and ask him to be my boyfriend/true love for forevers and evers?

For God's sake, the man was asleep! Get a grip, girl! I shook my head in disgust at myself and tore myself away from his beside before I could get even more pathetic. I left as quietly as I could, so as to not disturb him, and then I caught a cab to meet Patsy at the club. I felt like a fish out of water, bundled up like I was, dressed like a stranger, so I flicked the contacts out of my eyes and threw my sunglasses in the massive bag that was really a pain to lug around. And, of course, while looking for Patsy, I ran into someone else entirely.

Travis, of course. Quite solidly, too. Dear God, how small is this city? Canada is the SECOND biggest country in the world, and I keep running into the same losers all the time. I turned a corner, and then I was crashing into his chest. I knew it was Travis because I saw his eyes and because he didn't visibly recoil at the sight of me. He reached out an arm to steady me, and I blinked, not expecting to see him here. By the look of surprise on his face, the feeling was mutual. "Fancy meeting you here, Trav," I managed, kind of feeling like all the wind had been knocked out of me.

And then it went like it usually did between us as of late. Travis smiled at me lopsidedly and kissed me on the cheek. "Likewise, babe," he said smoothly. He cocked his head, suddenly glancing down at my shirt. "Huh, you know, that shirt looks a bit big for you. In fact, I think I've got one just like it in red... Were you entertaining company, Harrison?" He quipped, a tone in his voice that I didn't particularly like.

I placed a hand on my hip, staring at him. "Don't tell me you're jealous, Travis." Travis just shrugged, pretending to be more cool than he really is. He opened up his mouth to say something, probably a comment about my apparent sluttiness (because enjoying your sexuality is being a ho now?) that I was rather glad was stifled. You see, at that very moment, Patsy walked up, swaying like a sailor, on Mason's arm. She was wearing a tight, strapless checkerboard-patterned dress and hooker heels, as if she wasn't at all conscious of the weather. I was surprised to see Mason there because it's really not his scene and started to ask about it, but Mason spoke.

He held a hand out to Travis, a very welcoming, friendly look on his face. "Hey, To-" I realized in horror just what he thought and what he was going to say (as did Travis, from the look he directed my way), but fortunately, he didn't finish. Patsy elbowed Mason in the side hard and muttered, "Ix-nay on the Ommy-Tay." And then of course, his damn name popped into my head again. Patsy was surprisingly perceptive, too, because I hadn't really told her anything that I could remember about that rift between Tommy and myself, which is something that few people actually know about aside from Georgia, Kwest, Jamie, and Travis. And other people have a vague inclination, I guess, but I'm real good at making things look perfectly normal.

Then Patsy smirked, looking at the way we were positioned. She saluted Travis, and I remembered unfortunately at that very moment that she'd had crazy monkey sex with Travis... and, like, I really don't need a guy in my life who's slept with one of my friends. "Heya Teach." She looked pointedly between the two of us. "You two got somethin' going down?" She slurred. I think I turned about twenty shades of red, which meant, of course, that Patsy saw right through me. Not subtle at all. Her lips quirked upwards at the corner. "Looks like a yes to me," She muttered, nudging Mason with an amused grin.

Mason squinted at Travis, as if he was trying to place him. I remembered their one meeting with a sudden, awful clarity. He'd met him as my teacher who wouldn't leave me alone, of course, and here I was, willingly engaging him in conversation. Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it... "Hey, wait, so _that's_ the music teacher I saved you from ages ago?" Mason asked, and I think both Travis and I winced. Poor Mason looked confused. "That you're standing here talking to with a hand on his arm in a very inappropriate way?" I glanced down, unaware my hand was even on Travis' arm, yet there it was. I blushed, to Travis' exasperation, but I didn't withdraw my hand.

Travis just coolly fixed Mason with a look that shut him right up. "Damn," He muttered, "He reminds me so much of To-" Patsy wisely intervened with yet another elbow to the side and a warning look. Mason scowled, rubbing his side and muttering to himself, unaware of the landmine he'd landed on top of. "Jeez, Pats, why do you keep doing that? I mean, look for yourself! The resemblance is striking," He mumbled, gesturing to Travis very nonsubtly.

Patsy shrugged diffidently. "I wouldn't know. I've never met the other one, let alone seen him naked, so I couldn't tell you," She told him frankly. Mason looked vaguely queasy and suddenly glanced repeatedly between Patsy and Travis, both of whom looked vaguely hostile. He wasn't the only one who felt uncomfortable at that reminder. Also, I actually have seen both of them mostly naked (okay, so I haven't ever taken Travis' pants off 'cause just... no), and um, they sorta do look alike in that respect? But, I mean, they're both men, and brothers at that and... I'm not going to discuss that. Tommy's more muscular, chiseled, and Travis is a bit skinnier, leaner. And Tommy has some tattoos and scars, like the nick on his forehead and the lines on his wrists and some others. And giant knuckles that are as hard as diamonds from all the brawls he's gotten into. Travis doesn't have any tattoos. I mean, he has some faint scars that he's kinda self-conscious about, but they're from all that surgery he had and all those broken bones, straight lines, medical stuff, you know. He does have that heart-shaped birthmark on his thigh, though, courtesy the Patsy video.

Oh, what the hell. I might as well tell Patsy it's okay to talk about his sorry ass. After all, she doesn't know what really happened, and I'm gonna have to hear his name every day, and see him every day, so it's best that people don't baby me about it. "Pats, it's okay, you know. You can say his name," I told her diplomatically. Travis gave me this look that was an obvious inquiry into my sanity and his silent way of saying he thought this was a stupid idea.

Patsy snorted. "Come on, Red, why would I want to say Teenybopper's name? None of us wanna talk about him. Masey over here practically wets his pants at the thought of him; Trevelian over there turns zombie when someone mentions his name; you practically died last week because of the loser, and I don't give a crap about him," She pointed out coolly. Since I don't think either Travis or Mason knew that little fact, they both glared at us. I wondered if maybe I'd said a few stupid things when I was practically dead by alcohol poisoning to incriminate the both of us...

Now, Mason totally had every reason to be afraid of Tommy, who'd almost punched and strangled him at least a couple times, so I didn't really blame him for that. "Patsy, you know I really don't appreciate it when you try to emasculate me in front of other people," He told her in a quiet, not-so-pleased voice. Like they'd had this conversation before. The veneer of politeness had worn a bit thin, obviously.

She rolled her eyes at him predictably. "And I don't appreciate it when you use that stupid ther-a-pist voice on me like you wanna figure me out," She retorted irritably. "If I wanted to emasculate you, I'd just do it, okay? With my bare hands. It's not like I haven't done it before." Mason looked horrified, but I wasn't surprised. I heard it was Kirk Frampton. Patsy's own comment was that she believed he kicked himself in the balls. Oh, no, wait, that was the guy she kicked in the balls so hard that they like, fell off. A gruesome tale. She did castrate somebody, though. I think. With rusty instruments.

I was, however, preoccupied at the time, dealing with a dragon of my very own: Travis. "What does she mean you almost _died _because of my loser brother?" He growled, staring me down, gripping my arm, invading my personal space. I'm starting to think his family just doesn't know the meaning of personal space. For some reason, they don't seem to understand the concept, especially given that both he and his little brother kissed me forcibly the same day we met. I tried to squirm away from his grip.

"Nothing, Travis. God, I just had a bad week, okay?" I muttered. And then, you know, I started to wonder why I was defending him. Because, yeah, I loved him, but he'd hurt me, and we'd both burned that bridge. And yet I keep defending him, and I don't know why. I just... can't hate him completely.

Travis glowered at me. "What did he **do** to you?!" He barked, being pushy. Travis sounded like a jealous boyfriend, and it really didn't suit him. After all, that had never been his role. Somehow I couldn't incriminate Tommy either.

I forced myself to look at him so he wouldn't automatically know I was lying. "Nothing, Travis. He did _nothing_," I bit back, pulling my shoulder away from him, rubbing it absently. I didn't understand his motives, so I glared back at him intently and let myself spew venom. "He was just himself, the usual ass that he is. And maybe it was a little hard for me to see him, and maybe things got a little out of control... but _he_ didn't do anything!" I told him. I had no idea why I was still talking because it was unnecessary and more than I wanted to say, but there I was...

He looked at me like he didn't believe one word I said. "Is that why you didn't call me? Why you were so weird that week? Why you..." He asked, determined, before lowering his voice and glancing around cautiously. Obviously about to mention something a little too sexual for a student-teacher-thing. "Why you left that night?" He questioned in a softer voice. I looked away from him, not wanting to talk about it, but he put his hands on my face and made me look. His damn eyes, those similar damn eyes with that same expression, convicted me to tell him everything, the bastard.

"Look, Travis... I wasn't in my right mind, okay? I hadn't slept in days. I was nauseous all the time. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. Couldn't stay at home and... It was harder than I thought, and I was doing whatever I could to cope," I told him, and it was like I was transported back to that time. It made me feel cold inside. I sighed, "But nothing _worked_, okay? Not sleep, not alcohol, not cigarettes, not my friends, not sex, not you, not even music... I couldn't escape it. Him." I was shivering so hard I had to wrap my arms around myself. "And I didn't tell you because you'd ask questions and blame him, and this isn't his fault-" Travis opened his mouth to contest that, but I shook my head and pressed on stubbornly. "And I already had enough people thinking I was _crazy_ for breaking down for no reason or whatever, and I'm effing tired of thinking about it, okay, because I **know** it was pathetic, that I couldn't keep it together..."

Travis put his hand on my face with tenderness this time and looked into my (wetter) eyes as if he was about to say something sweet. Fortunately, Patsy stopped him from saying something idiotic like that it wasn't pathetic. "Jeez, Masey, can you not look at me like you think I'm gonna cut your nuts off? 'Cause I'm not. You staying a guy is kinda in my interests here. What use are you to me otherwise?" Patsy quipped loudly, crossing her arms over her chest rather combatively. I blinked. Patsy did not sound like herself. She sounded eerily sober and kind of serious and wait a second... Did I just hear what I think I heard?

And Mason looks hurt. Huh. "So _that's_ all I'm good for, Patsy? I'm just another one of your chew toys?" He snapped, turning away from her. He looked like he wanted to leave. And then there it was, confirmed evidence that he and Patsy had some sort of sexual relationship. Of course, all of Patsy's relationships are sexual but whatever. "Thanks a lot. You really make a guy feel like he's worth something," Mason muttered sarcastically, shooting her a last, disgusted glance.

He turned on his heel and started to leave. Patsy huffed out a breath and went after him. "Yeesh, Masey, why the hell are you so touchy?! You knew what you were getting into, so stop acting like such a _girl_ about it. And why do you always have to take everything the wrong way? I didn't even say any of that on purpose," Patsy retorted, grabbing his shoulder. That much was true, at any rate. When Patsy means to offend, she's much more rude and harsh than that. But she does have a habit of hurting people she likes and loves. She muttered something about a shrink attributing it to the death of her father when she was very young, but Patsy thinks that's garbage. That also sounded suspiciously like an apology, and Patsy never apologizes.

After all, girlfriend has no regrets.

Mason scowled at her, foolishly attempting to shove her hand off his shoulder. Patsy responded by digging her nails in until he was in pain. Didn't take much. "Maybe because I don't like to think of myself as a sex object, Patsy. Maybe I'm tired of you being _ashamed _of me. Of you not introducing me to your friends or insulting me to other people right in front of my face-" I kinda wanted to point out here that Patsy insults everyone, even and especially people she likes, but I didn't want to intrude. "And that you don't tell anyone about us and how I know you fool around with other guys, and I can't do anything about it-" Mason continued.

It struck me then that Mason had legitimate, non-sexual feelings for Patsy. Kind of like some form of love. Don't get me wrong, I love the girl too, but not like that, and it's hard for me to imagine anyone loving a free spirit like Patsy, let alone her reciprocating. Patsy growled and stopped Mason dead in his tracks, digging her nails into both shoulders to hold him there. She leaned right into his face, looking him dead in the eyes, and she was a fearsome sight to behold. "Look, Mace, I think you're cute, but you're dumber than Tristan over there. If I didn't want you around, you wouldn't be here right now, okay? And I'm not ashamed, either. I just prefer getting laid to stupid dating things. I don't do stuff like that... That coupley fluffy crap makes me wanna puke," Patsy exclaimed, making a face. Throughout this talk, she lightly slapped Mason's cheek, gestured to Travis, and put a hand on her hip.

He looked sad when she said that, but Patsy ignored his obvious desire to talk and continued speaking. Surprisingly, her hands released their iron grip on his shoulders, and her fingers slid around to lock behind his neck. "I kinda want your country-western ass all the time. 'Cause you're _mine_," Patsy admitted, almost purring. A vaguely tiger-like look flashed in her eyes, kinda like she wanted to pounce him right there, and I was vaguely disgusted. And also jealous, but that's another story. Now, that made Mason perk up because it was kind of the declaration he wanted, or, well, as much as he was gonna get from Pats, at any rate.

Patsy gave him a very severe look, however, pulling back a little bit. "But, I swear, if you _ever_ make me sing that stupid Osmond song again, about how "I'm a little bit rock and roll", I will kick your ass, and I will make you _suffer_. And I **can**, just ask pretty boy Teacher over there. He's got the scars to prove it," Patsy threatened, jerking her thumb in Travis' direction. I think all of us had the same mild look of distaste on our faces, but Travis shuddered at the reminder. Guess Patsy broke him, eh? Then Patsy smiled, a kind of sickly-sweet, dangerous smile, and patted Mason on the cheek possessively. "Got it?"

Mason nodded somewhat fearfully, and Patsy chose this moment to remember that we existed. She turned to face us, grinning madly and patting Mason on the shoulder. She shrugged at our questioning looks. "I know he doesn't look like much, but we have crazy monkey sex, and if he wants to call that a relationship, so be it. I don't care. As long as he keeps putting out, I'm not gonna complain," She explained. Mason turned horribly red and attempted to stammer an explanation (and he was probably a little offended to boot), but Patsy just grinned wickedly and pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss right in front of us, exhibitionist that she is. She once told me she had sex on a city bus while it was in operation, and I think I believe her (although Tommy has apparently had sex in the elevator up the Eiffel Tower, the Sistine Chapel, and several museums, so that achievement is slightly less impressive).

And I'm wondering why this isn't weirder to me, this whole thing. But, you know, Patsy has said a lot of stuff recently about sexing it up. I just... I never wouldn't thought Mason, y'know? He seems so... impotent, which is a horrible word to use, but whatever. Like, it's hard to believe he could keep up with Patsy's sex drive. Or that anyone could, really. Even Travis had trouble. And they're so... different, you know, yet Patsy just said they're basically in a relationship, and I really should be more surprised and weirded out about this. And confused. But I'm not. I guess nothing much surprises me anymore, then.

So, anyways, Patsy and Mason, my two dear friends, start making out, and I'm just standing there and watching them. And it's awkward. Really freaking awkward. So you can only imagine how relieved I was when Travis took my hand and asked, "Do you want to get out of here?"

And I said, "Hell yes." Of course. And I left with Travis, which was totally not what I was planning to do, yet another guy that night, but there it was. Out of all those men, Travis is the one I go home and sleep with. Should... should(n't) that mean something?

I'll tell you what it means. It means that I'm flipping insane, and that this whole mess with the other one has completely warped my brain. Because I'm not having as much fun as I should be here.

And maybe I'm more than a little worried I'll never have that kind of fun again.

Loren ;*

Review, please. And I know this fandom is... sadly unupdated and stuff because people are uninspired and whatever, but I'm not giving up on this fic. I'm not. I will finish it the way I want to if I'm thirty by the time it happens. Although hopefully not, actually, because that would be in ten years. Which is intense. Anyways, thanks so much for all of your reviews and the concerned PMs I get about the future of this fic. I love you guys, and I'm gonna keep going like nobody's business, even if no one's reading. Because I'm a stubborn bitch like that, hehe, and this story means a lot to me.


	48. How Strong Do You Think I Am?

Well, admittedly, this chapter makes me quite nervous because it's a lot of backstory AND I'm introducing two new characters (admittedly mainly nervous because I don't particularly know how to write said characters since they're not exactly mine)... ironically bringing in aspects from Season Three, which is hilarious, since that's my least favorite season. See, I just like that I get to pick and choose what elements I like and what I don't and decide which of them worked and then adapt them to suit my purposes. And I like that I can mix them up a bit orderwise so that they work better. So this fic is a mix of aspects from seasons 2-4, songwise, plotwise, relationshipwise, yet still with that GREAT first season vibe. ;) Makes it fun, you know.

Oh, and if I screw up in writing Liam, if you remember him, because he has a bit part in this chapter, I'm sorry. But I tried to watch episodes or videos of him, only they were kinda hard to find. I keep looking for the ep where he's like, really cool with Jamie. But, alas... canna find it. So I'm gonna do what I remember of him, I guess, which is that he was generally a stick in the mud who wanted to seduce Sadie and had a bit of a wild past... and I had to look up his last name, which says something about how completely he was forgotten.

Also, I realize that Jude is totally all over the place in this chapter. Like, she's sad, and then suddenly she's angry and can't take it anymore. And she runs, which isn't like her, obviously. Honestly, yeah, I really can't say what was happening as I was writing it. But I guess you can tell which part I wrote at school because it's kind of a lot more stressed out, perhaps. But, to be fair, Jude was supposed to be both angry and sad this chapter, and she was supposed to be pissed Tom was ignoring her. That just happened to happen at a different part than I intended it to, and yes, the poor girl is a tad bit... impatient, but circumstances... you know? And, um, Travis didn't turn out like I'd expected, but then again, he wasn't originally supposed to be in this chapter, let alone have issues.

Finally, I do not own IS or the characters (mostly, save Travis) or the song from which this chapter derives its name. Or anything else contained therein that you recognize as not belonging to me.

* * *

The more things change, the more they stay the same. And I don't know _why_ I thought things would be different. It's not like Tommy and I are going to suddenly like each other again because we're back in the studio together. This time isn't like every other time before it. We dated, if you can actually use that term (since we never went _out_ and spent most of that time making out), and that **royally** screwed everything up, of course, but I was dumb to think that whole experience changed Tom any. It changed _me_; I'm not above admitting that, but I'm not proud of it either because it makes me feel pathetic.

But I'm just... I'm really sick and tired of putting up with his crap. Like I'm Saint Jude with perpetual patience, and just... Why am I still waiting around for something that's never going to come? I'm not getting anything out of it, and it's a fool's errand. And I shouldn't have to put up with this, to move around him and operate under his rules. Tommy's never going to grow up (for God's sake, the fact that he still goes by Tommy should've been a freaking tip-off!), just like he's never going to have a meaningful relationship and fall in love with someone. And if he does, that woman is certainly not going to be me. I mean, might as well face it 'cause it's the truth. Like, I'm sick of being expected to sit here and deal with his idiotic behavior. And it's _always_ my business, you know? Even when it isn't.

I mean, am I wrong to feel that something in him should've changed, maybe shifted just the littlest bit because we had a relationship? I know less than two weeks (twelve days, wasn't it, give or take?) isn't that long, and that I've had longer colds... but it changed me and who I was. But he still looks the same and acts the same, only he barely talks to me, and it's really barely civil, and he glares at me for no reason. And it's better than it was before, but I'm still not really allowed to say anything. Tom just acts as if it's always been this way, and that no one should question it, and it makes me want to punch him in the nuts because I've put up with a lot of really stupid crap like this from him, and this is just too much.

So, since the studio is the only place where I have a very faint measure of power over him (in that I mean that Georgia took my side, so I have creative freedom, and we have to work together. He has no other choice besides a demotion or a move, but he wouldn't do that on account of _one_ silly teenage girl, now would he? So I get to sing what I want, and I can make him suffer this way, make him feel my suffering just a little), I decided to take it public with a song that had been fermenting inside of me, bits and pieces swirling just out of my grasp.

He moved silently, effortlessly, in the studio, flipping switches, setting up the music. He leaned into the microphone, like a familiar caress (one that I missed very badly), and said, "How Strong Do You Think I Am? Take one." He didn't so much as glance at me, but he motioned for my cue. This is how it is with us nowadays. We don't talk much.

I took a deep breath and began to sing, "_If I don't cry, do you think I don't feel? And If I look a-_" I began hesitantly. Admittedly, I was kind of worried he'd launch back into that superproducer BS he pulled our first time back in the studio, never satisfied and working me to death... and, yeah, I kinda knew that wasn't up to snuff, but I didn't expect to be interrupted. Chaz threw the door to the studio open and came in breathless. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me singing, but he'd already fatally distracted the both of us, and I motioned for him to go ahead and tell Tommy whatever it was that had brought him in the studio.

Chaz gave me an apologetic look and damn near ran over to Tommy. He was close to Tommy's mic, so I heard what he said. "T, I think there's something you need to see in the lobby..." He told him in a hurried whisper. Tom gave him a quizzical glance, motioning to me.

"Chaz, whatever it is, it can wait. Can't you see I'm busy right now?" Tom told him shortly. I found that statement particularly ironic since he obviously wasn't relishing our time together. Chaz shook his head and slammed his hand down on the soundboard to draw Tommy's attention away. Sure enough, Tom's eyes followed the motion of Chaz' hand challengingly, and the annoyed look Tom was directing at Chaz told me he was about to go off on one of his soundboard maintenance tirades.

Our dear mutual friend exhaled. "Tom, I _really_ don't think you understand. Trust me, Tommy, there's someone out there who you really need to see..." He persisted. He put his hand on Tom's shoulder, and Tommy turned to look him in the eyes. Seeing that he was serious, Tom sighed. Chaz, sensing Tom wasn't about to go (although I really didn't see why not), continued, "Georgia's got a new artist for you. She's waiting out in the lobby." Tom sighed irritably, but he threw down his headphones nonetheless and headed out the door ahead of Chaz, who turned back and motioned for me to come too. "You'll want to see this," He mouthed.

So, I did as he said, following the both of them out, not really knowing what to expect. Obviously whoever it was was important enough for Chaz to draw Tom out of the studio. Must've been someone real important for Chaz to look that worried. Sure enough, Georgia was there in the lobby, chatting with some girl. I noticed that there was an unusually large amount of people in the lobby for whatever reason, a lot of them clustered around Georgia and this other girl and seemingly blocking someone from sight. There were all kinds of people there: bodyguard types, glamorous people, hipsters, suits, models, hippies, all kinds. And I'd never seen the girl, so I didn't get why she'd merit so many people. I hadn't seen G. Major this crowded since the days of Shay and Darius.

It seemed like everyone at the label... I mean, people I'd never even seen, artists I didn't know were signed, studio musicians I didn't know were employed... was there. I saw E.J., naturally at Georgia's side, looking positively radiant with joy. Kwest was standing a ways off to the side with a wary look on his face, which struck me as odd. I took my place next to Mason and, surprisingly, Patsy, on the fringes of the room. I suddenly noticed that Jamie stood next to Patsy, looking rather proud of himself, and I wondered what on Earth he was doing here. He hadn't told me he'd be visiting... Tom, the man of the hour, was following Chaz, heading towards Georgia. I realized suddenly that Chaz looked very, very nervous.

Just as Tom was about to make his way there, Georgia raised her hands up in the air to silence everyone. "Okay, everyone," She began, smiling graciously, "I've called you here today to welcome some new artists to our family." She sent an almost adoring look to the mass of people, as if there was someone there. She then moved away a little and gestured to the woman she'd been talking to, allowing me to get a good look at her for the first time. She looked young, probably in her early twenties, and, strangely, she reminded me of Travis' fiancée. The woman had delicate features, pretty and fragile, cute, but still somehow ordinary, familiar even. She was slender, petite, and fairly tall. She had great hair: reddish-brown, thick, glossy, flippy, waves, layers, and curls cut fairly short into a defiant bob. She wore a bright red tank-top, lots of shiny silver jewelry (strings of necklaces, dangly earrings, bangles on both arms), dark jeans, and sturdy black boots.

Georgia smiled a little fondly, and, in retrospect, perhaps a bit sadly. "Now, these two young women couldn't be any more different, but I think you'll come to like both of them... I'm proud to introduce Angie Jones and Patsy Sewer!" So, of course, doing the polite thing, I started to clap. Then I realized she'd said Patsy's name, and so I whirled around to look at her in utter disbelief. Patsy hates corporate labels, so how did she come to be one of the artists here? When Patsy did nothing, Georgia rolled her eyes and motioned out to Patsy. "Patsy, don't you want to come up here and meet everyone?" She asked. I rolled my eyes at the idiocy of Georgia's question; she'd left it an option.

Patsy smirked and shook her head. "Not particularly," She exclaimed loudly. I snorted because I'd expected it, and, then, without missing a beat, I turned to Patsy, full of questions. She didn't even let me ask, though. Patsy just shrugged and jerked her thumb towards Jamie. "They wore me down, Cherry, on both ends, G and Jimmy. That one said I had star power and blah blah blah, loads of qualities missing from modern-day rock, and that it'd be a shame for me not to mainstream it. That it'd be a waste of my talent and a betrayal to the punk movement. And we made this bet, and he won, so I had to go talk to G about it. And then Georgie just wouldn't shut up about it. All break I had to hear about what I was doing with my life and how I had such a great voice and I shouldn't just squander it with my boozing and fighting and drinking and wind up being some lame exec like her... And she said that she needed more women musicians out there, especially ones like me, and that she'd take care of me and look after me like I was her own and make sure I got to do what I wanted to do. And eventually it got so annoying that I just gave in. G didn't even make me sign a contract, so I was like, what the hell, might as well get paid for doing what I'm gonna do anyways," Patsy explained quickly.

I blinked, attempting to process the sudden overload of information, and Patsy added, "And besides, if it doesn't work out, what have I got to lose? I might even shake up the music business, Red... God knows they've never seen anyone like me, those industry doofuses." Patsy had a point there. However, at that moment, some things started to jump out at me. Like I hadn't known that Georgia and Patsy had been in contact. I knew that Jamie was a fan of Patsy's, but I didn't know he had that kind of convincing power... And, I started to wonder about what Patsy had said about the break and Georgia not making Pats sign a contract, which in my point of view was bad for the both of them...

There were many questions I could ask, but they didn't really coalesce into anything clear. "Why did you believe Georgia?" I asked finally.

Patsy gave me this look like whatever it was was totally obvious. "Well, I am her own. She can't lie to me. She's my aunt, after all," Patsy replied nonchalantly, as if this were no big deal at all. I gaped like a damn fish, as did Mason, who despite being her, um, whatever, also didn't know this fact. Naturally, I looked between the two of them, seeing the barest of resemblances. But, still, I was wary to think they looked alike, even knowing they were related, because I did know so many brunettes, and I didn't want to think all brunettes looked alike. The more I thought about it, though, the more they looked alike and the easier it was to see Georgia in the 1980s, skinny and pale as hell and glammed up like a punk rocker in leggings, leather, plaid, and spikes, rocking it out like Patsy. It was easier to imagine Georgia like Patsy with rough edges, and I remembered people talking about how Georgia visited her niece over break. And I guess it kind of clicked.

Now, what I should've been doing was, actually, looking at Tommy. I know it sounds stupid and counterintuitive, but the minute Georgia made her little announcement, Tommy went white as if he'd seen a ghost. He stopped dead in his tracks, and a grim little smile made its way across Chaz' lips. Naturally, I hadn't been paying attention, or I would've seen that Tom looked extremely upset. Then he finally laid eyes on the mysterious new artist, and I heard tell that it was like the ground dropped out from beneath his feet. His face immediately flamed up and turned bright red, all in a matter of a few moments, while I was having this conversation with Patsy.

What drew my attention to him was him marching loudly up to Angie, the new chick, and grabbing her arm possessively, hard. His eyes flicked over to Georgia, who remained ice calm. "Tom, I believe you've met Angie," She drawled expectantly, turning to Angie. Angie's skin was the color of milk. She looked younger, more fragile, almost nervous. Then Georgia smiled slowly, wisely, and patted Angie on the shoulder. "He'll be your producer, Angie. Don't worry, you're in good hands." She then gave Tom what I suppose was supposed to be a warning look.

He studiously avoided looking at Angie for whatever reason, but his jaw tightened in anger, as did his grip. Angie looked rather anxious at first, but she resigned herself to her fate before my eyes. She attempted to manage a brief smile. "So it'll be just like old times, then, Tommy?" Tom gave her a look that could simultaneously melt both polar ice caps and bore through the center of the earth, and Angie tried not to look perturbed and a bit put off by the expression.

Tommy glared at Georgia. "You and I are gonna have to have a little chat about the wisdom of this decision later, G. Now, if you excuse me, An-ge-_la_ and I **need** to talk," He informed her briskly, rather menacingly. Georgia, however, was nonplussed; she'd known Tom too long to be afraid of him. Plus he didn't hit women or his bosses, with the exception of Darius. Then Tom pivoted abruptly and pulled a somewhat resistant Angie behind him. I don't think I've ever seen Tommy look so absolutely, positively furious in my entire life. Even when he found out I was lying, even when I broke up with me. And I'd seen all kinds of nasty, sadistic sides of him, but I'd never seen him radiate such silent fury. He dragged her behind him, more or less, so that it was difficult for Angie to maintain her balance. She had to kind of scramble after him. I was a bit afraid for Angie, actually, and, also, kind of happy because that kind of rage meant he couldn't be so mean to me. Because his anger for her clearly took precedence over any feelings towards me.

Now, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying of curiosity, so I said goodbye to my friends and made a bee-line for Chaz, who didn't seem as busy as Kwest and also seemed to have recognized the woman. Chaz, gossip that he is, was already headed in their direction, so I followed him, in silence, of course. I muttered that I fully expected an explanation after we were done eavesdropping on them. Fortunately, they'd decided to have their conversation in the studio we'd been previously working in, so I had full right to be in there, and, frankly, they didn't notice us enter anyways. They were already embroiled in an argument in the recording area, so I turned on the speaker so we could hear. Stealthily, of course.

Tommy made an imposing figure, hulking over her. He had thrown a hand out, and he was screaming at her like I've never seen him scream before. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE **DEAD**!" Tom roared. I blinked. Dead? I looked to Chaz questioningly, but Chaz just nodded and didn't explain. Angie was still pale, but this hurt look came over her face. I knew the look well; it was the look of a crushed woman, Tom's specialty.

What truly surprised me was Angie's reaction. She took what Tommy had to give, and then she turned it on him. It was kind of familiar. "Why, Tom, would that be better for you? Did you _want_ me to die?" Angie snapped, throwing a hand in the air. "Because that makes things a lot easier for you, doesn't it, Tommy? That way you don't have to face me, don't have to know, don't have to care," She continued relentlessly, obviously upset, crossing her arms over her face. "Don't have to _feel_."

Tom's face was impassive, his features dark. He looked absolutely murderous. "Just shut up, Angie. I don't want to hear anything you have to say. You lost the right to be angry about what happened with us when you _died_," Tom growled. He put air quotes around the word. His voice was tense, too measured, too calm, too quiet. That meant that Tom was _really_ angry.

Angie glowered at him, moving closer. She didn't shy away from him. On the contrary, she moved towards him in a predatory manner, like a tiger about to strike. God bless her, she wasn't afraid of him at all. Had the situation been reversed, I'm not sure I would've been able to stand in her shoes, not quaking. "What I'm _really_ angry about is the fact that you'd prefer I was dead. I don't get a happy welcome. No "I'm so glad you're alive, Angie", no "I missed you, Angie." Nothing, not even politeness! No hug, just a wrist grab and a pull... You won't even let me explain," Angie insisted, hands on her hips. Silent fury radiated in her voice. All I could think was that she'd have to be real stupid to think Tommy would let her explain. Tom's not big on explanations.

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" Tommy snarled, shaking her. His hands dug into her shoulders. He looked like a man transformed. I'd never seen him that upset in all of our acquaintance. There was something very emotional and personal about it, and I felt kind of guilty for watching. But didn't I deserve to see this? Wasn't this my business too? He was shaking a little too, in rage, mostly. "You don't get to explain." Then some of the fire sapped out of Tom. He sighed and released Angie, beginning to pace. His pace was brisk and sharp, like the prowl of a hungry tiger. "You weren't here. You don't know..." He murmured in a softer voice, shaking his head. He stopped then, suddenly a little more vulnerable than intimidating, as if he was afraid he was going to say something incriminating.

It continued to amaze me that Angie defiantly refused to be intimidated. She bared her teeth at him. "I forgot all about you after the accident, and I wish... I wish I didn't remember you, not now. Not like this... I'd be a lot happier if I didn't," Angie murmured quietly, harsher at first. I recognized the hurt and deep misery in her voice on a visceral level because it was how I felt. Only I... I'm not sure I'd ever wish to forget about him, because no matter what he's done, I'm better for having known him. Tommy looked strangely stricken as a result of her comment, as if he was hurt that she'd forgotten him. Tom's not the kind of guy you forget, you know.

But he's not the kind of guy _you_ hurt either.

Tom sighed, dragging out an exhalation. "Well, you're damn right about that," He muttered shortly. There was that self-deprecation, that sense of unworthiness. He was forcing himself to calm down, but it didn't exactly work. He was a bit too keyed up still. "What the _hell_ are you doing here, Angie? In my town, my studio, my life. Why did you come back? What can you possibly..." Here Tom stopped, probably because he was going to ask what had happened and show some form of concern for her well-being. Because he really did need that explanation, for his own sake. Closure, it's a bitch. He'd drawn himself away from Angie and shot her looks of mistrust.

Angie smiled weakily, eyes watery. "Oh, come on, Tom. You know I always wanted to be a singer. And I saw you on TV, heard about the things you've been doing... you always were the best. That's why I'm here," She exclaimed in a voice that was frantically trying to be light. It didn't really work. Her attempt at a chuckle fell flat, and Tom's features remained stony.

"You wanna explain, Angie?" Tom asked. Angie nodded hurriedly, obviously feeling like she owed it to him. "Then explain," He practically barked. He looked at her with that familiar unrelenting, unnerving stare, didn't blink. He'd crossed his arms over his chest tightly. Every muscle in his body was tight and tense, clenched. The anger was seeping away slowly, but what would remain afterwards? Tom can keep a grudge, after all, like nobody's business.

She wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath, and I knew that she was going to explain it to him. "I... I don't really know where to begin, Tommy." She looked like she wanted or needed to sit down. "I don't really remember much of the accident, and even if I did, it's not something I really like to talk about," She said, looking nervous. It was the second time she'd mentioned this accident without alluding to what it really was, only that it had changed them, the both of them. I looked at Chaz for answers, but he gave none, motioning to the duo instead. "I don't remember much of that night at all. They say I blocked it out because it's too traumatic," She told him. Tom perked up, but the look on his face was a strange mixture of relief and also profound guilt because he was the **only** one who remembered what he'd said, what she'd said that night, and he was the one who'd been carrying it around for all these years. And he'd have to carry it around, locked up inside of him for years more still.

It was obviously hard for her to go on, and the tears were falling faster and faster. I felt bad for watching because this story was increasingly a personal thing. She wavered on her feet, not looking at him. "All I know is what they told me happened. Someone found me washed up on one of the Thousand Islands, half-dead. They took me to a hospital in the States. I died a few times on the way, but they brought me back to life. I couldn't remember a thing when I woke up. Not my name, not my family, not where I came from. Nothing. They said it was the stress of what I'd been through, the brain damage... And you remember how badly things ended with us. Maybe I didn't want to remember."

She took a shaky breath, looking suddenly very fragile, and then she shrugged. The look on her face indicated that it was harder than she made out. And it must've been, not knowing a soul, not knowing your name or your past or where you came from, being forced to rebuild your life with nothing but a heap of medical bills and questions. "They didn't know what to do with me. I met some people, and I got a job, and I started a life, went to therapy... and then I saw you on TV, and something clicked. I started to remember, and it _hurt_. All over again. And I tried to fight it, but I _knew_ I had to see you again. I had to know... So I found Georgia, and here I am," Angie explained slowly, wiping frantically at her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath and looked up at Tommy.

I think we all held our breath, waiting for his response. He waited a long time before responding, so long that all of our emotions rose in heightened anticipation. I... felt bad for Angie, couldn't blame her, I guess, but I really had no idea how Tom would react. And when Tommy finally did, I think we were all surprised. He lurched forward suddenly, and none of us had any idea what he was doing. I thought maybe he'd lost it and was going to attack her or something, and maybe Angie thought the same because she looked dreadfully nervous. But then Tom's arms shot out and pulled Angie to him, and he buried his face in her hair and just... held her.

And it was so intimate and... it just completely broke my heart because I suddenly understood why Tommy had been so terribly furious in the first place. He was so angry because he'd cared so much; the feelings had just reversed. He'd cared about this woman, and he _still_ cared, even after all these years and her supposed death. And he cared more about her than he'd ever care about me. He didn't care about me that much, and he never would. Angie started shaking, wracked with loud, violent sobs, perhaps of relief, and Tommy just held on tighter. And then he pulled up his head, just pulled away a little bit, and he looked at Angie with such open affection that I wanted to throw myself off of a cliff.

He smiled at her beatifically, leaned down and buried his face in her neck and just... breathed her in for a really long time. "God, Ange, I _missed_ you," he murmured against her skin, so faintly that we barely heard it. I felt like I was intruding on the moment, but I couldn't look away. I couldn't stop watching this woman with the man I'd come to love, watching him with her, acting the way I wanted him to with me. Only he wouldn't _ever _look at me like that. He'd never said that about me. "I've thought about you every single day since... about the things I should've... could've done differently," He breathed, smoothing her hair. And his voice was shaking, and I noticed suddenly that he had tears in his eyes. And I just couldn't believe it.

Because Tommy freaking Quincy was _crying_ over this girl, touching her like seeing her made his life complete or something. And I didn't even **know** this girl. I'd never heard anyone talk about her, never seen any signs of her existence in the way he acted. He'd never mentioned her before. And I _knew_ him, thought I knew almost everything anyone could know about Thomas Quincy. "I'm so glad you're alive," He said and meant it. I knew he meant it by the way he kissed her forehead and cheeks, stroked her face. He looked at her like she was a treasure, a gift from God. Like she was a miracle.

And it hurt most of all because I'd been tricked into believing that I was _special_. Everyone had told me so. Chaz obviously thought Tommy was in love with me. Travis thought the same and frequently said so. Kwest had thought Tommy was falling for me for a long time. Tommy's mother had never seen Tommy so interested in one girl. Tommy's friends had said he talked about me a lot, as had his father, and whatever Tom had said had been enough to convince them of something. He'd brought me to his house for Christmas, something he'd never done with any other girl, even his former wife. He'd taken me back to his place enough times for me to have keys and spare clothes there. My sister told me he did things with me that he didn't with _girlfriends_, and she seemed convinced that he was in love with me and wouldn't admit it. Even people like Patsy and Ruby thought something along the same lines.

Hell, he'd told me so himself, written songs about me, said all kinds of things about how I was his best friend and confidante and he trusted me, how I was special, how I understood him like no one else did, how I was the coolest chick he knew, how he appreciated me and how good and beautiful and innocent I was, too good for him. How I was real and raw and open, how I was worth it (worth the wait, worth the risk), how I made him want to be the man I saw when I looked at him... He'd said he wanted me, that he cared about me. He said he had feelings for me, and that he'd never felt this way about anyone before. He'd wanted to be with me, to have an exclusive relationship with me. He'd as much as intimated that it was close to love (the most-often overlooked part of _that _comment to Chaz)... but now I saw, for the first time, that it really wasn't true. That I had some special status in Tommy's life and heart, but compared to this woman, I was nothing but a schoolgirl with a stupid crush. This was the real stuff. "It's good to see you again, Tommy. I forgot how this felt, being with you," She replied in a similar tone, pressing him to her, closing her eyes and savoring it. "It's nice."

Tommy pulled away, smiling at her fondly, and touched her hair. "You changed your hair, but I could never forget that face," He whispered happily. Angie giggled and threaded her fingers with his. And I came to realize that I'd never seen him that happy. Not with me. And I knew I had no right to watch him winding his fingers in her wavy hair and staring at her like he'd never seen something so beautiful and pure and innocent in his whole life, that if I'd ever had it, I lost it when I lost his touch. I didn't want to see it, but I had to see them together, to watch the sunny, incandescently bright expression on his face, the brillancy of his eyes sparkling at her. So this was Tommy in love.

And, worse still, I knew I couldn't do anything about it. Time didn't erase these feelings, thinking she was dead, feeling betrayed, none of that had mattered to him. And I didn't have any right to intervene, ex as I am, even if he wanted me to. And he was happier with her right now than he'd _ever_ been with me, and I wasn't going to stand in the way of that, even if it killed me. He leaned his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes, and Angie allowed herself a small smile, pursing her lips as if tickled. "You've changed, Tom, in a good way," She replied softly, ruffling his hair affectionately. "And I think I like this you a little better," She continued jestingly, pressing a kiss to his nose and casually draping her arms around his neck. Tom gave her a faintly exasperated look but smiled nonetheless. And I knew they were going to kiss soon.

I was aware, on some level, that I was crying silently, but I couldn't look away. They were both starry-eyed, utterly captivated by each other. They both looked like they wanted to say other things, even worse things, like how she'd never stopped loving him and how he'd been stupid and what he really wanted to do... and I just... couldn't **take** it anymore, you know? So I turned around and crawled out that door, shutting it silently behind me. I made my way on unsteady legs to Studio C, the confrontation I originally had in mind entirely forgotten. I collapsed onto the couch, burying my face in the leather. And I just let myself cry it all out.

The worst thing, truly, was that I couldn't even bring myself to fully dislike Angie like I wanted to. I couldn't hate her or imagine myself saying nasty things about her behind her back because she loved Tommy and obviously still did, and I, of _all_ people, knew what that was like. She was too much like me, and I'd been in her shoes... so I couldn't hate her, but I couldn't really feel sorry for her either. Hating Angie would be like hating myself.

And like I said, as long as Tommy's happy, I'm not gonna stand in her way.

Chaz came in a while later. I guess he finally found me and knew how I must be feeling. Because of course he would, what with the whole Tommy-Ruby situation. I'd mostly stopped crying by then, and, really, I felt stupid for it. He wasn't mine, not anymore, not that he had ever been. It wasn't fair to be upset at him for the past, for having what he had with Angie. That obviously happened before he'd ever met me. "Are you okay?" Chaz asked, hesitantly putting a hand on my shoulder and sliding onto the couch.

I nodded, inhaling and wiping the last remnants of tears away from my cheeks. I was glad he didn't ask me why I was crying. Because I didn't want to have to explain it. And, here, finally, was the moment where I could ask all my questions. "Who is that woman?" I asked. Chaz opened his mouth to answer, and I amended my question, "I mean, who is she to Tommy? What's the story there?"

Chaz sighed and leaned back into the couch. "You're not gonna like this," He admitted, but I barked at him to just tell me anyways. Well, duh, I'm not gonna like it. She's obviously Tommy's ex, and he was practically weeping there seeing her! I gotta say, though, I'm glad that Chaz just... understood, without having to ask, that I needed to know. Tommy's just as much his friend, and he must've felt obligated to keep his past with her secret and yet he didn't, for me, without even thinking about it. He began the story. "Okay, so picture it... The year was 2000... or was it 1999? I don't really remember." I rolled my eyes at him.

"The coke tends to do that to you," I rejoined humorlessly. Chaz looked cross with me because he doesn't like references to his druggie days, and also it looked like he wanted to contest that statement. Coke is actually probably better for your memory than other drugs, such as marijuana. Coke mostly screws up your dopamine processing skills... and other things, but Chaz is really the expert on that.

Chaz made a face but pressed on nonetheless. "So, _anyways_, the year was 2000," Chaz repeated irritably. I nodded, and Chaz continued, "Boyz Attack! was in its last throes, and things were more or less starting to fall apart for all of us... And Angie, she was a back-up singer on our last big album. She was supposed to do work on the one after, but that didn't happen... And, Angie, well, you could always kinda tell she wanted more than to be some back-up singer. I mean, she has a really good voice, better than a back-up singer. She was a runaway, more than a little rough around the edges. She was real young too, barely eighteen, I think."

I tried to reconcile this Angie with the one I'd seen and found I couldn't, not really. Chaz wasn't quite smiling when he spoke of her. In fact, he looked rather sad to talk about her. "But, anyway, Angie got along real well with all of us. Angie was... a breath of fresh air, completely full of life, and totally unimpressed with all of us," Chaz drawled, a fond smile appearing on his face as he spoke. His eyes glittered brightly with the remembrance as he shook his head. "You should've seen her back then, you know? She was... _something_, all right. She was just so friendly that she made all of us feel at home around her, kind of like she was taking care of us. Great sense of humor too. Oh, that girl could just make all of us laugh and laugh," Chaz reflected brightly. He grew a bit more somber, a bit more pensive. "She was real tomboyish, and she just fit in with us, you know? She was like one of the guys. And as the recording for the album went on, we sorta became a family. She was like a little sister, you know?" Chaz added.

The Angie I'd seen was a completely different woman, so much more serious than that. Another thing that struck me as interesting was that he'd described Ruby in much the same terms, leading me to wonder if Chaz hadn't harbored some of the same feelings towards her. Only the Angie he'd described was more of a member of their entourage, a kind of groupie and friend, than Ruby had been. At the top of their game, Boyz Attack! appreciated it when they were treated like normal people, and who better to do that than a little sister to tease and poke and prod? Chaz gave me penetrating gaze, leaning forward a bit. "And, to be honest, she was one of the things that kept us together on that last album. She was a peacemaker, mediating all of our stupid little arguments. Girl knew how to cut Tommy down like nobody's business," Chaz told me, a faint smirk creeping up on his lips.

He still hadn't mentioned Tommy once, which made me a little nervous. Chaz paused too long, and I motioned for him to go on. "Well, Angie, like most teenagers, had a crush on Tom at the beginning. Before she knew him, at any rate. Because Tom was, he was pretty aloof in the studio. You know how he is. He waits a while, kind of testing the waters a bit, and he doesn't really show people who he is at first. Because he's kind of touchy and not trusting, and Tom doesn't get instantly comfortable with people, except, well... _you,_" Chaz began, ending his statement somewhat awkwardly. I gave him a challenging glance, but Chaz disagreed with me._ "_Not even Angie," He insisted, "He was cool and this giant teen idol sex symbol, and you know, still very mysterious, so naturally Angie thought he was fascinating. She got over it when she found out what an ass he really was."

I allowed myself a watery smile at that last one. Don't I know it. "Tom didn't really notice Angie at first. He mostly ignored her or just treated her like a servant, which was basically how he treated anyone involved in the recording process at that time. Anyways, I don't know what happened between them at first, but I think Angie put herself out there... and Tom, being Tom, was a cocky sonuvabitch. He rejected her or, at any rate, embarrassed her, and Angie completely hated him after that," Chaz elucidated. I nodded but knew that wasn't all to the story. Being Tommy Quincy, he obviously won her over later.

As if Chaz sensed my thoughts, he continued. "Angie sure made it hard for him after that. She was nonplussed and pretty defiant with him, and we all had her back because we all kinda hated Tom then and... well, she was right to be mad at him. And so, over the course of the album, Tom was forced to make overtures to be nicer to her... Besides, Tom just loves a challenge, you know, so you can imagine how riled up that got him. Tom's _always_ liked his girls a little feisty," Chaz recalled, giving me a pointed look. I was decidedly uncomfortable with what that stare insinuated because I no longer thought it was true. "He eventually won her over, of course. Since Tom had more creative control with the last album, they grew closer until they became more or less friends."

But it's damn near impossible to be friends with Tom Quincy if you're a girl, or at least, just friends. Platonic and all that. Because Tom is not a platonic kind of guy, and Chaz' words made it apparent that Tommy was at least intrigued and probably pursuing Angie. I kind of understood why she was different, but I didn't get why Tommy cared so much. "The thing that really got Tommy about Angie was that she always believed in him. Professionally, you know, as a producer. She was so optimistic and just really tended to think the best of people. Angie was all dreams and all heart. She had goals, you know, and Angie wanted to go places, and I guess that appealed to the idealistic side of him because Angie was... _freedom_," Chaz murmured. Freedom, above all, was what Tommy wanted more than anything at that point in his life.

I nodded dully. "And they got a lot closer when Tom started working on his solo album, but I don't know a lot about that. I just know they worked together pretty closely. There was always a kind of mutual attraction there, and it was pretty damn obvious it was going to lead to something... But then Tom screwed up, as always, and he got married to Portia. Angie was so upset that she refused to speak to him for a whole week. And, you know, all of us were on tour together, so that was really awkward. And, I mean, I don't know when it became something more, but it did..." Chaz said, becoming increasingly vague on the details.

I frowned, rather disappointed he didn't know more. Then again, perhaps it was remarkable that he'd noticed that much about Tom's life at that particular time. Chaz had certainly been in the middle of his own issues then. Chaz looked even more uncertain afterwards. "I, uh, picked up some vibes," he told me. He sighed, "And I knew Tom was about to fly the coop, and that his marriage to Portia was a... sham. But I don't know everything, and Tom was real tight-lipped back then because he was keeping so many things to himself, you know, just so conflicted and dissatisfied with his life. But whatever it was, they had some kind of falling out and, I don't know... ended whatever had been going on," Chaz continued vaguely.

There were definitely some important pieces missing from the story, like timing and what would've induced a girl like Angie to _be _the other woman. Because I didn't think Angie would just stand for him being married to Portia and carrying on with her. I know _I_ wouldn't. Chaz sighed, looking conflicted and almost depressed, as if it pained him to think of the next part. "After they'd fought, Ange took Tom's car. And she was real upset. And Tom... he got worried and started calling all of us like this crazy man, asking us if we'd seen her. She wasn't answering his calls, and he was... he was afraid of what she might do. So he did the only thing he could do. He tried to file a police report," Chaz declared, his voice thickening with emotion.

I guess I ultimately knew how the story ended, but my heart leaped up into my throat nonetheless. Chaz' eyes seemed to be a bit misty. "They found the car a couple days later in Lake Ontario, broken up and sunk. They didn't find a body though, and Tom, well, he went kinda crazy after that... Everyone told him there was no way she could've survived. Tom even checked all the nearby hospitals, but no one who matched Angie's description ever turned up... And it was pretty obvious that he blamed himself for what happened, and he wasn't the _only _one, you know," Chaz mumbled darkly. A shiver went down my spine as he said that, and I felt just a flicker of his pain for a moment.

He sighed. "I don't know much about what was going through his head at that time. But I do know what it's like to lose someone you love, and Tom just... didn't care about anything anymore. It was like he didn't want to be _alive_, you know? T was doing all kinds of things, things he'd never done before. He did anything he could to get rid of the pain... drinking, smoking, fighting, drugs, speeding... anything dangerous. He didn't want to feel _anything_. He didn't show any interest in things he loved before. He didn't go after other women, didn't enjoy the music at all, didn't care about his appearance. He hated the attention, hated the paparazzi. It was like he was a totally different person. He burned all his bridges, one by one, and it was just so obvious that he hated his life that he basically had to be drugged up to perform. He didn't want to be there," Chaz continued, painting me a portrait of the Tommy I'd heard of but couldn't really fathom.

People had alluded to that period of time in vague terms because no one really saw or understood the full extent of his self-destructive behavior. Tom hid parts of himself away from other people. And it wasn't a period of his life he wanted to return to or mention, but it had never occurred to me that it was because that period was so painful. I thought he didn't like it mentioned because it was the most out of control Tommy had ever been. I hadn't known it was painful at all because no one had told me about this hidden tragedy at the center of it. Georgia had mentioned the period to me briefly when I'd gone through my own downward spiral, but that wasn't... really like what Chaz was describing to me.

Chaz looked kind of flinty at me, like he wasn't sure he should say what he was about to say. He appraised me to see if I could handle it and finally seemed to decide. For some reason, when he began to speak, Chaz couldn't look at me. He had this far off look in his eyes, like he was really back in the past. "One time, before one of our concerts, I guess maybe two weeks after Angie had disappeared, Tom shot up on heroin," Chaz admitted reluctantly. I gaped at Chaz, who allowed barely a moment for that revelation to sink in before carrying on with a nervous glance in my direction. Now, see, I could've sworn Chaz told me Tom didn't do any heavy drugs. And I never heard a damn thing about him going to rehab or even AA (although he does have a bit of an alcohol problem) or being known to have a serious drug problem the way you do when they're famous and a junkie.

Chaz, having dropped that bomb, sought to explain rapidly. "He wasn't... wasn't really into the heavy drugs. Alcohol's his poison of choice... but around that time, he started asking me about my dealer, and then he was pressing Bruno and J.P. about some of their friends, and he was borrowing pills, desperate for whatever he could get his hands on. Just to get through the day. It's like... Angie was his _last_ chance, you know, or he thought she was." Chaz didn't look very proud of any of them, especially himself. There was a pained expression on his face. He wasn't lying when he said it wasn't a good time for any of them.

Last chance, I thought, with a pain. I'd blown my only one. "His last chance at what?" I asked curiously.

He shrugged. "Redemption, probably? Love? Life? Doing something great? Selflessness? Happiness? Freedom? A challenge? Meeting his match? Or, at least, living a life that meant something? Could be anything, you know Tom...You know, they do say that the love of a good woman changes a man..." He elaborated.

I sighed, wanting to give Chaz a dirty look but stopping, deciding that it might be a bit too revealing. "I know. _Believe_ me, I know," I muttered. In Tommy's case, it wasn't really true. The love of a good woman supposedly changes a man, but my mother was right to tell me that you cannot change a man. If a man loves you enough, he'll want to change, to be better for you. But whether or not he actually does it is a reflection of his actual feelings and commitment. That's what changes them. They decide to be different. And, hell, Tommy didn't love me, so why would he change any?

Realizing he'd gotten distracted from his main story of Tommy's heroin usage, Chaz got back on topic. "But, yeah, this one time... And I don't think he'd ever done smack before, and so I don't know if it was an accident or intentional... he overdosed," He rambled. As if the first revelation hadn't been shocking enough, that one almost gave _me_ a heart attack. I opened my mouth to ask why I'd never heard of it, because usually a pop star O. is big front-page news, but Chaz was lost in his memories.

There was a suitably haunted look in his eyes. I was kind of on pins and needles myself, but I knew how the story ended, since I obviously met Tommy. "And I remember it was backstage, maybe an hour or so before the show, and all of a sudden Tommy starts breathing real fast and sweating and shaking. His eyes rolled back into his head. And I'd never seen him look that awful, not even when he was worshipping the porcelain god or hopped up on too many pills. And most of us, we knew what was happening, but um, we were kind of paralyzed and didn't know what to do. Bruno, I think, was the one who knew it was H, and he gets someone to shoot Tom up with N-N-Narcan, naloxone, whatever it's called... to reverse the effects of the overdose and save Tommy's life. And then, unbelievably, Tommy went on and performed like nothing had happened." The look of disbelief was still on his face as he shook his head.

It was a lot to take in, hearing that Tom had almost died and then went on to perform. It reminded me of a similar story I'd heard about Kurt Cobain. Same overdose antidote and everything.

And, before I could stop myself, I asked Chaz the question that had been on my mind since I'd first found out about Angie's supposed death. It was stupid of me to ask, dumb of me to go there and I knew it. Knew that he probably didn't know the answer, just like I didn't. But I guess maybe I couldn't take that single, solitary question turning over again and again in my head. "You think he'd be that upset if I died?" I blurted stupidly, even though I kinda already knew the answer.

That hadn't been what he was expecting at all, so Chaz was completely speechless. That wasn't a good time to be quiet. Finally, after a virtual eternity, he shrugged and said, "I don't know, Jude, but I don't think it's worth dying to find out." I gave him a rather peeved dirty look. Because why would I do that just to get an answer out of Quincy? And an answer I wouldn't be around to see at that, and, knowing Tom, he'd manage to disappoint me in the afterlife, so it just wasn't worth it. It wasn't really a subtle way of dodging the question either, for that matter, and it only served to further convince me that Tom wouldn't.

I mean, yeah, sure, he'd prolly be a little upset if I kicked the bucket, but there's no chance in hell he'd get tears in his eyes or look at me like that if he saw me again. He'd just get pissed at me and probably give me the silent treatment for months. "Oh, but Chaz, I'm _dying_ to know!" I retorted sarcastically, even though it really was true. That question, well, it's the kind of thing that can keep you up nights.

Chaz rolled his eyes, and I didn't think he was going to say anything after that. Of course, he managed to surprise me. Big surprise there. I wasn't prepared or expecting what Chaz told me, and, well, it was a lot to take in on top of everything I'd already heard. "Look, I don't know if you're going to understand this because I'll probably say it wrong, and I'm not really even sure I know what I'm saying or how to explain it right, but... Tom's _different_ with you than he is with Angie," Chaz began, looking anxious, like he was afraid he was going to get it wrong. "And not in a bad way," He added quickly.

He paused for a moment. Chaz isn't exactly the best with words, you know. There's a reason Tom was the lyricist in the band. "He's much more closed off when it comes to you, not as sure, not as open to share you with others. You challenge Tommy in a very different way, keep him on his toes, and... as much as Tom would probably never admit to it, you've changed the way he looks at things," Chaz told me honestly. He'd said stuff like this before, but Chaz hadn't been that specific. It was kind of heartwarming, and I could see what he meant because I could acknowledge that it was true. But that didn't mean a damn thing.

He faltered for a minute, trying and failing to find the words. "You... I haven't seen Tommy like he is with you for a very long time... I mean, he's got his life together, he's young and happy again, willing to stick around and not just run away when things get too intense... I can't really explain it, but he hasn't been like that since before Boyz Attack!. He lets his guard down with you. And Tom... he's completely honest with you, which means he _trusts_ you more than almost anyone else," Chaz explained vaguely. That was a lot to take in, and I didn't think all of it was attributable to me. So, what, Chaz is saying that Tommy grew up and trusts me? 'Cause I can guarantee that neither is true, and he'll never trust me again. Ever.

In fact, I opened my mouth to protest, but Chaz beat me to the punch, as if he sensed the doubt I was about to unleash. "He wouldn't lie to you like he did to Angie," Chaz countered swiftly. Well, right off the bat, I felt like a total heel because of that **one** damn lie needling me again. I blinked and thought it over for a moment, fully willing to disagree, but he did kind of have a point. Things would be a lot easier if Tommy just shut his trap in all matters concerning me. Maybe the problem was that he was _too _honest whenever he told me anything. He always told me things I didn't want to hear or at the wrong time. "And I know that Tom's kind of... not-so-secretly afraid of you and what you do to him," Chaz confessed, glancing up at me carefully.

Now, this, this was news to me! As far as I knew, Tom Quincy didn't get scared. And whatever it was between us, whatever was between us, that wasn't enough to scare him. If he's scared of anyone, it should be Angie and what she does to him. He was willing to throw it all away for her. I wondered briefly if Chaz and Tommy had ever talked about this. And what did I do to Quincy anyways that another girl didn't? "You confuse him and make him question things right down to who he is as a person. So don't feel like you aren't just as special or as _important_ to him as Angie is, or that he's in love with Angie more... because it isn't true," Chaz persisted. It was kind of creepy, actually, because it was like he was reading my mind and anticipating my counterarguments.

_Special_. Chaz had said the exact word that was weighing heavily on my mind. But he still hadn't answered my damn question, despite his attempts to address my insecurities regarding Tommy's ex. "He might be more comfortable with her, more open with her, more affectionate and emotional even, but remember that he hasn't seen her in years, and he knew her pretty damn well for a long time there," Chaz continued. I winced because he'd brought up all the things I'd been thinking.

And, worse still, I just realized he'd said that Tommy was in love with Angie. Now, I mean, he'd also implied Tommy was in love with me, but we all, Chaz especially, know that's not true. And maybe that's why I've never had the guts to ask him flat-out. 'Cause as great as it'd be to know, to hear him tell me from his own lips, I don't really want to know because it'd hurt too much, and it'd kill that little last part of me that was still _hoping_. Pathetic, isn't it? "Thanks, Chaz," I muttered sarcastically, "Better than me, I guarantee. Since Quince knows her in a biblical sense and all."

Damn, and now I'm needlessly rhyming. Gr-reat. And thinking about my (repeated) failure to seduce Little Freaking Tommy Q, who does anything halfway attractive with a pulse. I didn't even make the female distinction there either! It'd probably be a whole lot worse now if I did have sex with him, but I kinda wish I had. A bit of a dark look passed over Chaz' face. "You know that doesn't mean anything when it comes to Tommy," Chaz rejoined in a scolding tone. "In fact, it means more that he didn't. It means that Tom respects you," He stated firmly. I rolled my eyes at Chaz.

Or the more obvious things, like he isn't attracted to me (but, okay, he is, so there are obviously other reasons at work besides really bad timing). "Or he didn't want to go to jail? 'Cause I'm _jailbait? _Or the fact that I'm his brother's girlfriend and his ex-fiancée's sister?" I pointed out bluntly.

Chaz shook his head, but I really did think it was the jailbait thing. He has no idea just how much Tom doesn't want to be That Guy. "C'mon, Jude, his mom could get him out of any legal trouble he could possibly get himself into, much less involving you. A case against him would be shaky at best, and we all know you'd lie for him in court like Ruby did for me. In fact, you've probably already done a lot of inappropriate things with him that you don't talk about. You're already covering his ass, Jude, don't think I don't know it. And all that other stuff didn't stop him before, so why would it stop him now?" Chaz dissented a bit irritably, throwing me a shrewd look like he saw right through me and talking more brusquely than I could ever remember hearing from him. I remembered for the first time in a while how manipulative Chaz was and how dirty his hands really were figuratively.

I was a bit thrown, too, by the mention of Ruby and his outward admission of perjury and miscarriage of justice. Chaz' eyes softened, and he leaned forward, taking my hands carefully. "Jude... The man's blamed himself for her death for over five years, and he's carried that heavy load with him all that time. She was there with him when everything happened, and that, well, a kind of iron bond forms. And Angie, she was the only girl before _you_ that Tom ever, you know, fell for." He gave me a look and didn't give me time to argue with that. "Besides, Jude, you've got to remember, Tommy's changed as a person over those five years, and so has Angie. She became someone else entirely, and neither of them are the same. Neither of them are the people they knew, the people they lo-cared about. If they even get started, it probably won't last," Chaz amended. He spoke to me calmly, intently in a quiet and rather gentle tone.

At first I didn't really know what to say. Because the only thing that stuck with me was Chaz saying that Tom had fallen for the both of us, that he'd fallen for me. Tom's his best friend, but Chaz seems awfully negative about the chances for a possible (inevitable) reconciliation between them. From what I've discovered, you stick two people who used to have a thing, much less something serious, together... and the relationship reforms, although not without some serious defects. Like Travis and Kate, you know? But maybe they're doomed relationships... 'cause, after all, Chaz isn't dating his true love, now is he? Maybe he is right. Maybe T has changed, huh?

I nodded, steadying myself, too weary to argue with Chaz. I wanted to know more, and I wasn't gonna get anything out of Tommy or amnesiac Angie. I steeled myself, hoping my eyes didn't look stupidly red-rimmed and puffy again, and prepared myself to face the outside world. "Is that it, Chaz?" I asked diplomatically, taking deep breaths and attempting to collect myself once again.

"Go ask Kwest," Was his reply. Chaz shrugged. "He knows more about it than I do. He can tell you more. He was the one Tommy _confided_ in. I was just there." He sounded a little bitter when he spoke, and I wondered if Angie's arrival had dredged up some unpleasant memories for him. Then it occurred to me, for the first time, that maybe Chaz was a little jealous of Kwest, that he felt like Kwest had taken _his_ place as Tommy's best friend, as the one who knew everything about his life. I wondered then if Travis felt like that and almost thought about asking him the next time I saw him but decided soon enough that Travis probably didn't.

"Thanks, Chaz," I murmured, squeezing his hand. "Thanks for telling me all that. I really appreciate you trying to make me feel better and all," I said sincerely, leaning in to kiss Chaz on the cheek. "Anyways, I'll probably see you around, but remember we're shooting your music video this Saturday. And, seriously, you need to tell Sadie, or else she'll mistakenly think I'm stealing another man from her, and our relationship has already been screwed up for way too long over another one of you boybanders," I warned, rising to a standing position and leaving the room with a wave and a smile.

Unbelievably, what Chaz had just said did make me feel a little better, so I held myself as high as possible and set out to find Kwest. I found him, predictably, sitting on the couch, chatting it up with Portia. I made an effort to smile at Portia, and then I got all up in Kwest's grill. "Yo, I have a Kwestion to ask you," I inserted loudly. Kwest tried to ignore me. I attempted to motion to the studio that Tom and Angie were still occupying, to my knowledge, with my eyes, but Kwest didn't get it. "I have a question to ask you about Tommy and Miss Jones, and I hear you're the man to ask about that particular chapter," I insisted, trying to be a bit stealthier about it so as to respect Portia's feelings.

Kwest caught on fast and started to excuse himself from Portia. "As much as I'd really enjoy answering your questions, Jude, I do have better things to do with my time. Like work with Patsy or wait here for an assignment..." He remarked pointedly. "Georgia told me that I'm her producer."

"If you can handle her," I snorted. "But, for what it's worth, congratulations. I know how much that means to you," I told him sincerely. I crossed my arms over my chest, not about to give in easily. "Patsy, on the other hand, is probably well on her way to getting drunk right about now. I can virtually guarantee that she's not sticking around, waiting for you. And the questions I've got _really_ can't wait," I retorted. My eyes shifted to Portia to evoke the barest trace of a threat, and Kwest sighed, said goodbye to her, and got up. I took him to Tommy's office, since it was obviously vacant, and seated myself at his desk. "Okay, now tell me what you know about Tommy and Angie."

Kwest blinked, surprised by my bluntness, but not the question. Then he slowly shook his head. Kwest is a man of few words and no questions, obviously a result of being Tom's friend for far too damn long, which makes it very hard to get anything out of him, as opposed to Chaz-the-extrovert and Travis, who is willing to volunteer any embarrassing information about Tom whatsoever. He seemed to think that was all that needed to be said about it, but I wasn't about to buy into that crap. "Come on, Kwest. Please, tell me. If I'm going to be seeing them around the studio together, I think I should know what that's all about, don't you?" I attempted once again, this time in a more civil tone.

He sighed, and I stifled a cry of victory that I'd broken the speech barrier. "Look, Jude, Angie and Tommy... that's some seriously personal stuff, and you already know too much as it is. He wouldn't want me to tell you," He insisted stubbornly, firmly, loyal to the end. Ugh, I kinda hated him for it. Being loyal to Tommy gets you absofrickinglutely nowhere, trust me, unless you're an employee. In which case it gets you money. And in the case of his friends... girls. If you're a chick you get maybe jewelry at the best, which is because he's cheating, of course. And in the case of Portia, a fairly decent payout for a marriage that only lasted a month or so.

Like I care, that's what I thought. It was hard to keep myself from growling the words, really. "Kwest, I don't **care** what Tommy wants anymore. I need to know. I deserve to know _just_ as much as everyone else does," I continued brusquely, making sure to stare Kwest down hard enough so that he felt uncomfortable. The pained look in Kwest's eyes showed me that he knew I was right, that he didn't think the way Tommy treated me was in any way fair. And it wasn't fair because everyone else, everyone older, knew: Darius, Georgia (no doubt!), Chaz, Kwest, hell, probably even Travis!

He sighed again, this time in frustration. "You know more than most people do, okay, Jude?" He muttered irritably, raising his voice more than intended. He paused, taking a breath and trying to calm down the keyed-up emotions the subject was arousing. "The stuff about Angie... it's not something Tom really let get out. It's a pretty damn sensitive issue. If there's one subject you don't mention or allude to around Tommy, that subject is Angie, okay? There's good reason you never heard her name before today." Kwest's voice was kind of dark, a kind of warning, but it was too late. Now I _had_ to know, if only because Tom and everyone seemed to be trying their hardest to keep it quiet.

I leaned forward of my own volition, barely resisting the urge to slam my hand against his (glass) desk for emphasis. "I wasn't around to witness the trainwreck he was back then, okay? And just because we're not on the best terms right now doesn't mean that I don't have a right to know!" I rejoined, feeling myself start to get a bit angry. It was stupid of me to mention the current condition of our relationship because that gave Kwest something to grasp onto.

"That's all the more reason not to tell you!" He exclaimed incredulously. To say I was furious would be a massive understatement. I mean, for God's sake, I've seen the man naked. I've met his entire family, just about. I've been his girlfriend. I've done things with him that I haven't done with anyone else. I told him I loved him. The point is not for me to dwell on all of that unpleasantness but for me to point out that I _think_ we reached that level of intimacy, and therefore, I deserve to know.

"Damnit, Kwest! You owe me that much, okay?" I snapped, this time unable to refrain from slamming my hand down on the table. Predictably, it hurt. I may bruise, but that is a small price to pay for em-pha-sis. I found myself standing up and pacing as the thoughts of the garish sights I'd seen in the future quickly filled my mind. "I'm going to be seeing her around here every day, and she'll be taking up my studio time... and knowing Tommy, they'll probably go back to hooking up within the day, and I'm going to have to pretend to look the other way and try not to throw up," I muttered grimly, scowling as I thought of seeing them kissing, which would inevitably occur.

Not just gross, you know, but also painful. I sighed, unable to sit down despite my desire to do so. "I've seen them together already, and I'm going to keep seeing them together... and Chaz already told me what he knew. So why can't you just fill in the gaps for me?" I whined just a little, trying to give him puppy-dog eyes. Of course, had they ever really worked for me on any man other than my father? Probably not. "...If you don't, you know, I'm just gonna have to go to somebody else. Like Darius or Georgia or your poor wife or Angie herself... and, you know, I've got Travis on speed-dial, doubtlessly ready to tell me whatever he can dig up. So are you gonna tell me or not?" I elaborated further, completely prepared to take any one of these steps. I was so prepared, in fact, that I took out my phone and pressed the display for Travis in my contacts.

Kwest did look a bit taken aback by that, what with me referring to Tom's brother on a first-name basis when no one else did out of fear for retribution. He'd already stiffened at the allusion to Portia and seemed to harden. Appearances, however, are deceiving. "Don't ask my wife about it. It's a tough subject for Portia too, okay? It hurt her a lot, and she still doesn't know everything that happened, and she's better off not knowing..." Kwest told me, at first attempting to give an order but then letting his sympathy for his wife overpower him. I couldn't blame her for not wanting to know. We're not all curious as George like me.

But I have to know for my own sanity here, whereas with her it's exactly the opposite. "Is that a yes, _Kyle_?"

For a moment, he seemed to relent, but then he shook his head defiantly and met my stare unabashedly. "No. That's me saying that it's none of your damn business what or who Tommy does, and that you have no right to ask those people. If Tom doesn't tell you himself, he doesn't want you to know," He replied tightly through his teeth. If I hadn't been so pissed about it, I might've considered his point.

But it still feels very much like Tommy _is_ my business. Even if he is my ex, and we're on dubious speaking terms at best. It's been that way for so long, I can't really divorce it. And, besides, I've always been _his_ business, haven't I? "We both know that isn't true, Kwest. I wouldn't know very much about Tommy at all if other people hadn't told me. In case you've forgotten, Tommy doesn't really open up. He's like an accident; you've got to witness the phenomenon to understand it. I wouldn't know anything important about him if I'd waited for him to tell me everything..." I replied coolly. I mentally patted myself on the back for the simile, nicely done.

When this failed to exert the desired reaction of submission, I adopted a different tone, going for the pathetic angle. "C'mon, Kwest, you know how I feel about him. And I... I just wanna know why she's the special one. Why I'm never... why he felt that way about her. I've never seen Tommy that into anyone," I entreated, accidentally almost revealing too much about myself in the process. The misery on my face was genuine with the reminder, and Kwest's expression softened a little.

But just a little. "And there's a good reason for it... If Tom Quincy ever loved anyone other than himself, he _loved _Angie," He confessed to me quietly, looking up at me to see how I'd take that statement. He seemed to know or, rather, expect that I wouldn't take it well, and I wondered whether or not he'd been so blunt about it on purpose. It wasn't really a secret that he wanted to discourage me from having feelings for Tom.

It hurt, yes, but I didn't let it show because he was only confirming what I'd already believed. I kept my face stony, blank and expressionless. After all, I've had lessons from the master. Besides, he didn't even sound sure that Tommy was in love with her, not like Chaz did, anyway. "I know that, believe me, I do. I just want someone to fill in the details for me. _Please_, Kwest," I pleaded, lowering my dignity still further until I was so low and ingeniously on the verge of tears (because damn, all guys get weird when you start crying or talking about your period).

Kwest sighed and finally caved. I could see all the fight go out of his shoulders. "Okay. Fine... But you didn't hear it from me, and this never gets back to Tom or Angie or anybody else, you hear me?" He consented, waiting for me to promise.

I couldn't honestly say it might not pop up in a future argument with them, but who else was I gonna tell? At least in detail? It's not like they don't know their own past. Anymore, at any rate. All I need to say is that she's Tom's ex. "I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die."

He nodded, letting out a shaky breath, and he motioned for me to sit in the chair across from him. His eyes darted around nervously as if he was afraid Tommy was going to interrupt or that Portia might get the wrong idear about it. Since, after all, the curtains Tom had installed were drawn back and everyone could see in. I suddenly glanced down at the desk, remembering that it hadn't always been glass. I must've been so out-of-sorts not to notice, since I'd often had daydreams about Tom's old desk (and what we could do on it), but I hadn't been in Tom's office in _months_, which is not uncommon. "Hey, when did Tom get a new desk?" I asked, remembering the old mahogany desk fondly.

Kwest made a face, shaking his head at Tom's antics. "Georgia took away the wooden one because he was stashing a girl under there when he was supposed to be just conducting a meeting," Kwest said in a very tactful tone I appreciated. I don't think I even need to say what that girl was doing under his desk, do I? He smirked a little, typical guy, whereas I wore the traditional expression of distaste associated with my witnessing or hearing of Tommy's sexual exploits. "Said she wanted greater transparency," He continued. I snorted. Well, that, and then there's the fact that glass is more fragile (and possibly painful) and much easier to get dirty.

However, I shook it off and fixed Kwest with a look that said to get a move on already. "Okay... I guess Chaz told you how they met and how Angie basically hated him for a while there... And I'm just gonna start out by saying that Angie and I weren't really friends. She might've been tight with Tommy, but I didn't really know her too well. She was just another one of Tommy's girls to me," Kwest summarized briskly. I bristled a bit at his almost immediate dismissal of Angie. Because I knew what it was like to be one of those chicks, and it was no picnic.

It just served to remind me of that damn doctor, and sue me, but I got a little irate. "Why is she a _person_ to Chaz but not to you? Did it ever occur to all of you people that it's not particularly fun to be one of Tom's "girls"? Because, as hard as it is to believe, getting the judgmental looks and stares and having people whisper nasty things about you behind your back only to wind up with a broken heart and a few cheap moments of satisfaction completely isn't worth it. And he always comes out looking like a damn _prince_, whereas if you're a girl, your reputation is basically shot, and no one takes **you** or your feelings seriously!" I rambled, embittered by the comment, which had stung these still-open wounds.

Oh, you should've seen the look on his face! He looked very squicked out by the whole thing, and I didn't even screw Tommy. He waited a moment, raising his hands up in a surrendering position. "I'm gonna ignore what you just said because what you're insinuating sounds like it could get Tommy in trouble..." He said carefully. He took the barest of pauses, continuing his hands-off approach. "And I learned a long time ago not to get involved in Tom's love life, and, frankly, I don't really want to know exactly what _that_ was all about. Because, like you, I'm better off not knowing. And you're another one of those questions Tom just doesn't answer. Or talk about," He continued wisely, ironically sounding more than a little afraid of the answer.

It was a smart move, though. Gave him plausible deniability and would save Tom's ass if anything bad ever happened. It seemed odd to me that I was a touchy subject to Tom, actually, or that Kwest had tried to talk to him about me. "Now, back to the story you requested..." Kwest began promisingly. He looked appropriately weary for the story to come. "What no one really understood was how she and Tommy got as close as they did in so little time. The reason they got close is because Angie realized, I think, before any of the rest of us did, just how musically talented he was. With the way the industry was back then, it was pretty easy to forget that Tom wrote his own songs and could actually be a serious musician. It was a closed business, you know, not really open to new talent or creative control, especially to Darius," He elaborated.

And I could see it, you know, how that would be appealing to him. In order for Tom to ever, ever fall in love, the music is something they'd have to have in common. She'd have to understand that because that's who she is. And that's kinda why I tend to date musicians. Huh. And, well, you know, it gratifies his ego, and he likes that even more, especially back then when everyone thought he was a shallow one-dimensional popstar.

Kwest almost smiled and kept talking. "So Angie sucked up her pride and asked Tommy for help. She wanted to record some demos because she wanted to show them to Darius, and she didn't know the first thing about it. Tom at least knew how to work a soundboard, and he did have some novel production ideas. And, you know, it flattered Tom's ego, not that he needed it," He informed me bluntly, a faint trace of engineer's bias tinting his words. He smiled this time, pausing for a moment in thought.

"T was real interested because here was this girl who basically didn't want to give him the time of day, and he just can't stand that... Because, you know, Angie didn't really let Tommy get away with anything, like everyone else did. He _liked_ that she treated him differently," He elucidated rather fondly, especially given that he didn't really like her, from what I could tell. Kwest paused and leveled me with a penetrating look. "Kind of like you in that respect." He kept his eyes on me for a while, but it only took me half a second to turn pink. Satisfied with my reaction, Kwest finished the thought. "Since they were sneaking around behind Darius' back and spending a lot of time together, they grew pretty close. They realized they got along really well and had a lot of things in common. And Tom, well, he started to work her over..."

At this point, I had to interrupt, since the vision he describes of them doesn't actually indicate an emotional attachment on Tom's part. It sounds more like friendship than anything, but Tommy's friendships aren't exactly normal by any means. "C'mon, Kwest. You know Tommy. That sounds more like one of his "friendships" than anything serious. You sure he was going after her?" I asked with some disbelief. I was speaking from my own experience. Tommy tends to confuse and blur those traditional boundaries. And, you know, Tommy is a wishy-washy sonuvabitch. He changes his mind about what he wants all the time, so I was right to question it.

He gave me another one of those knowing, rather nonplussed glances. Like I was stupid to even ask. "Look, Tommy's my guy. I know when he's going to put the moves on someone, all right, and T was _feelin_' her. And it was obviously mutual," He insisted, gesturing for emphasis. His words were too vague for me to take seriously.

So I rolled my eyes and retorted, "Obviously." Because as if anyone couldn't be interested in Tom?

Kwest ignored my sarcasm and kept talking as if I hadn't interrupted. "And it was working, you know. Angie was completely fallin' for him, and it looked like T was... well... headed in the same direction, more or less. As much as a guy like him can..." Kwest had struggled with the words because he, like me, was doubtful that Tommy could fall the way other men can (but still kind of hopeful). I can't blame him for that. It really makes me wonder why he and Chaz have such different perspectives on this. Chaz, of all people, has reason to believe that love doesn't last. Was he saying that Tommy would've fallen in love had Angie stuck around?

Frankly, I didn't really want to think about any of that, much less Tommy's feelings following the current, directed by an outside influence. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I get the picture. And then he married Portia..." I cut in, motioning for him to hurry. Truthfully, I didn't know how much more of that I could listen to.

This time, it was turn for Kwest to grimace. I had forgotten how it was a bit of a painful subject for him. "Ugh, yeah," He muttered. He stopped short but then seemed to change his mind and started talking again. I wasn't really prepared for what he told me because it wasn't part of the history I'd been expecting. "But I guess in order to understand Tom and Angie, you need to understand a bit more about Tom and Portia... They'd known each other for a long time because Tom's dad and Darius worked together. They'd played together as kids, and they got real close, like family, during the days of Boyz Attack!. Portia had always had a thing for him, and they started kind of casually seeing each other, off-and-on, over the years, in between other relationships. But they kinda kept it on the downlow so Darius wouldn't know," He said quietly, looking down.

Kwest took a deep breath, fighting back the unattractive scowl that was threatening to overcome his face. "We were all on tour together, you know... And in Vegas, Tom dedicated a song to her on her birthday, and they got a little too drunk on champagne and strawberries..." Kwest trailed off, unable to repress the disgusted shudder that ran through him. I understood because you better believe I had the exact same look on my face- the look I almost always had when I thought about Tommy with other women, especially Sadie. It's so much worse when the other person's your friend or family, you know?

I'd always wondered why Tommy had married Portia instead of anyone else. Nothing against Portia, but Tommy had many very attractive girlfriends, and up until that admission from Kwest, I didn't even know he'd _dated_ her. From what I heard, from everything Tommy and others had told me, it was a short, brutish, brief affair, spur-of-the-moment and idiotic. All in all, a decision fueled by youth, alcohol, the thrill of being on tour, and the desire to spite Darius. It had never occurred to me that there might've been something more involved. I'd never been given any reason to think that Tommy had any degree of _real_ feelings for Portia. "Tommy always told me that Portia was one of the realest people he knew in the industry, that he always admired how she kept her head in a business so crazy. And, in his own way, he was kind of digging her vibes, since he kept coming back for more," Kwest admitted begrudgingly, but not without a touch of disgust.

It was a shock to the system because I knew those were Tommy's own words. He had admired her for her realness, and wasn't that one of the things he'd liked about me? It sounded like him, and, honestly, it made me a little sad because it made me wonder if that was how Kwest would describe _me_ in five years. I didn't want to be remembered as a mistake of youth. "But that was _nothing_, you know, not compared to Angie, not compared to you," He added dismissively. I think I gaped at Kwest like some kind of ape for a minute, so unable was I to believe he'd said that. Kwest hadn't really ever shown signs of being supportive of me in that regard, and he'd lumped me in with Angie, the girl Tom really did...

What, exactly? What did he... "Um, thanks, I think?" I answered a moment later, when I regained the ability to speak and close my mouth like a normal person. "I bet you anything Quincy used the same lines on all of us. There are, after all, only **so** many things you can say besides "I love you." Bet if we compared them, he'd sound very repetitive," I rambled somewhat anxiously, desperate to turn away from that disturbingly hopeful train of thought.

"He married Portia on a drunken whim when we were on tour, and Angie was _pissed_," Kwest reinforced, shaking his head and getting back to the point. "She pretended like she was cool with it, like she wasn't upset, but Angie was furious. She gave him the silent treatment and basically pretended like he didn't exist for a week until..." I couldn't really blame Angie when I would've been forced to do the same, you know. Here Kwest trailed off, no doubt confused about the inner workings of Tom's indecisive mind. "I don't know what happened. Tom must've said something, or maybe she realized, like we all did, except Portia, that Tom's marriage wasn't really serious. I mean, their honeymoon was a weekend in Barbados. Just a weekend, because that was all Darius could spare Tom for..." He ranted, getting more than a bit sidetracked.

It was a toss-up, however, as to whether or not he was more disgusted with Darius or Tom for that. "Uh, Kwest, as much as I'd like to hear about the various indignities your wife had to suffer in her brief marriage with Tommy... I **don't**, and I asked you about _Angie_," I interjected a bit shortly, kind of desperate to get to the part that, you know, Chaz hadn't already told me. I wanna know the good stuff here!

"Well, it's not like I enjoy talking about it... why do you think Tommy and I are friends?" He muttered somewhat irritably, as if he was annoyed he didn't get to elaborate about Portia's pain. Because, yeah, he really wants to think about the fact that his best friend screwed his wife and was married to her and sleeping with her before Kwest was anything more than a friend? Must suck being Tom's friend. He tends to pull crap like that a lot. And they're probably friends because neither of them are much for talking.

He sighed heavily, pressing on. "Anyways, I don't know what happened, maybe the marriage changed Tom... but he realized that she was important to him, and whatever had been stopping him before suddenly... _didn't_, even though he had more reasons than ever to not do it. And you know how it is... all those nights alone in a studio, singing songs about love and sex... it's so easy for the professional to become something more," Kwest continued quickly, probably because it was that unpleasant to think of.

And, oh, yeah, I could relate. I could see it unfolding before my very eyes like something in a damn song. But was it just a little wrong of me to think that my own affair/relationship with Tommy meant more because it was cemented in secret bedrooms in the authenticity of his family home? "I can't tell you how it happened. Only Tom and Angie can tell you that. All I can tell you is that things changed, and maybe I can tell you when... But point is, Tom and Angie had a thing going. They started having an affair, and, yeah, I knew about it. I didn't think it was right, what he was doing to Portia, but I'd never seen Tom so... _serious_, practically monogamous."

I **hate** that about men. How they keep each other's secrets like it's part of the Bro Code even if they _know_ it's wrong, hell, sometimes even if they're friends with the girl. In my book, it's always better to tell someone about the situation than not to because, well, not knowing is worse because odds are he'll do it again if he thinks he can get away with it. And, hell, I'm one of those people who'd want to know so I could dump his ass or at least decide what I was gonna do about it. There's a special place in hell for people who see something _wrong_ happening (I mean, something that they honest-to-God **know** is wrong) and don't do a damn thing about it.

And, yes, I did find it ironic that Tom was monogamous with Angie and not his actual wife at the time. Kwest shook his head, disbelief still on his face. "I'd never seen him like that with any other girl. No one had. I mean, Tommy was actually _happy_, like, the happiest I've ever seen him. And, I mean, it was before everything really started to go to crap, but things were still pretty bad, and Tom was basically trapped, but he started being nice to people again. And walking around with a smile on his face, and actually seeming to care about people other than himself for a change. And no one really knew what to do because they were used to him being a monster and stalking around yelling at everyone," Kwest said, still somewhat awestruck by it all. I smiled wryly, fully aware of and familiar with the character he'd mentioned. "And the thing about Tom is that if you have a problem with him or some of the things he does, you don't tell him."

I nodded whole-heartedly, fully aware of both Tommy's selective hearing and the difficult way he got when you asked him something he didn't want to discuss. I remembered faintly that Travis had said I made Tommy happy, and I wondered if he'd tell me if I made Tommy happier than she had. I don't think whatever fleeting influence I may have had on him had quite the same impression.

Kwest allowed himself a little laugh. "When Tom's in a relationship, he's pretty handsy. So, when he's seeing a girl, and he likes her a lot, he tends to put out pretty possessive vibes." Tell me about it! Not that I ever minded, you know, because I had my hands all over him too. "He doesn't usually get jealous, but Tom likes to mark his territory... He was all over Angie." I blinked. He's not the jealous type? That's... new? And completely unlike the Tommy I know. I don't think Kwest knows our man as well as he thinks.

"He didn't really make much of an effort to hide the relationship, so pretty much everyone knew. Most of us kept our mouths shut, but somehow it managed to get back to Darius. I don't know what dumbass told him, but like I said, Tom didn't try to keep it under wraps, so maybe Darius found out on his own. Or Portia told him because there was a point when she found out about Angie and got really upset," Kwest told me in the same characteristically blunt manner. Ah, Darius. The pieces started to fit together just a little bit more.

Nevertheless, I couldn't resist. "And you were _there_ for her, right?" I rejoined snarkily.

His facial features tightened in a way that made me very curious as to whether or not I'd hit it right on the nose. "Not the point, Jude," He said dismissively, "The point is that when Darius heard about it, he was **murderous**. He wanted to _kill_ Tommy for messing with his baby sister. I mean, Darius was already pissed that Tom even married Portia in the first place. He knew Tom was gonna break her heart and tried to talk her out of it. His first words to her when he found out about the marriage were, "You can get an annulment." Portia said no, though, because she was in love, and she'd been half in love with Tommy for years, more or less, before they ever got married." The sad thing is that none of that surprises me.

Right now, all I want to know is what Darius did to put a stop to it because I have **no** doubt he was somehow involved in it. The expression on Kwest's face sobered further, and he leaned in towards me a little. "Now, you have to understand that things with Tom and Angie were _serious_. Even though he was married, they talked about getting serious. Tom knew he was going to divorce Portia eventually, and he saw a future with Angie. He even wanted it, y'know, because they were so... in sync, pardon the pun," Kwest said slowly, carefully, measuring his words. He looked uncomfortable in a different way than he had our entire conversation, as if he felt what he was sharing was too private.

Since Kwest had been one of the privileged few Tommy had ever really taken into his confidence (which he'd never really done with me, not ever), perhaps it was. It was sensitive information because Tom likes to play it close to the vest, but I couldn't stop listening. Kwest looked down and continued softly, spelling it out, "They didn't really talk about the relationship with other people... but Tom kind of said some things to me that made it pretty clear he and Angie were making plans. Tom never told me what the plans were, but whatever they were, he didn't plan on being around much longer." At this, he looked up.

He leaned in a little further, a little closer to me. His eyes darted around as if he was about to tell me some big secret. He prepared himself by inhaling deeply. "So I'm gonna tell you what I think, and I've never told anyone this before, and the only reason you're even getting this out of me is because you have something on me, and you happen to remind me of my little sister..." Kwest prefaced quite bluntly. I blinked, a bit surprised at this, because Kwest hadn't really shown any signs he was particularly fond of me, unlike his best friend. I mean, we're friends, I guess, but he always seemed sort of indifferent to me, and his loyalty's always been to Tommy. Maybe that's just the way Kwest is: hands-off, calm, stoic. Kwest licked his lips. "I think Tom and Angie were gonna run away together. He was gonna leave Portia and the band," He whispered conspiratorially, "Portia knew. They had a big fight, and Tom admitted to the affair and took off his wedding ring. And he left to go to Angie, and he..."

At that point, I was literally on the edge of my seat. I couldn't wait to ask. "What happened when Darius found out? I know Darius didn't just sit around and do nothing about that, pissed as he must've been," I asked enthusiastically. I am secretly a drama addict. Or not so secretly. But, you know, I can appreciate it when it's not me.

Kwest nodded a bit grimly. "You're right, Jude... He called all of us in and asked us about it. To see if it was true. Pretty much everyone sung like a canary. Portia'd been going through Tom's bank and credit accounts, so she knew he was spending money that didn't add up... He'd had affairs before, nothing serious, but Angie was different..." I knew some of that, but I was surprised that Portia had caught him and made him confess. It inspired a whole new level of respect. "Honestly, I don't really know what Darius did. He called Tom into his office to talk, to make things very clear to him," He muttered, shaking his head.

"Because it wasn't just about Portia. It was that Darius was worried he'd lose Tom in the band, and they were his biggest moneymaker, and here was one of his guys not under his control. And Darius **hates** nothing more than not being in control," Kwest informed me. I completely understood what he meant, and, frankly, it explained a lot about Darius. He thinks he's some kind of emperor. "I don't know what Darius said to Tom in that room, but he kept him in there for a _long _time, and Tom came out looking about twenty shades paler but as determined and stubborn as I'd ever seen him. I think Darius made him choose between Angie and his career," Kwest confessed.

To be honest, I could've predicted that, but I would've thought Darius would've gotten more personally involved. It surprised me, hearing that Tommy had _ever_ been afraid of Darius. "That's it? I expected something more hands-on," I found myself saying.

He shrugged. "Like I said, I don't know the details... But when Tommy went to Angie after that fight with Portia, he changed his mind. The only person who knows what was said that night would be the two of them, but the point of it is that Tommy said whatever awful things he could and kicked her to the curb. To save his career because I bet you _anything_ Darius said he'd blacklist Tom if he didn't drop her. He broke her heart, and I think maybe he broke his own that night. Things were always emotional and really... _intense_... between them. Powerful stuff... That fight was no exception."

And I could see it. A guy like Tommy... he wanted to be a star. He's selfish. He didn't want to give it all up. And Tommy had changed since because he'd turned his back on it all, on what he loved-performing-and turned into a behind-the-scenes-guy. He'd grown by doing that, by going his own way and making it on his own, without any help from Darius, on his own terms. He had to make a name for himself. For whatever reason then, he'd made up his mind and changed it and changed it back again. He had chosen Angie over fame, in his own way.

I couldn't imagine their fight because I'm not Angie. But I know Tommy, and I remember our fight. How bad it was, how intense, how painful, how cutting and hurtful the words were. So I had some idea of what that might be like. But when it came to a relationship with Tommy, Angie had me beat. She was more invested, had a longer time to get used to it. They went deeper. So it was more intense, more relationship stuff, if that makes sense. More feelings and shared plans and ideas to crush, more of Tommy to kill with her.

Kwest took a shaky breath. "So Angie took his keys and drove off. He let her go 'cause he thought she just wanted to leave or smash his car. And he went back to Portia, but then I guess he changed his mind... because he started calling us asking if we'd seen her, said he was afraid she might hurt herself. I mean, the guy was a nervous _wreck_. And then we all found out the next morning on the news that she was missing. Tom filed a report, and they didn't find anything but some tire tracks down by the harbor and a pretty busted-up tree with some paint chips that matched the color of Tom's car, and they called the search off pretty soon once they found the car in the river. Everyone figured she killed herself, and Tom took it hard," He explained quietly, almost retreating into himself a little.

It almost took my breath away because it was hard to imagine Tommy that frantic or concerned. I tried to recall any occasion where he'd ever been (that) worried about me, and it hurt to realize that I couldn't think of a single one. "And then, and then they looked at the car and found out the breaks failed, but they couldn't really pin it on anyone because there was no evidence and no proof she was even dead. They checked all the hospitals, the whole city, even cities further down. No women were found that matched her description, alive or dead. Darius covered the whole thing up, which is why almost no one ever heard about it. No one even knew it was Tommy's car..." Kwest said in an undertone. I heard what he was trying to hide, trying not to insinuate, and so I expected what he said next.

It wasn't hard to imagine Darius' hand in all that, even the breaks, but I, like Kwest, no doubt, didn't want to think he was capable of it. Then again, what wouldn't Darius do to protect his family? Kwest cleared his throat awkwardly and looked very, very nervous, but he continued to speak. "And, as much as I love D, and I'm grateful to him, I'm honestly not too sure he wasn't further involved in the accident..." Kwest muttered darkly. "Suicide or death by drowning were the most likely options, but that didn't stop Tom from blaming himself and going into a full-on downward spiral. I mean, he didn't _want_ to be with other women. He didn't even look at them, physically couldn't do it..." Kwest's voice changed as he flitted from subject to subject, attempting to avoid the unpleasant topics.

The thing that shocked me was what he said about Tommy and women. Tommy being faithful to an ideal, a dead woman, when he wasn't in real life. Out of guilt. I'd gotten what, a _week_, when he had no other options? "He wasn't the same afterwards, and everyone knew it. He was still with Portia on paper, but he didn't even care enough to get a divorce. He was like a ghost. He blamed himself because of the way he'd ended things, and because he'd broken her heart... and it was _his_ car, and hell, if the break lines really were cut, then someone was probably trying to kill _him_... because, back then, a **lot** of people wanted Tom dead," He stated grimly. Now, as if everything else I'd heard wasn't unsettling enough, there was _that_ revelation.

Which makes a lot of sense, of course. Tommy's very wealthy and famous in addition to being a womanizer and a very difficult, rather bipolar man. He's very quarrelsome and stubborn, and he likes screwing with people, all of which make him the ideal target for a violent crime, although admittedly more likely a crime of passion.

Being that I watch far too many crime shows for my own good (Is it bad that I love Law and Order: Criminal Intent?), if someone was trying to kill Tommy, I kinda know all the usual suspects: 1. Darius the wannabe Svengali losing control of his top earner slash vengeful brother-in-law, 2. Portia the shattered and vengeful wife unable to let go, 3. Travis the hateful and vengeful brother who'd had bad blood with him for years, 4. one of his bandmates, especially Chaz, eager for more stage time, 5. one of his similarly bloodthirsty industry rivals, 6. A vengeful girl who'd had her heart broken after a night in the sack with him or a jealous boyfriend who had been cuckholded (equally common and likely, in this case), 7. a professional assassin hired by one of his many wealthy enemies, 8. A drug dealer or other person to whom Quincy might've owed money, or 9. a crazy stalker fan. I think that just about sums it up.

It occurred to me suddenly that all of this must've occurred shortly before I'd met Tommy that first time all those years ago, and yet... I wondered what had caused him to pull out of the entirely different state of depression Kwest was describing. He'd been coherent enough to talk to me, after all, and he'd obviously cleaned his act up a bit but not enough to actually be in control... so it must've been an intervention, since it conveniently left Tommy cleaned up but not quite fixed or satisfied and still firmly chained into this unpleasant lifestyle. I blinked, contemplating this but not daring to ask just yet or to let on this story to Kwest, lest he wind up overinflating my importance in Tommy's life.

Kwest sighed, steepling his fingers. "It was like... I didn't know the guy anymore. He was quiet, moodier than usual, depressed. He didn't talk. He pushed people away by lashing out at them and completely destroyed his relationships. He didn't give a damn about anything, didn't _do_ anything, didn't want to see anyone. He stopped _fighting_, you know? It was like he wasn't even there. He was just _watching_ things happen to him, and even then it didn't seem like he was paying attention," He muttered dimly. I felt for him, you know. "Whenever I saw him, _if_ I saw him, he was either drunk or high or both... and even then he still looked pretty damn morose. The only time he ever really looked at peace was when he was passed out," Kwest admitted rather bluntly. He was painting a bit of a grim picture.

"So, what brought him out of all that?" I asked finally.

Kwest looked a lot older suddenly. "He overdosed a couple times on different things. The second time that I knew about, it was after a Boyz Attack! concert, maybe three weeks after it happened. Chaz found him in their dressing room, on the verge of death, and they got him to a hospital. They had to postpone a concert because Tommy was pretty touch and go there for a while. He was... reluctant... to wake up, to say the least. He didn't want to get better," Kwest said quietly. He wasn't looking up a lot, probably because he didn't want to think about it. The way he'd said "the second time that I knew about" made me wonder if he knew about the overdose Chaz had told me about. It also made me wonder why Chaz hadn't told me about the overdose Kwest had just related to me. Did he want to shield me from that knowledge?

He gave me a look. "And Darius was losing money, so he made it his business because he wasn't about to let Tommy ruin everything." I think we both rolled our eyes at the same time, but it didn't really surprise me. "There was a kind of intervention, but no one really wanted to be there because Tom knew none of them really gave a damn about him. Not as a person, at any rate. So D forced him to go cold turkey because he had a tour to do, and Darius had all his little minions watching Tom 24/7 so he couldn't get himself drugged up and had everyone kind of force him back into his old routines. I think Darius said that he didn't care what any of the other guys did as long as they didn't give any drugs to Tommy or let it interfere with their work," He continued, making a face. Clearly he didn't think Darius did anything to help Tom.

But, I don't know, sometimes you need a little tough love, and who better to administer it to you than someone who doesn't really like you all that much. "He tried the therapy route when Tom didn't perk up immediately, but Tom clammed up and wouldn't talk to the guy. You know what they say, though... Time heals all wounds. And, well, Tom bottled it all up and soldiered on and did what he always does... pretend to forget until he actually does. And there you have it," Kwest finished. Neither of us felt quite satisfied by the end of the conversation, but I felt like I knew what was up, you know?

I took a deep breath, still trying to process everything. It felt kind of like I'd just had a lot of information crammed into my head. Like stuffing a turkey or something. And what I'd found out today had challenged a lot of things I thought I knew, maybe all the important things I thought I knew about Tommy. And it made me realize that if I didn't even know about Angie, well, who was to say I actually knew who he was, period? That was a depressing thought, so I found myself rising to my feet. The words bubbled out of me like champagne. "Well, I don't know about you, but after that conversation, I could use a stiff drink... You want one?" I asked.

Kwest gave me a reproachful look. "No, Jude. I'm _working_, remember? And aren't you supposed to be recording?" He insisted stiffly. It was amazing how he acted as if there was no camaraderie between us, as if he hadn't just told me all that. He scoffed, "Yeesh, Jude, you've been hanging around Tommy way too much. He's rubbed off on you." I think I kind of froze (guiltily) when he said that, unable to believe it. "Always trying to get me to do stupid things with him..." He muttered.

"Trust me, Kwest, I know the feeling," I said, patting him on the hand. A mild look of distaste passed over Kwest's face as he took my statement a little too literally, but then again, it was kind of meant literally... I walked towards Tommy's bar. "But, seriously, Kwest, like my studio time's gonna happen now with Angie here? Tommy and her'll probably be too busy playing kissy-face to do that... Besides, like Tommy hasn't done it before?" I said over my shoulder, looking through the various vintages for the right one. I messily poured myself a shot of vodka and drank it slow. It burned on the way down and tasted a little like catharsis.

I screwed the cap back on the bottle, wiped my lips with the back of my hand, and plopped back down in my seat next to Kwest. Bizarrely, my head felt a little clearer, a little less overwhelmed. I took a deep breath and glanced at Kwest, who motioned to the door. He mentioned, as we were leaving, that the place was so crowded because Georgia had a famous visitor to entertain in her office. The minute we stepped into the lobby, I almost ran into Darius, here no doubt for his weekly visit. He is a persistent one. Today he was wearing a white silk suit with a gold chain and diamond earrings. Hello, Mr. T. His head seemed particularly shiny, almost as if he'd polished it.

We exchanged the usual pleasantries and stood there, waiting for Georgia. Darius was looking for her or Tommy with his eyes, but you can bet that for damn sure, I didn't want to go back into that studio. Chaz, the lucky punk, was off doing publicity stuff with E.J., due to the upcoming music video shoot. A few moments later, rather surprisingly, Georgia stepped out of her office, looking a bit flushed and all in all quite pleased. She saw me and smiled at me, motioning with her hands for me to come over. "Jude, there's someone I'd _love_ for you to meet," She said brightly, looking happier than I'd seen her in ages.

I'm a good girl. I do as I'm told, so I walked over to her and took her hand. A man came out of her office. He looked vaguely familiar, and I thought I'd maybe caught a glimpse of him earlier. He was wearing dark sunglasses, a large cross necklace, and vaguely New Age-y clothes. "Jude, this is Paegan Smith, the rockstar," She said calmly.

The name sounded somewhat familiar, like he had been really famous once. Paegan stopped at Georgia's side. Turning to him and motioning to me, she explained, "Paegan, this is Jude Harrison, our Instant Star. She's a friend of Patsy's and Jamie's." He knew Patsy and Jamie? This was news to me. I walked towards him and held out a hand for him to shake.

Paegan perked up a bit and slowly took off his sunglasses, eyeing my hand for a second as if he was afraid it was going to slap him or something. I was about to withdraw my hand when he surprised me by shaking it. I smiled brightly. His face was familiar after all. A flash of something kinda came to me, and I realized that he was seriously famous. Hence Georgia introducing him as a rock star. "Wow. I knew you looked familiar..." I murmured. I realized he was still shaking my hand and awkwardly pulled my hand away. "Um, nice to meet you. My friend Jamie used to wrap trashbags around his legs and pretend he was you when we were little," I muttered nervously, tucking my hair behind my ears.

I couldn't believe I'd just said that to some big shot! Then again, I basically laughed at the idea of Tommy as a producer the moment before he chose to present himself, so this is probably far better, since I'm making Jamie look stupid here. He smiled wryly, glancing at Georgia. "Yeah, the parachute pants were not one of my brighter ideas back in the '90s..." He drawled, faintly amused. Huh, he had a British accent. Exotic, and kind of hot, but I really need to lay off the slightly washed-up famous guys, so um, yeah, down girl. He turned to Georgia once more. "You know, Georgie, she must really be famous," He told her before turning back to me. "I see your face plastered on every gossip rag I pass with that producer of yours... oh, what's his name? You know the one I'm talking about..." He murmured.

And then the smile fell right off of my face. There was an awkward silence. I knew who Paegan was talking about, but I really didn't want to say. Georgia didn't speak out of some uncertainty. I gave her an irritable look, so she stuttered to give the correct answer. "Oh, you mean Tommy. Tom Quincy."

Paegan nodded and started to say something (I'm glad he didn't get to), but just then I whirled around to find Tommy exiting the studio and heading towards us. He was holding effing _hands_ with Angie, and they both looked sufficiently disheveled, but probably not enough for them to have had sex. Since Tom likes to take his time with girls that he actually cares about. "Speak of the Devil," I said almost to myself. Paegan peered at Tommy and looked like he was about to say something, but I turned to them, smile tightly in place. "So, Georgia, what is Paegan doing here?" I asked a bit too cheerfully.

Georgia visibly brightened and looked to Paegan, who correctly read her signal to explain. I wondered that they could read each other so well already. "Well, I was in this dive, trying to drink away my troubles, and I met Patsy. She told me to stop being such a sad-sack and arm-wrestled me. And so then I challenged her to a drinking contest, and she was well on her way to drinking me under the table when James came along and well, recognized me. And he asked what a bloke like me was doing in a pub like that, and I told him I was here because my soon-to-be-ex-wife had kicked me out and was taking everything. And then James told me that I was Paegan Smith, damn it, and I could do an-y-thing I set my mind to, and that if I was looking for labels he knew the one where I'd have artistic freedom. So here I am, meeting with this lovely woman," Paegan rambled, sending Georgia a disgustingly flirtatious look.

Georgia giggled. O.M.G. Does somebody have a little crush? I smiled. Gotta love Jamie for pimping out my label so much. "Oh, cool... So, do you like it here?" I asked, actually fairly excited at the prospect. Paegan Smith is an international rockstar with four platinum albums, his own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and something like six ex-wives. He got famous in the eighties rock scene, straddling the line between punk and rock but wisely avoiding hair metal, kind of like Billy Idol only... different. Paegan, you see, is a very spiritual sort of guy, into Eastern philosophies and experimentation and mysticism in general, not quite as irreverent or openly rebellious as Billy Idol, a bit more serious.

Paegan turned to Georgia and smiled charmingly. "Trust me, I plan to," Paegan drawled, obviously hitting on Georgia. I blinked, taking that in. So a big star like Paegan was going to stick around and record here?

"Wait, so does that mean you're gonna be recording here?" I asked pitifully tactlessly. Paegan's smile at Georgia and her returned smile was all the answer I needed.

"Well, I think we came to an agreement. Our lawyers still have to draw all the papers up, of course, but from what I hear this is an up-and-coming label, trendy and hip, the best kind of place to start over," Paegan exclaimed cheerfully. "And I think it's absolutely _charming_," He added in a bit of an undertone, casting yet another look at Georgia. I kinda wanted to vomit, but you know, I thought it was about time that Georgia got some. And Paegan was fairly charming himself in a slightly inebriated oddball British rockstar way.

I smiled and probably would've patted him on the back or something if I knew him better and was more comfortable around him. I've taken enough liberties with older men to be wary. "Welcome to the family," I proclaimed grandly. I paused for a moment. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, which label were you with before?" I asked cautiously.

Paegan snorted. "Did you just call me sir? Oi, I'm not me father!" He asked somewhat incredulously. I think I might've blushed, slightly embarrassed. However, after a chuckle, Paegan saw fit to answer my question. "I was in London with BMG, BMC, Burmansey, Boomanzi, something like that... A bunch of money-grubbing stuffed shirts, they were. Who can keep track with all these mergers and indies nowadays?" He muttered nonchalantly. "Besides, it doesn't really matter much now. I'm at a much better place, obviously. Anyways, the point is, they dropped my contact because they thought I was a drunk or a has-been, which I am, of course," Paegan admitted wryly.

It was refreshing, his brutal honesty and self-deprecating sense of humor, despite the ego. I smiled at Paegan, liking him already before remembering the hulking bullish presence behind me. I could practically hear him snorting. I turned to Georgia before anyone could say anything. "Oh, that reminds me, Georgia, I think Darius is waiting for you over there. You know, quietly seething," I informed her, glancing back at him over my shoulder. True to form, Darius' jaw was clenched tightly, his brow furrowed, radiating waves of jealousy. It wasn't like him to stand there like a petulant child. Georgia followed my gaze and smirked.

She looked over at Paegan, a conspiratorial crinkle forming at the corners of her eyes. She grabbed Paegan's wrist, pulling him a bit closer. "Paegan, I know you've got to get settled and everything, but I was wondering if you could stay a little longer and help me out with something?" Georgia requested, tilting her head in Darius' direction. Paegan peered at Darius as if judging him for a moment and nodded in the affirmative. "Great," Georgia chirped before walking proudly towards Darius, still holding Paegan by the wrist.

"Ex-boyfriend?" Paegan asked speculatively, gesturing towards Darius. He was a bit unprepared to follow Georgia that way, but he didn't really seem to mind. I snorted because, well, isn't that kind of what Georgia wanted?

Georgia shot me a dark look, her features having gone a bit blank for a moment. "Ex-boss, actually," She corrected. Paegan looked back at me for confirmation, and I nodded because, well, I thought it was sort of true. She had been road manager back in the days of Boyz Attack!, and Tom definitely owed her tons of favors, but the connection between her and Darius had never quite been explained to me.

Paegan was lagging a couple steps behind Georgia, so I sought to inform him. Attempting to discreetly gesture to Darius, I began in a stage whisper, "That's Darius Mills, hip-hop media mogul extraordinaire. He's also my manager, which he uses as an excuse to hang around here, although I really think he just wants to mess with Georgia." Or mess _around _with Georgia, judging by the jealous expression on his face. "He's been hooking up with Georgia's sister, and he wants to-"

I had to stop, as we were suddenly in front of Darius. Georgia regarded him coolly, her free hand cocked on her hip. Darius' stare, on the other hand, was quite heated. I noticed for the first time that there was a man I'd never seen before at Darius' right. He was very tall and put-together, dark, neat hair and dark, narrow eyes, tight features, sophisticated-looking and well-dressed. He was fairly attractive, I suppose, but he looked like he had a stick up his ass, judging by his stiff posture and forbidding manner. When the man saw my stare, he glowered at me for no reason at all, crossing his arms over his chest as if something had already irritated him. When Georgia glanced over and saw him, a look of outright fury appeared on her face.

She dropped Paegan's wrist and stepped towards Darius confrontationally, looking madder than I'd ever seen her. "What, Darius, come to collect?" She sneered, taking another step forward, as if protecting us. Give the devil his dues, they say. That's what it reminded me of. She gestured jerkily to the man at Darius' right. "What, D, did you bring Liam here to clean me out? He _is_ still your repo man, right? Or... what do you call it... Acquisitions and mergers?" Georgia barked, throwing a dismissive glance the businessman's way.

Liam, I presume, made a face at her and took a step forward. "Always a pleasure, George," He said smarmily. He had an Irish accent, I believe, which would've been hot if he didn't have such a superior tone. The look on his face read smug bastard, and it was clear he was enjoying this, expecting Georgia to squirm or something. But G's not the type to go down without a fight.

She pretended to smile but really bared her teeth at him, and if looks could kill, she'd have buried him six feet under in that very moment. "Wish I could say the same, Fenway. Five years, and you're _still_ Darius' number-cruncher. Pity all the money he pays you can't buy independence," Georgia retorted smugly. The expression on Liam's face tightened unpleasantly, but I just knew that was a warm-up, a prelude, if you will, to the snotty comment that was to follow.

"You forget who you're talking to, Bevans... Unlike you, Darius rewards loyalty," He sneered. The dig felt oddly personal to me. It also felt like they were going to start fighting for Darius' love and affection. Giving Liam a subtle onceover, I decided he could very well be gay, looking so cosmopolitan and well-dressed, secretly vain, the type of guy to indulge in a manicure or facial.

Georgia was nonplussed by this insult. "You don't know the meaning of loyalty from what I remember, Liam," She said coolly, as if not at all offended by his comment. It wasn't really true, either. Georgia appreciates loyalty from her employees. That's why she's so flexible with us. Darius can be a good person too, don't get me wrong. I know he's a huge philanthropist and a family man and all, but no matter how nice he is to you, there's always a price. You can never quite shake the feeling that he's got dollar-sign eyes, and that he's constantly judging you by your worth in his eyes. "And of course he does. Bet he gives his best lap-dog a really good rub-down," Georgia said mockingly, not looking at Darius.

Liam made a face at her. Later on, it became clear to me that he could've played dirty and said something nasty, but being British and respectable, he refrained like a gentleman. He straightened further, if that was possible, and said primly, "I'm his vice-president now." He puffed up more at the mention of this accomplishment, as if it were something he'd worked for. Darius, I noticed, just looked apathetic, perhaps a bit annoyed by this even, because as much as they were arguing about him, he wasn't a part of the conversation. There was a carefully measured pause before Liam delivered the truly offensive turn of phrase. "And independence isn't worth much if you don't have the means to back it up, Georgia. From what I understand, you barely have two nickels to rub together."

Money will probably never cease to be a sensitive topic for Georgia, but, honestly, she doesn't need much. She just needs enough to pay the bills and live off of, and most of the money she'd like is for the artists... so we can make our music better and do what we want to without having to worry about who's buying the records. Georgia's a woman of artistic taste and vision (and a cutthroat businesswoman, despite that), and she's in this for the music. She's always wanted to make better music, music that moves people, makes them think, music that changes minds. So I wasn't surprised to see her bristle. Her rejoinder was swift and kind of vicious. "Oh, wait, so you don't still get his coffee and pick-up his dry-cleaning in the mornings? Am I supposed to _believe_ that means he actually respects you now?" Georgia snorted.

In turn, Liam looked a little flushed, as if perhaps a part of him was still Darius' gopher, despite his intimidating appearance. His mouth opened, but Georgia didn't let him say anything. "You might be a VP, but you still have a _boss_. I'm the one standing on my own two feet here..." Georgia continued pridefully. The fact that she refused to look at Darius got to him, I could tell. Georgia smirked, resting her hand on her hip again, jauntily, kind of flirtatiously, almost. "And you wouldn't even _be_ his vice-president if I hadn't quit to go out on my own. I was always the better employee. Just ask him." At this moment, Georgia's eyes flicked to Darius' for a second as she motioned to him. He neither confirmed nor denied her allegation, but his jaw tightened, which probably meant it was true.

"If Darius liked you better, it was only because you always wore those tight pencil skirts, and he liked to watch you walk away..." Liam replied snarkily. Well, big shocker there. Darius checked out Georgia's ass back in the day, as he continues to do now. If Darius were a normal person, he might've looked a bit guilty or embarrassed, but instead he just looked the same, only perhaps a bit defensive. Don't think we didn't all notice Liam trying to get a glance at her ass either. I couldn't help but notice, though, that she'd never said that Darius had liked her better. It was a telling comment (and one that kind of reinforced the brief idea I'd had of him preferring the male gender and Darius in particular), and then they were toeing the line of fighting over who Daddy likes best. For the record, I think Georgia, if only because he doesn't want to sleep with Liam.

Georgia looked mildly irritated at this comment, because, well, it meant Darius didn't respect her for her work either, and she was being objectified. That's one of the reasons she quit working with Darius. She hated feeling like a commodity all the time, and she didn't think what he was doing really gave girls any positive messages about themselves. "I can't help it if I've got a better ass than you do," She retorted smugly, turning just a little. Georgia happened to be wearing one of those skirts he'd mentioned, and both Darius and Liam took advantage of the view. "And, if I happen to recall correctly, _you_ liked my ass a hell of a lot more than Darius did," She countered in a voice she didn't think any of us could hear apart from Liam.

He colored and proceeded to cross a line. He crossed his arms at his chest, regarding her coolly. "You're just mad because I didn't leave with you like you wanted, Gia," He stated, a flicker of anger appearing in his eyes. His voice was a bit softer than that, a bit quieter, a bit heavy with remembrance. Wait, so Georgia asked Liam to leave with her? He could've worked at this very label alongside her? I can't say I'm surprised he didn't quit and work here. Liam would never fit in in a label like this; he's not flexible enough. Darius' eyes widened, as if he hadn't known this was even a possibility, and he looked from Liam to Georgia as if just discovering something.

Admirably, Georgia did not pale or show much of an outward reaction to that statement. Something about her tightened, though, and she drew herself up until her back was ram-rod straight and her hips jutted out. She was obviously working very hard to maintain control, to act as if what he'd said didn't matter to her at all, even though it clearly did. "No, actually, I'm _glad_ you didn't come. Stopped me from wasting two more years with you," Georgia enunciated clearly, harshly, bitter words dripping venom. Her stare was dark, unrelenting, and full of unmitigated hatred. I recognized that stare of disgust and that tone, and the pieces clicked together in my head. Liam was still, too still at her words, and the mask of a face he wore made it impossible for me to tell if he was actually hurt by her careless words.

"And _why_ would I want to work with someone who doesn't have the balls to stand up for himself? If you're not willing to stand up to Darius, you're **not** strong enough for me," Georgia continued loudly, stubbornly, moving towards Liam. I heard the disgust in her voice when she said Darius' name, the way she threw him a dismissive glance. I realized suddenly that Tom, myself, and Georgia had all defied him at some point, but I could see why Liam wouldn't. He was a man fond of concrete, certain things, like numbers and patterns and routines and statistics and graphs, security and stability, more into business than music itself.

"And so you thought you could just leave and never look back? Cut off all ties and just... fall off the map?" Liam retorted bitterly. That, that was personal, as was the look he sent her. Georgia bristled a little bit, but the look on her face said she didn't regret it. She looked like she wanted to say something but bit her tongue for quite some time, probably because she didn't want to give Liam the satisfaction (of knowing).

Finally, she sighed, remembering she wasn't alone with Liam, and said rather dryly, "I didn't fall off the map. You just had to know where to look, and clearly, you didn't." Georgia was being colder than usual, which was a clear sign that she was very uncomfortable seeing him, and that she was probably resorting to that iciness instead of anger. She moved a bit closer to Liam and allowed her eyes to show a brief moment of pain and betrayal. "You didn't trust me. You didn't believe in me. You didn't think I could do it. Tell me, Liam, what did I have to stay for?" Georgia said quietly, quietly enough that I barely caught it. And then she pulled away and the vulnerable look was gone.

Liam looked flummoxed for a minute, but then the Emperor of Hip-Hop intervened. The cool, hard look on his face showed that he did not appreciate the sentiments that had been uttered, and, furthermore, that whatever Georgia and Liam had, he hadn't known about it at the time, which I found interesting. He might've even been just a bit jealous of his deputy, but the expression of silent fury on his face kind of outweighed any other emotions.

Surprisingly, Darius had said nothing at first. I think he was trying to regain his cool and pretend like he wasn't annoyed that she was flirting with Paegan. After the brief exchange, Darius spoke calmly and rationally, cutting off Liam's attempt to say anything. "Well, I figured I owed it to you to show up in person." Georgia gave him an incredulous look, but Darius wasn't phased at all. "C'mon, G... You know you're hurting for cash. Jude's album is the only thing keeping this place afloat, and you know it! Let me buy it from you, and you can have the money to promote your artists properly. You can have the money to do what you want to do, and you can finally make this label into something great," Darius began, attempting to reason with her.

However, there is no reasoning with a woman as furious as Georgia. This time she didn't hesitate to step right up to Darius and lean in, completely invading his personal space. "Listen here, Darius, this label _is_ something great. Or else you wouldn't be here. But it's _mine_, not yours..." Georgia growled, punctuating her statement with a poke to Darius' broad chest. Others would've looked afraid when he looked down on them like that with positively murderous eyes, but not Georgia. She merely straightened up and glared right back at him. "And I'm not dumb enough to give up everything I've worked for a few extra bucks," She snarled as if insulted at the mere offer. A moment later, she pushed Darius back a step and pressed forward, determined. "I would sooner see it burned to the ground than belonging to you, so don't think this is going to be an easy little takeover. I'm gonna fight you, and I _will_ win," Georgia vowed intently, not taking her eyes off of Darius.

In that moment, I was more than a little scared of Georgia. This label is her baby, and Darius, father though he may be, will never understand that. He doesn't know what it's like to create something like that. He doesn't know what it's like to have your dream torn away from you. So how can he understand how hard she'd fight to keep it? Liam stepped forward smoothly and pulled Georgia away from Darius. She looked at him like she wanted to spit in his face but ultimately restrained herself (because classy ladies don't do that), thrashing away from his grip instead. "If you keep touching me, I _will_ hurt you, Liam. And you know I can," Georgia said through clenched teeth. The tone of voice she said it in left no question that she'd done it before.

She waited a second for him to let go, but he ignored the threat, and so, as a result, Georgia reached back and elbowed him in the stomach. Then she whirled around and straightened her clothes, glowering at Liam as if he were beneath her. Liam looked very cross, rubbing his stomach. "I see you still pack a punch, Gia," he muttered.

The force of her death glare intensified. "Don't call me that," She grunted. Then she turned to Darius and said, quiet coolly, "Anyway, I'm not selling the label. But, since you imposed a visit on me, there's someone I'd like you to meet." She then proceeded to grab Paegan's arm and pull him forward. The poor guy looked rather adorably confused. She made a sweeping motion to Darius and Liam and then back to Paegan. "Darius Mills and Liam Fenway meet Paegan Smith... The man, the myth, the legend." Paegan glanced at her and realized a bit too late that that was his cue to smile charmingly.

Liam nodded respectfully, aware of Paegan's international stardom. Darius, however, looked skeptical. He looked Paegan over, judging for a matter of moments, and then pronounced dismissively, "He doesn't look like much." Both a reference to his physical stature and unique style of dress and the current state of his career. Unlike Darius, Georgia likes to see the possibilities in people. Darius was doing other things in the late eighties and early nineties, and he's never exactly been on top of the rock charts, so it was understandable that he was less familiar with Paegan's work, especially given the premium he places on currency. By which I mean both cheddar and being ahead of trends and kind of, you know, in your face.

Paegan did look kind of offended that this hip-hop cliché had judged him and found him wanting, but before he could say anything or do something stupid, Georgia intervened. Without missing a beat, she countered, "And yet he has more platinum records than you." Darius' jaw tightened. Georgia smiled. "He's my new act, and I see great things ahead for him," She said cheerfully, patting Paegan on the shoulder. Paegan smiled genuinely this time, and Darius looked even more irritated. Liam was well aware of what a big fish like Paegan, if managed properly, meant to a fledgling label like G. Major, and he turned to whisper some things in Darius' ear. After hearing this, Darius looked downright pissed and kind of deflated a little.

Georgia, however, noticed none of this as she had made a point to turn to Paegan, grip tightening on his shoulder. I wasn't entirely sure if this was her way of putting on a show to make Darius jealous or if she was doing this to flatter Paegan's ego. She smiled gratefully at Paegan and held her hand out for a handshake. "Thanks, Paegan! It was great meeting with you today," She exclaimed enthusiastically. I thought at the time she was laying it on a bit thick, but who knows, maybe Georgia really did admire him?

Intriguingly, Paegan did not take the proffered hand, at least, not at first. He smirked at her. "I've never been much for handshakes, Georgia," He murmured, surprising her by taking her fingers and turning her hand up, tilting his head to it like a nod or kind of bow and pressing a kiss to her cheek before Georgia could so much as blink. He pulled away and smiled vaguely like a madman, and Georgia looked quite flustered, like she was trying to comprehend what had just happened. "So, tomorrow night then, eh? Seven good for you?" He asked calmly.

Georgia blinked and came to her senses, but Paegan enjoyed her confusion. Being often confused himself, it's only natural for him to admire it in others. Darius and Liam, however, did not admire this. They looked on with similarly amusing shades of jealousy reflected in their eyes. Georgia nodded hesitantly. "Yeah. That's sounds great," She said somewhat breathlessly, as if unprepared to speak. I looked on Georgia in surprise. That sounded suspiciously like a date. I was about to remark that to her, but...

Paegan smiled and started to walk away. He turned around midway, though, and he waved. "Counting the hours, love," He exclaimed cheerily, winking at her. His grin was kind of contagious. "If I knew pretty birds like you owned record labels here in Canada, I'd have come here much sooner. Could've saved me a couple messy divorces," Paegan continued flirtatiously. Georgia actually blushed this time, and I was about to mock her for it when Paegan threw something at me. "Jude, tell your persistent friend James I owe him one, all right?" He quipped, finally turning around and exiting. He looked damn cool doing it, too, and I couldn't help but notice Georgia's eyes plastered to his ass.

I waited for her to snap out of the daze and crossed my arms over my chest expectantly. When she noticed me, she got flustered all over again, realizing she'd been caught. "What?" She said defensively. She tried to regain her composure, but she couldn't, not with the way I was looking at her. "We're going over contracts over dinner," She insisted. I gave her the skeptical look she deserved, and Georgia jumped on the defensive. "What? We are!" Her voice rose in pitch, and I rolled my eyes at her.

Georgia was acting like a teenager with a crush, but I wasn't about to tell her that. Because that would be embarrassing coming from a teenager. "Uh huh, sure, G. I know that flirty smile when I see it, missus, and that sure sounded like a date to me," I teased goodnaturedly. Georgia gave me a look and then a look of horror washed over her face as she realized Darius and Liam were both still there.

I decided to keep pushing because, well, no one else was saying anything. "You're totally into Mr. Leather Pants, and don't even try to convince me otherwise because I know what crushing on someone slightly ridiculous is like, and I saw all the signs, girlfriend," I continued a bit gleefully. The look Georgia sent me expressed two sentiments: 1. She knew exactly who I was talking about and didn't really approve, and 2. She was totally crushing on Paegan! I smiled, vindicated.

At that point, someone else was probably going to say something, and someone did. That someone was not, however, Georgia, Darius, Liam, or myself. It was, you guessed it, Tom Quincy strutting over to join the conversation. "What's this all about?" He asked as if he had some kind of authority. His arm was casually slung across the back of Angie's waist, and it made me boil. When Darius laid eyes on Angie he went, well... being black, he can't really go white, but you get the picture, right? He blinked in sheer disbelief, but Tom somehow did not notice this.

I ignored Angie and noticed that Tommy happened to be wearing some smeared lipstick. It was the same shade as the color Angie was currently sporting. Classy. The bastard was probably making out with her in the janitor's closet! Being that I couldn't even pretend to respect him when he had glossy dark pink lipstick smeared on his lips, I decided to speak because clearly no one else was gonna. I sighed wearily, not quite drawing Tom's attention as I'd hoped, and then I just cut to the chase. "Tom..." I said pointedly, motioning to the area of my lips that corresponded to the lipstick smear on his.

Tom, of course, looked at me like I was a space alien. And didn't take me seriously, as per usual. Or else, even worse, he thought I was actually trying to come on to him in public. After he was with another girl and still had her all over him. I think not, Tommy Q, and I am offended that you think that I am actually that desperate. I do happen to have some self-respect left, you know! I cleared my throat, but Tom blithely ignored me, which is basically what he's been doing since we started working together again. "Um, Tom... You've got a little lipstick... right there," I said, motioning to the part of his face where the lipstick was.

Angie pinked, but Tom showed little reaction. He maintained that stupid professional mask of his and attempted to swipe the lipstick away with the back of his hand. But he went the wrong way, of course, and so the lipstick was still there. "Oh, for heaven's sake!" And though I was reluctant to move closer to Tom, it was _really_ bugging me, so I walked towards him, pretending like I didn't have any reservations about doing this and didn't think it was a colossally bad idea and didn't want to turn around already. As usual, I forced my feet ahead, so fast that I didn't have too much time to think about it.

I grabbed Tom's chin before he had time to protest and wiped the lipstick away with the back of my hand, rather than my fingers, which would've been even more inappropriately intimate. Satisfied, or, rather, at least pretending to be (since I hadn't been properly _satisfied _since before the break-up, unfortunately), I wiped the back of my hands on my jeans and shot away from him like a sunbeam, fully aware that everyone's eyes were on me. Oddly, in my shame, my eyes happened to catch Angie's.

Her eyes narrowed and flickered with knowledge, and I felt like she saw me and knew everything about our history almost instantaneously. Maybe she recognized herself in me the way others always obviously had but had never mentioned to me. There was a brief flash of hot jealousy in those eyes, but that faded as soon as she properly sized me up from head to toe. Straight, long bright red hair, bright blue eyes, acne break-out and freckles on my face, ripped jeans with writing on them, guitar pick necklace, old t-shirt hanging off one shoulder, beat-up Converse on my feet, shorter and in every way less glamorous than her.

All of this happened in the matter of three very awkward seconds wherein I found myself unable to look away (plus it was so much easier and better to look at her than it would've been to look at Tommy). Nonetheless, it was kind of interesting to see just who Angie thought I was.

It registered then that her eyes were a clear, bright bottle green, lighter than Travis' and more pure, bouncy and kind of playful and flirtatious, pure green, not bluish like Sadie's. Travis' eyes are more mottled, cloudier, stormier, darker, sunken like sinkholes, colder, hungrier, more variable, taunting, smirking, glittering, more piercing, sinister, feverish, radioactive even, but always kind of intensely colored. His eyes are kind of greyish-green with kind of blue accents and then gold flecks, and they're always changing colors on you.

I tore my eyes away from Angie's and avoided looking at Tom. Liam was staring at me with open disapproval, whereas Darius was shaking his head and trying not to smile, and Georgia rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. Tom, of course, had the instinctive pissed-off what-the-hell look of death on his face. I studiously avoided looking at him and tried to forget how his lips had felt that white-hot all-too-brief second I touched him. "What? He's like a two-year-old, can't clean-up after himself!" I muttered shortly.

Angie shot Tom a meaningful look that didn't escape me, and Tom returned her questioning stare with that closed-off expression of his that warns about going any further, effectively brushing her off. Angie cleared her throat and looked at Georgia, smiling. Her smile did, however, look a bit forced, so I perked up a little because I'd gotten to her, just a little bit. I said I couldn't hate her, but I never said I had to like her. "Georgia, um, I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting some of these people," She said, motioning to me. That was the politest way she could put it, I suppose.

Georgia's eyes widened, and she walked over to us. "Oh, yes, you're completely right. I forgot to introduce you!" Georgia exclaimed in a rush. She looked to me first, and I gave her a steely look in return. Actually, it may have been more of a glower, given that I knew her role in arranging this little meeting. Realistically I knew that both Tommy and Angie needed this because Angie needed to discover and remember her past and find out who she was, and Tommy, well, he never got that closure, and Angie kind of broke him too, and maybe he needed her to feel whole again. But that didn't mean I liked it. "Well, I think you were in the lobby when I introduced Angie..." I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest, and a briefly tight look passed over her face. She seemed to silently ask whether or not I wanted to introduce myself, but I ignored the question in her eyes. "Angie, this is Jude Harrison... Jude, this is Angie Jones."

For a moment it occurred to me that Tommy and Angie's last names put together equaled Quincy Jones, that famous producer, which would be a hilarious cosmic pun if my life was dictated by a bunch of writers, but as it is not, it's merely a strange coincidence. Given Angie's non-plussed look, she clearly hadn't heard of me, and before she could assume that I was an intern or back-up singer, I sought to clarify. "I'm working on my sophomore release. It's a double album," I told her proudly. I figured that if I said I was a seventeen-year-old who'd won a record contact on a reality TV show, she might get the wrong kind of idea about me. I held out a hand for her to shake. "It's nice to meet you, Angie," I told her as she shook my hand. Her grip was strong, but mine was stronger. My eyes slid over to Tommy's, and I forced my smile to be just a little bit brighter. "Any friend of Tommy's is a friend of mine."

She looked automatically suspicious at that (probably because I'm a teenage girl, and Angie, of all people, knows just how Tom's friendships with teenage girls tend to work out), but I didn't particularly care. Her smile got just a bit more tense. "Lovely to meet you, Jude. I just know we'll be great friends... I'm sure I'll have lots of fun working with you," She said just a bit too brightly. I blinked, somewhat confused. I knew we were sharing a producer. I didn't know that meant we'd be working together. I shot Tommy a perplexed look, and Angie frowned at him. "What, Tommy, you didn't tell her?" I think she might've taken just a little bit of pleasure in my continued bamboozlement. She smiled at me sweetly and said, "It's been a while since I've been in the studio, so Tommy said I could sit in on your session and do some back-up vocals."

If looks could kill, I would've assassinated Tom on the spot. I turned to him in faint disbelief. "Quincy, _what_ have I said about you not consulting me about my music?" I interjected rather irritably. Tom was, as per usual, unaffected. He just said that Angie was a professional, and he didn't think that I would mind.

This prompted Angie to ask innocently, "You don't have a problem with it, do you?" I gritted my teeth, glancing sharply at Quincy, and said no, of course not. Because why on Earth would I have a problem with my ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend singing back-up vocals for _my_ song? When no one consulted me. It's not rude or inappropriate or worthy of eye-gouging AT ALL.

I forced a smile and said coolly, briskly sashaying to the studio, "Well, I think we've wasted enough time here, Tom. We're way behind on the song. Let's get a move-on already. I don't have all day to sit around and record." Truthfully, I didn't have much else to do that day, except homework and maybe something with my family and undoubtedly calling Travis, but it had become evident that interacting with Tom in the studio was going to be _painful_. And, with his old flame there, it was going to be ten times more uncomfortable than I had previously anticipated. I couldn't even pretend to enjoy being in his presence.

I walked super fast so they'd have to run a little to catch up with me and made a beeline straight for the recording booth. As I entered the enclosed, suddenly claustrophobic glass room, I tried not to think of Tom and Angie's reunion, which had happened more or less where I was standing. I felt ill at ease in the room for the first time in a while because I could smell Tommy here, and I could smell the cloying fruity-tang of Angie's perfume, an otherwise pretty smell that currently made me feel nauseous.

By that point, I really just wanted to sing the damn song and get it all over with before I was forced to witness some more Tommy/Angie cuteness. Vomit. And not just vomit because PDA disgusts me, but vomit out of jealousy and anger and all those fun little emotions! Gotta love envy, right? So I was just a tad impatient when Tom wandered in a little later than I liked, holding her damn hand, okay? I think he was probably telling her crap about me, probably whatever he thought she'd believe, or that I don't really bite or not to worry or some garbage like that, and the thought makes me just a little bit unhinged.

And, yes, I am a girl, and a teenage one at that, and yes, I am entitled to have moodswings. And FURY is a hell of a lot better than sitting in a corner crying about it. I snapped my fingers loudly in the microphone to distract him from staring into her eyes. When that didn't work, I raised my voice. "Yo, Producer Man, I'd like to finish this song within the next century. I'm not asking for much, here. Just less than four minutes of your attention so I can nail this song and go home. Now, could you start the music so I can get this done already?" I said rather snappily, making my frustration known.

Well, at least it did the trick. Tom turned to look at me, and there was that vaguely irritated look I'd come to expect from him lately. The one that clearly said I was acting immature about this. But, given him and the way he acted recently, I think I have the right, you know? He didn't roll his eyes, but he leaned into his mike and said, feigning a proper aloofness and unnecessary condescension, "Slow your roll, kid, and stop acting like a petulant child. We both know you won't nail it in the first take, and I think you can wait five seconds for me to press the button."

I was not above rolling my eyes at him, but what he said offended me. He'd called me a kid and said I was acting like a child, and that was just an unnecessary reinforcement of a fact I felt would dog me my entire life. Because me being technically a child was the whole issue, but, damn it, I am **not** a child. And who is he to talk, anyway? He likes 'em young. Oh, and I wanted to say something good, something _real_ good to shut him up in front of Angie, but I knew I couldn't. "I'm not a _child_, Tom, and I think we both know that, don't we? I'm a fun-sized adult," I corrected primly, too calmly. I think Angie actually laughed at that, but Tom remained stony-faced and looked at her funny for laughing.

It had also irritated me that he had so very little confidence in me as a performer, harkening back to those awful sessions that lasted for hours that were still so fresh in my memory, so I sought to rectify that also. "And I can and _will _nail it in the first take if that's what I want to do, Quincy. And that's what I want to do. So press the damn button before I fire your ass and do it myself," I rejoined perhaps too testily. Angie looked rather surprised (and impressed) at the outburst, whereas Tom just looked pissed off. Probably at getting his ass handed to him in front of Angie. He just scoffed like he wasn't bothered, but I could tell I'd gotten under his skin a little.

He made a hand gesture, shrugging, and said, "If that's the way you want it", before pressing the button. I nodded and looked down, waiting for my cue to sing. I took a deep breath, careful not to look at him, and then I looked up and started. "_If I don't __**cry**__, do you think I don't __**feel**__? If I look away... It doesn't mean I don't __**see**__..._" By this point, I'd somehow wound up looking at him, looking him straight in the eyes, and it scared me. The vacancy of his expression also worried me, so I looked down, despite myself, and clutched my headphones with white knuckles. "_And just because I __**want**__ someone when I'm alone... Doesn't mean I'm helpless, that I _can't_ stand on my __**own**__!_" I cried, throwing all of myself into the verse.

At that precise moment, Travis popped into my mind rather shamefully.

I opened my eyes, which had inadvertently closed themselves for a brief moment, to see Tom lean over and steal a kiss from Angie. "_How far... can we go before we __**break**__?_" I sang, voice wavering just a little more than necessary, because, God, there was the sudden lump in my throat, that crying feeling come over me again. That line had been written before, before a lot of this mess, and kind of thrown in, but what it meant in that moment was how far can _you_ push **me** before _I_ break? Because there's only so much I can take. And, yes, I hate that that rhymes. "_How long can I __**wait**__?_" I sang a little more plaintively than the upbeat nature of the song called for.

I'm so sick of waiting. Even then, in that very moment, I said it with my eyes on the two of them, watching the satisfied looks in their eyes as Tommy pulled away. And... why am I the one who has to wait? Why can't Tommy wait? He said I was worth the jail time once, that I was worth waiting for, but those were just words, weren't they? Why does he always go back on his word? I'm so... tired of doing this, of going through the same thing over and over again, like a naughty child who hasn't learned her lesson. "_How strong do you think I am? How __**much**__ can I take of this?_" I continued wearily but richly, I hoped.

Tom stroked Angie's knuckles with the back of his hand, smiling lazily at her and paying no attention to me. That hurt, just a little bit. "_Am I a rock or a rose or a fist... Or the breath at the end of a kiss?_" Witness me attempting to be philosophical, struggling between being hard and immovable, stubborn and heavy, and being soft and romantic and pretty or else tough and painful and angry, giving it back just as hard as I got it... or something else entirely, brief, uncertain, relieved, breathless, that moment where you can't help but wonder what's next. "_How _deep_ do you wanna go?_" I questioned, wanting an answer.

"_'Cause I'll go there if I can_," I insisted in vain, watching him lean in and start to whisper sweet nothings to Angie, who giggled. He kissed her neck and took his time doing it, and she flushed and tried to push him away, but I _knew_ she secretly enjoyed it. I remembered the feeling of _those_ lips sucking on my neck and wanted to cry. Because I missed the feeling. The marks he'd given me had almost faded away, except for a stubborn, smarting one, the one directly over my heart, between my breasts. I pressed my finger to it through my clothes and relished the faint jolt of pain that reminded me that I was alive and hadn't imagined it. Hadn't made it up. "_You make it harder than it has to be_," I warbled, shaking my head slowly.

I could do nothing but watch as he turned his chair towards her and reached out to her, pulling her into his lap. I heard him laugh, and something inside of me broke like a pane of glass. She blocked a lot of him from my sight, sitting on her knees so she was effectively straddling him, but I still had too good of a profile view. His hands slid up her fortunately clothed thighs, and Angie just smiled, placing her hands on top of his and squeezing them reassuringly. "_How __**str-ong**__, how strong do you think I am? Ooh ooh ohh..._" I sang a bit fainter than intended. My voice almost broke, actually.

"_It's so hard to tell what's in your heart_," I began hesitantly, forced to watch the two of them. Tommy tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear slowly. Angie hadn't stopped smiling, but I had long ago. Because, well, I wondered if I'd ever been in his heart in the first place, and I wondered why it was so easy for him to just erase it. Like ripping a page out of a notebook or something. "_What's in your heart?_" I questioned earnestly, leaning in a second later for the backing vocal. My voice was pure and honest.

What I really meant, though, was _who's_ in your heart? I fought the urge to sigh and forced myself to keep singing. The backing music indicated this was supposed to be a dreamy, cheery sort of song, a happy love song, but that didn't mesh at all with the lyrics. It was very catchy and intended to be my first single off the second album of my double release. That album's the one that's about well, the consequences of being famous. The feeling of being on the road, homesickness, the fact that it's not all wonderful all the time, that feeling of losing yourself and so, so many other things, like the right to a normal life, the profound dissatisfaction with playing a role, of never being able to show your feelings, the phoniness and falseness of it all, how it's overrated, of having to go and make your own way, and even how one person can make it all better.

I guess I thought it was a good idea when I wrote it 'cause I'd had the tune in my head for a long time, so I kind of combined bits and pieces, and when I wrote a lot of the song, well, I wasn't as... frustrated... as I am now. I mean, I was frustrated because Tom was driving me crazy, but he wasn't making out with his old flame, thus making me question the entirety of our relationship. And then, you know, there was that whole break-up thing...

I vowed silently to talk to Tom about changing up the music afterwards or else do it on my own if he didn't agree. "_What you keep to yourself... is __**tearing**__ me apart... is tearing me apart_," I continued. What didn't Tom keep to himself? Only every last damn feeling the man ever had! And don't you think I didn't mean every tortured word. Tom had turned away from Angie a little, but the smile that was still on his lips gave him away. Every sentence confirmed it. The music was just too light for a song like this. "_And should I be __**afraid**__ to dream about you... to dream about you?_" I asked in a voice that was more pained than dreamy. Lately I was afraid to dream about him, because every dream he starred in was just another nightmare in disguise. _"And _if_ you feel the same... whatcha gonna do?_"

Nothing, that's what he'd do. And he obviously did not feel the same. "_How far can we go before we break?_

_How long can I wait?_" I continued, almost pleading. I wanted desperately for him to notice me, even in this sudden fit of desperation. But he had his head buried in Angieland. And, okay, I realize he hasn't seen her in like, five years or whatever, but he could stop mooning over her for _two_ seconds. I am not being a baby about this. Really... Unbelievably, just when I thought it couldn't get worse, one of those two morons turned the microphone on his side so I could hear everything they were saying. Tom leaned in and was nuzzling Angie's face, which is this cute thing he does a lot, only it's not cute when he's doing it with some other bitch.

"I can't believe I lasted this long without you," Tommy murmured, practically against the skin of her neck, eyelids fluttering. His hands skimmed up her sides and made me uncomfortable enough to look away. But I could still hear them, and I couldn't really look away without compromising the recording. Angie giggled, probably because his lips tickled her skin. "I don't know how I did it," He said, and honestly, it kind of made me blister inside because it reminded me a lot of things he said to me. Hadn't he said the exact same thing to me that time we'd almost... before his mom interrupted and I felt like, you know, for **once** in my brief, storied life, that we were actually on the same page?!

"I couldn't record without you," He told her softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He looked her deep in the eyes, hands framing her face lovingly. "I tried, and I just sat there, and everywhere I looked in that studio, all I saw was you... and I just _couldn't_ do it anymore... so I left," He continued absently, displaying that all-too-rare vulnerability that was practically alien to me. Her eyes were wet and full, moved by his words. She threw her arms around his neck and muttered something indistinct into his neck that, frankly, I was glad I couldn't hear.

While I assumed he was talking about Boyz Attack! (because otherwise he'd be a liar), I bristled a bit to hear how he dismissed all of those other issues, like me and Darius killing "Frozen", which made a lot more sense now, obviously affected also by the loss of Angie (and was _that_ why Tommy had gotten so upset when I'd rewritten it?! Because I was attempting to change something very personal and simultaneously dredging up bad memories?), and Tommy's profound dissatisfaction. It was, to me, an oversimplification and an insult.

But I soldiered on, attempting to ignore them and rise above it. I poured all the hurt and anger into my words. "_How __**strong**__ do you think I am? How much can I take of __**this**__?_" Angie pulled back, smiling merrily. The light was in her eyes, too, the very same light that had been missing in mine since Tom dumped me. She wound her arms around his neck, shifting forward enough to make him look pleasantly uncomfortable. He grunted a little, mouth slightly parted, and pulled her closer, placing his hands on her lower back. It was immediately, painfully clear to me (and all of us, I should add) that Tom was aroused. It was getting awkward to look at them because I was now afraid that they would start screwing, and I'd get a front-row seat.

And I've already seen one porno with Tommy in it. I don't want to see the live version, thanks. I closed my eyes and sang my heart out. As I said "rock", I thought about throwing rocks at the two of them, and it was a happy thought. "_Am I a __**rock**__ or a rose or a fist? Or the __**breath**__ at the end of a kiss?_" At that precise moment, I heard the unmistakable sound of a wet kiss, lips separating in that cutesy pucker noise that now made me sick with jealousy and disgust. I persisted, oversinging perhaps a little bit, but just needing to get my mind off of it. "_How __**deep**__ do you wanna go?"_

Okay, I'll admit it. I winced at that one because I knew just how deep he wanted to go... into Angie. "_'Cause I'll __**go**__ there if I can..._" Not really helping myself out here. I tried to force myself to concentrate, but it didn't really work 'cause I kept imagining what Tom and Angie were doing when I had my eyes closed. "_You make it __**harder**__ than it has to be... How __**strong**__, how strong do you think I am? Ooh_," I drawled, cringing as I realized my word choice. Great. I'm providing them with a song to have sex to.

My eyes flew open of their own accord, unable to bear the darkness and constant wondering anymore. Just in time to see Angie pull away from Tommy, looking surprised. "Oh my God. How did I forget this? You're... _ah_-_mazing_," Angie murmured, looking a little drunk on his love. Tom merely smirked in response, and I shut my eyes because I knew the things he could do with those hands, and I didn't need to see him to know what he was doing. Actually, Tom was probably also whispering the no doubt wonderfully, terribly obscene things he was going to do to her when he took her back to his place tonight. The mere thought made me queasy, and it reminded me painfully of why I hadn't eaten that terrible week.

Nonetheless, I took a breath and leapt into the bridge. "_If I __**move**__ in any closer..._" A flash of Angie and Tommy kissing swarmed in my head, large and almost pornographic, and then it was like a still of that moment before a kiss. "_If you let __**go**__, and give yourself away.._." I remembered the brief period when Tommy had done just that with me, and I allowed myself a little smile. But how _much_ of himself had he ever given away, this man who didn't betray emotions or give so easily of himself? My eyes opened then because I didn't have pennies to weigh them down, and I sang, "_And if we __**let**__ this happen to us, everything will __**change**__!_"

And, admittedly, I opened my eyes because I wanted to prove a point to him. Because we had let it happen, and I didn't want him to keep letting what awful thing it was that was happening with us persist until it became something worse, something irreversible, a malignant tumor on my life. Everything had changed, but there was only so much change I wanted. Tom was too busy catching up with Angie to notice or care, so I ran through the last two choruses, trying to sing them as if I _wasn't _dying or as if this was the absolute _last_ place in the world I wanted to be at that precise moment, and it helped to pour all of my feelings into those words that my careless producer couldn't even pay attention to.

As awful as my experience recording "I Just Wanted Your Love" with him was, it was definitely better than this. In some respects, I'd say, because I knew Tommy was miserable too, and I could hate him for being such an ass. And I knew he still cared, maybe, at least that he still _noticed_ me! And there wasn't anyone else for him then. And, as painful as it was, I **made** Tom listen to me then. I kept singing that song, and he kept hearing every_ last_ word of it. He heard and knew what I was saying, and he got the message... and he obviously couldn't pretend that nothing had ever happened. And all of that drove him a little effing crazy too. But now, it's like I wasn't even there.

Angie's presence had silenced me in more ways than I knew, much more effectively than Tom ever had. Just like Tom had wanted all along. He didn't want to keep thinking about me or keep hearing about me. He didn't want to go over what he did wrong or acknowledge his role in everything. Guess I can't really blame him for not wanting to listen to Debbie Downer, but it _hurts_, you know, him ignoring me. He barely even acknowledges my existence now unless someone else forces him to.

It seemed interminable, that last minute or so, but I made it through, and the music died out. And I opened my eyes again, and Tom was still recording! He hadn't even noticed that the music had died out, despite the fact that his headphones were around his neck, definitely within hearing range. And he leaned forward and captured Angie's lips at that precise moment, and then they were like devouring each other, and his hands were going everywhere, and I guess something inside of me just snapped. Next thing I knew, I was throwing off my headphones and then I was rushing towards the glass of the window, slapping it loudly with my palms. They both jumped and kind of looked up, which resulted in the comical sight of Angie falling off of Tom's lap, and Tom barely rescuing himself from falling backwards by grabbing the soundboard.

Tom looked pissed, like he was going to say something to me, but he was a bit too busy regaining his balance and helping Angie, so I got free range to say whatever the hell I wanted. "I'M DONE!" I yelled. I rolled my eyes at him. "Not that you could tell because you were too busy making out with Angie to notice. I did my part, and I'm not singing them again, waiting for you to pay attention. I am _outta_ here!" I continued stubbornly, stalking over to the door and throwing it open.

In a flash, Tom was up off of his seat, rushing to block me from leaving. Clearly he didn't hear that little speech of mine. Angie looked mostly confused and flushed, maybe even a little embarrassed. She doesn't quite understand the complex dynamics at work here. "You're not going anywhere, Jude. You are going to stay here and finish this song," He attempted to insist. I rolled my eyes at him, crossing my arms over my chest, but didn't push. Not just yet, at least.

"**I** finished the song, Quincy. I put in my work here. _You_ did not. And we're going to change the background music to something a little more serious because THIS IS NOT A _HAPPY_ SONG!" I told him tersely, leaving no room for questions. It was a lot easier to be angry at him than it was to be sad about seeing him with Angie. The rage dulled the pain and jealousy. Clearly Tom didn't take that lightly, but why would he?

He shook his head, automatically assuming the worst because he's an egomaniac. "We are not changing the instrumentation. The music's great, and it's going to be your first single. It's too late. And you _are_ going to sing it again because you didn't do it right in one take," Tom persisted firmly, unwilling to back down. He took a step towards me, attempting to box me in. Bet he was hoping I'd take a step back into the room. I noticed then that his hands were on either side of the doorway, and I decided that it was time to make my move.

With all the fury in me, I brought my hand up and karate-chopped one of his arms lightning-fast. It crumpled a bit and definitely hurt him a little, so I pushed forward in the direction of the arm I'd neutralized. Travis showed me some moves the other day, and, well, what kind of black belt would my sister be if she didn't show me how to defend myself? "How would _you_ know, Tom? YOU WEREN'T EVEN LISTENING!" I screamed, getting in his face. I pulled out that card because it made him uncomfortable, and he stalled for a minute, unsure of what to do.

Then, before he could even respond, I pushed him hard in the chest and ducked under his arm, heading towards the door before he saw what was coming. He even recoiled a little bit as I did it, away from my touch, making it easier for me. On my way towards the door, I pressed the button to stop recording rather forcibly. However, despite my brilliant subterfuge, I made the mistake of thinking that I could beat Tom in any sort of physical competition, so, just as I made it to the door, Tom grabbed me around the waist and held me back from going. "You aren't going anywhere, girl," He said firmly, a bit smugly, actually, thinking he had me. I was interested for a brief second in what Angie might be thinking of all of this (quite scandalized, I imagine), but I was too preoccupied by other feelings to dwell on that.

Such as the fact that Tommy was _**touching**_ me again. My waist. For the first time in, what, almost two weeks? Even though there was no skin-on-skin contact, it still made my heart beat faster, and my head just a little less clear. I kind of felt like fainting, and I had to control these dueling urges to sigh girlishly and give in or the one to punch him in the nuts and run... And, even better than that, he'd called me girl, _and_ did it in front of Angie! The violent urge won out, apparently. I whipped my head around and said, sneering, "Just watch me, Quincy." And then I turned my body the other way around before he knew what to think, reared back and kicked him in the stomach twice, knocking him back enough for me to shove off what remained of his weakened grip and throw the door wide open to leave.

That might've slightly crossed a line, with the violence and embarrassing him in front of Angie, but I didn't really care. I walked briskly, trying not to run or look back so that it would be less obvious that I was fleeing from a probably furious Tom. It was one of those situations where having cherry red hair does not help. Tom found me when I passed the kitchen and attempted to corner me. I think he said something, and I don't quite remember what, but by that point, I just wanted him to leave me alone. And I kind of felt like I was Jerry all of a sudden (who Tommy is is kind of self-explanatory here, don't you think?). The good thing is that Jerry always wins. The bad thing is that that makes no sense. Tom's bigger and a natural predator and so I guess he's a dumb cat if he can't do his job and catch the damn mouse.

My response was throwing myself across the counter, ducking out of his grip, and giving him the finger, which infuriated Tom even more. I might've even told him to go do something obscene that rhymes with duck to himself, but I don't really remember, as I was in the heat of the moment... and, well, my flight and fight reflexes were taking over. I think he replied sarcastically, "You wish!" While storming after me, of course. I retorted breathlessly over my shoulder that I didn't because I would probably catch certain STDs that don't go away with treatment, such as Herpes, or, say, HIV. I said this very loudly, also, so the entire studio probably heard, and, in retrospect, I'm surprised no one tried to step in.

I, however, broke out into a run, weaved around the hallways and in and out of rooms and finally hid in the girl's bathroom. I locked the door for good measure and then looked for a way to escape, knowing Tom would eventually look for me in here. Probably here first, actually. And it was then that I noticed the window.

And, you know, I thought what the hell. I walked over to it, and it looked big enough for me to shimmy through. And it was certainly not the first time I'd ever exited via a window, and not even the first time I'd done that where Tommy was involved. And probably not the last time either. So I peered out the window to see if it was a viable means of escape, meaning I wouldn't die if I jumped out of it, and it passed that test, so I made quick work of the latches and, I'll admit, struggled a bit to pull the window up, but I managed. I put my head and torso through the window first, once I was sure that it wasn't going to fall on me. Then I grabbed the bar to the fire escape, the little banister thing, as I shimmied my hips and legs. I did it one leg at a time, and once I'd gotten the first leg through, I rose, like a pro, on one leg, and I pulled the other leg through, still clutching the banister.

Then I stood on both legs and started going down the stairs of the fire escape, quiet as can be but still kind of running. I didn't stop 'til I hit the ground, and then I took the back route because I knew Tommy would go to the main entrance first, not expecting me to go through the alleyway until I found a sidestreet and then came out between a fabric shop and a Chinese restaurant. Ironically, in front of me stood a small music shop, and I decided, somewhat stupidly, mind you, that it would be the best place to go for a little chat with Travis. So I walked inside and kind of ducked behind something, I think, just in case, and I dialed his number.

Surprisingly, Travis picked up the phone immediately. I would've thought that he, like most sane people, would be busy on a Saturday afternoon, but apparently not. He sounded happy to hear from me, judging by the tone of his voice. "Jude! To what do I owe the pleasure?" He exclaimed, practically oozing charm. The enthusiasm of his greeting indicated that Kate probably wasn't with him either, which got me to thinking... It sounded like he was smiling, but I couldn't enjoy it.

I didn't think to ask if I'd bothered him because I had bigger concerns at the moment. I might've ordinarily been affected by that voice of his, but today was another day entirely. I sighed, leaning against the wall. I tried to keep my voice down, lest some shopgirl find me and pester me at a key moment. "This isn't a social call, babe. What can you tell me about Angie Jones?" I said immediately.

Travis was silent, but I heard his sharp intake of breath over the line. When he finally spoke, a good thirty seconds later, his voice was a bit quiet, a bit like he'd had all the wind knocked out of him. "Not much," He said finally, honestly, sounding a couple years older. I could hear the sound of his breathing, how it had picked up a bit and how he was obviously unsettled by the mention of the woman.

"But you know the name," I persisted, clutching the phone tightly. "I mean, you reacted when I said it." I knew the chances of Travis knowing much of anything I could use were probably slim, but I had to ask. He'd obviously heard of her, and, well, maybe I wanted to know what this final authority on Tom's life had to say about her.

Travis inhaled deeply, and I tensed, preparing myself for something unpleasant. "Jude, I get that you want to know about Tommy, but some things you're really just better off not knowing," He said calmly, warning me. But he didn't really understand because damn it, when you love someone, you want to know everything. And I already knew the skeletons in his closet. Travis paused, probably biting on his lip. "And Angie, she's one ghost of his past you _don't_ want to dredge up, trust me..." He continued bluntly, a bit grimly. I didn't like how he was trying to protect me from the truth. I could picture him sitting at his kitchen table then, papers fanned out in front of him, red pen in hand, running his fingers through his hair and letting out a hissing breath. "How do you even know about her?"

I realized then that he still thought she was dead, and, therefore, that I had to correct that assumption. "Because she's here, and she's alive," I told him plainly. I think I heard him catch his breath. Either way, I was certain that, had I seen him in person, he probably would've paled, shaking his head.

"That's not possible. There's no way," He muttered, almost to himself, really. He believed as Tommy had.

However, at that point, I was just a little too irritated to deal with that kind of doubt, so I rolled my eyes at him. Realizing that he couldn't see me, I raised my voice significantly, throwing a hand on my hip. "_Excuse_ me, Travis, did you not hear me? She's as alive as you or me here. 'Cause I saw her, in the flesh. Brown hair, green eyes, has a pull over Tom like you wouldn't believe..." I elaborated, letting myself trail off. Travis said nothing, so I continued, "And I was kinda hoping you could shed a bit more insight 'cause I've already pumped Chaz and Kwest for all they know."

Travis let out a breath, probably sitting down. "I should've known," He muttered, likely a bit amused. I could just picture him rubbing his brow with one hand. "Found out a lot more than you ever wanted to know about Tommy, I imagine. Has it changed the way you look at him?" He said a moment later, letting out a little chuckle, despite the fact that the question was perfectly serious. I shrugged, beginning to think it over.

"Knowing he was in love with Angie and still is? Yeah," I answered bluntly. Travis made some weird kind of noise like he was choking, but I just kept talking because, well, I needed to ask this as quickly as possible so I could process it. "The other stuff not so much... You guys don't need to protect me from the truth about Tommy, you know. I can more than handle the ugliness of his life, believe me," I muttered casually.

I tried to think of what it was, in particular, that hurt so much about Angie. There were so many factors that it was hard to pinpoint one, but then it hit me. Like a shot to the arm. I inhaled a shaky breath and kind of wound up laughing nervously. "'Cause before it wasn't personal... It wasn't my fault because I thought he couldn't love anyone, but, no, it turns out Tom just can't love _me_!" I told him in a strained voice, feeling the traitorous tears start to form in the corners of my eyes. I am not gonna cry over this, damnit! I am not gonna cry over something I can't control, and, hell, even _I_ can't blame Tommy for this.

You can't control who you love, and I know that better than just about anyone. At this particular moment, Travis interrupted hurriedly. "Whoa, whoa, _whoa_! Slow your roll, Jude. Tom didn't love her," He interjected insistently. As much as I wanted to believe that, to believe him, I'm not effing stupid.

I shook my head sadly, despite myself. "You haven't _seen_ him with her. You don't know," I told him, sucking in a little breath to try and keep it together. Obviously I couldn't let Travis go on with that particular topic, so I said, mere seconds later, adopting a more demanding voice, "And again, what can you tell me about Angie? And you knowme, I'm **not** going to take no for an answer here, Teach." I steeled myself a little, trying to regain proper control over my emotions.

Had I been there with him, I would've had both of my hands on my hips and been looking him straight in the eyes. As I was not... Travis sighed, and I totally knew he was going to cave because I could hear the regret and tinges of frustration in his breath. "Look, Jude, Tom and I were _not_ close at that time. We were barely on speaking terms then, and a couple days after she disappeared, he showed up drunk and took liberties with my fiancée, ruined my wedding, and then beat the living daylights out of me. So we didn't exactly exchange stories and advice on the grieving process," He countered a bit tersely, a bit too quickly, in my opinion. This was news to me, actually, because I hadn't known that the whole blow-up with Travis happened after Angie.

I thought... Chaz and Kwest both said Tom had stayed away from other women... so, unless he was intending to self-sabotage and ruin Travis' life... it doesn't make sense. So the mystery thickens. I did not let myself be deterred by his little detours. "But you knew about Angie," I repeated stubbornly.

Travis groaned, probably running a hand through his hair yet again. "Yeah, I guess..." He puffed out, sounding mildly irritated. He made a noise of frustration. "Jeez, you're like a dog with a bone!" Nonetheless, I knew that his anger really meant that he was coming around, and that all I would have to do was say the right thing, remind him of what Tommy had done to me. If I'd managed to pull this info out of Kwest, damn it, I would pull it out of the person _least_ compelled to keep Tom's secrets!

I grinned proudly, glad Travis couldn't see, and then I adopted a more serious tone. "You don't understand what this is like for me, Travis. I need to know _everything_ that you know about her." My voice was half demand and half plea, healthily desperate.

Travis finally gave in, prefacing his words with a disclaimer. "Well, I know next to nothing, so I'm afraid I'm not going to be much help here, Jude." He said it in a very resigned way. But he kept me waiting, and I didn't like that.

Tapping my foot, I crossed my arms over my chest. Why does everyone think I can't handle this? I can handle it. Why do they clam up about her, even now when she's _alive_? "Travis, _please_..." I begged, thinking of ways to make it worth it to him. My tone, however, was desperate enough to cause him to finally cave.

He exhaled coolly, trying to maintain some difference, clearly not happy he had to tell me this. I found the attitude odd, since he'd been so happy when he first answered the phone. Is his attitude because he's jealous of Tom and mad that I'm obsessing over it or... is it Angie? "Fine," He said tensely. The disdain coated his words, heavier than honey. "Tom mentioned her in conversation a couple times, casually. Then her name kept cropping up more and more. He tried to tell me she was _special_, that she wasn't like the other girls," He said dismissively. I heard the scarcely-concealed mockery in his tone. As he kept speaking, he seemed to get progressively more irritated.

"Whatever, you know, I thought he had a crush. Big deal. Tom's affections aren't really known for their longevity," He scoffed. That one, I'll admit it stung, because my own relationship with the man had a duration of approximately twelve days, but Travis didn't notice. "I didn't take him seriously because, well, it was Tommy trying to tell me that crap... And I didn't really approve because for the love of God, the guy was **married**! And I told him that, told him he _owed_ it to himself and his wife and God to try and work things out, and he didn't speak to me for a week. I said he'd get in trouble, and that he ought to forget about this girl. Tom said he was taking her to my wedding, as his date, end of story, and then he hung up on me," He said crossly, allowing himself to get worked up, caught up in the old argument.

When Travis said that bit about the wedding, I was like, whoa. Because, as the both of us and Tom had probably realized, taking someone to your brother's wedding to meet all of your family... is pretty serious. But the judgment in Travis' voice allowed me to see that he really had once been a different person, a very moral, righteous type, not the doubting, morally gray, fractured shadow of a man I know. Moral or not, though, the way Travis talked about it made him sound like a heartless asshole. Tommy had confided in his brother, even then, and Travis just dismissed it and told him to forget about it, and as much as I hate Tom right now, I feel bad for him. And I know all that sounds really harsh, but it's true. "And what did you think of her?" I asked slowly, curious.

I sensed him shrug over the line, saw him standing, pacing, swinging his arms like a gorilla. "Not much, really," He said shortly. "She was just one of Tommy's many interchangeable playthings to me..." That one made me flinch, but I guess Travis didn't see how that could be offensive, and I remembered how much of an asshole he really could be when he wanted to, despite how great he could also be. It wasn't like Travis to be so... careless... with his words.

He paused for a long time, remembering. "I met her once, incidentally, before everything, back when she was just this back-up singer with the Boyz, but she didn't impress me or anything. She didn't seem like anything special to me. Pretty but kind of average-looking, not hot enough for Tom to really take an interest in. She was fragile yet tomboyish, kind of rough around the edges, and quiet and kind of folksy with real long, dark hair, and _way _too young, green around the ears. I looked at her and thought Tommy was going to stomp on her heart, and she'd have a nervous breakdown or something," He explained quite frankly. His description seemed to me to be rather... harsh. He paused, tempering his speech, suddenly kinder. "When Tom started talking about her, I didn't get what he saw in her... didn't understand what was so novel about her, and so, I kinda dismissed it."

It was a bit difficult not to get angry for Travis. I wondered how he couldn't see how self-absorbed he'd been at the time. "How did Tom feel about her?" I asked carefully, keeping my voice curiously neutral.

Travis scowled; I could sense it. I heard the phone move from one ear to the other. "I don't know **jack** about that, Jude. Kwest and Chaz were around him every day, and I was just a phone call every now and then, okay? Mostly me nagging him about his responsibilities for the wedding, okay? I was really into my own life at that particular moment, so I didn't think about him, let alone analyze his feelings," He said harshly. He took a breath, calming. So Travis did realize how he'd ignored Tommy when he needed him, and I knew why, I guess, and that he'd probably done it on purpose. "But yeah, in retrospect, him mentioning her and wanting to introduce her to the family and the way he kind of fell to pieces after what happened... I guess that means he had some pretty serious feelings for her," Travis acknowledged. And there it was, you know. Three voices, same answer.

I think I gasped, so Travis sought to elucidate further. "But no **way **he was in love with her..." He said in the next breath. He shook his head so hard I could practically hear it. "I never saw them together, but Tom _never_ acted the way with her that he does with you, okay?" He practically snapped. Once again I wondered what had him so set off about this, but I didn't believe him for a second. How could Travis judge what he hadn't seen? And if Tom wasn't in love with her, then it didn't quite explain Travis' reaction or irrational dislike.

I sighed, silently dissenting, and then I spoke. "Tom fell apart after she died. Literally **fell** apart, couldn't function. If that's _not_ love, I don't know what is," I pointed out perhaps a bit too passionately. Because, well, in my own way, I'd been there. Not so completely, not entirely off the deep edge, but most of the way there. And while I'm not like Tommy, not the type to obviously just _give up_ like that... and I have a family and friends who love me and a meaningful career... I'd be okay. If he died. Eventually. I mean, it wouldn't be pretty, and I'd be a wreck, but, you know, I'd get there, eventually. I know it's weird and morbid to think of that, but it's true. Because I'd know Tommy wouldn't want me to get all mopey and depressed about it or be self-destructive as a result because he'd say he wasn't worth it and didn't deserve it.

And, at this moment, I was rather inclined to agree. I mean, it would hurt like hell, and I can't even express how supremely it would suck not to see him every day or to know I would never have the chance again and that he really was _gone_ forever... it might make me a little bit crazy, and who would understand? Who would I grieve with? I might go insane bottling everything up inside, but I've got a good support network and... I'd probably _still_ think about him every day and feel like a part of me was missing because he'd take a piece of my heart with him in his cold, dead hands. The thing that would really kill me would be the lack of closure, the constant wondering about what _might've_ been, what it might've been like, those torturous memories and imaginations. That part would be worse.

"Doesn't mean he was in love with her," Travis retorted insistently. "Tom was falling apart before he even _met_ Angie, Jude, and he's always been self-centered and self-destructive. Angie just sped the whole process up," He interjected a bit callously, I thought. It was easy to forget when they were apart that they still had their issues. Clearly this was not a period of time Travis was really comfortable talking about. I wanted to protest, but Travis spoke before I could.

"Girl, this isn't just about Angie," He said knowingly, pausing for a moment. "So, do you want to tell me what's _really_ on your mind?" I rolled my eyes and kind of wanted to smack him, frankly. It was not a good day for me. Tommy is obviously what's on my mind here. But of course I can't tell Travis that even though it's ridiculously obvious. And I really, well, all I'd really wanted to know was about Angie, so I was kind of offended.

I faltered briefly for something to say, and damn that Travis, because then I opened up my mouth and blurted out an extremely stupid question. "Travis... When a guy tells a girl she's poison, what does it mean?" I clapped my hand over my mouth afterwards, unable to believe I'd just voiced that thought that was best left off silent, still inside my head. But, _really_, it had been driving me effing crazy for weeks.

Travis was silent for a moment, surprised, probably. "You talking about Tommy?" He questioned immediately. His voice strained to be casual, but there was still something unpleasant in his tone that left me feeling sort of unsettled.

I closed my eyes, unable to take it back without letting Travis know that this was a particularly touchy subject, particularly sensitive. I was also unable to tell him no without it being completely obvious I was lying. I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed a little. I settled for a vague answer. "Maybe, maybe not."

That didn't fool Travis, though. He knew I must be talking about Tom, because, well, who _else_ would call me poison? Speed? Jamie? Himself? Well, obviously Travis knew he didn't do it, but using a word like poison is neither Jamie nor Speed's thing. Travis' reply was measured but filled with a quiet anger. "It means that he's insecure, and that he's trying to lay the blame on you when he knows he's in the wrong... It also means you've completely turned his way of life upside-down," He explained.

Naturally, I rolled my eyes at him because, well... "Travis... that's _crap._ I want to know..." I paused here, and my breath kind of hitched a little, and I think that gave me away. Nonetheless, I forced myself to go on and finish the sentence, clearing my throat awkwardly. "Does it mean that I'm ruining his life?' I stopped there for a moment and then plowed on, having found the words. "And I want the truth. Don't try to spare my feelings here," I told him bluntly.

Travis sighed. "Wouldn't dream of it, babe," He muttered sarcastically. I waited patiently (okay, so, for like, two seconds, but I'm kind of growing sick of this whole waiting thing here!) for him to elaborate, but he was stalling. When nothing came out of him, I started to get a bit agitated. Travis, however, sensed my growing irritation and took a deep, calming breath. "Okay," He said, "Pretend I'm Tommy." I blinked in disbelief. He had never said that to me before, ever, and I sensed that the words didn't come out easy. "We'll both pretend for a minute, okay?" Travis continued encouragingly, sounding a little strained. "This is what he's thinking," He said quietly.

And then, brilliant actor that he is, he started to get into character. "Poison..." I flinched at the word. "Toxic, lethal, deadly. Kills you." I sucked in a breath, listening to him brainstorm. "You've got me intoxicated. I'm _addicted_, and I can't quit you. You drive me _crazy_, make me lose my mind! What I feel for you, it makes me feel like I'm on top of the world... And my thoughts keep circling back to you. I can't stop thinking about you, can barely control myself. You make me want to give in to my baser desires. When I'm around you, I can't **breathe**! And what you say, it _hurts_ me... You're the only one who can do that to me. I know what you're doing to me, but I can't stop because I'm hooked. It doesn't matter what you do to me because I just keep coming back for more. I'm a junkie. I can't get enough of you. You're a part of me now, and I've given you this power to kill me. I can't fight you off or scare you away because I don't really want to. You're stronger than I am, and you overpower me."

His intonation was practically pitch-perfect, exactly like Tommy's voice. Like poetry, a heartsong. It was powerful stuff, heady even, so much so that it made me breathless. I closed my eyes for a minute and let myself pretend it was Tommy saying all those things. Allowed myself to eat it up, this version of Tommy who said what he was really thinking and didn't confuse me. For a moment afterward, I didn't think about how I was feeling, still absorbing those words. But when I realized what he'd said, it laid a lot of responsibility on me, things I was uncomfortable with being responsible for. And though Tommy had as much as said some alternate versions of the things he'd just said, it wasn't quite the same.

"Jude?" Travis asked probingly. "Are you still there?" My eyes opened immediately, of course, and I noticed that this random chick was staring at me. Now, whether this is because I am Jude Harrison, pop-rockstar extraordinaire or because I'm hiding in a corner talking on the phone and not saying anything with my eyes closed, I do not know... but you can damn as well bet I was slightly embarrassed. Or highly. I smiled awkwardly at the girl and attempted to answer Travis with her eyes on me.

The girl in question looked about my age, but I suppose she could've worked there. She had dark hair and wore even more eyeliner than me. Like, the amount that gets you called a goth. "Yeah, Tr-" I stopped short here, remembering my audience, and amended the statement. "Yeah, babe, I'm still here... That was just, um... a lot to hear. A bit much. And I doubt I'll ever hear it from the real deal, you know? If it's even true," I yammered, more than a little unnerved by everything. I felt something shift, like I'd offended Travis, and I wanted to undo the unintentional insult. "I mean, not that it's not um, great to hear it from you, erm... especially if that's the way you feel and all, but... Well, the whole thing just kind of sucks, and I feel like I'm just making this all worse, aren't I?"

Travis chuckled but not quite with mirth. "Yes, you kind of are." He sighed, pausing for a while before expounding his statement. "Jude, just because I _get_ where Tommy's coming from doesn't mean I feel the same. He's my brother. He's a guy. I grew up with him. I know him. I know how he thinks, how his brain works, and I guess I kind of understand what he feels... but I'm not him, and I _don't_ really think you're poison," He informed me bluntly. It was sweet of him to say but still really confusing.

"Um, thanks, I guess?" I muttered hesitantly. Travis understands so much that he must at least, on some level, see Tommy's point. Even if he doesn't agree, on some level, he must feel the same.

Travis continued without acknowledging my statement, as he is wont to do. "For one thing, I can express my emotions way better than he did. I don't confuse people, okay?" Smug much?

That made me roll my eyes because it was really crap. I let out a cry of outrage, which made the girl who was staring at me give me an even stranger look. "My **ass**! Do you have _any_ idea how long I wasted trying to figure out why you supposedly hated me? You are one of the most confusing people I have _ever_ met, Mister, and saying you're not is just a load of crap! You go out of your _**way**_ to be deliberately misunderstood!" I ejaculated pointedly. I could've easily gone on, but Travis interrupted with an impatient sigh.

His voice was quiet and calm and cut straight to the point. "My point, dear, is that when I say something, I'm doing it for a reason. It's not an accident. I choose my words carefully... If I want to mislead you, I do. But, generally, I tell people how I feel. I only conceal the truth when it's in my interest," He explained smoothly in a practiced drawl. I hated the way he's just able to explain things like that and make complex things so simple. How he always has an explanation for everything. But, unlike Tommy, you know, at least Travis talks and tells you things, even if you can't always trust them.

I sighed, knowing he was right but not really wanting to admit it. "So I guess we aren't going to talk about how you really feel, then?" I mumbled, biting my lip anxiously. Travis let out a whoosh of breath, as if this had completely taken him off-guard. But I was like, what, _really_?! It's not like I haven't noticed how weird he's been this entire conversation.

"Wow... You don't pull any punches, do ya, Harrison? You know, I keep forgetting that all that dealing with music execs and my brother has basically eroded your patience and tact and made you a master at cutting through BS to get to the truth," He told me, faintly amused. I rolled my eyes at him, not amused, because, with the exception of today, I am an extraordinarily patient person. And I do have tact. I'm just very blunt about some things because, well, it serves me to call people out for the stuff they do. Keeps them accountable.

I faked a laugh and waited impatiently for Travis to answer, ignoring the shopgirl's scary looks. "Look, you might not have known me when you met me-" I realized rather unfortunately that I'd just more or less quoted myself, and not just one of my songs, but "I Just Wanted Your Love", which I'm not even supposed to think about until my next album... And that gave me a pang, of course. "-But you know me now. What you see is what you get, babe... And I **know **something's up with you, so don't try to pretend that you're not upset about something. 'Cause I know better, and you acting like I don't is just insulting my intelligence. You might be the genius here, but, I assure you, I am _not _a moron, thank you," I continued stubbornly, making it clear that I expected some sort of answer with a fair amount of alacrity.

Travis sighed. "Dear God, woman, where did you get that ability to drag information out of people?" He muttered somewhat irritably, yet also in awe. I just snorted and told him lots and lots of practice. Travis sighed again, and I started to think that, well, great, this was about Kate or maybe even Joan, and I know this thing is supposed to work both ways, but what the hell do I know about adult relationships such as engagements and... well, Joan ever possibly coming around, which I don't think she will.

Travis took a deep breath and then kind of jumped in. "Look, I'm not Tommy, and I know we both know that..." He trailed off, pausing for just a second. That was enough to show me he was hesitant about telling me the next part. "And, you know, maybe I'm not as okay with this whole arrangement where you talk about him and I comfort you as I like to pretend..." I wanted to say something to that, but Travis plowed on. "And I don't want to _be_ Tommy for you, and I don't want to be jealous because I know he broke your heart, and he's an important part of your life... has been since before I met you... but I... I can't help it, kind of," Travis confessed, taking me aback by the vulnerability he was admitting to me.

He paused for a long moment, and I started to think that he wasn't going to go on. Should've known Travis never resists an opportunity to chat it up. "I guess that, well, I get how he could feel about you in theory but not in practice..." Travis inhaled sharply, and I could practically hear the breathless smile forming on his face. "Because, Jude, honestly, you've changed my life. You listen to me, and you hold me accountable... And, after all the horrible things I've said and done to you, you've found it in that big heart of yours to forgive me and given me the second chance that I didn't think I deserved. And you've made me a better person, a better man for it, as hard as that is, I'm sure, for you to believe. And I'm always gonna owe you for saving my ass and pulling me out of this in a way Tommy really can't understand," He told me softly, voice full of unspoken respect, gratitude, and admiration.

I silently disagreed with that last statement, but then again, Travis didn't know that Tommy and I had first met during his downward spiral either. And what he misses here is that half of actually changing is _wanting_ to change. But, then again, you can want to change more than anything and by not ever doing anything about it, be torn for a long period of time, so I guess you do need that outside force to make you. I mean, what was it he said when they were fighting? You're just the catalyst, Jude. That's all I am, really. I was really touched, though, by what he said, and scared all at the same time. Because he sounded too much like Tommy, and it kind of recalled that Tommy of dreams who'd proposed to me.

And that Tommy might as well be dead to me now.

Then his voice changed, and he sounded a bit more... down. "And, as much as it _kills_ me to give you this advice and tell you these things about Tommy, and as twisted as it is that we've bonded over him basically dropping you from his life-" I won't pretend that one didn't hurt like a disembowelment. But, yeah, it was kind of twisted that Tommy dumping me brought us closer, rather than shared interests. "It stings just as much when you dismiss what I say. Because I'm not saying it to make you feel better. I'm saying it because it's true, and because I know how Tommy must feel because... I know how _I_ feel about you. And, forgive me here, Jude, but I fail to see how a guy like Tommy _couldn't_ love you."

The tears welled up in my eyes because, damn it, I for sure as hell **could**. And what he said, about him, it kind of broke my heart and then all these confusing new thoughts flitted into my head and I was like... what? Because Travis was trying to turn everything all upside-down all over again, as if he hasn't done that enough, much less when I still haven't recovered from the last upheaval. Did... did what he was saying mean that he wasn't okay with our little agreement anymore and that he wanted more from me? I knew he had feelings, but I wasn't aware... could they possibly be that strong? "Travis, what are you saying? What do you want?" I demanded, half-pleading, still terribly confused.

My voice was wavering, probably because I was completely stunned and on pins-and-needles and kind of anxious and scared. Scared of what Travis was gonna say in a way I hadn't been before. 'Cause, like, what if we're going into deeper waters here, and I'm completely not prepared for what he's gonna throw at me here? Travis exhaled deeply and began rather slowly, as if he was taking extra care with the words. "Jude, I-"

And then, just when Travis was about to tell me something, oh, I dunno, potentially life-changing, a breathless, red-faced, and very peeved Tommy appeared in front of me. "JUDE!" He roared, laying his eyes on me. The look in his eyes was not too different from that murderous look I knew from his fights with Travis. I smiled nervously, but Travis had stopped talking upon hearing Tom's voice, I assume.

I looked at the shopgirl helplessly. "What, you're not gonna help me?" I said, putting my hand over the phone for a second. She shrugged similarly helplessly, and, though I was annoyed with her, well, what reason did she have to hide me? And, also, how was a short girl like her going to stop the raging bull that is Tom Quincy. We, Tom and I, stared at each other for a long minute, neither of us moving. I should've ran. Then, before I saw it coming, he came towards me.

I backed up until I hit the wall, next thing I knew, Tom had grabbed me forcibly enough to leave bruises and thrown me over his shoulder like I was a sack of potatoes. Or like he was a caveman, which of course he is. "You're coming back to the studio, end of story, Jude," He muttered tersely. "And I'm gonna make sure you get there, got it?"

Since he was all that was keeping me from tumbling to the ground, I really didn't have a choice. And, well, I was kinda lucky that he wasn't angrier (and that I was a girl because otherwise he might've socked me for pulling a runner...That key conversation with Travis would just have to wait. "Um, babe, I'm so, _so_ sorry... I've gotta go. Like now. Or he's gonna murder me, like, literally, rip me to shreds here with his bare hands. Can we raincheck this conversation?" I told Travis hastily, earnestly, before Tommy wondered who I was talking to.

Because, you know, I really did want to have this conversation. Travis, however, was not happy. I think he grunted and just hung-up without even saying goodbye. Needless to say, you can bet that Travis and me never had that conversation, and the rest of that pointless day I spent sequestered in the studio with Tommy (who wouldn't even let me go to the bathroom unsupervised and had Angie and E.J. inside, locking the door and blocking the window) was, to put it simply, the ninth circle of hell.

But all that unpleasant time around him gave me a lot of time to think in between wanting to slit my wrists with a jewel case, strangle myself with some of the many cords that surrounded me, and gouge my eyes out with a spoon.

See, the whole time I'd been kicking myself for not being Angie. Not for, well, _literally_ **not** being her. But because I wasn't so... devoted, I guess. Not so single-minded, not so broken down at the loss of him like she'd been. He hadn't _destroyed_ me. But then again, I guess he hadn't really told me how he felt, and I'm sure Angie had that kind of clarity at least. He always knows how to make you feel like you're the only one, the only one for him, the only one who makes him happy. And maybe no one will ever fill that position, you know?

Point is, I was wrong to do that. Because Angie and I are different people. And there are so many different ways of dealing with grief, of dealing with Tommy, different coping methods, that I can't classify myself as the lesser being just because I went on and she didn't. Mine are just, well, a bit more like Tommy's own, minus the whole danger thing. I kept thinking I wasn't as serious about him, wasn't as head-over-heels _**sick**_ in love with him because I didn't try to kill myself when he dumped me. How I kept my chin up and tried to keep things together and fought with him, fought for _myself _despite the loss of dignity that resulted. And, I mean, I don't even know if she actually tried to kill herself, and maybe she didn't... But I guess if I did that after Tommy, well, that'd be awfully selfish of me now because I know how Angie's death affected him. And I have other things and other people to live for anyways, and I... I'm just **not** that type of girl.

And, you know, maybe _I'm_ the one here who's sicker. Because I stuck around to face it and deal with it every day... Still, that didn't mean I didn't wish sometimes that I could be like Angie and just drop out of his life without a second thought. If I could do it, there are definitely some days I would, but Tommy's too much of a part of me for me to ever be able to do that. Our lives are intertwined, as much as we like to pretend they're not, and we've got a sick sort of symbiotic thing going here that's impossible to separate. At least on my end.

And maybe all that doesn't make me superior or lesser, but just _different_, which I am. Because it does take more courage to stick around and to see him every day, and I've been living with the many different and distinct pains of loving Tom Quincy for over a year now. The rollercoaster ride, the highs and lows, the moments where it's really worth it and all. And I've had to deal with his baggage, and I'm stronger for it, stronger and more patient and all that for facing it and trying to fix it.

So my love isn't anything less. Because it takes just as much to live for someone as it does to die for someone. Especially someone who doesn't reciprocate your feelings. And it's just so hard, and I'm so young, but that doesn't make what I feel anything... less than real and adult and profound emotion. Just because my world didn't completely fall apart doesn't mean Tom didn't knock it off its axis, turning it completely upside-down, and screw up the orbit just a little bit (or enough to send Planet Jude crashing into the sun).

And even when he's trying **not** to be a part of my life, he still manages to turn my world upside-down with stuff like this! But, you know what, damn it, I am going to deal with this like a grown-up. I can see him with another girl. I can and will adjust. And I'll get over it. But I don't have to take this, and he's gonna _notice _me, one way or the other, even if his head and heart and nether regions are buried in Angie.

- Loren ;*

Nice mental image I gave you all at the end there, isn't it? Anyways, I hope this chapter is worth it, and I'm so glad that all of you have kept reading and reviewing. It really means a lot to me. And I know I probably say that a lot, but it's still true.

Also, I'm sorry that this chapter is a lot, a lot, a **lot** of exposition. But I felt it was kind of necessary, since I'm introducing new characters and all, and that well, the writers never gave a sufficient back story for Angie anyways, so I fixed that. And, well, who really wanted to see all kinds of Tommy/Angie action? Which, in the part where Jude's singing, actually didn't turn out at all like I wanted. I wanted cute, aww, Tommy luffs her, but instead I got sleaziness. Not even good sleaziness. I did mean to have a bit more Tommy/Angie action, but that didn't happen either. Ugh, also, the last bit of the ending does not satisfy me. It was supposed to end with the Travis bit, but I had to put that Jude insight somewhere, and where better to have Jude insight than its traditional place at the end of the chapter? Also, in case you haven't figured it out, I'm not doing the Hunter story. It might be mentioned that Angie has a psychotic, violent brother (and hey, maybe that's why she's a runaway?), but he's not gonna show up in the story, and I always thought him trying to kill Jude was a really stupid plotline anyways... plus I don't need him because I already had Travis do all that earlier. And Travis had better reasons, in my opinion. Plus he's more interesting and decidedly less psychotic, which believe you me, I never thought I'd say about Travis. Like, I mean, jeez, if they were gonna do the crazy fan angle, why didn't they just do a stalker, since real celebrities have stalkers? Or robbers.

Anyways, next chapter will see a more proactive, confident, and erm, sexual Jude? As well as the return of Ruby and maybe some Chaz feelings time and a pinch of Sadierage, since he and Jude will be filming his music video. Which I haven't thought about at all. Crapola. And, well, who knows? Maybe some more boy drama, and I just might shuffle some things around. Also, there's a possibility of some residual Jommy action, but don't hold your breath. So that chapter I'm not looking forward to so much, but basically all the chapters after it will be really fun and action-packed (not that the next one won't) and very dramatic. Which will be so fun. And that reminds me. I definitely need more Travis, so expect to see a lot of him next chapter. ;)

Thanks! Love you guys!


	49. Ruby

So, this chapter is kind of random, and I do apologize for how long it took me to write it. To be fair, like I said, the randomness and music videoness and amount of Chaz and Ruby kind of complicated things. As, you'll find, does/did Travis. Anyway, I actually did have more fun writing the music video than I thought. Which is good. I hope you'll like it. Oh, plus, another reason why it took so long... aside from school taking over my life and being really busy this summer and just screwed up life-wise, I'm also in Russia! **R-U-S-S-I-A!** So. Here I am writing at six in the morning again. I swear, it's like I'm home, only not. Also, important question... Do you want Chaz to wind up with Sadie or his ex, Ruby? 'Cause every time I think I decide (generally in Sadie's favor)... something comes along to change my mind. So, eh, I want to see what you all think. Something else that also delayed me this chapter, the interesting bit of my sudden inability to write "I love you." Oy.

Also, randomly, Pick Up the Pieces doesn't really sound like a boyband song at all. It's not quite fast enough or slow enough, and, yeah, I know it's supposed to be updated or whatever, but it sounds more like a theme song (or something) than anything made by the slick pop producers of the nineties. No Spanish guitar or other hallmarks of the nineties... A touch less infectious than it ought to be, you know... And I know 'cause I have a whole boyband playlist. With over one hundred songs. But I digress.

And I own nothing except Ruby and the song and what little I own of the plot. Not the poem at the end, that's Neruda, like Jude says. And, actually, I think a lot of you might quite like/be frustrated with the way I end this chapter, but whatever. I personally am much more looking forward to the next one, which has Jude on a reality show. Like that episode. Only better. It's going to be called "Unraveling", for the same reason, more or less. And it's gonna be very interesting with lots of studio intrigue and you'll see a bit more of Angie/Tom, probably. And Jude does... get somewhere. Like, she makes progress. More noticeable. So each chapter is representing a step in her getting over Tommy (and this one's a bit sassy) and getting back into the swing of things. And I feel like I'm rambling and not making sense, so now I'll just give you the chapter and wait for your replies, lovelies. Oh, and I do enjoy reviews here in Russia. Just sayin'.

* * *

Ruby and I were sitting on the couch in my rehearsal space, hanging out, when I turned to ask her suddenly, "So, how was he?" As of late, I found the empty vastness of 620 immensely comforting. I'd been spending more and more time here because the studio was a hostile, awkward place to be in lately. The guys and I couldn't practice at my house, and the more time we spent in the studio, the more everyone noticed that things were... off. I couldn't really think there, not like I could here.

Ruby and I had gotten really close over the past couple weeks. Suffice to say, we understood each other. And she didn't ask any questions, which I appreciated. I could just be my slightly-broken self around her, not have to cover anything or pretend. Besides, given what I was going to do later on that day, it was best to be around the real deal, kinda like research. Ruby frowned, turning to me.

We were watching a movie, some sappy, drippy chick flick that was kind of making both of us hate our lives. Her brow furrowed, popcorn frozen halfway to her mouth. "What do you mean?" She asked, puzzled. I hadn't been really thinking when I'd asked her the question, but I guess it had kind of been eating away at me for a while. And the sex scene in the movie just kind of reminded me all over again.

I reached for a handful of popcorn nonchalantly and then looked up at her. "Tommy..." I muttered, tossing the popcorn into my mouth, pausing for a moment. "How was he in the sack?" I drawled casually, shooting her a glance.

Ruby paled instantaneously, dropping the popcorn back into the bowl. It was weird seeing her look like that, because Ruby was already a paler version of me: lighter hair, lighter eyes, taller, a little thinner, kind of waif-like. The look on her face betrayed her mistrust and unwillingness to say anything about it. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, staring at me with wide, horrified eyes, shaking her head. "Jude... don't do this," She said almost pleadingly. The expression on her face sobered. "You _don't_ want to know, trust me," She insisted.

I made a face at her and shook my head, dissenting. "Oh, come on, he can't have been _that_ bad... but if he was, then I guess it's better to know Little Tommy Q was a big disappointment than to forever wonder what might have been..." I proclaimed dismissively, a sarcastic smile on my lips. Actually, it'd be kind of funny if he was all hype. Maybe then I wouldn't feel as bad about this, if I knew I wasn't missing out on something _great_. My voice was bitter like black coffee. Ruby shuddered unpleasantly at the mention, closing her eyes briefly. I moved a little closer to her, turning my body towards her more fully. "I _want_ to know, Ruby."

Ruby shook her head at me stubbornly, holding her hands out in front of her, between us. "_No_, you don't. You don't want to put yourself through that. You don't want to go there," Ruby informed me bluntly. The way in which she spoke made it clear that she thought this was what was best for me. And everyone's been doing that to me lately without asking what I _really_ want, so I'm not about to take it from someone only a year older than me. The expression on her face was forbidding, and I thought oh, whatever, she just doesn't want to talk about it for her own reasons.

I looked her in the eyes to show her I wasn't going to back down. When it comes to Tommy, I always want to know. No matter how much it hurts. I shook my head, equally stubborn. "Sure I do. I've already seen one of his sex tapes, and he said he wasn't even trying for that. And I want details..." I said firmly, leaving no room for her to weasel out of it. My face was like stone, impassive and betraying no signs of emotion. I learned that from him. I threw a hand in the air dismissively. "Hell, it's not like I'm ever gonna know otherwise. Not like I'm ever going to experience the real deal for myself, so you might as well tell me," I told her, shrugging. I'd resigned myself to it, so I said it like it didn't mean as much as it did.

She shook her head even more determinedly than she had before. The look in her eyes was downright pleading. Ruby reached out for my hand. "Jude, don't torture yourself like this," She practically begged. I could hear the implication in her voice that I didn't know what was best for me.

I took my hand away from hers, shrugging. My tone was deliberately nonchalant, but it didn't quite cover up all of my anger. "Why not? I've already hit rock bottom. Can't go any further down," I stated calmly, an ironic little smile on my lips. I softened a little bit, trying to to entreat her to tell me. "Besides, hearing how it was from you can't possibly be any worse than seeing him with Angie. Every. Damn. Day," I told her bluntly. I'd gotten a bit more emotional than I'd intended there, allowed myself a little trace of sadness. My words sounded hollow even to my own ears, but I needed to know. And, damn it, I am a big girl.

God knows it isn't easy to see Tom and Angie together. It's worse, though, how he spends all of his time with her and barely pays any attention to me. And I hate how he passes it off as professional stuff. Because it isn't, at least, not completely. Ruby gave me a sympathetic look, attempting to place her hand on my shoulder. "Jude..." She said softly.

"You and everybody else don't have to **protect**me from the ugly truth about Tom Quincy, okay? I can handle just about anything that man has to throw at me. I know all the skeletons rattling around in his closet. You're not sparing me any pain by not telling me. All you're doing is annoying the hell out of me," I remarked harshly, insistently, fed up with people looking out for my best interest ('cause, really, where were they when it really counted? I mean, sheesh, did any of them come up and say to me, "Jude, honey, do not get involved with this man. He will only break your heart." All of them said stupid encouraging crap like that Tommy was in love with me or that they approved... what a joke!). I withdrew and sucked in a breath, hardening again, turning on her. It's tiring being so strong all the time. I turned and looked at her shrewdly. "You know, Ruby, I'm starting to think _you're_ the one who doesn't want to go there..." She was acting like she was doing all of this to protect me, but it was just a shoddy cover for her own desire to not discuss any of this.

Her reaction was immediate. "Well, I _don't_!" She burst out defensively. Really, the girl was a nervous wreck, bitten fingernails, hands in her hair. She looked down, putting her hands in her lap. "Can you blame me, Jude? This is so insanely awkward I can hardly stand it! Friends... don't talk about these kinds of things," She muttered in a voice that half made me regret asking her like that. But then I remembered how she hadn't ever really had girlfriends, and then I was... Like she would know?

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. "Of course they do! All the time! Real friends do, at any rate... We have sleepovers, and we talk about all the boys in our lives or all the boys that wish they were in our lives... Haven't you ever seen Sex and the City?" I asked energetically. At least, that's been my experience with Kat and, to a lesser degree, Sadie. Patsy's not quite so forthcoming, but then again, she knows I'd feel awkward talking about all of her hot and heavy sexual encounters.

Still, Ruby shook her head, no doubt skeptical. "I'm pretty sure they don't talk about having sex with the men their friends love," She replied, shooting me a shrewd glance of her own.

I rolled my eyes, throwing my hands in the air. Well, that doesn't usually come up, since it violates Girl Code, but I wasn't going to tell Ruby that you're not supposed to do that in the first place... 'cause, really, her doing Tommy happened before I ever met her. Kind of. "Semantics! If I want to know, who are you to stop me?" I exclaimed, putting a hand on my hip.

She sighed, pausing for a moment in contemplation before reaching out to me hesitantly. "Okay, Jude, let me just try this for a moment... What was it like with Chaz?" She asked slowly. The expression on her face made it plain that just asking caused her pain. Which is, I guess, the difference between her and me. I'm so practiced at getting out information about Tommy that nothing really surprises me anymore. And, well, how can hearing about her sleeping with him possibly hurt more than hearing about his feelings for Angie? I know they slept together; it's not exactly gonna surprise me. And, I mean, Tom himself kinda told me what it was like, but obviously he didn't describe his prowess (or lack thereof) in the sack. Don't wanna assume, you know.

I shrugged diffidently, trying to pretend like it didn't bother me. Chaz and I were on good terms, and he'd even apologized, but I still felt dirty every time I thought about it. It reminded me a little too much of that fiasco with Travis. "I never actually had sex with Chaz, and I know you don't want to know. Besides, you already know what it's like, so you don't need to ask me. But I could tell you," I told her summarily. If you really wanted to know was what I didn't say. Because I didn't want to patronize her there.

An uncomfortable look passed over her face at the thought and stayed there, but God bless her, she persisted. "But you don't like thinking about it, do you?" Ruby pressed, trying to catch on something. I wondered who this little interrogation was costing more, me or Ruby.

Truthfully, I didn't like thinking about it. It wasn't something I'd even enjoyed in the first place, mind you. But the things I do for Tommy! Oy! "No, of course not," I told her, shaking my head. She seemed to think this was a victory because she looked more comfortable. But I don't back down so easily. "It was one of the most horrible moments of my life... As much as you want to prove your point, Ruby, you haven't... So why don't you just get this over with and tell me already?" I said, changing course on her completely.

Ruby opened her mouth to speak and then just frowned. The look on her face darkened. "Well, maybe I don't like to think about having sex with Tommy _either_, okay? You ever think of that?" She kinda snapped at me. It was the meanest thing she'd said to me since we'd become friends, but I didn't begrudge her for that. Something, though, about the way she said it, and the look on her face, made me feel ill at ease, so I wound up treading lightly.

Or attempting to do so, at any rate. I'm the kind of girl who trudges through, hard. You know when I'm coming and going, believe me. "So he was that bad, huh?" I joked, bemused.

Ruby glared at me, but it was a glancing blow. She shook her head slowly and looked very sober. "No... that's not it. It was one of the lowest points of my life, Jude. I don't like thinking about it or talking about it," She stated, wrapping her arms around herself and looking kind of haunted. She rocked back and forth a little, and, to be honest, it kinda scared me.

Nonetheless, I was not to be deterred by this. "Yeah, Ruby, I know what that's like. I've been there. I lost my dignity, my hygiene, my appetite, my interests, my ability to sleep, my concentration... almost my will to live. Tommy was also involved, only my problem's kind of the opposite one. So just spill already," I said pointedly. I might've sounded glib, like I was making light of things, but I had to, 'cause it was the only way I could talk about it, by making light of my reaction. I shrugged, leaning forward. "Who better to tell, right? I'm here, and I get it... and, most importantly, I _want_ to know."

Ruby sighed and gave me a sidelong look, relenting. "Okay. Fine. But don't bitch me out when you finally hear something you don't want to listen to," She said, holding her hands up in a surrendering position.

I nodded impatiently. "I won't. It'll take a lot more than that to gross me out. I just want to know what it was like," I insisted, waiting for her to tell me. I kind of wanted to pounce on her and make her tell me, 'cause she was taking her sweet time and that was just not okay?

She nodded wearily. "Well, what do you want to know?" She asked cautiously.

Now, I guess you could say I was pretty keyed up, and, well, pretty fed up with the whole thing. My response was perhaps a little enthusiastic and... eager. "Everything, of course... So, was he good?" I jammered excitedly.

She looked uncertain for a moment and then finally shrugged. "I guess." Her response wasn't that enthusiastic or specific, so suffice it to say I was frowning. "I mean, I've had worse..." She continued equally unenthusiastically. Her explanation of sex with Tommy was about as disappointing thusfar as my failed attempts to actually have sex with Tommy. She frowned a little, contemplating how to describe it. "Tommy's just the most selfish man I have ever met, and he was like that in bed, demanding, bossy..." My frown deepened. Maybe I really wasn't missing out on anything. Tommy a selfish lover. Demanding, bossy. Hell, that's how he is in the studio, and why bother screwing someone if he's still an asshole in the sack?

"...But he made it good for me. He knew what he was doing... Maybe the best I've ever had," She continued on a brighter note. Didn't mean she was smiling. I was a little confused because, well, I was being presented with two different pictures of Tommy in bed, kind of. So she's saying he's experienced and that he... The best, really? I was actually kind of surprised to hear it. Ruby shrugged, catching a sight of my reaction. "But good sex isn't everything, you know? You can have good sex with most anyone..." I wasn't so sure about that, but she was pretty experienced, I guess, from what she'd intimated.

Ruby was actually kind of loosening up despite herself. I guess talking about it was cathartic for her or... easier than she'd expected. "And having sex with Tommy was so... empty." Here she faltered for a minute, trying to explain. She looked at me, for the first time in a while, and said, very clearly, "It was _just_ sex, no feelings involved, and my mind really wasn't on him. And I didn't really want to do it. I just did it because I thought it was the thing to do, and that I owed him for living under his roof... and he was the closest I could get to Chaz, and so I might as well, because guys never want me for anything more than that... I was thinking about Chaz the whole time." She was rambling pretty defensively by that point. I felt bad for her, so I took her hand to comfort her.

She sighed, deflating a little. "I don't know... I don't remember much of how it was with Chaz because I was so young, and that was so long ago... But it was different, _so_ different," She confessed with a kind of passionate conviction that made me believe her. Poor Ruby looked so very upset that she didn't remember. She kind of reminded me of a rabbit.

I really don't know why I asked, because the rapture in her voice made the answer pretty apparent, but I did anyways. "Good different or bad different?" I questioned slowly, biting my lip.

A faint smile lit up her features. "I'd rather be with Chaz for ten minutes than with Tommy for ten hours," She informed me brightly. I'd rather be with Tommy for ten minutes than with Chaz for the rest of my life, so I sorta get how she feels. I understood what her answer meant, and I guess it kinda gelled with my own personal beliefs, but I can't help but wonder what Tom would think of that. She paused for a long moment, mulling it over, with a dreamy look in her eyes. "It was better, I think. It's better if you love him," She declared fairly decisively. I could just nod.

Really, I didn't expect her to say anything more, but Ruby was determined to make me as uncomfortable as I'd made her. I was silly to expect she wouldn't. Ruby continued with a fairly conspiratorial grin, knocking her shoulder against mine. "You know, Tommy said your name the whole time." I sucked in a breath. This little "revelation" wasn't wholly unexpected, given what Tommy had said to me, but he's a hard guy to believe... and I kinda thought he'd be more discreet than that. "He told me about you too, afterward. That's how I knew who you were. He talked about you to me, said you looked like me, said all kinds of things when he was drunk..." She murmured. That only made me feel faintly uncomfortable.

It got more uncomfortable as she went on, actually. "Your name, he muttered it under his breath. Moaned it, grunted it. Panted your name. Called out your name when he came..." That time I swallowed hard, and that was as close as she made me to being uncomfortable. It was kind of an unexpected thought that just, well, hit me out of nowhere. Because then I was picturing him in bed, that look on his face. Because I _knew_ that look on his face. Knew what it sounded like to hear him say my name. But I didn't know like Ruby did, because, like I said, never slept with him. "I knew who he'd rather have in his bed, all right, and it was _you_," She said pointedly, giving me an arch look.

I shook off the vestiges of discomfort. "But you're the one he actually slept with," I pointed out insistently. "Every time we've ever... come close... Someone interrupts or one of us stops or... I've thrown myself at him, Ruby, and gotten rejected every time. So it sucks," I told her, sighing, slumping against the couch. Ruby understood, but talking about Tommy, all the little bits and pieces, that was a little beyond me. I was pretty frustrated, I guess, and Ruby gave me a sympathetic one-armed hug. We were silent for a long moment, but I frowned a little.

Then I turned to Ruby and asked her yet another question before I could think the better of it. "Do you ever think maybe that you loved Chaz because you were so young... that you only thought you loved him... that you didn't know any better... that it messed you up for anyone else? That you didn't know anything other than loving Chaz, and that's why you clung to him?" I blurted suddenly. It was something I'd been wondering for a while, frankly. I'd been so used to people telling me things like that, saying I didn't really know what I was feeling, and I was starting to wonder. Like, is my love really real? Or do I just love Tommy 'cause I don't know any better? That I don't know anything other than that dysfunction?

Ruby looked at me seriously, but she didn't look angry like I thought she would. She was quiet and thoughtful for a very, very long moment. "You know, I've wondered about that lots of times." Her eyes were distant as she replied, playing with her hands. "That's what all the psychiatrists tried to tell me, what my parents tried to tell me... But I could never find it in me to believe them when they said he was a monster, when they called him sick, when they said he was an animal who was just using me to satisfy his sexual needs, taking advantage of me... when they said he never really loved me at all... because I knew they were wrong, _terribly_ wrong, and I knew that Chaz loved me..." She looked up at me, as if to say she wasn't stupid for thinking all this. I agreed, because I'd met Chaz, and I knew his feelings were real, age nonwithstanding. They were both just kids then, and it was weird for me to think that it had all happened what, four-five years ago?

She picked at her sweater, a faint smile on her lips. "Why else would he risk so much? Why else would he be faithful and propose to me?" She asked, but she was asking herself. "...But now, now I'm not so sure. Maybe Chaz only loved me when I was a little girl, maybe they were right... because now that I'm grown, now that we can _finally_ be together... he doesn't want me anymore!" She continued suddenly, getting progressively more hysterical. Her voice rose dramatically in pitch, and I totally didn't see any of it coming. And then Ruby was sobbing, and, like, that's not how I pictured it to go at all.

I wrapped my arms around her because, well, what else could I do? She'd been there for me. She'd answered my questions. And, worst still, I'd dredged this whole mess up for her. I shook my head softly. "That's not it, Ruby, trust me," I told her, knowing full well that Chaz still loved her. Because I know he does, and one day, Chaz is going to have to face that and resolve it before someone else gets her. Because I'm not gonna let another boybander hurt my sister. I smoothed her hair. "Ruby, honey, I know you love Chaz. I get that. But sometimes, as hard as it is, you have to be alone to figure out who you are," I murmured softly, feeling the truth of the words as I'd said it. I'd been doing a lot of soul-searching since I'd broken up with Tommy, and maybe someday I'll look back on this time and say I'm better off for it.

She sighed. "I've been alone so long, Jude. And I really don't think it's helped me any. Because ever since, you know... I've just been looking for something. And it turns out I was looking for Chaz all along," Ruby told me a bit tearfully, wiping at her eyes with her fingers. Ruby didn't talk much about her past, for obvious reasons, and she didn't really talk much about her family or her life before coming here... and obviously there's a reason for that. But from what I'd heard, what she'd implied, about how she didn't really have friends—girls or otherwise, or about how the guys had thought of her, what'd she'd done, how her parents had never looked at her the same. They probably never forgave her.

It was then that I realized how much everything with Chaz, how having such an intense relationship so young, had _really_ screwed her up. And I thought, well, okay, this is why people say you're not supposed to have relationships with older guys, Jude, because it effs you up. Ruby buried her head in my shoulder. I bit my lip, debating whether or not to tell her about my plans later today. It probably wouldn't be good for her to hear, but I felt like she deserved to know. Against my better judgment, the truth spilled forth, "You know, he's filming the music video. For the song he wrote about you. This afternoon."

Ruby pulled back a little and gaped at me. I might've looked guilty too, because, well, I'd known for a while, and hell, I was going to be playing her in the music video. I'd helped him write the song, did the backing vocals... my name was all over that production. She blinked. "I don't really know what to say," she said finally. She glanced down. "I didn't even know he wrote a song about me. He never did when we were together, you know... He always said he was more of a melody guy, so he wrote some music for me, but it never materialized into anything," Ruby murmured. And then she started humming a song that bore a significant resemblance to the one Chaz and I had written together, only slower.

I couldn't tell her that, though, for some reason. Ruby was smiling faintly, not quite pained, but definitely nostalgic. She blinked back tears, running a hand through her hair. "I miss him so much... I-I wish I was older... Do you ever wish that, Jude?" she whispered, trying to hold it together, to be distant like she was supposed to be. Her voice when she asked me that question almost made me cry. How she wished she was older when it happened so she could've remembered better and that it wouldn't have been so screwed up... because she thought they'd still be together if she was older. Can't say I blame her. Every day, I thought, but it wasn't like I could tell her that. I wanted to give her hope.

So I just sort of smiled and stroked her hair. Ruby frowned, looking serious. "I know... I'd like to see, but... He probably doesn't want me there, does he? That would be... bad, right?" she asked me guilelessly. I paused for a second, briefly contemplating telling her to take my place in the video, to say that Chaz wouldn't notice. But I knew he would, and it'd be a whole big mess... and by interfering, I'd screw things up for them (and, for that matter, for my sister). And this is just something her and Chaz have to work out. Filming the video was going to be emotional enough for Chaz, but having Ruby there would make it even harder.

I squeezed her hand and shook my head sadly. "As much as I wish you could be there, and I'd like to bring you... It's probably for the best that you don't go. For both you and Chaz because I know it'll be dredging up a lot of old memories... But I'll be there, helping, and I can tell you what happens... and you can watch the video," I told her carefully. Ruby nodded, lips in a grim, resigned line that said "I thought so."

At that moment, I glanced down at my watch. Yikes! I only had forty minutes to get to the studio and get myself a little bit more presentable. I gave Ruby an apologetic smile. "Speaking of which, Rubes, as much as I wanna be here for you, I've gotta go. But I don't think you should be alone. Is there someone you can stay with?" I asked, leaning over to pick up my bag and starting to rifle through it.

Ruby gave me a sad smile that indicated the answer was no, that me and my family were basically all she had here, but then a faint, kind of ironic smile passed over her features. I was fully prepared to give her Kat's or Jamie's or Mason's or Joan's numbers, or, for that matter, even Patsy's number, but Ruby surprised me. "Well, actually, Chad gave me his number," she confessed a little shyly. I frowned at her, wondering who on earth she was talking about, and Ruby frowned a little too. I also, admittedly, did not think hanging out with a guy named Chad, only one syllable away from the ex, was really the best idea (plus Chad is a bro-douche-bag-name, duh!). "At least, I think that's his name. You know, the other white guy in Boyz Attack!"

I blinked, understanding. "You know, I can never remember his name either. Isn't it JoJo or something? Pete? Adam? But, um, you really think hanging out with one of his old bandmates is the best idea?" I rambled. Ruby shrugged as if to say, "well, what other options do I have?" I was slightly worried Jake or whatever his name is only wanted to hang out with her because she suddenly turned out to be hot, but what do I know? I feel like he has some kind of pansy name, only I don't remember what it is. Something soft and unassuming and a little silly. It was good to know, however, that I'm not the only one who can't remember his name.

Anyways, I washed my face and fixed myself up a bit, and then I left Ruby there, waiting for JoJo or Chimichanga, or whatever his name is. I felt a little guilty about it, but I really did have to be at the studio. When I got there, slightly out-of-breath as usual, I was greeted by a rather odd scene in the lobby. Travis was sitting there on the couch, with Chaz across from him. Travis was playing the guitar, and it was suddenly all very surreal because, well, here was Travis, invading my domain. Tommy's domain, really. But that's kinda his thing, isn't it (just look at me!), so I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised. Chaz kind of looked like a nervous wreck, and, from the way Travis kept glancing at him, I assumed Travis was giving him a bit of a peptalk.

That being said, it was also weird because I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually seen Travis play. I think it had been before Christmas. In school. I'd kind of almost forgotten he knew how. Anyway, I knew I probably had wardrobe and make-up to get into, but I walked over to them anyways. It was weird, since I kind of figured there would be people running all around getting ready, like they'd been doing for my video, rather than it being basically deserted like this, with people going about their normal business.

Chaz was now laying on the couch, pouring out his soul to Travis, who wasn't being very subtle at all or, for that matter, paying good attention. I actually cringed as I walked over there, because Travis was playing "Don't Stand So Close to Me." I stopped just in front of him, and he turned to smirk at me, mouthing the words flirtatiously. I rolled my eyes at him and plopped down next to him. "Hi Chaz," I said coolly, waving at him. Chaz waved absentmindedly, apparently seeing nothing unusual with me sitting next to Travis. "How are you doing, man?" I asked, leaning forward a little, away from Travis, who had just put his hand on my lower back and was kind of conspiring to pull me back into the couch and then into his side. I turned to scowl at Travis and focused on my friend, who looked rather morose.

"As best as I can be, I guess..." He sighed. "Just knowing I'm gonna be doing this... it's stirring up a lot of old emotions. I didn't think it'd be this hard." His eyes looked a little wet. I bit my lip, wanting to tell him it was hard for Ruby too. But I have no business butting in, and I can't be responsible for screwing up yet _another_ one of my sister's relationships in one year. That's too much, even for me.

I wanted to support Chaz, but that had reminded me of something. "Hey, Chaz... You did _tell_ Sadie, right? That you were gonna be filming this video with me. And that we'd have to kiss and stuff?" I asked a bit anxiously. Travis missed a chord, turning to face me abruptly, scowling. Apparently he didn't like the thought of me kissing Chaz? I gave him a weird look but didn't openly call him on his idiotic jealousy. Like, it's _Chaz_ here. And, I mean, really, did he miss the whole sister's boyfriend part? I don't do that crap anymore. I wasn't exactly jumping to kiss Chaz... I really don't think he has anything (or any reason, for that matter) to be jealous of there.

Chaz gave me a slightly guilty look, and I knew what that meant. Oh great. Should I call Sadie up and start the damage control now? "No... I've just been so busy lately, and I kept putting it off... and there were so many other things that were, you know, more important-" I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a very nonplussed look. Excuses, excuses. He looked down, realizing his fault.

"Bad move there, Chazzy. You are in some kind of a relationship with Sadie, and don't even try to deny it. Because I know," I said plainly, huffing out a breath. Travis perked up next to me just a little bit, but I studiously ignored him. I leaned in closer to Chaz, taking his face in my hands. I felt Travis tense behind me but ignored it once again. "Now, listen to me, you had better tell my sister, 'cause this exact same situation happened with her last boyfriend and she didn't know. She's gonna think this is my M.O. or something, and that I'm just always jealous of her and have to steal her boyfriends. She will kick my ass, and I don't really want to break her nose again, okay? I'm kinda sick of fighting with my sister over guys. Especially ones I don't actually have romantic feelings for, no offense," I told him bluntly, releasing his face. Chaz frowned a little, but I carried on. "It was hard enough and damaging enough when I was actually in _love_ with the bastard."

Travis, I could sense, was not happy. He'd just realized that was a veiled reference to Tommy. I guess he'd never really known that Tommy and Sadie had not only been seeing each other, but that they'd been engaged. Apparently he missed that in our little game of I Never at Christmas. Go figure. I did wonder, though, because one could easily interpret my statement as me saying I was no longer in love with Tommy too... unless you know me, I guess. Chaz sighed, unwisely running a hand through his hair. "I know, Jude. I will... It's just... this is a _lot_ for me to deal with right now. These feelings, being in front of the camera again... my album comes out in a couple months, and there's still all this publicity stuff I have to do," he muttered, looking a little overwhelmed. It surprised me, really, because Chaz is an attention whore, and he's very, very accustomed to this kind of life.

But I guess it's hard to just dive right in after all those years away. I nodded sympathetically, and Chaz opened his mouth, a hesitant, uncertain look on his face. I knew immediately that he was going to ask about Ruby. Somehow in here, Travis managed to grab my hand, even though I didn't really need the support. I hadn't seen Tommy all day, and I didn't necessarily think he'd stick around the studio for this. And everything with Tom... it's nothing I haven't been dealing with for a while. Chaz glanced down suddenly, noticing the conjoined hands and the chords Travis was still strumming. He raised an eyebrow, directing his surprised stare at me first and then at Travis, who shrugged. "Just getting you in the mood, bro," he said defensively.

Yeah, I don't really think any of us completely believed that. The sharp look Chaz threw me was a sign that we were to go off somewhere and have an uncomfortable private conversation, so I rose without saying much and followed Chaz over to the kitchen. "So, Jude," he began, gesturing towards Travis, "Wanna tell me what that's all about?" Not particularly, so I shrugged. I wasn't going to make excuses. His stare was grave, and he glanced around a little almost paranoidly before leaning in a little and grabbing my upper arm. "Listen, Jude, 'cause I'm only gonna tell you this once. Getting involved with a guy like Travis is bad... He's... dangerous," Chaz whispered, glancing back at said man, who was watching us with beady, interested eyes.

I wanted to tell him and that haunted look in his eyes that I knew that better than _anyone_, but he didn't give me time to. His voice was a harsh whisper. "I mean, do you even know what you're doing?" I didn't say anything in response to that, because, as much as I wanted to say I did, I wasn't entirely positive I did. Another look back at Travis, voice lowered further. "He's a _man_, Jude!" The tone in which he said it was actually kind of comic, like he was outraged.

I cut in, in all seriousness (or not), "I'm well aware of that, Chaz, but so are you. So is Tommy. What's the big deal about it?" I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for an answer. Chaz didn't care when it was him, and he didn't care when it was Tommy... but he all of a sudden cared because he thought I had something goin' with Travis—which I hadn't even confirmed! Tommy's way worse than Travis. My heart can testify to that fact. Sort of.

His jaw was tight, eyes darker than usual with an emotion I couldn't properly identify, although it approximated anger. "He's way older than you, Jude," he muttered darkly. He looked like he was about to go on, but that's kinda when it all clicked in my brain. And so I kinda went off on him.

Yeah, I knew I was probably gonna start an argument with Chaz, but it had to be said. And if he wasn't gonna realize it for himself, I'd have to tell him. "And since when do _you_ care about that?" I retorted sharply, swinging my body around to face him. I moved in closer, menacingly. He'd flinched at my earlier comment. "Admit it, Chaz, the **only** reason why you care now is because you're reliving every last minute of your relationship with Ruby! You're projecting your feelings about _your_ own behavior on to me because I look like her, and, really, I bet you had this same conversation with her what, five-six years ago? And it achieved the exact same result, right?" I shouted at him, rounding on him so he didn't see it coming.

Chaz stiffened, of course, features tight and waxy. He didn't look at me. It was clear we weren't going to talk about him. He'd begun moving about the kitchen, looking for something to do. I think he started making coffee. Either way, he was doing something small and precise with his hands. "For your own sake, Travis is the _last_ guy you want to get involved with. He's too instable and way too much like Tommy was five years ago—in all the worst ways," he said bluntly, if not a bit coolly, throwing me a look. "And he's a _lot _older than you. You're at different places in your life, and if you think that doesn't matter, you're wrong. You two don't want the same things... It doesn't work," Chaz continued firmly, seriously. The dark look he wore indicated he'd thought about this, ruminated on it, for years. "Trust me, Jude. I _know_. Tommy knows. It _never_ works out."

He shot me an exasperated glance, flinging his hands into the air. "And for God's sake, Jude, what do you think Tommy's going to do?" He interjected pointedly, raising his voice a little too much for my liking.

I shrugged diffidently. Quincy is as Quincy does. And he usually does nothing. The mere thought, though, sent unpleasant prickles through me and allowed doubt to filter in. I... don't want to feel like that, you know? I like knowing what I'm doing and knowing it's right and not questioning it, and, yes, I do realize the irony of that statement. It kind of left a funny feeling in my stomach, and, you know, I didn't really wanna think about it. "I don't really care what Tommy does or thinks," I told him unflinchingly, almost but not quite meaning it. I crossed my arms over my chest. "And, besides, I never said I was involved with Travis... He's a friend," I continued primly.

Chaz rolled his eyes and openly scoffed at that. "Does Travis know that, or does he hold hands with all of his friends?" He retorted rhetorically before taking a sip of tea. I endeavored not to flush, but I probably wasn't as successful as I intended. Oh well. I'll deny it 'til the grave to Chaz. Even if he openly catches me. I opened my mouth to say something and instead just shook my head.

"We're closefriends, okay?" I muttered a bit too defensively. Chaz gave me a disbelieving look, which I chose to ignore. "Just 'cause we're friends... it doesn't mean I want to have a _life_ with him or anything," I continued, shooting Chaz a look that was perhaps a bit too pointed. Really, though, I don't want to build a life with Travis, although my dreams tell me that clearly I could. All I want to do is confide in him and, you know, make out with him and get the material benefits out of it. Wow, that makes it sound like I'm using him, but, you know, I kind of am.

I rolled my eyes at him, leaning against the counter. "Come on now, Chazzie, you don't know him like I do," I drawled, hoisting myself up onto the counter. Chaz threw me a look that said he very well did know Travis as I did. "He's not nearly as bad as all that," I said dismissively. Chaz looked warily back at Travis and gave me a look. "Look, I _know_ Travis, okay? As messed up as he is, and as hard as that is to believe... we understand each other. He gets it, okay? And he's been there for me when I needed someone," I said a bit more forcefully. Underneath the words was the sentiment, the thought of how much it had all meant to me, of how important it was to me that he was there. It was something I could never put into words and tell Travis.

The fact that he just listened and tried to help me... meant more than I could ever say. Because that was what I needed. It's still what I need. "You've gotta trust me here, Chaz. I know him, and I know what I'm doing," I said firmly.

I looked Chaz dead in the eyes as I was saying this to show him just how serious I was. Then he sighed and nodded, conceding. He still looked a little worried, but I didn't care. I smiled a little victoriously and whirled around, heading back over to sit next to Travis, who smiled at me. Chaz didn't follow, as he was abducted by one crazy Asian to go off to wardrobe. Travis started playing a song very familiar to the both of us, the one we'd started writing together at Christmas and had been working on intermittently, changing the lyrics to suit our purposes. He grinned and began with the chorus, "_Hey there, are you back in love?_"

Admittedly, the question and the twang in his voice knocked me off-guard a little but not enough to stop me from replying. I shook my head. "_No. So-long, I'm not wishing any luck_," I countered sassily, practically waving in his face and turning away. Talk to the hand and all that. Travis made a face and continued.

"_You're planning your escape_," he accused, raising an eyebrow. There was something genuine in his voice that unnerved me further, and I scooted away from him for affect.

"_You have a stake?_" I asked contrarily. That was what popped into my head, neither the established lyric nor a direct rhyme, but it'd do. Something passed over Travis' face at that statement, acknowledging that perhaps it had some merit, which made me even more alarmed.

"_I'm not gonna break a date_," he rejoined, giving me a pointed look. Touche, I thought. We continued through the remainder of the chorus together before Travis started up again. He waved exaggeratedly while transitioning into the bridge. "_Hel-__**lo**__, you're back,_" he proclaimed, a wry little smile on his lips.

I couldn't help but glance around the studio. I was back, back where Tommy was, and it made me think about how I felt about that. Turns out still not so good. I leaned back into the couch, letting out a sigh. "_Don't know how I __**feel**__ 'bout that..._" I paused and sucked in a breath of air, sliding down the couch. "_Or how to mooove!_" I stayed there, frozen, in suspended animation for several minutes. When I was around Tommy lately, it was sort of hard just to remember to breathe.

Here Travis wisely cut in, sensing my fragility, "_What goes around comes back around..._" I nodded along to the beat, and he continued singing, "_What's good? I'm good..._" He trailed off pointedly, motioning for me to go on.

I sighed, making a bit of a face at him. "_Why, I'm knockin' on wood_," I muttered, tapping on the table half-heartedly to prove my point. It was that fake wood stuff, but I meant it nonetheless. Seeing Tommy, or, rather, the possibility of it, was still almost enough to make me break out into hives. And I was admittedly kind of worried about how the whole video shoot was going to go. The fact that I didn't know any details about it made me nervous.

Travis sensed I wasn't going to add and so adopted a thuggish expression. "_'Cause in my 'hood... What goes around comes back around._" Said expression was, no doubt, culled from time spent with Tommy in his pre-adolescent juvenile delinquent phase. Which I only know about because Tom made a joke about it and showed me his first mug-shot. Taken when he was barely thirteen, might I add, on account of stealing to buy cigarettes to burn holes in fishing nets in his Great Aunt's rural fishing village (an elaborate scheme, I know). His mother made the mistake of sending him to his aunt's for the summer as punishment, which was, let's just say, not the most stable or healthy of environments. Said great aunt happens to be Laurent's younger half-sister, who is disturbingly close to Tommy's mother's age and twice as unhinged. Woman grew up on the wrong side of the tracks and lived a hard life there, husband left, and when Tommy the ungrateful, annoyed, abandoned boy showed up, who only knew how to get negative attention... you get the picture. Bitch was downright horrible to him and, well, kind of abusive, really. Tom had this really dark look on his face when he was talking about her, not that he said much.

She has Alzheimer's now, and the family pays this woman to look after her. But has she ever thanked Tom or any of them? No. He visits sometime... God only knows why... and she's always nasty to him, spitting on him and saying stuff that would make Tommy's mom seem downright... affectionate. The only other thing Tom really told me about that summer was that he hooked up with his cousin Selena. Another thing his aunt was pissed about. He was kind of bragging, really. Not so endearing, that.

Pushing Tommy out of my mind, I threw Travis a pointed look and picked up where he left off. "_Well, I'm __**fine**__ now... What about you?_" I retorted, raising an eyebrow. Travis opened his mouth like he was about to reply to the question, but I motioned for him to keep playing. For a second, I didn't know what to sing. We hadn't really gotten this far along. All I knew was that I needed to reassure Travis that I was doing just fine. So he didn't look further. Because I kinda didn't tell him about Angie hooking up with Tommy. And the people that do know act like they're walking on eggshells around me.

Because I'm trying to get over it. I'm working through it here. Slowly, on my own. He loves Angie, and yeah, I love him, but he deserves to be happy. And I can't compete with something like that, even if I was that much a glutton for punishment. I smiled a little fakely. "_I love the life, the little things..._" I sang fondly, swaying a little.

Travis batted his eyelashes at me, giving me an eerie sincere look. "_You get me through_," he crooned, smiling at me fondly. He reached out and caressed the side of my cheek. His touch roused something in me (in this case, sending the alarm bells off), and I jerked away from him abruptly. I immediately whipped around, scanning the room to see if anyone had seen. Because we don't do things like that in public, much less on Tommy's home turf (and, yes, I realize what a ridiculous thought that is, especially given what I said to Chaz earlier)... but there was something about the studio that made me feel so exposed. And God knows if I get caught doing something, it usually happens here. Fortunately, it seemed as if no one had seen. The few people who were milling around were busy with their own affairs, too busy to notice me.

Travis was frowning, suddenly unhappy, and it occurred to me that I might've wounded him. But the thought was still so alien to me, I couldn't accept it, not without evidence. His playing slowed, dulled a little. He'd been getting increasingly moody on me lately, and I honestly don't know what to do about it. We never had that conversation, and well, neither of us has really pressed or made an effort to have that conversation. Maybe Chaz was right about something. Maybe I am in a little over my head here. Maybe I just um, wow, rejected him.

Nonetheless, I tried to get that charm back. I smiled a bit too brightly and sang (with a rather pointed and somewhat pained expression), "_I'm moving it __**along**__!_" I tried my best to throw all the earnestness and sincerity I could into the sentence. I really did want it to be true. I wanted to convince him. And only a little more than I wanted to convince myself. I shrugged. "_I'm feeling out of it, and put it in a song..._" I added a bit more truthfully. That, I think, convinced Travis more than anything else. He nodded appraisingly.

I smiled, somewhat encouraged by this, and then, just as I turned around, there was Tom Quincy, heading down the stairs in a hurry. He had the agitated look of a man who wants something. And, God help me, all this time, and I still froze for a second, mute. I cast a somewhat worried glance at Travis. Not gonna lie, I was also a _bit_ worried about how Tom would react to seeing Travis in his personal space. I gestured to Travis to hurry it up, feeling a bit panicked. "_Now you're here... You're bringing __**thunder**__, ah... ooh, ooh, ooh... What rock have I been under?_" I could practically hear the ominous rumbling.

Travis glanced up just then, noticing my hastiness to finish the song, and set his eyes on Tommy. And smirked. That was when I knew I was in for trouble. However, I didn't have the time to do much of anything, as Travis suddenly grabbed my hand, pulling me closer to him, thus drawing my attention away from the approaching tornado. Without throwing a single glance back over his shoulder at his brother, Travis started playing again, this time a slow, dreamy melody. "_Young girl, get out of my mind..._" He began, shooting me a knowing, if not somewhat lascivious glance. He raised his voice a little. "_My love for you is way out of line... Better run, girl. You're much too young, girl_," He continued in a clear, sweet sort of voice.

As for me, I froze completely. I won't deny that the gentle yet intent look in his eyes was getting to me, but what really did me in was him calling me that familiar yet forbidden nickname. The last time Tommy had called me that was the day Angie showed up. It just slipped out when he touched me. I kind of ached for that name. And I could hear (presumably) Tommy's footsteps on the tile, thump, thump, soft, but I didn't dare look behind me. Honestly, I didn't want to look away from Travis. I was entranced with him, with the things he was singing to me.

It wasn't my kind of song, a bit too dazed and out there, slow, high, but I liked it all the same. Because what girl doesn't like a song that's written about her, for her, with good intentions and affection? Apparently Travis had also heard Tommy's approaching footsteps, because he picked up the tempo of the song and skipped ahead to the bridge. I saw him glance away every now and then, over my head, probably at Tommy. Tommy's silence indicated that he hadn't recognized or registered Travis yet. Travis threw me a wolfish grin. "_So, hurry home to your da-addy... ooh ah ah ah-ah... I'm sure he wonders where you are_," He sang in a warning tone, winking at me ridiculously.

I giggled a little bit, shamelessly, and Travis picked up the tempo even further, powering into the heat of it. "_**Get**__ out of he-e-ere!_" He half-sang, half-screamed, taking me aback. I realized then that he was singing louder and louder and vaguely wondered why. His fingers strummed the strings hard, and he moved closer and closer to me. "_Before I have the time to __**change**__ my mind... 'cause I'm __**afraid**__ we'll go too far!_" He continued. That part was cheesy, a little Elvis-like, but the power of Travis' emotions and conviction took me aback. And, there was no mistaking it- he'd stopped looking at me. He was looking behind me, above me.

So it wasn't really about me, then. And then Travis hit the strings harder. The look in his eyes was furious, intent, dangerous. "_Young girrrrl, get out of my mind! My love for you is waaay out of __**line**__! Better __**ruuun**__, girl! You're _much_ too __**young**__, girl!_" Travis shouted pointedly, cutting each statement, emphasizing each word crisply and clearly. His words were choppy, jagged, words dragged out. And that's when I understood what he was doing. The taunting hadn't stood out so clearly before, nor had the edgy look on his face.

Travis looked like he was poised to continued, but I didn't feel like being played like a chess piece, so I reached out and calmly stilled the guitar strings with my fingers. Immediately afterward, I turned around and nearly ran into Tommy's angry abdomen. Well, actually, it kind of wasn't his abdomen, it was more like, um... yeah... those bits... So I pulled back, of course, and kind of looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. Tom was seething silently, breathing rather like a bull, because all that Travis had been singing had gotten to him, just as Travis had intended. Point made and established. Since it seemed that Travis and Tom were in a Mexican standoff, I was forced to break the silence. "So, Tom, what do you want?"

Not me, that's for damn sure. Ass-bagel.

Tom suddenly pivoted to look at me, and the force of his stare on me took me aback. He hadn't directly looked at me in ages. He looked at me in silence for a good moment before his anger cleared enough for him to remember what he was there for. "E.J.'s wondering why you aren't in hair and make-up yet," he said flatly. I blinked, somewhat confused. Well, I don't even know where that is or where we're filming said video, so why would she expect me to be there? I don't follow Chaz around like a lost puppy. Tom staring at me made my skin prickle; I was that unaccustomed to it.

We stood there awkwardly in silence for a moment, and Tom looked away almost immediately. Like he couldn't stand to look at me. That stung just a little. The silence was really starting to get to me, especially the way Tommy just stood there, silent and hulking and obviously pissed but not really hiding it well. It was like he was waiting for something, so then I was waiting for him to say something, and it made me feel like I was having an anxiety attack! So, after a minute passed like this, of us exchanging somewhat furtive glances, I got kind of fed up. "Tom..." I began severely. His eyes jumped to mine at the mention of his name, and his posture suddenly became a whole lot stiffer. "Do you actually have anything else you wanna say to me?" I barked impatiently.

He was stone silent, as usual. Don't know why I expected anything different. I huffed out a breath and started to turn around, but then I noticed that Tom was actually looking past me and glowering at his brother. I cleared my throat, not that it managed to catch his attention. "Look, are you just gonna stand there staring like a _psychopath _or is there actually a purpose to your presence here? 'Cause the intensity with which you're glaring at the air is really starting to creep me out," I told him bluntly, hoping for some sort of reaction. He relaxed a little but otherwise didn't acknowledge it. I sighed, motioning for him to go, "Now, if you've said your peace, so be it, but don't hang around."

Nope. It's like the man understands nothing I've said, which is ridiculous, since he's fluent in pretty much all the Romance languages, Joual, and English and able to carry on a decent conversation in Japanese. Then again, Travis wasn't much better, though I didn't have the displeasure of witnessing his reaction. "So, is there anything else you want to tell me or your brother, Tom?" I continued pointedly, crossing my arms over my chest.

He glanced at me briefly, and my stupid heart leaped, even as he shook his head and said, "Not really." Not even my name, just that banal phrase. However, he turned even more pointedly to Travis, inadvertently taking a step closer. "Although I would like to know what exactly you're doing here, Travis," he intimated menacingly. Oh great. A turf war. I can't decide whether it's over me or the studio, but given Tom doesn't care about me... And an accusation. Marvelous. Travis will certainly rise to the challenge.

Travis too stepped forward, and suddenly they were both beyond me. "Why, I'm visiting a _friend, _Tom," Travis said in a faux-innocent, super calm voice. Said voice was inherently mocking of course, and the smug look on Travis' face practically spelled out that he was doing me, as did the arm he put around my waist oh-so-sleazily. Like I wouldn't mind. Like I should appreciate being treated like a chew-toy or piece of meat. I scowled at him, but, like his younger brother, he failed to notice. They're damned ignorant when they want to be, this observant bunch.

Tom made a face like he'd smelled something unpleasant. And that odor was Travis and beneath him. "Oh, really? Do you visit _all_ your students at their jobs, then?" he asked, feigning nonchalance. The barely-contained rage was evident in his voice. "Or are the _seven-__**teen**_-year-old girls the only ones who are so lucky?" he questioned pointedly, moving still closer to Travis. He gestured to me, throwing his hand in my direction. His face was lightly flushed, and we'd all noticed how he'd stressed the number. It was obvious what he was insinuating. But I was the only one who'd noticed Tom's eyes flitting to mine for a brief moment, questioning, before he looked away. And, maddeningly, of course I wasn't able to express anything to Tom in that second.

Travis smirked, cocking his head to the side. I winced in anticipation, well aware that he was about to throw in a more blatantly sexual innuendo. Just what I need. Tommy thinking the wrong (right) things about me and... this might sound totally stupid, and I know I shouldn't even care, right, but I _really_ don't want Tommy to know that me and Travis are kind of a thing. I mean, it would be like, really awkward and unpleasant, obviously, Tommy knowing. He would be so nasty about it. And so I kind of hate Travis for attempting to, um, flaunt it like this. "I have no problems with seventeen-year-old girls," Travis replied smoothly, flashing that dangerous smile. Yep. I'm screwed.

"What they lack in maturity, they make up for in... enthusiasm," he continued coolly, throwing me a deliberate glance. I covered my eyes, silently shaking my head, mortified. Wow, that was even worse than I thought. I'm pretty sure my face was red. Either way, I couldn't look at either of them because, God, Travis was kind of... right. He paused, like a shark going in for the kill. "But, then again, I think you already knew that, Tom... because who knows more about seventeen-year-old girls than Little Tommy Q, right?" he drawled smugly.

Tom tensed at the hated nickname and also, probably, at one of the implications of Travis' words. Tom has been with a lot of teenage girls in his time, so he does know a thing or two about us. However, they were moving closer and closer with each comment, and I knew that something had to be done. Especially as Tommy had that I-wanna-punch-somebody-look on his face. Sensing that something was on the verge of escalating, I quickly stepped in, quite literally between the two of them. It was disarming to be that close to Tommy, but I managed. I cleared my throat and said quickly, pushing Travis back, "It's for extra-credit." Upon Tom's disbelieving and somewhat disgusted look, I continued hastily, "Since I'm starring in a music video, Teach finally decided to recognize that yes, I am a musician, and that I do deserve to have a little extra credit, as I do more for his stupid class than any other student in it."

Travis openly scowled at me, not really backing up my story, although, in retrospect, that might've been because I called his class stupid. The fact that Travis refused to give me any normal treatment in class was a sore point between us. He doesn't want anyone to get suspicious, so he still held me to the same ridiculous exacting standards. Yet, he was publicly civil to me and sometimes even nice, which in my opinion is far more suspicious. Personally, I think Travis just doesn't want me to think I have a free ride because I'm a musician or making out with him. I, on the other hand, think that that should really count for something. Because, like, I get that my grade has to be independent of our relationship, sure.

But I don't get why I can't even get treated like any other student. If I have to be treated specially, it might as well be in a favorable way! What I don't get is why he can't just cut me a break every now and then. This thing I've got going with Travis has its perks; privacy, someone to talk to about things (Tommy-related), advice, someone to help me with my music now that my muse and mentor has deserted me, fun sometimes, a place to go... and the obvious fact that Travis is really hot and really good at a lot of things (just not _as_ good as Tommy), and that being with him is, in a lot of ways, exactly like being with Tommy.

Anyway, Tommy nodded gruffly and seemed to settle for this excuse, taking it at face value. Shows how little he really knows either of us, eh? He glowered at Travis for a second but ultimately retreated in stony silence. But not without throwing me an almost reproaching look that meant I should get into hair and make-up. When he stalked out, the room felt undeniably lighter, and I sank into the couch. Hair and make-up could wait a minute or two.

I turned to Travis and smiled. He was still standing and looked annoyed, to put it mildly. "I'm _not_ giving you extra-credit," he said immediately, a dour look on his face. Ugh, that was the teacher look. And not the fun, hot teacher look, the curmudgeonly librarian look. Because Travis has spent enough time in academia and schooling and, frankly, the library, to have that look down pat. He's actually secretly a librarian, despite the front he puts up. The real Travis is that moral, prudish curmudgeon, and someday the man is going to realize that and go back to the rather dull, responsible smartypants he used to be.

"Yes, you are," I told him firmly, attempting to disagree with him politely. I looked him in the eye. "I told Tommy you were, and, _frankly_, I think I deserve it." I know that this seems a poor excuse, but it's true.

Travis' scowl deepened, and he shook his head, the set of his shoulders firm, his lips a thin white line. Travis turned to me, suddenly remembering my existence, and plopped down onto the couch next to me. He was like a raw nerve. "I am **not**... We've been over this. It's unethical," he retorted blandly, tuning the guitar, throwing me a look. "It smacks of favoritism." He sounded so damn prim and proper saying it, like he was a real teacher. It was ridiculous.

I knocked my shoulder against his and chuckled, leaning against him a little. "You are _so_ just saying that because we're fooling around." Travis jerked away from me, throwing me a dirty look. I scoffed. "_God_, Travis... No one would ever, **ever** accuse _you_ of favoring me, okay? Sheesh. Even the other teachers all still think you have it out for me," I grumbled.

"And that's the way it should stay. It would be out of character for me to treat you any other way," Travis said firmly, concentrating on his task. He didn't see me roll my eyes.

"So it's in your character to be an ass to me, then?" I rejoined swiftly. Out-of-character... what is he, a writer? I crossed my arms over my chest, becoming increasingly more annoyed with him. "And don't pretend like you actually give a damn about your job, Travis, because I think we both know teaching high schoolers music was never exactly your dream..." I continued sarcastically. Travis didn't register these comments. "Besides, if you actually cared about your job, you wouldn't be doing this." I motioned between the two of us. "And you wouldn't have slept with Patsy at school or come on to Joan. _Also _at school." I also muttered somewhat snidely, sort of under my breath, "And it's not like I'm actually doing you or anything. I _do_ the work, you know."

"Well, Jude, dreams don't always come true. This is my reality, and that's just the way things are. Accept it," Travis said caustically. His eyes were hard and kind of... dead... inside, and I realized how dissatisfied he really was with the way things were. Dissatisfied, yet wholly unable or unwilling to actually do anything about it except self-sabotage. God, he's so half-assed. Man could use some personal growth.

He was painfully resigned, and I noticed how his eyes flicked to me casually, silently referencing a particular dream of mine that had just gone up in flames. I take it back. It is totally in his character to be an ass to me. Doesn't mean it should be, though. I sighed loudly. "I bust my ass for your class, okay? I do twice the work that every other student does, and this is my career! Don't act like I don't do jack and just coast by on my laurels, okay?" I was foolishly attempting to have a serious conversation like we were in an actual relationship. "I _paid_ for the damn studio in our high school. You are there because of me." Travis froze, but we both knew I was right.

He was physically there as a teacher because I had that studio put in, and he'd picked my school because of me. And because he needed to get to me to screw with Tommy. Felt a lot like fate, that. I cleared my throat and continued, because we were kind of having a moment, one of those intense stare moments that made me feel really awkward and confused. "And I don't think it's fair for you to hold me to different standards than all the other students. You need to cut me a break sometimes, okay?" What a waste of my time. Travis rolled his eyes, not taking me seriously, and I knew it was time to change the subject. Since he was clenching his jaw and all.

My smile was a bit more forced than I would've liked, but there was some sincerity behind it. "So," I said, hand finding his arm in an attempt to calm him down some, "that song you wrote for me... it sounded pretty good. A bit out there, though, even for you." Naturally, I was blithely ignoring the fact that he'd clearly just been singing it to piss his brother off.

He was still tense, though, and he scoffed at my words. "Please, that song isn't mine. I like to think I'm a bit more imaginative than that," he retorted somewhat irritably. He picked up the guitar again and glanced down at it, shaking his head. "I mean, sheesh, that song was written by Gary Puckett in the '60s. Any _supposed_ rockstar worth her salt would know that. What are you, an infant?" he continued harshly, shooting me a glare.

I could literally _feel_ the disgust radiating off him in waves. And I wasn't sure if it was directed at myself or Tommy, but Travis' words had stung. It was an old wound, of course, and, God, he sounded _just_ like his brother. Over the past month or so, I'd forgotten about that side of him because he hadn't been so deliberately nasty to me since the beginning of Christmas break. And that moment was honestly the first time I started to have second thoughts about what we were doing. Because I didn't want to be with someone like that. And it made me kind of realize how much of Travis' character I really overlook, and how most of it isn't so great.

I managed to keep myself under control and said tightly, emotionlessly, "In case you haven't realized, Travis, as your brother pointed out, I'm _only_ seventeen. Which _you_, of all people, should know better than anyone, given that you are my high school music teacher, and I am dating your seventeen-year-old brother." Like I need any more reminders of just how young I am? It took a lot to suppress the anger I was feeling, but I felt like showing it would just fuel him or tip him off that what he'd said had gotten to me. And wounded my ego simultaneously because I felt stupid.

Travis actually had the nerve to roll his eyes. He didn't even look at me, too busy focusing on the chords he was testing. I wanted to strangle something a little bit. It was like he didn't even think I was worth the attention of an actual acknowledgment or response. "You know what, forget it, Travis. I've got a video to shoot with people who actually treat me like an adult and take me seriously," I retorted, standing up abruptly and crossing my hands over my chest. I do realize the irony in that, given that they're playing up my age in the music video and probably gonna be dressing me up like some Lolita-type, but still. There is a certain potent power in a young girl's sexual awakening. Travis spared me a one-second glance and snorted. Snorted! I was livid, but I managed to contain it and suppress the groan bubbling up inside me. I briskly began to head towards the area Tommy had come out of but turned around halfway, addressing Travis.

"And I don't appreciate that little stunt you pulled earlier. I don't like being _used_, especially as a pawn to screw with your brother and fuel your stupid little sibling rivalry," I snapped icily. My tone recalled Victoria's in its chilliness. I wanted to tell him that Tom clearly didn't give a damn, that the only reason he even seemed annoyed was because Travis was in his studio and obviously stirring up unpleasant memories of his relationship with me... but I wasn't even sure if I entirely bought that that was the only reason Tom was pissed. Travis scoffed, actually looking up and meeting my gaze, but I cut him off before he could speak. "Do it again, and you'll be one more Quincy who's out of my life," I warned. I didn't stick around to see his reaction, but I meant it.

Travis has been a great help, but if he's gonna be like this... Well, I can live without being sucked back into his and Tommy's personal war again. I'm sick of being a catalyst. I left for Hair and Make-up before Travis could say a word to me. Whatever he had to say, I was too angry and keyed-up from my encounter with Tommy to hear it. I stormed into Hair and Make-Up, and E.J. kind of chewed me out while all these people fluttered around me. Whatever. Didn't care or pay attention. Then they were done, and I looked like a twelve-year-old, just about, with pigtails, ridiculous little girl jumper, white tights and black Mary-Janes, simultaneously demure but disturbingly sexualized.

And I was wondering how they were going to avoid making Chaz look like some kind of creeper lusting after a little kid because, well, even though this is a song about his lost love, it doesn't mean they have to remind people that he was charged with statutory rape. Plus, well, since Chaz actually like, I dunno, was guilty of what they charged him with, well, why do they need to emphasize the creepy aspect of this story when Chaz will inevitably have to talk about it in interviews and... it'd hurt his popularity, right, because no one likes someone who fools around with kids. And I mean, I know the truth, and I know that both of them were so young... but I also know how it looks, an older guy with a young girl. It tends to be a problem for the relationship, in my experience.

I realized, as I heard the chords of the song we'd written together playing, that the majority of Chaz' song sounded like he'd meant it in the present tense. And what was the point in writing such a personal song in the present and making it public if he hadn't made these overtures to Ruby herself? Once again I pondered the wisdom in making this his first single. How was Sadie going to feel about all of this? I mean, of course she knew about Ruby, but probably not the truth of it or the whole story... and it was more than likely that she'd forgotten how much Ruby looked like me. I realize this sounds bizarre, given that Ruby is currently staying with our family, but I don't think Sadie's put it together. To be fair, though, for obvious reasons Ruby doesn't exactly publicize who she is or what she's famous for, even though her name shouldn't be known at all, really, given that the whole mess happened when she was underage.

Chaz had cleaned up pretty nicely in a suit, since I think they're marketing him as adult contemporary or something else slightly ridiculous. I smiled at him and glanced at the set, which was truly a monstrosity. It looked like it was a giant pile of clouds, only it looked super fake, but I guess they could CGI it into looking more real or something, right? Chaz paled when he saw me approaching, and I frowned at him slightly, putting my hands on my hips. "I mean, I know I kind of look like Heidi, but I don't look that stupid, do I?"

He shook his head and seemed unable to speak for a moment. I noticed that his hands were faintly shaking, and that was when it really struck me just how very weird this was going to be. I really don't get paid enough for all the stuff I do here. I just don't. Especially for what it does to my dignity. "It's just... the resemblance is a little uncanny. Takes me back," he muttered awkwardly, trying not to look at me. His eyes were misty as he said it, and I could tell that he was trying hard to remind himself that I wasn't her and that he missed her much more than he'd ever said.

They'd darkened my hair up a bit so I looked even more like her than I did usually. "You ready to do this?" I asked him seriously. Chaz shrugged unconfidently, like it was something you were never really ready for. It occurred to me then that the last time I'd kissed him (and I undoubtedly would have to) had been that awful time on Tommy's floor that made me cringe to think about it. I sighed. "Look, Chaz, I'm only gonna say this once, 'cause we've got to film this thing and finish it today... I know you're nervous about this. I _know _that this is a big step for you, both personally and in your career... And, while I would ordinarily never say this... I'm just gonna come out with it because, well, can't really avoid it, now can I?" I rambled, trying to find a way to put it delicately.

Chaz gazed at me, lost and confused, looking rather like a little boy. "And maybe this video can help you get closure or whatever..." Truthfully, I didn't actually believe that. Everything that I'd heard today had only served to convince me that their problems could only be fixed by a serious heart-to-heart. I inhaled deeply, remembering a time that a very similar offer had been made to me. "Pretend that I'm Ruby. When we're doing the video. Just... pretend. And sing and act how you feel, okay? How you _really_ feel. I know a lot has happened between you two, but that _love_ is still there... no matter what, when someone's the love of your life... it never really goes away," I told him urgently.

Chaz gaped at me, surprised and awe-stricken, but I just shook my head. Then he nodded slowly, still confused, and then everything just converged to the start of the video. Chaz and I made our way to the really lame set and began. "_Oh, Ruby, I want everyone to see... What it is you mean to me. You set me free, free like I need to be, opened my eyes to all the possibilities... Ruby, you're the only one for me!_" He sang, glancing at me frequently, hesitantly, really. His voice was full of conviction, though, nervous as he looked. The poor guy was sweating already.

I'd already been instructed to act like Ruby, but my words to Chaz had kind of amplified that. While he was singing, I'd been dancing and spinning in circles and doing other things rather childishly. After that first verse, we headed outside to the carousel and carnival that had been rented and set up for the occasion. Chaz took my arm and we walked through the whole procession. Our first stop was the carousel where, at first, I headed around all by myself and made him watch. Then, the second time, Chaz got on and acted like a kid, climbing all of the things and chasing me around. We were the only two people on it, and it was really kind of fun. I'd never thought of Chaz as a big kid, you know. I'd always known him as this adult. "_Ruby, you've completely __**changed**__ me_," Chaz continued as we walked into a hastily-set up Hall of Mirrors, where he gazed at his reflection, distorted, in a mirror before turning to see me reflected all around him but finding me nowhere. He heard me laugh and then ran out, following me.

He found me making faces with clowns and laughed himself. "_Before you, I took myself too seriously_," Chaz told me, smiling at me like a lovesick puppy. I wondered idly if he'd forgotten that I wasn't Ruby. I was, however, having fun at the carnival with him. I was totally going to come here afterwards, since we've got it for the whole day. Actually, there were a bunch of kids and their parents there too, who were mostly actors and all instructed not to act like we were famous or weird for singing so very much in public. Then Chaz got me a cotton candy and a ridiculously large chili dog. I started devouring the cotton candy and accidentally-on-purpose spilled the chili dog on Chaz. Like I was gonna eat that and give myself gastrointestinal problems for a week? He looked down and then looked at me, with sticky cotton candy all over my face, and we both started laughing hysterically.

Then Chaz threw off the suit jacket, fancy dress shirt, and the pants, revealing a white t-shirt and jeans. So then I felt ridiculous and would've preferred to wear a much more Jude (but less Ruby) jean skirt and t-shirt, which I suppose would've ruined the effect. "_But you taught me to how laugh at myself_," he continued brightly. True happiness was an expression I'd rarely seen on his face.

Then he leaned in and touched my nose, brushing away some of the cotton candy with his finger and leaning in close. "_I want you to __**know**__ there's no one else_," He almost whispered, looking at me so intently that I was actually fairly uncomfortable. He definitely meant that, all right, and where the hell was my sister in this mess? She didn't need another broken heart. I smiled back sweetly though, playing along for his benefit.

Then he took my hand and we started playing some of the games. He went to win me some prizes and predictably failed. I couldn't help but think that Tommy would've won. Then I surprised him by winning a bottle toss. Yeah, I so have a great arm. I handed him a large and generally ridiculous neon green stuffed crocodile. I felt bad a moment later, though, thinking that Taylor, with his fondness for ridiculously bright colors, might've liked it. Then we ran through this big green field of astroturf and flowers that had been set up next to a green screen, no doubt to add in an actual sky and make it look like we weren't really in a dingy alley. All of this while doing the second repetition of the chorus.

It was turning out to be a hell of a lot more fun and less nerve-wracking than my last two music videos. Although, you know, it lacked a certain physical chemistry. On my part. Chaz was still giving me those goo-goo eyes. After this they took us to the nearest playground and shot some footage of us together walking down the empty street, holding hands all the way. When we got to the playground, I headed for the slide. Chaz followed. I slid down as he sang, staring at me longingly while leaning against the steering wheel. "_Your copper hair, your winsome smile._" I knew the camera was following me, the way my hair was swishing behind me as I slid down and rose triumphantly, glancing up at Chaz brightly, grinning madly.

Then I went up and did that a couple more times, naturally. Then I smirked and got down on my stomach and pushed myself down kind of like a luger or something. My dress flew up behind me, showing the tights and the crazy colored little girl underwear they'd given me. Chaz was waiting for me at the bottom of the slide, as he had been these past few times, to catch me. In this case, I fell into him and thus avoided serious head trauma. Chaz beamed down at me, quickly righting me and helping me to my feet. He was good at this whole nurturing stuff. "_Freckled skin, the _light_ that dances in your eyes_," he continued, noticing the way my clothes had gotten all messy from running around, baring a bit more of my shoulder than should've been shown. Then Chaz picked me up and spun me around and I giggled, dizzy and clinging to him until we both fell to the ground in a heap.

He helped me to one of those merry-go-round things that you sit on when you're a kid and ask someone bigger to push, and it spins until you're dizzy. And then he spun me around and I laughed and tried to stand, holding onto the bars. Then it slowed and I was kind of wobbly and wound up falling into him. Chaz laughed and helped me onto his back for an impromptu piggyback ride. I enjoyed making him pretend like he was a horse (whinny included) and kicking him in the side to make him go faster. Chaz was actually running, too, panting with exertion, and then he stopped and leaned over and I went crashing down to the ground in front of him.

Which was actually kind of hilarious. I was shaking so hard with laughter that people thought I was crying or legit having a fit like a kid, but I was really okay. When Chaz bent in, concerned, I pulled him down to the ground with me and started pointing at the clouds and saying what they were. That would've been the perfect time to kiss him, but, you know, I wasn't especially motivated to do so. He snuggled into me, gazed at me as I was speaking. It was kind of nice to feel appreciated. No one had ever watched me so intently, you know, except my dad when I got back from tour. That was how I knew how much he missed me, the way he looked at me and said he just couldn't believe I was home, and how sad he sounded because he knew that that was the first time I'd gone and that it meant that, in a way, I was already gone forever and not his little girl anymore. Don't get me wrong, Tommy's had his moments. But how often has he just stared at me with such naked emotion in his face (when I was wearing clothes and just, being normal?)? Not really much at all... Point is, I saw how someone could fall for him. I got the appeal, and I gave into the sympathy of it a little bit.

Then Chaz helped me up, and we headed to the swings. Naturally, he pushed me. I demanded that he push me higher and higher, and he pulled me up as high as I could go and then... let go. "_Your carefree laugh, it drives me wild_," he murmured fondly. I gasped and giggled in delight, like a child much younger than my years. And then, as directed, I jumped off the swings, though I was afraid. Chaz couldn't catch me this time, you know. He raced over to me, worried, like I was his child or the real Ruby, and started checking me over frantically to make sure I was okay. When he realized I was fine, when I cracked a smile and brushed my cheek against his playfully, he pulled me to him and embraced me tightly, eyes closed. And I realized that this was what it was like to really be loved.

I kind of liked the feeling, even though I knew it wasn't real and I sure as hell didn't feel the same. It felt good to be loved for once in that way. Every experience I've ever had with love has ended with me getting burned. And spurned. And dumped. No one's ever shown me before or held me like I was something precious. Like Chaz did that day. Then I pulled away, tossing my hair, and ran to the play thing (I suppose I could say jungle gym, but I don't really think that applies to a large piece of playground equipment rising out of the wood chips or rubber chips or pebbles), scrambling over the bridge. I glanced back at him and giggled but found he was pretty hot on my heels, so I swung across the monkey bars and raced to slide down the pole to the ground like a fireman. "_The way you toss your hair gets me high_," Chaz sang as he surprised me by catching me at the bottom.

He kind of tickled me, and I wound up giggling for, like, the millionth time that day. And I was kind of a mess too, that I knew, but Chaz was just staring at me like I was... his world. I was beginning to feel a bit like maybe telling him to pretend I was her was a mistake, so I gave him a bit of a confused look. Chaz pulled back and turned away suddenly. I frowned, reaching out for him like a petulant child. He placed a hand on his brow like he had a headache and sighed, casting me a brief, strained glance. He shook his head. "_If only you weren't __**still**__ such a child_," he muttered to himself. I could see the deep guilt on his face, the weariness in his eyes.

Then they made me do some really childish things like jump up and down and make myself dizzy and play hopscotch and finger paint and get cake all over myself and stuff (while Chaz watched, a forlorn yet amused look on his face) that just should not really be associated with this video. Because it makes Chaz look like a creep who likes little kids. Which isn't true.

I walked along the edge of the playground, on the railroad ties, holding Chaz' hand to help my balance. _"Oh, Ruby, I want everyone to see... what it is you _mean_ to me!_" We followed this up by playing airplane very seriously, laughing once more. "_You set me __**free**__, free like I need to be... Opened my eyes to all the possibilities! Ruby, you're the only one for me!_" Chaz continued joyfully, picking me up bridal style and carrying me off. I pressed my lips to his neck spontaneously, so that it would seem a little more like something flirtatious and a little less like I was out with my father. Our big kiss scene was later.

After that we headed back to the studio. We got some shots of me alone gazing into space with various expressions against a green screen, then I headed into Hair and Make-Up, as did Chaz, for a touch-up and outfit change. I got to wear some relatively normal flannel pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt that I was fairly certain actually belonged to Chaz. It was a Boyz Attack shirt, which, wow, really brought back the memories (and, coincidentally, was a not-so-subtle reference to his previous glory... thank you wardrobe). And it kind of affected me like onions because I was crying and they were all asking me why and trying to get me to stop so I could be presentable for the music video. Then they took my hair down and made it messy, which wasn't hard since I'd been running around like a two-year-old all day.

We headed to the kitchen and, once there, they told me to ditch the pajama pants (because it was _sexier_ that way). So I did,'cause, well, what else could I do? Remind them that I'm seventeen and my parents probably wouldn't be so cool with this, no matter how much I insisted that Chaz was just a friend (and the fact that he happened to be dating my sister and had been a drug addict and accused of statutory rape were all factors that would not contribute to my parents taking this kindly... I mean, they were bad enough with Tommy, who had enough problems with the law and girls, but at least seemed more presentable and less shady... if only because he was so open about everything).

Chaz was wearing a wife-beater and matching pajama pants. And Chaz and I stood there, by the fridge, as Tommy and I had so many moons ago. When I'd asked him to be nice to Shay on my birthday. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, me pulling out that pancake and Tommy lighting the candle. Was I even that same girl anymore?

Sadly, I didn't think so. That Jude, with her morals and standards and innocence, seemed like a thing of the past. Would she have ever done something like this? Maybe, but who's to know? Either way, I knew some of the stunts I've pulled lately... like making out with my sister's (ex)boyfriend, lying about sleeping with Tommy, dumping my boyfriend for his brother, almost having sex with a friend of mine, unintentionally misleading people, smoking, and fooling around with an engaged man and a teacher at that! The old me would've never done any of that, would've never been able to look at herself in the mirror. But it was a new year, and a brand new (BRAVE new) Jude.

I suppressed a sigh, bent down and pulled something out of it as Chaz stared at my ass. Then I straightened and innocently handed him the plate of food to microwave, and Chaz gave me a forced, distant smile, like he was holding something back. I flopped up onto the counter as he worked the microwave, and Chaz came over to me. "_You're the __**first**__ girl I've ever loved_," he said sincerely, licking his lips nervously, placing a hand on my cheek and leaning in, pressing his forehead to mine. My eyes filled unexpectedly with tears as I remembered being in a very similar position with Tommy just down the hall when I'd leaned down, pressing my forehead against his, and said he couldn't get rid of me easy.

Apparently, actually, he could. Funny, though, 'cause I never thought he'd kill me with silence and frost.

I closed my eyes to let Chaz kiss me, since that seemed like what he was going for, and all the reminders of Tommy were driving me a little crazy and it was best not to look. But I was greeted by nothing but his receding warmth as, presumably, the microwave went off, and he hurriedly went over to fetch the food. I opened my eyes hesitantly and peered around, confused. Chaz set the plate down next to me. I turned to get a fork out of the drawer by my knee, and when I turned around, fork in hand, there was Chaz with a velvet box in hand and a terrified expression on his face. My jaw dropped open as he slowly opened the box.

Make that three proposals, although I don't think this one counts, since he hasn't really asked and this is all for the music video (although this was **not** in the script, so he's obviously ad-libbing here!). There in the box was an actual diamond ring, in all likelihood the _very _one he'd given Ruby, since they'd both told me that she'd just left it sitting there on the counter when she left (not that Ruby really remembered since she said her whole head was in a cloud that day and she didn't remember making a decision at all). Then Chaz set the box on the counter, giving the moment an odd sort of symmetry. He pried the ring out, slowly, carefully, never once taking his eyes off of me. I was frozen with disbelief, fork in one hand, the other one softly on my mouth. And then he took my hand and slid the cold ring onto my fourth finger. It was the perfect size, and it was really a beautiful ring, along the lines of the kind I'd really want. And I started crying faintly. Partially because of the moment and partially because it reminded me of Tommy proposing in that stupid dream of mine.

Chaz moved towards me, smiling tremulously, lacing his fingers with mine. He squeezed my hand warmly. "_The only girl I've ever __**needed**__ like this_," he breathed, pressing his lips to my hand tenderly, glancing up expectantly at me. They shot some shots of him pacing and staring with a fixed gaze into space, looking thoughtful or worried, to fill the space that came with the next line. But they did that later. "Y_ou're the only one I'm ever thinking of._" Then it was my cue to respond, and I think I made some kind of noise, maybe a sob, and I nodded eagerly and pulled him into an embrace, dropping the fork, and staring at the ring in disbelief.

Only I was really crying so I buried my face in his neck and Chaz pressed a loving kiss to my forehead. Then he pulled back a little and wiped at my tears, framing my face lovingly. "_And you're the _reason_ for my bliss,_" he continued joyfully, in raptures, leaning in slowly for an unplanned but ultimately necessary kiss. I responded with a bit more passion than he expected, pulling him to me and wrapping myself around him. I was a little caught up in the moment, in the tenderness and vulnerability, in the fact that I felt like I had just very much been proposed to by someone who wasn't insane or joking or in my dreams, even though he thought I was someone else.

I opened my eyes for a moment, and I saw Tommy staring at the two of us with a dark expression on his face, blatant jealousy. And I'm a weak girl, so I put a little more oomph into it for his sake, pretending like it was Tommy who'd really proposed, trying my best to get to him. To prove to myself, to _him_, that I still got to him. He turned away, disgust plain on his face, and then he walked out of the room entirely. I watched him go but couldn't bring myself to embrace a grim satisfaction at the prospect of him walking out, as per **usual**, when things got too intense.

Nothing like a jealous ex-boyfriend.

After that, I pulled back, beaming, and picked up the fork, beginning to eat the food he'd heated up while he sang the chorus. I fed him every now and again, when I got sick of eating whatever that was. It was a sweet moment until they ordered us to head back, muttering a bit about how that clip was dull and would have to be spiced up with better footage.

Then I headed back into the massive room where we'd filmed the first scene. They had another set up on the side, of a bedroom, an area that looked like an apartment. They told me to get into the bed and fixed the shirt so it looked like I wasn't wearing anything. They rumpled the covers a bit and told Chaz to take his shirt off. He just stood there, staring at me pretending to sleep. "_I know the timing's not exactly right_," he sang, and, wow, wasn't that the truth. I rolled over, clutching the covers to my chest and turned to smile at him coyly, invitingly, begging him to come back to bed. Which he did but with a guilty smile.

They told me to get out of the bed, took some footage of me walking away, focusing on my legs and feet, and then they went back to Chaz, who opened his eyes and suddenly noticed I wasn't there. He felt my side of the bed, saw that the covers had been pushed back, and he looked confused. He sat up in bed and held his head, like he was hallucinating. I'd placed the ring on the table, the same way she had in real life. And Chaz saw his clothes on the floor, none of mine. "_But you were the __**best**__ part of my life_," he murmured to himself, sounding absolutely distraught and tortured, on the verge of tears, really, and rocking back and forth.

It would then cut to some of the happier memories, and so we got to have a pillow fight on the bed. Feathers went everywhere, and then we were kind of on top of each other having a moment that ended with the director yelling, "Scene!" We then got to actually put on some normal clothes and filmed an argument that ended with me walking out. Then we filmed me teaching him how to do things, me doing things for him, and writing him letters, and all those little things with Chaz gazing at me with a growing admiration, obviously following the progression of his feelings.

"_You gave me all you had and more_," he sang morosely, walking down through the alley. I watched from the fire escape, glad that they weren't filming me. Unfortunately, however, it brought back memories of how I'd filmed that one memorable scene in my last music video here, and there I was, practically on the verge of tears yet again. Then he walked up to a shady character and handed him some money. The shady character, who happened to be Darius, actually, patted a near despondent, apathetic Chaz on the shoulder and handed him a small baggie. Way to play into the stereotype, D. This baggie, I later found out, when I saw the video, was full of a white substance. He stared at it outside for a minute, holding it up to the light. "_And I'm not the same man now I was before_," he warbled.

When we wrote the song, that was actually meant in a much more positive, hopeful light than the later scene that showed him staring at white lines on the same countertop where he'd proposed. It was white sugar, but it looked real enough.

At this point, I was dragged back to Hair and Make-Up to be tarted up properly. They straightened my hair, which made me look older, put a new coat of better, more precise make-up and dark lipstick, and gave me a short, dark pink sex-bomb sort of dress, sexy boots, and a big black bag. I think they gave Chaz a blue button-up shirt. Then they put us on the sidewalk, with other people just walking, and had me walk in one way, and Chaz walk in the other until we ran into each other. He looked up, surprised, as I gazed at him through my lashes, clutching his arm for support. We stayed there for a moment in silence, just staring.

Then Chaz grabbed my arm then and started singing very loudly. "_Oh, Ruby, I want __**everyone**__ to see!_" he proclaimed, gesturing at the people around, who turned to stare at us, surprised. I turned pink and attempted to pull away, embarrassed. Chaz held fast, though, and he took my arm in the crook of his elbow, bringing me to his side, and, throwing me a lovesick look, began to stroll down the sidewalk. "_What it is __**you**__ mean to me!_" The crowds parted for us. He released my arm and reached for my hand, throwing me out and then reeling me back, eyes locking with mine as he pulled me close. "_You set me __**free**__, free like I need to be!_" We started dancing there, in the middle of the sidewalk, as passersby looked on in curiosity.

Chaz was grinning, opening his eyes and leaning his forehead against mine. He mouthed "I love you", and I felt the ghost of his breath, of those words, on my face, and blinked back tears. "_Opened my eyes to all the __**possibilities**__!_" He exclaimed dramatically, pulling me into a dip. We'd actually practiced this choreography, so I was quiet proud of my success. He then pulled me up and to him, quick as a flash, for the very public and romantic kiss. I didn't respond at first but slowly gave in, and then, when he pulled away I smiled lopsidedly and muttered something inane. Like, "Good to see you again." He grinned back and sang, "_**Ruby**__, you're the __one__ for me!_" Then we walked down the street hand-in-hand, smiling and waving at the strangers we passed, whose stares we didn't feel.

Except Tommy's. He'd been at the end, and the happy expression on my face had fallen upon seeing the brooding, silently furious expression of his. They had, of course, _not_ included that footage in the video. My grip had tightened on Chaz's hand, and I tried to walk on unaffected but failed, of course.

There were two short verses after that, but they just used footage they already had for them, except for one scene where Chaz was holding on to me and wouldn't let go. Us walking down the street hand-in-hand was the real end of the video. And, to tell the truth, Chaz didn't want to let go. He kept holding on even when the director had said it was a wrap, and he was still staring at me like he was in love with me. I cleared my throat, realizing we needed to have a little chat, and I pulled him into the fortunately very deserted alleyway.

Chaz practically fell on me then, kissing my neck and my face, hands everywhere they could reach. I let him do it for a few moments before pushing him away, shattering the illusion. "I love you," he whispered, enraptured, placing his hands on my face. His eyes and his voice said he meant it, and that made my heartbeat quicken. But ultimately I knew it wasn't really _me _he loved. And that was why I hadn't run the hell away. I shook my head, taking his hands in mine and trying to break it to him as gently as possible.

"Chaz, honey, I love you..." I began, wincing at my choice of words and at the naked hope in his eyes. I talked quickly because I was afraid he was going to kiss me again. "...But just as a friend." Chaz frowned, and I continued to explain, squeezing his hands. "I'm not her, honey, and I'm sorry. I'm not Ruby. I'm _Jude_, and you know that, deep down, no matter how much you want to think I am her... I'm not the one you love," I said soothingly, thumbs stroking the back of his hands. Chaz kind of collapsed against the wall and nodded, finally beginning to cry.

He inhaled shakily, glancing up at me briefly, apologetically. He looked away quickly, like he was ashamed or felt foolish for being so naked with his emotions. He buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry... I know... I just... I forgot that you weren't her. Okay?" he muttered shakily. I knew that he'd wanted me to be her so badly that he just... Well, I knew the feeling, so I wasn't going to judge. "It's just all so fresh and the... the anniversary of Charl-" Chaz continued. He stopped dead there, unable to finish the sentence, and actually started sobbing, sinking to the ground. I crouched down and rubbed his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He pried his hands away from his face and looked at me, misery written in his features.

He unsuccessfully attempted to choke back a sob. "It was last week. And all last week I was thinking about it and this stupid music video and trying to be happy-go-lucky normal Chaz and Sadie's boyfriend when all I was thinking about was all the blood and how I had to move into a different apartment because the **stain** just wouldn't go away and every time I looked at it, I saw the love of my life in pain, weeping, and I thought about dead babies... And then I thought about that Christmas and all the stuff we'd bought for the baby and how _happy_ we were, and how I have all of that stuff just sitting, unused, in some lonely storage shed right now. And I remembered how I used to sing lullabies to her belly and talk to the... b-baby. And I remembered how it was when she got back, like we were walking on eggshells, and we were both so... _broken_. And I've just had all of this swirling around inside me for so long, bottled up and pushed down... and I just forgot how I felt because it was easier that way," Chaz confided between his tears, wiping at his cheeks.

I pulled him into an embrace and wound up half-sprawled on top of him, which was not the wisest decision, but, well... what else could I do? It was hardly a comfortable position. I just hugged him and let him cry, realizing then that he'd never really dealt with all of the pain from losing them because he'd gone to drugs and then had forced himself not to think about it, and now, the video was bringing back unpleasant memories. I murmured comforting words and then a thought came to me, and I knew what I needed to say.

I was beginning to see that a Chaz who was still so clearly hung up on his ex-fiancée was far worse for my sister than no boyfriend at all, and that I owed it to the both of them to say something on the matter and attempt to course correct. Because even if it resulted in them breaking up, it was better a small sadness now than a bigger heartbreak later. I inhaled sharply. "You know, Chaz, this might be a really stupid thing of me to say... But, well, why don't you and Ruby talk about this?" He glanced up at me as if I'd spoken to him in a foreign tongue, and I sighed. "Honestly, as much as I love my sister... You and Ruby really need to have a serious talk about everything... because neither of you is over each other, and there's still a _lot_ of unresolved feelings there. And, trust me, Chaz, you do **not** want to go through life with a lot of unresolved, unspoken feelings on your heart. You both need closure," I urged him, thinking of my own liaison with Tommy and how it gnawed at me, not really knowing for sure how he felt.

"And, frankly," I added rather bluntly, if not a bit sternly, "this whole thing has _really_ screwed the both of you up so that you're incapable of forming any real relationships until you work this out somehow." I was their friend, and I saw both sides. I certainly saw it more in Ruby, that this hindered her from functioning normally... and I saw that they both seriously needed to talk to some kind of counselor to work out their own personal issues. But Chaz certainly couldn't ever come to really love someone else if Ruby was still in his head, a ghost who hadn't crossed over to the other side.

Chaz nodded like he kind of agreed with me but then shook his head. "I need to keep my distance, Jude... She doesn't want me there." I gave Chaz a look asking if he was snorting things again. Did he not hear her saying she loved him? Really? He sighed. "I can't take any more from her. I don't have the right... And she needs to move on with her life. She's better off without me," He cried, tortured. The whole argument was beginning to sound a bit familiar, and, having been in Ruby's position, I was beginning to feel a bit impatient. Don't presume to know how someone else feels, and that their feelings are less potent and less important somehow just because they're younger.

Apparently Chaz saw this in my face because he sighed wetly. "You _don't_ understand, okay?" he snapped, returning to his hands. God, where have I heard this before? I really feel like my life just cruelly repeats itself sometimes. "It's my fault that she lost the baby... I had no right to ask so much of her, no right to do the things I did with her. And that's what God was trying to tell me. That's why he took them away from me," Chaz sobbed, as if saying he deserved it. And, while I felt compassion and pity for him, I'd heard that exact argument before, and I wasn't really in the mood to deal with another Catholic's guilt and inferiority complex.

"Excuse me, Chaz, did Tommy take over your mind for a second there? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds? So she was fourteen. Big deal. She wanted _you_, and she was in love with you, and baby, it takes two to tango, okay. Trust me, I know. So stop feeling guilty for something that was entirely beyond your control," I very nearly snapped, very narrowly avoiding slapping him. Chaz glanced up at me, tears still in his eyes, looking hurt and somewhat outraged. But I did know what I was talking about. Well, minus the baby bit.

I shrugged, and Chaz started to glare at me. "Yeah, her being so young made her at a higher risk level, but how were you supposed to know what was going to happen? Are you psychic? No. So what could you have done differently? Nothing. Maybe they run in her family. Maybe it was an ectopic pregnancy or something like that. I mean, you just never know, okay, and you're never going to know... and you have to accept that," I continued firmly. I was aware that I could've been more delicate or gentle about it, more sensitive maybe, but sometimes you need a little tough love to get the message through. And I was aware that I probably wasn't the best person to be telling him all of this because I wasn't a doctor, but I'd been in Ruby's place, and I knew exactly how she felt, how she would've felt hearing those words. And that I could speak on with certainty. So I charged ahead, as always. It's kind of my motto.

I sighed, rubbing his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, softening some. "Miscarriages happen all the time, and they're tragedies, but sometimes they just _happen_, even if you're doing everything right. My mom miscarried _twice_ before she had me, one time before Sadie, and she was crushed. But she and my dad moved forward and didn't give up on life because it happened," I told him carefully. It was a fact my parents didn't really talk about. They'd mentioned it once or twice in all the years I'd been alive... and my mother had miscarried relatively early on in her pregnancies, so, in some ways, it wasn't as bad as it had been for Chaz and Ruby. I mean, I'd always grown up with the knowledge that my parents had wanted me and had tried long and hard to have me and that I'd been their "miracle" baby. I shook my head at him. "I'm not saying forget, Chaz. I'm not saying that. What I'm saying is that you _have_ to stop blaming yourself because it's not doing anyone any good, and you've got to remember that this is something you and Ruby should be working on together. You should be healing and grieving together. You might always feel a little bit of that loss... but you can get past it and focus on the future," I continued positively, squeezing his shoulder.

The look on his face was rather enigmatic, but it was clear I hadn't entirely convinced him. I put my fingers on his chin and made him look me in the eyes. Then I told him, very seriously, "Plus, Chaz, if you never did anything, you would never have had Ruby or Charlotte, and would your life really be better if none of that ever happened?" I paused for a minute, to let him work out the quite obvious answer for himself. It was the same answer I got whenever I tried to figure out the whole mess with Tommy. And maybe my heart would be better off, but I'm glad I got to know what it'd be like, that I got to have that time with him. And, honestly, I'd probably do it all over again. And, ultimately, I knew Chaz would too. "The answer is no, because it'd be an empty, meaningless, loveless life. And you would feel their absence from your life."

Chaz nodded up at me, getting it, knowing I was right, and he managed a smile. It reminded me of what Travis had told me right after Tommy and I broke up. Smile because it happened. Regardless of how either of us acts or what Tommy wants, it happened, and even he can't erase that, no matter how much he wills himself to. It's in the muscle memory. Chaz reached up and stroked my cheek affectionately, leaning his forehead against mine intimately. "Thank you, Jude, for giving me this day. It really meant a lot to me... It was nice to feel that way again, even if it was just a lie. I forgot how much I missed her," he murmured gratefully before leaning in and pressing his lips to mine. In reality, I totally should've seen it coming, but I was kind of caught off-guard.

I hadn't even responded, and I was so surprised that I didn't even hear the footsteps until he was directly behind us. "Well, well, well... Couldn't even wait until you were in private, could you?" A very familiar voice drawled. I groaned internally but couldn't really extricate myself from Chaz. Of course Tommy walks in on this. Of _course._ "Then again, nothing says romance like a dirty alleyway and a brick wall. Do hard surfaces do it for you, Jude?" Tommy quipped sarcastically, so much so that I could imagine the bitter little smile on his face. I managed to extricate myself from Chaz and hurriedly rose to my feet.

Chaz followed suit, looking guilty, perhaps for being caught or perhaps at the betrayal implicit in his action. Tommy's bitterness annoyed me, since I hadn't even been responding. "You'd know better than he would, wouldn't you, Tom?" I rejoined swiftly, forcing a little smile. Tom paled, as predicted, and Chaz threw me a curious, mildly surprised look. I mean, God knows how many times Tom and I had had some sort of moment in that very alleyway. The first time we'd ever really kissed was up above us on the fire escape. And Tom knew better about me with my back against the wall because the last two times we'd been in that position, we'd been on the verge of screwing.

My initial instinct was, as always, to attempt to explain this to Tommy. Go with the truth, like always, right? Not that it had ever worked out for me in the past. All Tom ever did was overreact and turn it into some big mess and wind up thinking the worst of me for a while until he was grudgingly forced to admit that I was telling the truth or else just conveniently overlooked it. Then I realized that, for the first time in over a year, I didn't actually have to explain anything to him. I didn't have to explain anything to him. I had a _choice_. And it didn't really matter what he thought of me now, since I more or less knew, and his opinion wasn't going to change for the better (and probably not too much for the worse, either).

And, truthfully, of course, I'd never _really_ had to explain anything to Tommy. Like I did something wrong. Because it wasn't doing something wrong when we weren't in a relationship and I was single. And there was nothing to explain, you know? So why bother? And, why _had_ Tommy always been so willing to believe the worst in me anyways? Even when we had a good relationship and were at least talking? "Wow. You've spoken less than twenty sentences to me all week, and you open with that?" He'd relegated me off to some corner while he produced the tracks I'd recorded or else communicated mostly with gestures such as nods, head shakes, and waving of the hands. It was like recording with a bossy, annoying deaf-mute. "Just shut up, Tom." There was a certain irony in me saying this to the man who had been so hostilely taciturn to me for weeks, when literally _all_ I'd wanted was for him to talk to me again. "I don't have to explain myself to you anymore, and, actually, my personal life happens to be none of your business," I stated defiantly. Because we're not together anymore, I added silently in my head.

Tom raised an eyebrow and proceeded to not shut up. "Actually, Jude, why _don't _you explain? Can you please explain to me why _every_ single time I turn around, I catch another guy gazing at you with the same stupid lovestruck look on his face? I mean, it was bad enough when it was just Andrews and that guitarist of yours, but honestly, it's just starting to get ridiculous! It's like everywhere I go, everywhere I look, I'm surrounded by guys staring at you like they're in love with you..." Tommy interjected, throwing his hands in the air. I could tell he was starting to work himself up and that this was going to become another big argument. His hands were flying through the air like he was flailing. "And couldn't you find someone who _wasn't_ in my life? First my kid brother fell for you, and now my best friend's looking at you like you're his world... and, ugh, even... even Travis isn't immune! God, I thought he was smarter than that, but then I saw the way he was watching you this afternoon when you weren't looking, and it was obvious he has a _thing_ for you! And it just disgusts me," Tom continued in a voice thick with disgust and distaste, sounding progressively more crazy and annoyed.

I may have turned faintly pink at what he said. Not just because it was surprising or because it meant that Tom paid an undue amount of attention to other guys looking at me... But mostly because he thought the way Travis was looking at me meant feelings. A thing. Which wasn't something I wanted Tom thinking, and then it had served to remind me of the mystery of Travis' feelings for me... a mystery I wasn't quite so certain I wanted to solve, really. "So _other_ men are interested in me, and you have a problem with it. Why am I not surprised? Typical Tom, take something that's not a big deal and make it into some nefarious scheme... Last I checked that wasn't something for you to get upset over," I muttered irritably, crossing my arms over my chest. "And it's not like I'm encouraging it, okay? It's not my fault that _some_ people have feelings for me!" I proclaimed defensively, making sure to hit both of those words right so he'd flinch.

Meaning other people, some people other than Tommy, right. At this point, Chaz stepped forward and tried to sap a little of Tommy's fuel away from the fire. He held his hands out, entreating his friend, a look of repentance on his face. "Look, Tommy, man, you've got it all wrong here... It's not what you think... Jude was just being a good friend. She was just comforting me," he said hurriedly, apologetically.

Tommy gave Chaz a look like he was an alien, clearly not believing any of it. Chaz threw me a helpless look, but I ignored it because I didn't owe anyone an explanation. Besides, Chaz had kissed me, not the other way around. Let him find a way out of it. After all, he's the one who's still friends with the guy! "How, Chaz, with her **lips**?" he retorted incredulously. "Does she do that with every guy? 'Cause if she does, I _think _I can see why so many men are obsessed with her!" Tom continued, clearly becoming more agitated.

I rolled my eyes at him. Besides, he would know better than Chaz. You know, Tom, some might say you're projecting. The little voice in my head that dared to suggest that sounded rather an awful lot like Travis. It was kind of a backhand compliment, I realized, since it hinted at me being a rather good kisser. You're just mad it isn't you I'm kissing and comforting and coddling, I thought bitterly. I was rather sick of the hint at me being a skank, because Tom, of all people, knew better. I advanced upon him, moving to get right in his face. "Hey, Tom, here's a thought... Maybe _you're_ the one who's obsessed!" I snapped. I was so angry Chaz had to hold me back.

Chaz sighed, bodily moving between us and throwing the both of us looks like we were acting like small children. Because clearly Chaz is the mature one here. "Tom, **I** kissed _her_, okay? Not the other way around. It's been a hard day for me, and I needed a friend. And Jude was the only one who understood what I needed," he said firmly, stepping forward and taking responsibility for his actions.

I glanced at Tommy to see his reaction, wondering if he'd believe the truth from another's lips. He didn't. Even when that person was his best friend (or, perhaps, especially, in this case). "I'll bet," he sneered.

Chaz was red in the face and clearly rather frustrated with his friend. Honestly, I don't know why he bothered. It isn't as if he doesn't know Tommy. Chaz, however, surprised the both of us by interrupting sharply and with surprising vehemence, "Let me finish, Tommy Tantrum." Tom raised an eyebrow, surprised at this direct challenge. Chaz paused for a moment and then took advantage of Tom's silence. "God, Tom, I'm not that stupid. I mean, how many times did you tell me? You know I'm not romantically interested in Jude. I don't want her..." he murmured wearily, letting out a sigh.

Now, see, at that moment I realized that what Chaz was saying was that Tommy had told him to stay away from me. Or something like that. So it was all I could do to gape and stare, silent with fury, pissed at the level of Tommy's intrusion into my life. I might've lunged, but Chaz was holding me back with a hand on my collarbone, just below my neck. "I just kissed her because it's been a confusing day, and my feelings are literally all over the place, and Jude was nice enough to play along to give me the littlest piece of mind!" Chaz shouted, proving his emotional volatility.

Tom cocked his head, giving Chaz a challenging look. He clearly wasn't buying a word his friend said, and, I suppose, rightfully so, given their history.. "Oh, re-eally? And is _that_ why you were looking at her like you were in **love** with her all day? I'm not blind, Chaz!" Tom countered, lip curling in revulsion.

I probably could've helped Chaz out, maybe contributed something, but, well, I didn't feel up to it. Let him talk himself out of this hole. "For the last time, Tom, I told you I-"

Then something took over me, and I found the words. Since I'd just gone over all that Tom had said in my head and found a pattern. "Forgive me, but when, exactly, did you become an expert on the "look of love," Tom? Since when do you know so much about love, a feeling that, might I add, you can _never_ understand, much less feel!" I cut in brusquely. He'd mentioned looks of love three-four times now. And how did he know what someone looking at me with love in his eyes looked like? Since when was Tom sensitive of that kind of thing? It made me indignant. Does his inability to feel it suddenly give him the ability to perceive that which he can't even perceive in himself?

Chaz was still talking. He threw me a look, mild annoyance flashing in his eyes. Well, I don't suppose I was being helpful. "-have no intentions of pursuing anything... God, do you even _listen? _I mean, you'd think you'd have changed in five years, but, no, you're still as stubborn as a mule and, like always, you refuse to listen to a word I have to say!" Chaz growled, more or less muttering to himself by this point.

"Sure didn't look like that when you were kissing her like your life depended on it!" Tom quipped immediately. And it just figured he'd ignore what I said. Thank you, Tom.

"It's called _acting_, Tom!" I replied equally immediately. It sounded almost like I was coming to Chaz' defense, but I wasn't, exactly. I could've referenced the "acting" **we** did in the last music video we filmed, but given how much of it _wasn't_ acting, it was probably best left off not mentioned.

Chaz let out a short breath, still very much annoyed with his friend. "It was a music video, and she was playing my ex-fiancée. I felt like I'd gone back in time, and all those feelings came rushing back and... it was _overwhelming_, okay, but I don't expect **you** to understand that!" I was surprised at the venom Chaz put into one word, and it occurred to me suddenly that Chaz was really still mad at Tommy for sleeping with Ruby. Once again, I am just a catalyst. Great. I felt like walking away at that point, not wanting to deal with either of them, but I felt like something properly angry would come to me to say to Tommy, and maybe it was worth sticking around if I got in one last vicious comment. Plus, hey, might as well have him insult me to my face rather than wonder about it later.

Tom scowled, putting a finger on his pursed lips. "So, let me see... Not only does she look exactly like the love of your life, make you feel the same way, and, oh, yeah, make you forget, essentially, that she _isn't_ the love of your life... who you still very obviously have feelings for... and you're **still** trying to tell me you have no feelings for her?" he enumerated sarcastically, throwing Chaz a skeptical look that turned serious fast. "Don't try to screw with me, Chaz, because I know all the tricks and I can see right through you. And, you know what, just because I've never been in love doesn't mean that I don't _feel_ or understand things! I'm not _stupid_, Chaz! I remember seeing the two of you on my apartment floor, about to have sex... so I think we all know you're _hardly_ adverse to her charms. You _do_ remember that, don't you, Mr. Morality?" He scolded.

I cringed at the unpleasant but rather inevitable reminder. It didn't sting as much because I was simultaneously impressed and curious at the vehemence in Tommy's assertion that he did, in fact, have feelings. Does that have to do with Angie, perhaps, or is Tommy... Nah. "Don't try to get the higher ground on me here, Tommy, because you can't win. Especially since, if you remember, at the time you _happened _to be screwing the love of my life!" Chaz rejoined bitterly, looking very much like he wanted to hit Tom.

For his part, Tom shrugged, blasé about the fact that he'd slept with the one woman who mattered to Chaz. "I'm not denying that. But you are, Chaz. I mean, you seemed pretty willing to just go ahead and do the deed. You only stopped when I called you on it. Still so sure you don't have feelings for her?" he asked pointedly.

Chaz frowned at Tommy in confusion, and I saw some of the anger fade away from his expression. It was replaced by indignation and incredulousness. "Why don't you believe me? Just because _you_ have lots of experience being uncertain about your feelings for Jude doesn't mean I do! Just because _you_ have feelings for Jude doesn't mean that every other guy out there does, that every guy out there sees what _you_ see, okay?" Chaz shouted disbelievingly, just shaking his head at Tom.

I froze, unable to believe Chaz had just actually said that. Outright accused Tommy of having feelings for me and said that they were the reason he was overreacting. It was something I would've expected of Travis. At that point, I decided to intervene before Chaz crossed another line, and Tom hit him or something. "_God_, Tommy, stop acting like a jealous boyfriend. You can find better ways to waste our time," I spat. Naturally, Tom was distracted quite easily from the more probing things Chaz had said, as the word "boyfriend" meant that he flinched instinctively. He gave me this look afterwards, like I was alluding to our previous relationship, even though I hadn't said it with that in mind. I was not above rolling my eyes at him. "Besides, you're with Angie now, so why do you care?" I asked pointedly.

Chaz, remembering this fact, turned on his friend. "Yeah, Tom, why _do_ you care so much?"

Wow, how original. Tom looked from Chaz to me and back again several times, looking as if he felt backed into a corner somehow. "Because she's my-" he started to respond immediately, stopping dead once he realized what he was about to say in anger and abruptly closed his mouth instead of continuing.

I raised a brow and crossed my arms over my chest. "Your... _what_, Tom?" I quipped smugly, leaning forward with a hand to my ear, waiting for him to say something. I stood there, staring him down, utterly nonplussed for several moments before it became completely obvious by the dark and somewhat embarrassed look on his (rather mottled) face that Tommy wasn't going to answer. My eyes hardened. "I'm your... _what_, Tommy?" I repeated, punctuating each word crisply so that nothing could possibly be misunderstood. He still said nothing, but his eyes were hard, sharp blue diamonds that dug into me. "Cat got your tongue?" I asked so coldly and mockingly that Travis would've been proud of me for it. I smiled thinly at my minor victory. "I wasn't aware I was _anything_ of yours anymore."

A cross look flickered in Tommy's eyes because he could only take so much of my taunting. His lips unfolded from the taut white line they were in, and he barked, shortly, "-Artist." It sounded lame, I'm sure even to him, and I scoffed at the answer. Artist. Like it actually meant anything, that term.

I threw him a skeptical look. "And if that's all we are, Tom, then that makes my life even _less_ of your business than Georgia's, E.J.'s, and Darius'." There was a challenge in my voice, a disbelief that I could sense worried him. But he needn't have worried. I didn't expect him to rise to anything. I just said it to screw with him. Hey, don't look at me like that! Getting over him is a process, and part of that necessary process involves me justifiably putting the screws to him. After all, I'd hardly be an ex if I didn't torment him a little, now would I?

Tommy sighed, a wary look in his eye, conceding that we were something more than artist and producer. It seemed like weakness then, but his eyes gleamed with an idea. "Fine. Brother's girlfriend. You're my brother's girlfriend, and I know he wouldn't be too happy to hear about this, me walking in on you kissing another guy," he stated tersely, jerkily gesturing towards Chaz. There was an almost threatening undertone in his voice, and I stared at him in disbelief.

At first I wanted to laugh because it was just so ridiculous, Tom threatening me. And, I mean, truthfully, as nice as Taylor could be once he got his head out of his ass, at this point... like, I could take him or leave him. One of the chief advantages to the relationship as it stands is that my dating him pisses Tommy off (to be fair, it is more than that. He's got good taste in restaurants, is adventurous, and he's really funny and amusing and silly and my own age, for a change, and very good at taking your mind off some things). But he's also jealous and insensitive and occasionally annoying and a bit too attached and has some issues and isn't exactly the greatest kisser still... But, this from Tommy, of all people, who'd tried to break me and Taylor up? Who wanted me to dump him. Who'd tried to sabotage that same relationship... and I obviously had more dirt on him, and I'm fairly sure Taylor'd believe me, given Tom's crappy credibility and the fact that Travis would undoubtedly back me up.

Then I realized Tom was actually serious, and I still couldn't believe it, but I kind of wanted to hit him in the face because it was _that_ insulting. "Are you trying to blackmail me, Tom? 'Cause, seriously, the last time Taylor saw me with another guy, it was _you... _so do you really think he'd believe you? I really don't need to remind you that **you**, of all people, shouldn't try to play that card with me, do I?" I sneered, throwing him a look that reminded him I had plenty of things I could tell Taylor about his conduct that would make him look far worse than me. What I was thinking was that he was really just mad I wasn't kissing him instead. In other times, I might've dared to say it aloud, but I wasn't going to presume I knew anything about Tom's feelings. Not anymore, at least.

His facial expression tightened but didn't relent, and we wound up having a very bizarre and stupid staring contest. Nonetheless, I was not about to lose. "What right do you have to judge me, Tom?" I asked blisteringly quick, giving him my best withering stare. Unfortunately, Tom was not a grape and didn't wither into a raisin, which was rather unfortunate. "Why do you always think the worst of me? Like I'm _screwing_ someone every time you walk in a room and I'm there with another guy!"

Tom threw me an unimpressed look. "Takes a slut to know one, Jude," he replied just as quickly, a grim, mocking little smile on his lips. Then he crossed his arms over his chest irritably. "And, hey, maybe it has to do with the fact that I always walk in on you kissing some guy or about to kiss some guy or, God, about to have _sex _with some guy, or letting him touch you! I'm not dumb enough to believe you when you say something isn't exactly what it looks like, much less now that I know better!" Tom growled, disgusted, throwing his hands in the air. He leaned in a few millimeters, towards me, and I felt the air between us sizzle. "And, hey, if you _lied_ about having sex with one guy, why wouldn't you lie about not having sex with another one?" Tom cut in swiftly.

I should've seen it coming, but he was so stealthy, what with the way he leaned in like he was gonna... do something else. And whispered. It was like a friggin' **knife** to the gut, him bringing that up. Because, like, since when did he refer to it like that? And, I guess the worst thing was that, well, I kinda knew he didn't entirely mean it, which meant he was just saying it to hurt me. Or, you know, maybe he really did think I would have sex with his best friend. And I should've denied it, should've effing pointed out that the body doesn't lie and that the doctor told him I was still a virgin. Twice. Not that I could've brought any of that up in front of Chaz, though, right? What I did, though, was stupider. Without thinking, I shoved Tommy. "I _hate _you!" I shouted, muttering how I wished we _still _weren't talking, before storming off.

Realistically, looking back at that, I wonder why we even had that conversation. It was a lot like the ones we used to have, and since when is what I do with other guys any of his business? Like he even still cares? I mean, he shouldn't, right? He's back with his old flame, his one true love or all that crap, right? But what am I supposed to think when he's throwing these mixed signals at me?

"Real mature, Jude!" He retorted sarcastically, raising his voice after me. Naturally, I tell him to go screw himself only in more impolite terms... So, of course, as I'm going around the corner, shouting this, I run right into a paparazzo, who naturally gives me a predictably sleazy look because I've just been shouting the F-word and Tommy Quincy in short succession. Insert face-palm here. I fake-smiled and forced myself not to look back because Tom was probably right on my heels. Since our relationship has devolved into something vaguely like a Tom and Jerry (rather fitting, I suppose. We do have the initials for it) cartoon. "'Sup?" I said to the guy, really hoping I could somehow get out of this without making a bigger mess for myself.

"Haven't you already done that, Jude?" the paparazzo asked with a knowing look. In retrospect, I should have just turned around, faced Tom and Chaz back in the alley, and dashed up the fire escape, but at that point, there was nothing less I wanted to do than go through that mess again. I rolled my eyes at him, intending to not even dignify that with a response, walking past him like a woman with poise and dignity (though I am not that kind of woman, if I even am a woman). And, really, I guess I'm not, when it comes down to it. Not a girl, not yet a woman. Britney Spears was more right than she knew. However, as I headed to G. Major's front door, there was an even larger crowd of paparazzi there, and, naturally, once they saw me, it was like a damn feeding frenzy. I guess they knew that we'd been filming a video there that day, and they were hoping to see something good.

Honestly, even in the really bad days when paparazzi had been calling me and all that, I'd never gotten caught up in a swarm of them like this. And there was no one around to help me push my way through, no one to defend me from the flashing lights and probing questions, no one I could look to. I couldn't count on Tommy to rescue me, if he'd even cared enough to follow me, and I wasn't exactly holding my breath Chaz would be a knight-in-shining-armor (and even if he was, he was hardly in the proper emotional state for such an encounter). The only other time I remembered feeling vaguely like this was after the awards show when all I wanted to do was get away, and there were all these damn people in my way. So, once again, it fell to me to solve things for myself. So I tried to push through the crowd, elbows and all, but they circled like vultures, and I got nowhere.

I suppose that one guy had told all of the others what he'd overheard, which was, really, nothing much. I mean, for God's sake, we've had like a million more exciting conversations. At least four or five more exciting conversations I can think of in that very alley, for that matter. So all the vultures started asking me questions about Tommy, which was just freaking great because there wasn't a single thing or person I wanted to talk about less in the world at that very moment. "So, are the rumors about you and Tommy Q being on the rocks true?" one of the more tactful ones asked. I glowered at her until someone took a photo in my face, and I saw stars.

"Why were you two arguing in a dingy alleyway? Did Tommy refuse your offer for sex?" I gave that person a vaguely cross-eyed look, since the asshole had apparently mistaken me for a hooker. And, hello, well, with a few exceptions, Tommy as a rule doesn't refuse sex, okay? Except with me. More right than the asshole knew, I suppose. Although, you know, I wouldn't have sex in the alleyway. Too visible. The fire escape maybe, just maybe, but not the alleyway.

"Does this have anything to do with you dating Tommy Q's little brother?" A loud, pushy voice asked. Another one clamored about whether or not it had to do with the other guy he'd seen lurking in the alleyway, i.e. Chaz. "Is the rift between you and Tommy Q serious? Is it permanent? Are you two over for good?" A paparazzi had to grab me and prevent me from slugging that particular individual. "Whoa, Jude, what a show of spirit! You really are a feisty one, aren't you!" "Well, she is a redhead... wonder if the other stereotype's true too?" "Are you kidding me? Of course it is! She'd have to be a freak in order to keep up with a guy like Quincy!" "But now he's discarded her, hasn't he, Jude?"

I was getting rather sick of keeping quiet, so I answered his question rather tersely. "How can he discard what that was never his to begin with?" I remarked pointedly, which led to a flurry of recordings and flashes and scribbling. I tried once more to push through them, but they closed in on me like a wall of water. It was like fighting the ocean, painful, tiring, and frustrating... and, ultimately, fruitless. Where the hell is a bodyguard when I need one? Of all of the days for Darius not to be lurking around the studio! Well, he is, but, argh, isn't he supposed to know everything? Why the hell doesn't Georgia's Rent-A-Cop notice this?

"What about the rumors that Tommy's moved on?" I didn't say a damn word, although I was aware that the tabloids had captured pictures of him with Angie. It was true what Kwest had said. Tom wasn't subtle at all, and he wasn't trying to hide it. I had seen a couple copies and wound up tearing them up or crumpling them up. But he'd looked happy. My face was stone. "Now that the man you lost your virginity to has seemingly moved on to another woman, who's next on your Must Do List?" A person asked so obnoxiously and with such certainty that I was, quite honestly, speechless for a moment.

I might've been able to take that, if they hadn't started listing out names. Every person there had their own name. "Chaz Blackburn!" "Her guitarist!" That particular genius didn't know Speed's name. "Her drummer!" "Her bass player!" "Taylor Quincy!" Whom, of course, I'm dating. Like, logically, that should be the answer, right? "The SHAY!" Ugh, shoot me now. Please. "Mason Fox!" "Darius Mills!" Definitely threw up in my mouth a little at that one. "That random guitarist she went out with!" "Bruno of Boyz! Attack!" "No, J.P.!" "No, the other white guy!" "Justin Timberlake!" "Michael Buble!" "The male cast members of Degrassi!" "The female cast members!" "That losery guy with glasses we saw her with!" He was referring to Jamie. The paps had caught me out with him a few times and had had headlines up immediately asking who my new mystery man was. Kat was annoyed that people thought her boyfriend was screwing around with me, but Jamie was rather amused that he was a mystery man, apparently. The article had made him out to be rather more mysterious and dashing than he actually is. "Nick Lachey!" And like, just random names of guys in bands after that.

What really did it for me, though, was the person repeating a form of that question. All I heard was "now that the man you lost your virginity to...", which was rubbing salt in the room because, despite my many efforts, I hadn't lost my virginity to him. And then they just kept referencing my nonexistent virginity, and, well, it bothered me, because there is nothing more annoying than having everyone think you're doing something you're not when you're not even getting the benefits of the act. So, well, I kind of went insane and did something very stupid.

But all of their words were rubbing me raw, and my whole body was like a searing wound. "I **didn't **lose my virginity to Little Tommy Q, okay?" I snapped in a voice that was deceptively calm and extremely disdainful, like the mere thought was repulsive to me. It turned into an impromptu press conference soon enough. As I said, I was rather insane at the time and not thinking clearly, but I was just so damn sick of it all that I had to tell my side of the story, damn the consequences. "In fact, as hard as this may be for any of you people to believe, I've _never_ had sex with him!" I shouted angrily. A moment later, there were titters of bawdy laughter and little gasps when I added, "I mean, all that one night with the guy gets you is a dirty feeling, a burning sensation when you pee, and a trip to the free clinic." I realize now that this is not the best phrase to say to convey that I am not having sexual relations with the man, but I wanted to say that I hadn't slept with Tommy because I didn't want to contract an STD.

And then, in a move that surprised most of us, myself excluded, I finally broke down. "And, you know what, actually, I've never had sex with _anyone, _technically or otherwise. I'm still a virgin!" You would not believe how many wide eyes there were and how many whispers I heard. They were all so shocked, and that surprise fueled my rage and stupid outburst further. Bitterly, I thought that it looked like I was going to stay a virgin for a while, but I was wise enough not to blurt this out. "And, you know what, I don't get why that's a big deal. It's like, if I'm a virgin I'm naïve and inexperienced and I don't know jack, and undesirable or religious or a tease, and there's something wrong with me. And it's like there's a target sign on my head saying "deflower here" or something, like it's a challenge. And if I'm not, I'm automatically a _whore_ who sleeps with everyone, and it's open season... I'm sick of there being this stupid double-standard for girls and guys. If I was a guy, no one would allude to my virginity; no one would think they had the right to ask me rude questions! But no, I'm a girl, so I must be either a _prude_ or a **slut**, right? Tease or whore? Bitch or tramp? Ugly or hot? I can't _win_ with you people!" I screamed, pouring out a torrent of fury.

Truthfully, I was not thinking very straight and have very little memory of what I was saying at all, but it's on camera and was only replaying for, like, days, so I kinda couldn't escape it and everyone knowing my business. "But, frankly, you know what? I'm seventeen. And that makes me a minor. So my sex life is really none of any of your business. You have no right to speculate or ask me or anything because I'm a minor," I interjected irritably, for once using my youth as a shield. But, of course, some asshole pointed out that I could actually consent to have sex with anyone in this country, which I actually find a bit repulsive and horrifying. Yes, I realize the irony in this statement, but there are laws, right, laws which are supposed to protect teenagers from this crap? "That doesn't change the fact that _my_ life is no one's business but **mine**! I'm just telling you this because I'm sick of having my name dragged through the mud. I don't like being accused of something I'm not actually doing," I countered sharply.

They were telling me to calm down and crap, since I'd worked myself up into a tizzy. And then they were rolling with it and asking me questions. Like "why" and "when" and blah, blah, blah. Why am I waiting? It was so damn insulting. "Well, last I checked, I don't have to screw random guys to make a living..." I began harshly, forcing myself to calm down somehow. My head had started to clear a bit, and the voices were telling me that the less I talked crudely, the better this would be, and the easier it would be for E.J. to salvage it. I shrugged diffidently. "So, yeah, I'm waiting... for something real. I want it to _mean_ something... I'm waiting until I-" I stopped here, short of continuing the sentence, and rephrased what I was saying. "I'm waiting for love, for a serious relationship... I'm waiting for someone to love _me_ **just** as much as I love him. That's what I deserve, that and nothing less... I might be seventeen, but that doesn't mean I don't know what I want. And I _know_ I don't want to lose it on prom night or in some seedy motel or in the backseat of someone's car," I continued seriously. I meant what I was saying.

I wasn't thinking of the press there, not really. My far-off gaze can best be attributed to something Tommy-related. Because I was thinking that I wanted something like that only... serious. More serious. Truthfully, I wanted a little more reciprocity in a future partner. And being convinced of the other person's feelings was all I wanted, really. I think they said something again, maybe something about me following in the footsteps of other celebrities or teenyboppers or whatever, but, like, I was pissed because it so _wasn't_ like that. I was telling them how I really felt, what I really believed... and not because it was popular or because I wanted to be trendy or a good role model or whatever. I was telling them it because it was the truth.

They were going on about my reasons or whatever, asking what they were. Because apparently a girl can't not have sex for her own self-worth. Or because she wants something better. Or out of personal preference. No, it's always got to be God or my parents or some tripe like that. "I'm not going to do anything stupid like wear a damn promise ring or make a chastity pledge or go around shouting how "true love waits." I'm not some dumb Disney popstar, and I don't need those things to, I dunno... ward off temptation," I cut in vaguely irritably, a bit mockingly, annoyed at their suggestions. I don't believe in adopting a belief because it looks good, and I'm not stupid enough to think that just going around with a promise ring or a pledge or whatnot will protect me from sex and the evils of this world, especially when I go around dating older guys and acting one way in my music videos. Because I'm not stupid enough to _believe_ in a promise, even if it's one to myself, not anymore. And I don't believe in pretending and putting on a big show about it because chastity pledges can be broken and rings can come off and, in the end, all that stuff about purity and how "true love waits"... is just a bunch of meaningless words. When it's so much easier to lie.

'Cause, really, in the end, it's not anyone's business but mine, who I sleep with or don't. It's harder to go out there without the ring and actually deal with the stuff in a responsible way, to actually face this head-on. And I've done that. And, yeah, still a virgin, even if I don't necessarily want to be. Then they started asking me about reasons or whatever, but I just shook my head. "I'm not not doing it for God or for my parents or for my reputation or because I don't want to be a teen mom or catch an STD... and I'm not afraid. I'm doing it for _me_. I'm saving myself for someone who is worth the wait. Because I deserve that... I'm saving myself because someone once told me I was worth waiting for, and I'd like to believe that. I'm waiting for a love that's the real deal. I'm waiting until I'm _ready_. I'm waiting until I'm ready to give all of myself to that person, to freely give him all of my heart and **soul** and pour _all_ the love I'm capable of into him," I said solemnly, putting a bit more emotion into it than I meant to, getting swept up in what I was saying.

And, yeah, there had once been no doubt in my mind that that guy was Tommy. Because he was worth the wait, and he was the real deal, and I thought I was ready, and that he was it for me... and, I dunno, maybe he was, maybe he still was... or maybe he wasn't. Maybe I'd never be ready again to give all of myself to anyone, let alone the man who had cruelly rejected and rebuffed all the love I was capable of, despite his words. Because I loved him so much it _hurt_, and there was nothing I wanted more than to be close to him. I would've given anything, you know.

But, I dunno, would I feel better now if I'd slept with him? Or would I feel worse? Would it be like I'd been cheated, being with someone like him? Because now I _knew_, I knew that it wouldn't mean the same thing to him, and, really, why should it? It wouldn't mean the same thing to him because he didn't feel the same. Maybe he liked me more than 99.9% of the other girls, but he only wanted me when he thought he'd already hit it and not when he hadn't, no, 'cause then he couldn't. I felt like maybe I would feel cheated and more jaded now, more betrayed. And maybe, for the first time, I was a little glad I hadn't done the deed with him. "I **know **love when I'm in it, and I know when it's returned. That's all I need. All I need is the right guy... at the right time..." I stated firmly, and it was like a prayer of the worst kind. I couldn't help but glance around, wondering if Tom or Chaz or someone had followed me, even if I didn't feel their gazes burning into me, but I saw no familiar faces. So I shook my head slowly and stifled a sigh and spat bitterly, "And it doesn't look like he's going to come along anytime soon, so find _another_ accidental teenage celebrity to call a whore!" Then, with a few well-placed, vicious elbows, I ducked under them and made my way into G. Major, swiftly blocking the door with my body and locking it so they couldn't pour in like a flood.

Just in case, I barricaded it with a nearby sofa and skipped past the receptionist, inhaling the air gratefully, glad to be out of the crush of people. The lobby was rarely deserted, and, yeah, I knew I'd get in trouble for that impromptu conversation, which would no doubt be on Entertainment Tonight or its equally inane equivalent, but at that period, I felt rather... rejuvenated and invigorated and... free. Like I had a load off my chest. And then I got a very stupid idea because I remembered something. I wanted to see Travis, so I set about looking for him.

As I was wandering, though, searching every nook and cranny save those that had direct and very vivid Tommy associations, my head cleared, and I began to slowly realize what I'd just done, and, well, I was vaguely mortified, to say the least. I froze where I was standing and kind of wound up banging my head against the wall. One of the place's many columns, really. Which was another reminder that I was totally wearing a va-va-va-voom-boom-boom dress that made me look like a bit of a skank, which was just lovely. Ugh, and I would undoubtedly be hearing from Tommy and Georgia and E.J. and my parents and God knows who else about it for years.

So, after the fiasco of that inadvertent press conference on the State of Jude's Virginity, I wanted nothing more than to bury my head under a rock. Despite the little speech and all that, it was most assuredly not one of my better moments. So I wound up in The Crapper, my usual retreat for solitude (not quite as isolated, cold, or magnificent as a fortress at the North Pole, but it would suffice), alone with my thoughts. Turns out that wasn't really a place I wanted to be. I flopped onto the couch face-first, and just lay there for a minute, inhaling the fabric and trying not to have a mild panic attack. And then, I got to thinking, which is very dangerous indeed. And I thought about all that I'd said, and I kind of felt like a hypocrite, a bit, what with some of the things I've done with Travis. 'Cause I don't love him or anything like that. And I've done a whole hell of a lot with him.

And I got to thinking about how the whole time I'd been saying all that, I'd _**still**_ been thinking about Tommy. Still. Even after he dumped me. Even after he's turned me down countless times. Even after everything, I'm still thinking about him... and no matter how hard I try to kill it, some stupid hopeful part of me is always going to be waiting for him. I said man, but I meant _Tommy._.. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy! And, no matter how much I want it, Tommy is **never** gonna love me back. He's just not capable of it.

And he's with someone else anyways, even if he was. He's not mine to love or obsess over or any of that anymore.

He might've said all those pretty words about how I'm worth waiting for, but he obviously doesn't believe it because he dumped me without a shadow of those words... And, honestly, even when we were together, the man was chomping at the bit to sleep with me. I'm surprised we didn't have sex then. Because he wasn't waiting for _anything _to my knowledge.

And I don't want losing my virginity and becoming a woman and all that to be something _else_ Tommy ruins for me! But I just... I know that... if I don't... Er, I feel like that, you know, if I don't lose my virginity to him, when it does happen, I'll always wonder what it would've been like with Tom. That I'll have this little thought in the back of my mind that _it would've been better with Tommy_. Which is a sucky and very unfair thought to have while you're losing your virginity to another guy. And I guess... I didn't _always_ picture losing it to Tommy, really, but once I started to, I kind of got attached to the idea, and it stuck in my head... and, well, then I couldn't picture being with anyone else or... or wanting it to be with anyone else.

Because I was dumb enough to get my hopes up and even freaking stupider to actually trust the asshole. And, okay, I'm _still_ not sure I want to lose it to anyone else. I wanted it to be Tommy for so long that I'm kind of afraid he's the only one I want it to be with. And I know all of this sounds stupid 'cause, whatever, I kind of almost had a thing with Chaz on the floor of Tommy's apartment, and I've kissed other guys and made out with them and I've fooled around with Travis a whole hell of a lot. And whatever, that makes me sound like a slut, sure, but my heart's always been Tommy's, and, ultimately, there's no guy I don't compare to him. It always **freaking** comes back to Tommy in the end.

Point is... I don't know if I can do that... if I can do any of that... with someone other than Tommy. I'm not sure I'll ever love someone that much ever again or that I'm even capable of loving another person like I love Tommy. Because I put everything I had into loving him, _all _of me, and loving someone so completely, so wholly... it takes a lot out of you. So much that when I... lost... him, I lost myself. It was like all the marrow had been sucked out of my bones, going through the motions and pretending like everything was fine. Every day was a struggle. And I'm still walking around with this gaping, sucking wound in my chest, and seeing him is like pushing salt and shrapnel into that hole.

And, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to get him out of my head for **good. **The more my virginity became something to be discarded and gotten rid of. It started to be just another painful reminder of what I don't and won't have. And I wanted to prove a point to myself, so suddenly I'm flying out of that room and down the hall to that big space where Boyz Attack! rehearsed and I tried on outfits because I finally remembered Travis said he'd be waiting there. Or maybe I just knew in that way a woman does, like the way I knew Tom was smoking in the alley. Who knows? Our argument no longer mattered. His attitude no longer mattered. All that mattered was him and the couch and action. And I guess I looked around a second and didn't see anyone there, because next thing I know, I'm pouncing on him feverishly.

I didn't even think about it because, well, I didn't want to think. My thoughts had tortured me long enough.

I just ran up and tackled him to the couch, plastering my body against his, straddling him messily. Then, in a flash, I was leaning down, rubbing against him, and crashing my lips into his with no sense of direction at all. I just knew that I needed this. I wound my fingers into his hair, bringing him closer. I started to undo his tie. He was done up all preppy today in a full suit-ensemble (not his best because Travis is obviously a bit more informal than that at school) because there was an open house or conferences or something at school. He was wearing this dumb vest, too, so I started in on that after throwing the tie over my shoulder. I pulled my lips away from his to press open-mouthed kisses down his throat. Travis squirmed a little under me.

He fidgeted a bit, but I stayed on top and started sucking on his neck. I damn near ripped the vest off of him. My fingers started fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and Travis suddenly pushed me away, moving quickly into a sitting position. He was breathless and more than a little turned on, so I was somewhat confused as to why he was holding me at arms' length. He smirked at me, and I was surprised he had the breath to look and sound so terribly smug. "So, I saw that nice little three-ring media circus you had going on out there... Couldn't even wait _ten_ minutes to lose it, could you?" he drawled mockingly.

I gaped at him, surprised that someone I knew had been there. He didn't need to say that I was a hypocrite, or that all my pretty little words had been for nothing, because his voice said all that and more. I smacked Travis in the chest in response because he always had that horrible way of making me feel like a total whore, and, God, there I was, more or less feeling rejected for sex by yet another Quincy brother I'm determined to have sex with. Makes a girl think I should go for Taylor, who, being a seventeen-year-old-boy, i.e. in his sexual prime, would not be stupid enough to look a gifthorse in the mouth.

Only, let's face it, I am just not that attracted to Taylor. I mean, he may be my boyfriend and all, but, frankly, I would rather have sex with Speed because he just has more animal magnetism. Taylor's cute and sweet and all that, but I still couldn't even bring myself to attempt jumping him. Plus, I think we all know Taylor would have no clue what the hell to do with me, and it would be an awkward experience, to say the least.

"Oh, shut up!" I huffed, shifting back onto my haunches and pulling back a little so that I positively towered over Travis. I didn't know how much Travis had heard, but the look on his face assured me that he'd heard enough. "It's my mind to make up." Travis did not take the hint and jump me like I wanted. "And, _what_, would you rather I tell them I was maybe kinda waiting for a guy who wouldn't appreciate it and definitely wouldn't deserve it? Would you rather I tell them I was waiting for Tommy to get off his ass and finally come around?" I retorted. "'Cause, somehow, I think the truth would only make things worse in this situation," I muttered, exhaling and blowing the hair off my face.

Travis stiffened (and not in the good way) and pulled away a bit more. I'd have to be blind to not see the way his face tightened when I mentioned Tommy. Or the way he flinched. And, God, I was just so sick of it. Because, damn it, I was here with him, not with Tommy, not on top of Tommy, not asking Tommy to sleep with me. "Look, Jude, I'm not gonna do this because you want to have sex with my brother, okay? I'm just _not _in the mood to pretend to be Tommy today so you can get all of your aggressions out. Go find another guy to screw around with," he sniped, trying his best to move away from me so that he was in a proper seated position. But, naturally, I wasn't about to let him get away that easily.

I clamped down on him, throwing my weight forward to keep him from leaving. "Oh, I'm sorry, Travis... am I with Tommy now? Am I straddling _him _now? Am I calling you by his name and asking you to pretend?" I asked pointedly, tightly, never taking my eyes off his. His eyes were a dark, deep green, almost emerald, and I marveled at their prettiness for an instant before, naturally, he'd turn nasty on me. Giving him an expectant look, I continued rather brashly, "No, Travis, the answer is **no**. All I'm asking is for you. Period, 'cause, somewhat bizarrely, I kind of thought you'd be up for having sex with me."

Travis groaned, foolishly leaning back into the couch and giving me more leverage. He covered his face with his hands, letting out an exasperated sigh. "The answer might be no, but I'm not dumb enough to believe that I'm all you want, Harrison. You just said to my **face** that you were waiting for my brother, that you want to have sex with my _brother_... and, what, that's _not_ supposed to make me feel like some lousy second-choice?" he rejoined harshly. And of course he cobbles together the worst parts of my little speech. Not the bit about me maybe kinda waiting for Tom. Or that he didn't deserve it or appreciate it like Travis would. Or that I had decided, rather impulsively but still _decided_, nonetheless, that I wanted it to be Travis.

"It's a _choice_, Travis, and, so help me, here I am, trying to choose you..." I moved forward, as if to embrace him, but Travis shook his head and pulled further away. I stayed put where I was.

"It's still **no**, Jude. Losing your virginity isn't something you do just for kicks," he interjected rather sharply. I made a comment then, a snide, automatic comment: It is for Tommy. It didn't really help matters because it made Travis' eyes blaze, and then he was irresistible to me. But, like, it was ridiculous having him lecture me on this. Like he hadn't lost his virginity to a rando like his brother. Although actually I know who Tommy lost it to because I asked him about it one time 'cause, well, I was curious. Not just about when his sexual life had begun, really, but about what it was like, for a guy, to lose it, that sort of thing. It was in one of our better times this year when we were friends and one of us wasn't trying to make us something more. How I miss those carefree, vaguely awkward times. He was like, nine or something, and the girl was twelve and very sexually precocious and a friend of Travis', I think, who'd assumed he was older. No, wait, she was a babysitter! And, well, Tom was always a flirt. When he spoke about it, the man still remembered it fondly.

And what about Travis, you know? It's not like he lost it to the first girl he was in love with! I mean, this is a guy who cheats on his fiancée. "It's not a band-aid to be ripped off, Jude! Have some patience! You're _obviously_ not ready! Me having sex with you now would only make things _worse_ for both of us!" Travis shouted, getting rather red in the face and making angry hand gestures. His words stung a little. Why is having sex with me always the worst option? What's wrong with me? Sometimes I hated the way that he always read my mind and never took me seriously.

So I said something pretty nasty, pulling out the trump card I had to make Travis bend to my will. It wasn't really about sex anymore, you know. It was about frustration and me being tired of reasons-why-not and being rejected. I wanted to be right. I wanted to be taken seriously. "Funny, you were so willing to do it earlier that you almost _raped_ me! Do you remember that, Travis? 'Cause I sure as hell do!" I retorted acidly, raising my voice as I spoke. Travis' whole body cringed, even his hair, at the painful reminder.

I saw the guilt in his face, but it made him pause for only a second. Then he was shouting again, frustrated, voice pained and raspy. "And that's exactly why I can't _now_, Jude! I **can't**, not when you don't really want to have sex with me!" he countered in a strained, raspy voice, pleading with me to understand. I rocked my hips against him back and forth deliberately and watched as he cringed slowly, curling up a little, as if he could get away from me. It was all serving to remind me of what I'd done after Travis had tried to rape me, how I'd gone to Tommy and he'd rejected me at first. But in a nicer way, I guess. And looking back, it was like Tommy had always been rejecting me and ignoring what I wanted, even from our first meeting all those years ago.

It would've been so easy then to point out just how much he was acting like his brother, and maybe it would've spurred him into action. Or maybe not. What is it with these guys? Just when I think they're giant assholes, they do something like this and suddenly they're nice, considerate people who are thinking about what's best for you. It's mind-boggling. "And you think you know exactly what I want, Travis?" I rejoined, placing my hands on my hips and staring down at him vaguely crossly. I leaned down, brushing against him in a way that wasn't entirely unintentional. "Well, here's a newsflash for you... It's not **always** about Tommy with me. I'm not always doing this because I want your brother. Sometimes, Travis, I just want _you_," I told him bluntly, gesturing between the two of us.

Travis rolled his eyes, and, you know, he was sort of right to do it. It's not always about Tommy except when it is. But I wasn't lying to him intentionally, and, you know, half the time I was with Travis because I did genuinely like being with him, and I had a good time. And I wanted him too and appreciated him in my own way. "You might think that now, but there's no telling what you'll think later on. Me having sex with you is not what you need right now. Frankly, it's not what either of us needs right now. It would only make things worse," Travis said rather bluntly.

Yeah, it'd be a lie to say that didn't sting. Again, why is having sex with me always the worst option? I mean, really? I need to stop getting involved with older guys in positions of authority and trust over me. Oy. "I'm getting really tired of people assuming things and telling me how I feel, Travis," I muttered irritably. At that time, even, I kind of knew that he was probably right. But I was sick of always being denied. It was not the time for rational arguments, especially condescending ones like that. The whole "I-know-better-than-you" thing because I'm older or whatever. Ugh.

Travis shook his head, becoming even more firm and hard. And not in the fun way, in the way of his (generally waning) convictions, which were suddenly rock-solid. His face was as stern and pious as a painting of a saint. And I hated him a little bit, for suddenly growing these beliefs and convictions. It recalled Tommy dumping me, actually, especially in the fact that I was unpleasantly surprised by him discovering he conveniently had morals. He shook his head solemnly. "I'm sorry, Jude, but I refuse to be complicit in this foolishness." There's his would-be priest voice, lecturing away. I loudly scoffed at him, and then his eyes blazed, and he was the Travis I knew again. "I don't want you to look back on your first time and think that I-it was a _mistake_! I don't want to be your mistake! We both deserve better than that... and I am not gonna be your damn rebound guy, okay?" Travis burst out, revealing the hidden fire blazing beneath his words.

Tommy had, actually, said the exact same thing when we first met. Even when he didn't really know me, he didn't want me to think of sleeping with him as a stupid mistake. I _had _called Travis a mistake before, actually, directly. Several times after he tried to rape me. How many times have I thought that trusting him was a mistake? I've also said that spending the night with him would've been the biggest mistake of my life, thought that accidentally marrying him or doing things with him would be or were colossal mistakes. Actually, come to think of it, I'd also said marrying him would be the biggest mistake of my life. And it would've been then, for the wrong reasons. Now, well, I wasn't so sure. I'd certainly made a lot of mistakes regarding him, after all, but now I could almost count on him. Almost.

Mistake. That word had haunted Tommy his whole life, just as it had come to haunt me as of late. Twice Tommy had sung that me, that a relationship with me could be a mistake, and damn it, I _should_ have listened. But he'd also said that I was never a mistake to him; the way he treated me, the way he reacted, to him that was the mistake. Getting too close to me, handling things wrong, acting without thinking, so on and so forth.

I shook my head at him. He still wasn't getting it. "If you _really_ think that's all this is, Travis, then you're stupider than I thought you were... And don't act like your motives are as pure as driven snow either, Travis! You're using me too! The main reason you're doing this is because you feel guilty about the many ways you and your brother have managed to emotionally scar me for life, and you want redemption... You want to make up for it, you want to feel like you're suffering... _that's_ why you're really putting up with all of this. Because you feel like you wronged me, and, yeah, you know what, you **did**," I exclaimed loudly, getting off of him and rising to my feet. Travis looked down, ashamed and embarrassed, but the fire in his eyes didn't dim.

Now, it seemed very much like I was going to ruin everything with him anyway, so I just decided it was time to get it all out in the open. We had needed to have a talk for quite some time now, and one of us had to start it in order for anything to happen. "And, let's face it, Travis, you're bored. That's why you're doing this. You're not happy with your life because you're selling yourself short. You want to feel _alive_ again, and I make your life just a little bit more exciting and a little bit more unpredictable. All I am to you is a distraction, a way of passing time, a way of feeling something **more** than the numbness you've steeped yourself in," I told him matter-of-factly, certainly, looking down at him, arms crossed over my chest. I paused a moment, to let this sink in, while I debated whether or not to mention one of the other women in his life. 'Cause, fundamentally, Travis was here bothering with me because none of them were giving him what he needed, what he wanted... at least, not entirely.

I was confident in what I was saying because I remembered the Travis I'd met. And he'd changed, but he was still indolent and still steeped in that same self-pity and unwillingness to change his life, to do what must be done to make things better. And, even with Kate and all that, there was still this kind of aloofness to Travis, this protective distance between himself and the rest of the world. And it was a fact that he was selling himself short. The man has a great singing voice, familial connections, natural intelligence, a remarkable gift with words, lots of talent, and a world-class education. For God's sake, the man has four doctorates that I know of! In Theology, Education, Music, and Russian Literature. He could easily be a professor, university professor, composer, or martial arts teacher, and he's teaching high school music class. It's such a waste of potential, you know, when he's been given so much and is just wasting his talents in this dead-end job that he doesn't really even care about.

So I decided to go there. "And, you know what else, I _know_ I'm just filling in for Joan because I'm a healthier, more receptive channel for your feelings," I rejoined so swiftly that Travis never saw it coming. So stop acting like you have the higher ground here, Travis, because it seems to me like we're on almost entirely equal footing. Travis flinched, still caught up in what I'd first said, unraveling it. "And it's _safe_ because you know I'm in love with your brother, and you don't have to worry about me getting attached," I said finally, pronouncing "safe" as if it were a dirty word. Hey, it was kind of safe for me too, right? He looked exactly like the real thing and acted exactly like him and sounded exactly like him, minus all those messy emotions and the unpredictability. It's convenience, you know?

I stood over him in a breathless silence for a few minutes. Travis was stone silent; his features were as hard as if they'd been etched from a craggy rock. He was doubtlessly thinking of something brilliant and blistering to say, so I braced myself for the inevitable blow and the cutting words. When he did speak, it had been so long that I wasn't entirely prepared, and, furthermore, what he said caught me off-guard more than any insult. "You have absolutely no idea just how wrong you are," he said quietly, intently. There was a dark undertone of something in that voice, something I also saw reflected in his dark, eerily serene, focused stare... a kind of quiet, slowly smoldering fury.

The thing is, though, Travis might've said I was wrong, but he didn't say about what or make an effort to deny anything. And that kind of threw me a little, but I tried not to let it show. Silly me. Never play mind games with the Master, right? I rolled my eyes and threw him a look. "C'mon, Travis. I _know_ you, and you can't pretend with me. At least half of that was right on the money," I retorted self-assuredly, nonplussed at his statement, though still vaguely unsettled at how calm he seemed. I was thinking, actually, at that time, that he was pissed that I was right about him, and, make no mistakes, I had been at least partially right. Far more so, anyways, than he was willing to admit. He didn't concede one bit, that man.

He stared at me oddly intently, eyes glowing like something wicked, some kind of sorcery. Then he smiled kind of wryly, sitting up and leaning against the sofa as if lounging. "You don't know me as well as you think, Harrison," he muttered enigmatically. I cocked a brow at him. _Oh really?_ I was asking. _Then show me_, the look demanded. Instead, the look on his face changed, and he shifted, sitting forward, closer to me. "_Does he who waits forever suffer more than he who never waited for anybody?_" he asked somberly, challenging me a little. I recognized it as a quote from Neruda. I'd looked the poet up after Tommy had bitterly quipped that Neruda never failed to get Travis laid.

It's like that expression about how it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. And I agree with that, as odd as it sounds, despite my heartbreak. The waiting, though, now that I can't agree with. How can you suffer by not waiting? Waiting forever, especially for something that **never** comes, like change, is infinitely worse than never waiting for anyone. Yeah, I realize that implies not being close to anyone or being impatient or selfish or whatever, but never waiting is, like, ideal. And time-saving. "That phrase was clearly written by a man who made people wait for him all his life," I countered sharply, immediately. There's a certain _hell_ in waiting, in being eternally patient. Not that I'd expect Travis to know it.

Travis opened his mouth like he was going to say something to counter me, but I needed to make him understand what it was really like to wait. Because he knew what it was like to wait to heal (and he was still waiting on that), but not really what it was like to wait for a person. "Every second of waiting, Travis, is a tiny bit of agony, of irritation, that gradually builds up into resentment and bitterness and pain. And it gets infinitesimally worse with every moment that goes by. Especially once you _finally_ realize what you're waiting for is never going to come, and that you've wasted all this time on **nothing**, with nothing to show for it all, and now you feel angry, _cheated_, and bitter, but you can't quite shake that feeling that what you want **still** might come if you just wait a _little_ bit longer, no matter how hard you try. And it's a vicious cycle that makes you **helpless** and dependent, subject to forces beyond you. So don't tell me about waiting, Travis. I'm _done_ with it," I told him in a mad fit of surprising eloquence. And I realized that it was true. I really didn't want to wait anymore. I was sick and tired of it.

He looked quite taken aback by my sudden statement, and whatever, I figured he wasn't going to say anything else, so I started to walk away. It'd be leaving us on uncertain terms, but why bother staying if he was going to sit there, keeping things to himself, and throwing riddles at me. I'd turned my back on him, and that was when I noticed the flowers sitting on the table. It was a massive bouquet, I should say, of tiger lilies and wildflowers, which he knew were my favorite. Apology flowers. As per usual, there was a note with them, and I walked over, intending to read it, but Travis was suddenly between me and the flowers and pulling the note out of my hand. I blinked at him dumbly and reached for the note again, but he dodged me and then began talking in an attempt to distract me.

"I was an ass earlier," he said hurriedly, looking me in the eyes and moving in a little closer, using his proximity to distract me a little. I nodded and said he was. "And I'm sorry for that," Travis said sincerely. I perked up a little bit, wondering what he was going to say next. "It... It wasn't you. It was just, God, seeing Tom stand there, acting so self-righteous and _knowing._.. Knowing what he's done to you, knowing how stupid he is for ever breaking up with you... It makes me so... angry that he could do that to you. It's disgusting, and it... it makes me really ashamed that we share half the same DNA," Travis muttered, looking down. I could hear the anger in his voice, but he didn't quite convince me. Sure, that was half of it, but what was he hiding from me?

I wisely did not point out the fact that Tommy had said the exact same thing to me about him, more or less. He'd apologized for his brother too. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and bent down a little to ask, "Wanna tell me why you copped the attitude for no reason? 'Cause I'm not a chew-toy for you and your brothers to fight over here, and I'm _really _sick of one of you always acting like a green monster whenever I'm around any of the others." 'Cause, frankly, I didn't entirely believe that reason he'd just given me.

Travis sighed, a weary, long-suffering sigh I didn't entirely buy. "My brother's an ass," he replied simply. Oh, Travis, but which one? Tell me something I don't already know. I gave him an expectant look, motioning for him to go on. He looked down, falling into silence, and I think he mumbled something. Growing impatient and annoyed with his refusal to answer, I loudly asked him to repeat himself and put my hand on his chin, forcing him to look at me. "And after all this time, you still..." he trailed off here, unwilling or unable to finish the sentence. I suppose it would've revealed too much.

"What "all this time," Travis?" I asked abruptly, dropping his chin and just staring at him in disbelief. "You're talking like it's been years, and it hasn't. It hasn't even been a month yet... And what do I _still_ do, Travis? I still... what?" I demanded brusquely. I was rather unsympathetic to his cause and beating-around-the-bush. What can I say? I appreciate honesty, and I've had enough circle-talking to last a lifetime here. Plus, I am in love with his brother. It doesn't just go away. It's not like a potato; you can't just throw it out the window!

He stared up at me with dark eyes that burned like coals or, rather, given their color, a bit more like peat. He was silent at first, but that didn't last long. "You still care so much about what Tommy thinks... He **broke** up with you, Jude! You shouldn't care anymore!" he proclaimed rather sullenly, sparks of irritation beginning to crackle. I sensed then that Travis was on the verge of breaking, of saying what it was he _really_ wanted to say. All I had to do was push him a little more. And it was easy to do, since his rather blunt statement, that very tactless reminder of the break up, had hurt.

I scrunched up my face and scowled at him. "Wow, you know, Travis, I am actually aware of that fact. I was even there and everything when it happened," I replied acidly, determinedly trying not to remember how I'd _begged_ him to reconsider. I shrugged, feigning a cooler head than I actually had at the moment. It would do to be a bit more prudent, given the crazy moments of earlier that day, when I'd given into my impulses and let them rule the day. "And, actually, as hard as this may be for you to believe, I don't care what Tom thinks. What I care about is not coming between the two of you because I'm sick of both of you using me to get to each other," I continued coolly.

Travis gave me this look that said all he couldn't. It was a guilting look, a bitter one that accused me of being ashamed of him. It said, mostly, that I didn't want Tommy to know about us because I didn't want to hear what he would undoubtedly think and say about me. Maybe that was slightly true, but I didn't want Travis to know that, and, well... I had other reasons for not wanting Tommy or, for that matter, **anyone**, to know. The first being that it could, quite obviously, get Travis arrested, and _no one_ I knew would understand or approve, as the encounter with Chaz earlier illustrated, not to mention the fact that there were other people involved in both of our lives, like Joan, Kate, or Taylor, who for obvious reasons just should **not** know about this. And, yeah, it's not like it's something I'm exactly proud of. I can admit that.

Also, he's not exactly the easiest guy to get along with, Travis. It's also kind of a manifestation and reminder of my own weakness, and other people knowing means that I have to start thinking about it. And thinking about it ruins it because then all kinds of complicated things like feelings get involved. And I don't need that now. "Don't give me that look, Charles. Me wanting to keep this a secret has very little to do with Tom. I just don't want him all up in my business again because my life is no longer his business. Period. All I really want, Travis, is to keep _him_ out of this," I lectured rather tightly. Travis snorted as I pronounced that last phrase.

He objected before I could finish talking. "A little late for that, isn't it? Tommy's been bound up in this thing from the start. I can no more escape his shadow than you can," he rejoined sardonically, that familiar bitterness appearing again in his tone. There was a kind of exasperation and hopelessness in this pronouncement, a bit of resignation. He smiled wryly. "Easier said than done, girl."

This made me a bit angry with him because I had never called him by any variation of his brother's name for the entire affair, yet he ceaselessly held this card of his brother over my head. And he'd bitch about it but would do nothing to distinguish himself or make a break from this habit... so all of his words were just empty complaints. I resented him saying that I couldn't escape Tommy while at the same time he acted as if I should be over him already. Travis has been moping over what Tommy's done to his life for the better part of five years, and no one ever says a damn thing about it to him! I mean, Tommy broke my heart... how many times now? Like, I _think_ I have leave to mope over the love of my seventeen-year-old-life here for at least a couple months.

I huffed out a breath and attempted to resume my previous point, pushing aside the feelings of irritation and perceptions of Travis' hypocrisy to better argue my point. "I need my privacy and a life independent from him, okay? And you trying to give Tommy and EVERYBODY ELSE _every_ possible hint that there **is** something going on between us does not help! Because the minute Tom finds out that I'm..." I insisted, beginning to work myself up into something. I trailed off here, floundering for a word to properly and decently describe what we were doing without getting mixed up or confused in relationship terms. And I found no word, so I just waved my hand and continued, flailing, "Whatevering... with you, that beautiful fallacy of a life without him comes crashing to an end! Because you're his _brother_, my teacher, and I'm his _ex_, and I happen to be dating your _other_ brother... which makes that his business."

Travis frowned at this, probably at some stupid little implication I hadn't thought of that he'd doubtlessly hold against me later. Jude puts her foot in her mouth yet again. Whatever, I'm used to it. Point is, though, I'd made a good point, and he couldn't really argue with me. At least not convincingly. He remained silent and sulking, probably because he didn't have anything good to say (which, come to think of it, should've been a sign that something was wrong with him). There were still some crucial pieces missing, I felt, and it _bothered_ me not knowing. So I kept pushing. "You know, I still don't get why you're so pissy about this, Travis. It's not like I'm even pleasant to Tom or anything. We barely speak anymore. You're winning here... what do you have to be jealous of anymore?"

In retrospect, that was a stupid question, because Tom still had many things Travis coveted... and the history between them couldn't be erased overnight, even if it was founded on lies and bloodshed, and they were supposed to have forgiven each other. I had also made the mistake of saying Travis was winning, like acknowledging that they were at war over me, or that I was a prize or battle to be won. Travis looked up suddenly, and his eyes boiled and bubbled like cabbage soup. "Well," Travis said suddenly, swiftly, "there's the fact that you're obviously still in love with him."

He said it like a statement, but with a snappiness and a bit of a bitterness that made it more of an accusation and something I was wholly unprepared to deal with. Like he was holding my feelings for Tommy... feelings he **knew** I had, feelings I'd _told_ him about, feelings I had _never_ really tried to deny to him, not from day one, against me. It was a bit of a betrayal, I guess, this sudden turn. "And he knows it," Travis added smugly, a moment later, that self-same bitter smile on his lips.

I gaped at him. Because I'd never told Travis that part, okay, and, actually, I didn't even get how he could get that from witnessing that stupid little encounter with Tommy. He had barely said anything to me, let alone anything of consequence. And, really, if anyone had a right to say something like that, it was Kwest or Jamie, who'd been around to see the wreck I was coming back and how cruel Tom had been. But even they hadn't heard all of the things he said, and there had been none of that hostility in my conversation with Tom earlier, none of that you-love-me smugness. In general, I tended to get the impression that my feelings for him, in addition to, as of late, my mere presence, were something he really didn't want to think about, much less acknowledge. I stuttered for a moment, not quite knowing what to say to this. But then I found the words. "Travis, just **stop**, okay? Don't pretend like you know a _damn_ thing about what goes on between me and Tommy. Because, at the end of the day, you're _not_ him, and you don't know, okay?" I ordered vitriolically, in a voice that commanded authority.

And Travis was silenced by this. He just sat there, eyes suddenly emotionless but still dark, still angry at the edges, black with it. There was something stricken about him, perhaps, but his features were so deliberately blank it was hard to tell, let alone get at anything. There he was, trying to be an obedient little boy, stock still and quiet. My harshness had surprised the both of us, and we fell into a deep, thoughtful silence.

I wound up sitting next to him on the couch, sinking into it a little, too tired to move or leave. Then he glanced up suddenly, a strange, urgent emotion flitting over his features. It was decisiveness, I realized later. "You want to know why I'm pissy? Why I'm jealous of Tommy?" he barked, surprising me. His voice was harsh, rather mocking almost. I turned to look at him, taken off guard. Was I stupid enough to nod? I don't remember. His lips were set in a bitter, thin white line of a scowl. "It's because you don't even take me seriously and all I am to you is a replacement for my brother and I... I... I'm..." As the sentence continued, he lost some of his fire and started stuttering, stalling, as if he were unable to speak properly or say what he wanted. This was a completely odd situation, seeing Travis flummoxed and speechless, fumbling for words, unable to speak as he wished or articulate himself properly.

It was like he was another man entirely, like an infant just learning to talk. Now, Travis had said five times that he had feelings for me, that he thought of me a lot when he didn't necessarily want to, twice that he cared for me, four times as Tommy that he loved me, and given other vague allusions to his feelings throughout this period, and all kinds of other compliments I don't want to enumerate. He'd said when he was pretending to speak for Tommy that he was an addict, that I drove him crazy, that he couldn't control himself around me, that I hurt him, that he couldn't breathe around me, that he couldn't quit, that he couldn't get enough.

But what did that say of his _own_ personal feelings towards me? He'd said that, while he understood Tommy, he didn't feel the same way he imagined his brother did. Where did that leave _him_, Travis? He'd said he'd owe me forever and told me how grateful he was that I'd forgiven him, and he'd even said that I made him a better man (and a bitter one, I think). However, given that my past two boyfriends told me the exact same thing and then proceeded to become worse men, the statement didn't mean a lot to me, especially as Travis was currently living a lie.

He'd said he couldn't understand how Tommy couldn't love me, admitted he was jealous... and he'd tried to say something earlier, so I shouldn't have been surprised. But it was the kind of surprised when you know but don't want to be right and don't want to hear it. And, earlier I might've asked him to spit it out, but now I just hoped he never finished his sentence.

Rather surprisingly, of course, he did. I should've expected that, too. Travis to win this battle against words with words. But I didn't because I was too busy hoping it wouldn't happen. You know how that is. "I'm falling in love with you, Jude," he confessed finally, exhaling deeply after saying it, like a giant weight had been taken off his chest. I blinked at him dumbly, refusing to process this. After all, I told myself, there was no _way_ he could've possibly said that. Much less now, when I'd been giving him so much trouble, and it was quite possibly the worst time ever to say such a thing. "I said I'm falling in love with you, Jude," Travis repeated, sounding rather frustrated, like he'd been battling with it.

And then I realized that, well, oh, crap, he had just said what I thought he said. Dammit. And what was there for me to say? How was I to respond? And, oh, holy hell, I was not prepared for this sort of thing! Not again! Not when I'd been so assiduously trying to avoid this! Why now? Why me? Why did he have to go and ruin everything that was so simple! I rose abruptly, shaking my head and my hands and mostly unable to look at him. "I... I _so_ can't deal with this right now," I muttered, overwhelmed. It had been a very emotional, frustrating, and all-out confusing day, and Travis had to go muck things up further. And yes, I realize that I as much asked for this, but still!

So, naturally, I ran the hell out of that room because everything was starting to get waaay too intense. And I heard Travis say behind me, as I left, doubtlessly referencing our earlier conversation, "I'd rather wait. Gives you something to hope for. I could use a little hope." As he said this, I could picture him sitting there entirely too placidly, smiling at me faintly. I mean, don't get me wrong here, 'cause I'm not a pro at this whole love and relationships thing, but generally when someone says they love you, and you go running in the opposite direction, um, that's kind of like a big deal, right? Like, upsetting... Which I should know, shouldn't I, given that whole Tommy fiasco? Only, like, I legit just ran away from Travis and, like, went to hide on the roof. And was really hoping he wouldn't be there when I went back 'cause, wow, I just could not face him or that hopeful tone in his voice or those feelings or trying to figure him out.

Because trying to figure Travis Quincy (wow, it is weird to think of him with that last name!) out has always been a hopeless endeavor, even now.

So I tried to keep myself in a state of not-thinking. Which didn't entirely work, so I wound up falling asleep. Turns out falling asleep on the roof in January isn't really a good idea, since you kind of wind up on the verge of frostbite. And then there's that whole pesky potentiality of falling thing. Plus I wound up locking myself out because that stupid door autolocks to, I dunno, save money on heat bills, so I had to call Georgia to call a janitor to free me. Since I woke up, and it was snowing, and I was kind of trapped up there with no shelter, and the stupid elevator wasn't working.

When I finally got down there, so cold and chilled to the bone that I didn't care anymore who I ran into, just that I was _warm_, I was not entirely surprised to find out that Travis was gone. After warming up a bit, I went to the room where we'd had it out and I had, once again, made a total fool out of myself and been rejected for sex yet again. I grimaced and shook my head at the thought, wanting already to erase it from my memory. I just have too many terribly embarrassing moments, especially where Travis is concerned.

The room was just as I'd left it, minus Travis. It was completely deserted and so clean and pristine that it was impossible to tell that anything had occurred there, much less anything of that magnitude. I stared at it for the longest time in both wonder and disbelief, somewhat unable to believe that he'd just left, much less that he'd said what he had. It was like he was never there, except the flowers he'd gotten me were still there. I walked over to them slowly, almost as if I were in a dream, and leaned forward to smell them and touch the petals.

And that was when I suddenly remembered that little note that had come with them. That note that Travis had been so eager to hide and so desperate to get away from me. And I once again began to wonder what it said, especially given Travis' little declaration. So I started to look around the room for anything, and there, on the floor, partially obscured by the table, was a crumpled-up piece of white paper. I picked it up slowly and judged it to be that note I was looking for by the color, quality, and embossing of the paper.

It's not like Travis to leave loose ends, so maybe he wanted me to find it and left it on purpose. Or maybe he was just careless. Whatever the reason, I unfolded it, flattened it, and opened it with a mild feeling of trepidation. I didn't know what to expect. Maybe some sort of apology? _I love you as one loves certain dark things, __**secretly**__, between the shadow and the soul_, I read. A lot to digest and a striking affirmation of the feelings he'd declared to me earlier. I understood why he'd crumpled it up. He'd thought better of telling me and didn't want me to find out in a note. I knew those words weren't Travis', and I would've infinitely preferred his words, preferred things crafted of his own lips and hands and feelings, because Travis always knew what to say (except, interestingly, in this case).

But what could I do except put it in my pocket, shake my head at him, and begin to seriously reevaluate things?

"Oh, Travis," I murmured to myself, sinking into the couch, gazing forlornly at the ceiling, "you stupid poet!"

- Loren ;*

So, what do you think?


	50. Unraveling

First, to Sara, since I cannot physically respond to anonymous reviews... "Time to Be Your 21" always had the "way too young" line. Even when she was writing it about Shay... As in, when Jude was writing it, she was too young to be feeling that way, so intensely and all that. So, as in "you're way too young". So Jude changed the song around when she heard the 21 line and that whole mess with Tommy happened, but that line was originally there.

Also, to JennyWooWoo... See, the word really sounded most like "come" to be quite honest, but that didn't really make too much sense either. So I picked "thumb" since they didn't have the lyrics and it made the most sense, and, well, I do wanna keep this T-rating. No, it most certainly would not. :) Actually, I'm hardly done with the story, but whatever. If I was done, it'd say completed. I mean, it has some problems, I guess, but less than most, and less than the show itself. Or so I like to think. ;) It's really hard to keep continuity in something so large. Like, the Jude throwing up before a performance is actually canon 'cause she did that in the first episode. But if I had to explain that seeming contradiction... Jude's nervous in the time before going up on stage. Once she's there, she's totally into it; it's what she was born to do. So it's the anticipation and her anxiousness before performing that's really making her nervous, since she has time to think about it before performing.

As for the drunkenness, with that I was really trying to show how drunkenness ebbs and flows. Like, okay, sometimes it hits a person right away, and they're goofy for a while, and then they sober up pretty quick. And, other times, it hits them a while later, and then like, they don't remember anything. So I wouldn't say largely that they're buzzed, really, excepting around Christmas time when they're all drinking champagne. 'Cause in the story, they're generally on the way to being drunk, on the way to wasted, more that sort of thing... Also, Tommy (and, for that matter, Patsy) particularly is a bit of a heavy drinker, and so he and Travis have fairly high tolerances. Plus characters, like, they can have been drinking before Jude got there, so you don't really know how many drinks they've actually had or about the alcohol content of those drinks. You just know how many drinks they've had in Jude's presence or while she was watching. And Jude herself... well, there are other factors, like her degree of sleepiness (which can further enhance a drunken state or at least simulate inebriation), the type of alcohol consumed, and her emotional state and that sort of thing... that also influence how she comes off. Alcohol affects different people different ways, so it's difficult to standardize a reaction. Also, remember that alcohol affects perception and memory, particularly depth perception.

There's a lot of altered states of mind in this story. *shrugs* Sleep deprivation, intoxication, mentions of past drug use, emotional duress, insanity, frustration, psychosis... And, I do write most of these chapters late at night, so my mind occasionally slips and functions in its own way to overlook some of these things 'cause sometimes I do look at the bigger picture, I guess, or prioritize certain things so they can account for the characters' state of mind, amplify drama and confusion, get the emotions across, and accomplish what I want to do with the plot. 'Cause there's a lot of things (word choice, grammar, themes and recurring motifs, syntax, where the plot's going, tone and mood, how it needs to be written, visualization, action vs. dialogue, personal goals for the chapter, and the overall direction you want to take the story in, and the statement and feelings you want people to gather from it) you have to think about as a writer when it goes from your head, through your hands, down to the page you're reading it on, and some of them fall by the wayside, depending.

Anyway, this one's a long one. I didn't think it'd be quite this long. Oopsies. Also, some of this dialogue may seem familiar to you, and that is probably 'cause it **is** since obviously the show has an episode with the exact same plot and obviously I borrowed from it, but, of course, I had to make a few... adaptations... because my Jude is in an entirely different position than that whiny Third Season melodrama queen. One being that she's not eighteen yet and has more of a reason to act like a kid about it, but also because Tommy did completely different things to them and so on, and the studio dynamics/situations are also totally different. Like with Darius, for instance, if he even shows up in here (incidentally, Darius was originally supposed to show up to cause a bit of trouble and confusion. You'll probably see where it would've gone, but by that point it was taking up too much time, and then, bam, Travis reared his ugly head in and demanded to be included). Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and sorry 'bout the wait.

Also, I do not own the Backstreet Boys or their songs "Just Want You to Know", "Everybody", "I Want It That Way", and all that... But the Backstreet Boys really did do a version of "There's Us." Lol, and it was a Walmart exclusive. I also do not own any major brands, songs, or television shows that are mentioned in this chapter. Nor do I own Instant Star or the characters contained within. I do, however, own Travis, and I think we can all agree that that most certainly is something. ;)

* * *

So, the last time you saw me, I'd just inadvertently gotten myself into an awkward situation. What else is new? Chaz had been kind of in love with me, I'd wound up getting in a pointless fight with Tommy over it, and then wound up declaring that I was a virgin to all the paparazzi and then almost jumped Travis, who then proceeded to tell me twice that, and I quote, he "was falling in love" with me. You would think that, from that point, it could only get _less_ awkward, and that things would be getting better, right? WRONG. It's my life, so of course it can't be that simple.

Needless to say, I've been avoiding Travis like the plague because, well, what the hell exactly can I say to that? I'm sorry, but I'm still in love with your brother? Like, honestly, I don't even think I need to say that, because it's pretty damn obvious. I mean, _really_, what did he expect me to say or do? I'm only seventeen here. Honestly, I've just got so much going on in my head, so many different people and events in my life, that I'm really confused and... I have a lot of feelings, okay? Doesn't mean I have to sort through 'em all, and figuring out how I feel about Travis is an endeavor I am certainly not up to at this particular juncture in my life. I mean, God, I'm still dealing with how I KNOW I feel about his brother here. And I'm having enough trouble with that. I don't want to get into knowing things I don't know.

I've even gone back to skipping, like, half of his classes. It's just awkward, so now any time he calls or tries to get me to stay after class, I just grab anyone I can and jet, practically throwing said person down as a human shield between us. I do not want to talk about "feelings" with Travis. No thank you. I know it's not like me to run from my problems... but what else can I do? Why do _I_ have to deal with so many things, you know? I mean, I'm only seventeen, and all of this... it's a lot to put on one girl, okay? Things with Tommy have, unbelievably, deteriorated even further, but more on that later.

This lovely morning, I was awakened by my father knocking on the door and telling me that E.J. and a large group of strange individuals were at my front door. I knew I had to go to the studio, that I had a session with Tommy, but I'd been loathe to get out of bed and figured that Tom likely wouldn't even show for the session, so why should I bother to be there early, on time, or, much less, at all? Nonetheless, this had me vaguely worried and intrigued, so I wiped some of the crusties from my eyes and headed downstairs. Sure enough, there was E.J. with a bunch of strange people wearing black and gray behind her. I gave her a quizzical look, leaning on the doorframe. "Hey, E.J... what's up?" I asked warily, glancing at the strangers pointedly.

E.J. frowned at my attire but affected a bright smile a moment later. Sometimes I envied her ability to be so artificial and perky at this time in the morning. She was a flight attendant once, don't you know. "Hey Jude, you ready to share your utter fabulousness with the world?" she exclaimed cheerily. I scowled at the familiar yet annoying greeting and threw her an odd look.

"What are you talking about?" I asked skeptically, becoming increasingly more suspicious as I got a better look at the curious individuals surrounding her, who seemed to potentially be some sort of film crew. A sort of panicky feeling fluttered up in me. I no longer associated cameras with anything pleasant, and I was afraid she'd set up some sort of interview for me to fix the um... virginity fiasco/scandal I'd caused last week. E.J. had, incidentally, been mostly _thrilled_ about that, since it had brought me a lot of (unwanted) publicity and managed to cause somewhat of a mild scandal that was all over the news for five days. It was a slow news week, you see. Georgia, however, was not so pleased, especially since my rift with Tommy had been publicly exposed and had brought her and the label under undue scrutiny.

My parents, while _**very**_ happy to know I was still a virgin and, I suppose, that I wanted better things for myself (and, probably, on some level, unbelieving that I _hadn't_ slept with Tommy), were outraged at the paparazzi and the news channels for making such a big deal out of something so private and, ultimately, something that is legally none of their business. "A Day in the Life with Jude Harrison, remember? They're only following you around all day," E.J. explained casually, peppily, as if this was common knowledge. A Day in the Life is a popular MTV reality TV show that follows a celebrity around for a day and sees what they do.

It was the first I'd heard of my participation in the show, however, so I was mildly alarmed and annoyed. I was also extremely conscious of the fact that I looked wretched and ridiculous in my pajamas, purple flannel pajama bottoms and one of my dad's old concert t-shirts. "_What_? No one told me about that!" I exclaimed loudly, vaguely in disbelief. I was just expecting a quiet, probably awkward Saturday at the studio. I was not prepared for being televised, much less playing a role for a reality TV crew. Because nothing about reality TV is actually real. It's just laziness on the part of studios because screenwriters cost more and require all kinds of other more complicated things.

E.J. looked embarrassed, glancing around at the people behind her. She laughed nervously. "Um, they didn't? **What**?" she gasped, feigning surprise. Her voice was too high, and she didn't sound even half as angry as a surprise like that would've usually made her, so I knew she was mixed up in it and that she'd undoubtedly known and hadn't told me about it for whatever reason. Probably so my reactions would be more genuine and I wouldn't have time to prepare or say no. She started mumbling things, too, but I was ignoring her.

A tall man with a camera slung over his shoulder stepped forward, clearing his throat and glancing between me and E.J. "Excuse me, does that mean you don't wanna do it? 'Cause we can't do it without the artist's consent," he reminded her cautiously, fingers twitching on his camera to slip the cover back on it.

E.J. paled and shook her head frantically, shooting me a rather desperate panicked glance before turning back to him and forcing a smile. "We're just going to, um, sort this little misunderstanding out right now... Feel free to get some shots of the exterior," she said authoritatively, grabbing my arm tight and leading me away a little, backing me up further into my living room. She was practically breathing down my neck. Her whole body was tense and wound up, her grip so hard it would undoubtedly leave bruises. Tough as nails and sharp as knives, this one. "C'mon, Jude, _please_? The label could really use this kind of publicity," she pleaded in a voice that was strangely desperate. I sensed that this probably had something to do with Darius' plan to buy the label, and that this plea was to ensure her own career and survival just as well as my own.

I sighed. Truthfully, I was kind of pissed at her for lying to me and deliberately concealing this from me. Time to prepare would've been nice. But, in the larger scope of things, I'd do anything for the label, Georgia, and E.J. They're like aunts to me, and I certainly don't want Darius to take over the label any more than they do and have him control yet another facet of my life. This independence I've been able to maintain is tenuous at best and largely a result of luck rather than my own efforts. "E.J., I really don't mind doing things. It's mostly the fact that no one _asked_ me. And I think you kept this from me on purpose. I think you deliberately hid it from me so I'd be genuinely surprised when they showed up," I said accusingly, hoping I'd managed to convey my loyalty and acquiescence while simultaneously enumerating my complaints and suspicions.

She looked vaguely offended by my undoubtedly correct assertion, face frozen in a gasp. "I did _not_-" she began, just a moment too late and not quite indignantly enough.

"Don't even bother trying to deny it, E.J.," I interrupted, mildly annoyed, placing my free hand on my hip and throwing her a look that said I knew better. She knew I wasn't stupid, after all.

"Okay, you caught me." E.J. sighed and conceded, though she hated to do it. It's embarrassing for someone of her caliber and lying ability to be caught in a lie by one as young and supposedly trusting as me. Probably made her feel like she was losing her touch. But, really, I'm not your normal seventeen-year-old, and, predictably, thanks to the men in my life, I find it rather hard to trust anyone. "So maybe I didn't want to burden you with-"

I interrupted again, seeing her emotional and caring excuse for the fraud it was. Yes, E.J. cared about me, but in a distant, quiet sort of way, like a benevolent aunt. But not like Georgia did. Not enough to try and shield me from something like this. She had her motives, all right, but they had nothing to do with my feelings or saving me trouble. "Save it, E.J. What's the real reason?" I cut in. A year, and I already know her well enough to see through her business lies. It's 'cause she went on tour with me. I know all her tricks.

E.J. frowned. "Well, you've kind of been walking around in a funk lately, off in your own world. Sad and crap." She stated this as if being a moody teenager was a crime. Though, to be fair, I suppose she doesn't know about my break-up with Tommy, and thank God she doesn't. But, like, obviously she knows that whether Tommy and I are getting along has a big effect on the studio dynamic, everyone in it, and me and Tommy's moods. Her lips turned down further, as she crossed an arm over her chest. "And, frankly, it's depressing. So maybe I took matters into my own hands, but people are curious about your life, and MTV **jumped**to do it!" she exclaimed seriously, getting a bit caught up in the idea.

I threw her a deservedly dirty look and shook myself free of her grip, glancing around to see if the cameras had followed. They hadn't. "All the more reason for you _not_ to set this up in the first place! It's pretty damn hard for me to be pretty little happy-go-lucky lala popstar Jude here!" I shouted, throwing my hands up in the air. Realizing the large mike I'd seen might be able to pick up my outburst, I lowered my voice and moved closer to E.J. "And, besides, you know the way things are in the studio lately... with me and Tommy. He's not even speaking to me. Hasn't in days. Kwest has to play messenger... Do you really want people to see _that _kind of studio environment? It won't exactly raise G. Major's stocks," I muttered conspiratorially, almost threateningly. I didn't mean it that way, though. It was actually the truth.

Now, I know you thought it was bad last week, when Tommy and I weren't really speaking. This, however, is different and worse. Not that I particularly feel that way about it entirely. Basically, what happened is that Tom and I had a kind of momentary truce, since I guess he felt sorry for me after I humiliated myself on national TV by talking about my virginity. Or maybe he was trying to prove a point to himself. Whatever, point is I dunno, but I'd come to accept it anyways. So we worked awkwardly on a couple of songs together, like really awkwardly and with very crappy results because of that whole break-up pink elephant we weren't talking about and all those trust issues with each other and ourselves. One such song was "There's Us," a song which I'd written the bulk of myself in some of the interim after the break-up.

And, like, whatever, it wasn't a particularly intense or good song, but like, I felt like I was coming to a better point in the process, like despite the thing with Travis, I was getting _somewhere_ in my getting over Tom. Ha ha ha. Silly me, always just a little too hopeful. Anyway, so on Tuesday Tom and I had polished it up a bit and recorded the basics. Tom hadn't contributed much and even refused songwriting credits, which I thought odd, since he could've made some profits off of the royalties, I suppose. But whatever, I wasn't going to question it. So, anyway, we recorded it really quickly on Wednesday, and Tom sent me off to go feed myself while he did his thing, since it was about dinnertime anyway, and he figured my family would be less worried if I showed up for dinner, even if I would've rather had Subway.

I came back early because it turned out that none of my family was home to eat with, so it was just me and Ruby, and since neither of us can really cook, we went out to Subway anyways. And I hurried back to the studio because I figured Tom would need me for a couple extra vocals and just wanted to get them out of the way as soon as possible so I could do something fun and, you know, not awkwardly hang around my ex-boyfriend. So, naturally, I head back to the studio, like usual, and guess what I walk in on?

Tommy and Angie up against the soundboard, in flagrante delicto. In the middle of the act, sexing it up. I would describe, only it happens to be rather unpleasantly burned into my memory as it is and the thought makes me rather ill. I mean, fortunately they had most of their clothes firmly in place so I wasn't really seeing much, but it was still disgusting, not to mention stupid and damn hypocritical! I stared for, admittedly, _way _too long, both transfixed and horrified by the sight of them having sex. My ex-boyfriend, the love of my life, having sex with the love of his life. That thought was what made it really hurt. The fact that he was screwing her, much less in my domain, was even more of an insult. That was the knife in my side, honestly speaking, because it was rubbing salt in the wound, a reminder of things I hadn't been able to do with Tommy and on my home turf, the place where I'd fallen for him and spent so much time with him, at that! And the longer I watched them, the more furious I became, and a plan formed itself in my head.

Admittedly, a passive-aggressive one, but I would've looked quite stupid barging in or whatever. And it would just've raised needless questions, and I didn't need to get myself into more of a fix here. So I turned on my heel, silently shut the door, and headed off to my sanctuary, i.e. the Crapper. That did not, however, prevent me from borrowing Tom's laptop. I typed in a few search terms and found the website of the record label I was looking for, and on that website, I found a number to call. I picked up my phone and dialed the number, even though it was long distance, and waited on hold a while. "Hi, this is Jude Harrison from G. Major Records, and I'm a songwriter and I think I have a song that one of your acts would like. Who would I need to talk to about that?"

After telling the receptionist that the act I wanted to get in touch with was the Backstreet Boys, she said I sounded like a teenager and didn't believe that I was a songwriter and asked for my credentials. I told her rather sternly that I wanted to do things directly and repeated that I was signed to G. Major Records and added that I had a platinum debut album and added, a touch spitefully, that the Backstreet Boys would know who I was. This was a bit of a bluff, but I figured they'd know if Justin Timberlake knew who I was. She didn't believe me but transferred me to A&R. I told them it was pointless to speak with them, since I was in the music business and knew that nowadays all they really did was scout new talent, rather than work out relationships between singers and songwriters like they used to, and then I told them who I was and informed them to look me up on Google if they didn't already know who I was. Then they embarrassingly asked me to sing over the phone to them, so I sang "24 Hours" to prove my identity and answered a few annoying questions before they gave me the number of the Backstreet Boys' manager or producer.

This whole process took, like, two hours, but it was all worth it because I got the Backstreet Boys on the line. They actually did know who I was and were both proud and surprised to hear from me, since they knew I was their rival's protégée. I told them that I had a song I thought they might like that was going on my next album and said how fond I was of them and how awesome it was that they were doing a new album. They were happy and grateful and asked me if the song was clean of Tommy's influence. I hesitated for just a minute before telling them yes. I told them it would mean a lot to me if they considered my song and got a little emotional talking about what their music meant to me. I guess this surprised them because, well, I don't seem like the type of girl to look for reassurance in pop music. But Tommy's taught me different, you know, and Backstreet Boys' songs are a lot deeper than you think they are.

I told them that a lot of their songs had gotten me through a tough time, especially "Just Want You to Know," and I think they really liked to hear that. I mean, all artists do, right? Me included. Then they asked me to sing the song for them, which I did gladly, putting them on speakerphone and fetching my guitar. Turns out they really liked the song and thought it would go really well with their next album, so I asked for their email and said I'd send them the demo version, lyrics, and my backing vocals. Just as I'd done this and was concluding my conversation with them, Tommy of course came in, looking for me, and I lied to him like you wouldn't believe. I mean, yeah, ultimately I knew he'd find out, but I wanted it to be later.

He came to me pissed the next day, literally red with fury. And I knew he knew. Didn't particularly care, though. I mean, it wasn't like our working relationship was really solid enough to be something valuable, let alone something effective. What it was was limping along and barely functioning, so the loss of even this little truce wasn't going to break me up. The previous evening had been eerily harmonious and peaceful, really, the calm before the storm. Something was bound to come and disrupt it. In my case, double-dealing with the Backstreet Boys. Eh, so it goes. "You gave the song we w-" he barked.

I didn't let him finish but corrected him. "_I _wrote it, Tom. You barely contributed at all. Remember? "Don't even put my name on this one, Harrison?"" I quoted pointedly, emphasizing the fact that he had no reason to be mad. At least, legally. It was his choice to deny credit. And, really, who'll believe Tom? Besides, the guys like it, and they'll have the song, and Tommy gets nothing from it. Win-win.

Tom was seething, tense and almost shaking with rage. "You gave a song that you wrote about me, about _us_, about _our_ relationship-" he continued, near the point of launching a full-on tirade against me speaking to the Backstreet Boys. I was trying to decide whether it was the subject, how personal it was, or the fact that I'd given it to the _Backstreet_ _Boys_ that bothered him the most.

I stiffened and once again interrupted, this time not without a trace of bitterness, "Excuse me, Tom, but _what_ relationship are you speaking of? We're barely on speaking terms, and that's only for work reasons, which you've made as clear as shattered glass, _remember_?" Our tenuous truce had been exclusively for work-related business, so that things would go smoother in the studio. Between us, things were still as personally awkward as ever, but we were learning to dissociate the two relationships, slowly.

This argument was, however, putting a bit of a wrench in that.

Tom flinched a little at the harshness of my words, a surprising display of some emotion I didn't want to consider. "Not the point, Harrison. You gave a song that you wrote about _me_, a song that, might I add, is going to be on your next album, to the freaking _Backsteet_ _Boys_ for their new album with your well-wishes, support, and _love_!" He growled moodily, disgusted, looking for all the world like he was intending to throw something in the air. Fortunately there was nothing within reach that wasn't bolted down or attached to something. That was actually a direct quote, too, which meant he'd spoken to someone. They probably called to check if the song was Tommy-free. Which, according to the people I filed the song with, it is. Legal and everything.

I shrugged nonchalantly, as if this was just something I'd done for fun, not to deliberately piss him off. "I don't really see the problem here, Producer Man. It's not like you have any claim over the song, and we all know that one's not headed for the radio... Or is this about the personal stuff? Because, I mean, **you**, of all people, should know of my fondness for boy bands and their _relics_," I replied with a studied casualness, watching him carefully for a reaction, knowing such a response would piss him off further. I was debating whether he'd explode or scold. One of which was obviously lamer and more unsatisfying than the other, but that response was also much less likely to lead to a screaming match of horrid insults.

"_Jude_..." He said sharply, in a warning tone. His voice was saying "don't go there." His eyes were similarly, predictably forbidding, and flashed at the mere mention of his (our) past. I rolled my eyes at him. So predictable, Tom. I was rather disappointed at the lack of intensity, to tell you the truth. It made screwing with him less amusing.

I threw him a hard look. "What, Tom? I actually happen to _like_ the Backstreet Boys. "I Want It That Way" is quite possibly the best pop song ever written, and "Everybody" never fails to get the party started, okay? I figure I owe it to them because "Just Want You to Know" helped me through a very tough time in my life," I affirmed boldly. Honestly, I probably wouldn't have said all that in an argument to anyone other than Tommy, and I probably shouldn't have said that, but my filter is kind of weak in this sort of situation. What can I say? My judgment just suffers when Tom's involved.

I'd discovered that song in particular when I'd gotten on the computer when I was pathetically listening to old Boyz Attack! songs on YouTube one night because I really wanted to hear Tommy's voice and clicked on a related video, and, damn if it didn't perfectly sum up everything I was feeling. How I fell in love with Tommy ("_you gave me a smile that I could never forget, and nothing I could do could protect me from you that night_"). Our relationship ("_wrapped around your finger_" and so on). The process of trying to get over him ("_I've been fighting to let you go. Some days I make it through..._"). My breakdown ("_since I lost you, I lost myself_"). And, finally, the feelings I had about it ("_But, still, I have to say... I would do it all again_"). It was all true, so I'd gotten in touch with them through one of the songwriters I worked with sometimes.

They'd been really _thrilled_, actually, to hear that I had a song I thought they would like. And I could tell it amused them all that Tommy Q's prodigy was willing to give them a hand and leg up. "Plus I've heard some of their new stuff, and I think "There's Us" would go really well with the rest of the album. I'm fully supportive of their comeback. Besides, who knows? Their return might jumpstart a flagging genre. Might even burst some of _our_ friends' catalog sales," I continued cheerily, proud of my newfound friends. Actually, the Backstreet Boys had always been a bit of a sore point between us, since one of the first things I'd ever said to Tommy had been that I thought the Backstreet Boys were much better than Boyz Attack! ever was or could be. At the time it was said mostly as an insult, but I later realized that I largely thought it was true until I'd become reacquainted with Boyz Attack!'s music and met the rest of the guys.

Still, there's no comparison, really, to be honest. And I say this after getting to know all of Boyz Attack!, two of them particularly well.

Tommy had this look on his face that said, "oh, no, you didn't." I did, though. Since I'd used one of those we-words... Our friends meaning his former bandmates and including himself. I kind of vaguely hoped he'd be impressed back into joining the band and shipped away from me for eternity because it'd be a damn relief not to have to see his handsome, stupid, assface. He was numb and dumb in silence and disbelief for a moment, amazed at the capriciousness of a seventeen-year-old-girl who has been wronged, scorned, and pissed off. You'd think he'd know better after all this time. "I'm talking about the fact that you took something _personal_ and gave it to the Backstreet Boys! It goes against what you believe, for one..." He continued sternly.

I scoffed at that. Slick attempt, Tom, but it's not gonna work. Like he even knows what I believe anymore? He's turned everything all upside-down! I'm **not** the same girl I was when I met him. I'm just not. And what does that mean coming from him? He has no artistic integrity. I cocked my head and regarded him curiously for a moment before smiling like a shark and setting in on him with relish. "And yet corporate exploitation of my music is kind of the basis of your career, isn't it? I mean, forgive me, but weren't you hired to smooth out my rough edges and show me the ropes, make me marketable like only a popstar can? Besides, you never cared about _my_ artistic integrity before, let alone your own..." I quipped pointedly, raising a brow.

Here he faltered because I was obviously right, realizing pretty quickly that he had no leg to stand on. He stiffened and straightened a little. God, when did he get such a rod up his ass? It's practically made him into someone upstanding. "My point is that you did that... _deliberately_... to spite me," He said slowly, with a great effort. He spoke through his teeth, clearly irritated both at the fact that I'd bested him and that I was basically completely winning this argument. Logically, legally, and in the fact that I was getting to him and really pissing him off a great deal.

I bared my teeth at him and practically hissed. His statement was truer than I was willing to acknowledge, but I was wholly aware of this. But, like, I can't just say, "hey, Tommy, I'm screwing with you because you're a hypocrite who dumped me and I'm really still pissed about that." Or something to that effect. "First off, Quincy, check your ego at the door. I don't do things to affect _you_ anymore," I snapped blisteringly. Yeah, I was lying through my teeth there. And rhyming unintentionally.

I rolled my eyes at him and crossed my hands over my chest, standing tall and looking at him with disdain. "Secondly, I think this little grudge you _still_ have against them is immature and pointless because it's not like you want that life anymore anyways. You wouldn't rejoin Boyz Attack! if they gave you a trillion dollars and your own private island, and you know it. And, frankly, the grudge is not only childish but yet another remnant of your boyband past, and I thought you were trying to dissociate yourself from that musically and..." I argued, finding it all too easy to paint him as a child. It's very easy when you know someone entirely too well. I paused a moment, deliberately, before making a rather ill-advised comment in what I hoped was a casual, uncaring voice, "-Oh, wait, nope, you're still dating the chick you almost broke up Boyz Attack! for. Apparently you _aren't_ moving on."

Mentioning Angie was a mistake. Because mentioning her means that I _think_ about her, that I feel this is in some way significant, which I shouldn't have let Tommy know. Sensing this, Tom countered swiftly, "And apparently neither are you. You're the one who keeps bringing up the near past." He let this statement hang in the air for a moment, coolly, before continuing in a much more angry vein. It kind of annoyed me how Tom referenced that whole relationship we had in such unsatisfying and unspecific vagaries. He moved closer to me, not that he noticed, and his eyes blazed like the heart of a flame. "And you did this on purpose... You didn't even _ask_ me before giving it to them! No, I had to find out from Nick Freaking Carter, who called me personally to tell me just how great my "girl" was and assumed I already knew about this," Tom growled accusingly. He spat Nick Carter's name as if it was something unpleasant, mimicked his voice with a pinched, quietly furious expression. I could sense that, inside, Tommy was boiling like a teapot.

Hehe, Tommy the Teapot. Well, that's a new one. Both of them seem like a lot of hot steam.

I placed a finger on my lip. He'd practically handed me my next all-too-familiar card. Jealousy and rivalry all rolled into one. "Wonder why he didn't call _me_... you know, I gave him my number..." I remarked idly, pretending as if I was thinking aloud. I was sure to pout just a little bit, as if I was actually disappointed. Psh, as if I didn't know he was dating someone? Besides, I don't really go for blonds. Much less an ex-boybander. I like to think I'm not that stupid anymore. Tommy actually bought that, judging by the redness of his face.

The fact that he had, that he looked even more angry, made me very much want to laugh, but I suppressed the urge to drag out his torment. I kind of wanted to see how far I could push him to the precipice. He had to snap at some point, after all. Lord knows Tom's never had a firm control over his anger. "_Jude_..." His patience with me was wearing rather thin, I must say.

Not that that stopped me. Nothing stops me when I'm on a roll, when I want to see how things play out. That may be a bad thing, my relentlessness, and maybe it causes me undue trouble, but where would I be without it? There are worse things than not knowing when to stop. I allowed the smile to spread across my face slowly, showing my amusement, and held up my hands in a sort of pacifying gesture. Tom's face turned even redder, although whether it was from surplus rage or embarrassment I couldn't quite figure out. "Relax, Quincy, I've learned from my mistakes. Besides, minus your brother, blonds aren't my type... A Harrison will never again date a boyb... oh, wait, except for Chaz, 'cause Sadie's dating him. But, hey, if Justin Timberlake calls, I just can't be held responsible for my actions... It'll be another case of "Oops!...I Did It Again,"" I drawled jestingly.

Sadly, most of that was actually true. That one was also good because I tied Britney in there too, making another parallel of Tommy's ex hooking up with Justin and then having Tommy pick up the pieces. Only maybe this time it would be in reverse, you know. It was fun to plant that little idea in his head. Plus he gets **so** touchy when you bring Justin up, given that he has the solo career Tommy so desperately envies. I suppose, if I really wanted, I could've quoted "SexyBack" or "Cry Me a River" or something to that effect to piss him off even more, but that felt like a little too much. I don't want to lay it on too thick, after all. "Stop trying to distract me, Jude, because it's not working. I **know** you did this to spite me," Tom insisted irritably, dead certain and unwilling to back down. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and he surely looked as dangerous as I knew him to be.

Once again, I entreated him to calm down, knowing he wasn't going to, and managing to, of course, further irritate him. "Chillax, Toto. That album won't be out for ages, and it's going to be a bonus track. A Walmart exclusive," I told him calmly, as if this was utterly blasé information. I shrugged. "And it's not like anyone ever goes to Walmart, let alone buys cheap CDs there..." I continued faux-naively, sarcastically, pausing a moment and then smacking a head to my forehead. "Oh, wait..." I trailed off ominously.

Tommy turned away from me, so thunderous was his fury. He let out some kind of loud noise, rather like a bellow or howl. He looked like he wanted to throttle something, maybe even me, but I wasn't afraid because Georgia had made it plain that I was off-limits, and any more messing with me would not be tolerated.

"A _Walmart_ exclusive? _Our_ song is going to be a Walmart exclusive? You sold _our_ song to the Backstreet Boys for a Walmart bonus feature! Way to sell-out, Jude!" He shouted disbelievingly. It struck me that he sounded more offended than anything, as if the truly offensive thing in all this was that he'd been connected to a Walmart exclusive, as if his connection to this, to mass pop culture was somehow beneath him.

**Him**! Of all people!

I nodded enthusiastically, but the sell-out comment had actually gotten to me. I've admittedly never really understood how one becomes a sell-out, and it's just... so hard in this business to keep your integrity intact, so who can blame you for selling out for some success? It seems to me that the only people who whine about sell-outs are those who aren't successful or talented and are jealous. "Oh, _you're _one to talk. I mean, this from a guy with his face on a bobble-head, really? Not to mention one who was featured in a Taco Bell commercial singing with the Taco Bell Chihuahua? You _invented_ selling out when you started shaking it like a stripper but on MTV and fo' free..." I rejoined immediately, reminding him of what he'd done for fame, of how his dignity had suffered, of being subject to a higher being's will... it came with the territory, the commercialism and rampant exploitation. Tommy knew that better than I ever would.

As usual, he bristled at this reminder of that unpleasant and humiliating (and embarrassing) time in his life. As I suppose he was right to do. I mean, bobble-heads, chihuahuas, fast food, their ridiculous outfits, the colognes he'd sold, the TV guest star appearances on sitcoms, the cross-promotions, the cheesy song lyrics, the constant personal appearances, the signings, the shampoo ads, having their single as part of a McDonald's promotion in Happy Meals? "Don't be so temperamental, Tommykins. It boosts both of our careers, and I don't regret it," I told him cheerfully, knocking his chin half-fondly and half-painfully.

I shrugged. "Besides, *NSYNC and Natural don't look like they're going to reform any time soon, so I couldn't very well give it to them. And before you say that was just part of an elaborate plan to insult and spite you, that just so happens to be an added bonus," I continued brightly. Tommy gaped at me. I would've given it to *NSYNC first, actually, were they back together, because Tommy had a particularly strong hatred of them, but, alas, they seemed to be no more. Quite unfortunate, that. "And you can't undo it because I already sent them an mp3 of my backing vocals, so _ha_!" I proclaimed triumphantly, grinning at him victoriously. I'd also done it from his computer, which was the best part of all.

After that, I believe there was some shouting and a lot of swearing on Tom's part. I wisely hightailed it out of there and let him explode like the explosive device I knew him to be. And it was rather satisfying, winding him up and just watching him go all over the place like that. I also think he might've thrown a chair into one of the windows separating artist and producer, given that there was a large vaguely chair-shaped shattered dent thingie in it. This is kind of impressive, given the force with which Tommy threw and the chair's velocity, that it didn't break the window, I mean. Fortunately, it was safety glass, so it hadn't broken and remained there, looking ridiculous and proving to be an eyesore to both Georgia, the studio, and the various producers and performers occupying that particular studio (Studio B). And, hey, no one was hurt either. Though, I think it might've also bounced back and hit Tommy in the face or head, because he was definitely sporting a cut on his forehead and a rather unsightly lump. As you can see, all of this is highly amusing to me.

Anyway, as a result of all of this, Tommy silently seethed every time he was in my presence, and this experience had apparently taught him that it was better and less frustrating to not speak to me at all. This basically resulted in him blowing me off. He'd been still so furious or recovering from his little injury and the wounds to his pride the rest of that day and the day after that he hadn't showed up for our sessions and, at least on Thursday, hadn't come to the studio at all. He showed up on Friday, i.e. yesterday, but for a short, tense time, dragging Kwest in to supervise (which was, actually, a bit of a new idea of Georgia's, having someone else there with us... though Kwest was dragged away from his work by Tommy to accomplish this end... and possibly also to make sure he didn't, like, kill me or strangle me or something). He refused to speak to me, so I refused to speak to him, and poor Kwest was reduced to ferrying messages between us until he got sick of repeating things we said to us (and Tom and I could clearly hear what the other was telling Kwest, since there was maybe four or five feet between us the pointless half of the time when we were trying to work on a song) and realized the utter ridiculousness of the situation. He apologized to both of us, rather irritably, though, and said he had better things to do with his time than play our messenger, that we needed to work this out ourselves because "look, this is between the two of you, not me" and stormed out.

Tom and I remained there in silence for an incredibly tense and awkward ten-minute standoff before Tom stalked out of the room, leaving me alone in the studio, feeling as if my time had been wasted yet again. I heard his tires squeal on the pavement approximately two minutes afterward. Somebody sure was eager to get away from me. Big shocker there.

But, anyway, back to reality. E.J.'s eyes widened and sort of started sparkling with a barely-concealed glee. I swear, the woman was about to clap her hands together like a seal. "Are you kidding me? People _looove_ that kind of drama, especially with you and Quincy! And I bet they're _dying_ to see what you two are really like when you're all alone!" She exclaimed excitedly, her voice rising an octave due to enthusiasm. She drew out the word love and threw me a look, like perhaps she wanted to know herself what we were like when we were alone. Mostly silent nowadays, quite honestly, and she should know that. She eyed me slyly. "Now, if you could possibly pick a fight with Tommy, that would be just great. Ratings would shoot through the roof!" She speculated, hinting at me to throw the TV show.

I gaped at her in silence and sheer disbelief for a minute. It was mind-boggling to realize that somehow she had no idea that things with me and Tommy were as bad as they actually were. Like, she's there. She has eyes. She ought to know by now. Lord knows I don't need to be picking another fight with the man. I mean, God, I've had how many fights with him since the break up? The one about Chaz, the one about the Backstreet Boys, the whole period of painful days when I first got back, the break-up itself... I didn't need a new one, and, good Lord, what could it even be over anymore? There weren't any subjects left except Angie and the old arguments.

Then I came back to my senses, dread overtaking me, and shook my head no stubbornly. "E.J., I am **not** picking a fight with Tommy. Period," I told her firmly, staring her down unflinchingly. She frowned a little, and I glanced away thoughtfully, pausing for a moment. "He already has enough reasons to hate me without me giving him new ones," I muttered half under my breath, thinking about the horrible arguments we'd had since. None of the usual venom, I suppose, but there was a lack of feeling, a certain emptiness rather than the protective cushion of emotion I was used to, and it still managed to take me off-guard.

She heard, and I hadn't thought she would. So of course she started asking questions. She leaned in towards me, forward, and placed a hand on her hip, raising her eyebrows. "And what's _that_ about, by the way?" E.J. demanded suddenly. "No one seems to know, and I haven't heard a single believable explanation for your sudden feud," she continued suspiciously, something almost malicious flickering in her dark eyes. What she was really saying by her look was that Tom, Georgia, and I probably knew more than we were telling, of course. She was clearly waiting for an explanation, but I hadn't explained to Georgia and I wasn't about to tell the second-biggest gossip at G. Major.

Then I smirked, getting an idea, and actually wound up telling her a version of the truth. I dropped the smile from my face and told her, quite calmly, in a deadpan, "We got into a fight over the Backstreet Boys." I held up three fingers in a Girl Scout salute. "Honest to God." E.J. rolled her eyes and snorted at me, not believing me for a second (even though I was actually telling the truth), but kept staring and tapping her foot, waiting even more impatiently for an answer. I straightened, taking the hard, mostly evasive line. "I don't want to talk about it, and it's really none of your business anyways. And he probably won't even be an issue because he'll probably just bail on me again," I told her sharply, a bit bitterly there towards the end, surprising her with the vehemence in my voice. I shrugged carelessly. "And, you know, one of these days I'm going to have to produce on my own, what with Kwest being so busy with Patsy and Paegan..."

Little did I know how soon that day would come. By that point, E.J. was kind of breathing fire. Just a little bit. She exhaled like an angry dragon or me when I've eaten so much spicy food I feel like I can breathe fire. "I am your publicist. Everything about your life is _my_ business. And the way you two are lately affects your working relationship, which affects your career and the studio environment. Which, again, effects my job. And when it effects my job, that makes it my business," She stated shortly, the statements deliberately quick and to the point.

I forced a smile. "And when I say it's _private_, I mean that it's private. And personal. Between Tommy and me, no one else..." I countered equally pointedly, refusing to tell her more. I'd learned the steeliness from Tommy, from everyone who was always trying to tell me that something wasn't my business before I broke them down. I sighed, reflecting on E.J.'s request. Ultimately, the label really could use this kind of free PR. And, unfortunately, saving G. Major (at least financially) seemed to fall entirely on my shoulders. After all, it was hardly in my interest to have Darius control both my career and my music. I didn't want him to take over G. Major any more than Georgia did. Understanding what I needed to do, I conceded. "But, like I said, I'll do it. I don't mind, but honestly..." E.J. perked up a bit when I said this and practically screamed. I interrupted a moment later, rubbing my forehead. "I'm just not entirely sure I can do this," I muttered honestly. With the cameras on me and Tommy, there's no telling what could happen... And I just had this gut feeling that whatever happened was going to be incredibly messy.

E.J. gave me a queer look and shook her head quickly and abruptly, pulling me towards her. "That sounds like quitter talk. Where's that can-do spirit, Harrison?" She insisted, attempting to prod me into being a perky individual. I frowned at her. A very business-like look set in over her features. "You have a session with Tommy in a couple hours. You do know _that_, right?" She continued briskly, as if I'd forgotten in the first place that this camera crew was coming. Which was, of course, ridiculous, since I only found out this morning.

I fought the urge to groan. How could I forget, I asked myself a bit morosely. Externally, however, I was defiant. "Yeah. Well, we'll just see if _he_ shows up!" I proclaimed a bit irritably, for understandable reasons. Being in the studio with him, with all the heat on, under everyone's scrutiny... I was sure it was going to be torture. And incredibly awkward for everyone involved, assuming, of course, that Tommy decided to show. That, well, I wasn't exactly counting on it. Then, before E.J. could say something inane that would undoubtedly upset or unnerve me more, I broke free, walked past her, and threw the door open, heading out into the crowd.

It was really, really bright out, so I kept blinking. The camera trained itself on me almost immediately, and I remembered that I was very much in my pajamas outside and needed to get presentable if, after all, millions of people would see me. So I forced a smile and began speaking. "Hey, so I've agreed to do it, but can you guys um, just... give me a second? I'm not really... presentable. You know, jammin' in my pjs like I am," I requested, gesturing down to my clothing.

The cameraguy nodded enthusiastically, glad, I'm sure, that he didn't come here for nothing. He looked quite relieved, really, and threw E.J. a grateful glance. He smiled at me, and I noticed that he was sort of cute, the main cameraman. Youngish. But I have enough men in my life, so why am I even bothering to look. "Ready to rock when you are, Jude," he proclaimed, practically saluting me. He'd already hoisted the camera back up and was beginning to focus and aim it at me, no doubt. I tried not to balk at this sudden intrusion, remembering just how uncomfortable it was to have cameras on me all the time, to attempt going about the normal things in life with this built-in audience. Instant Star had been great for my career, yeah, but hell on my nerves... and I'd always known when they were watching, had always known where and what they would be filming, and what they wanted to see. I didn't know that here, and I felt that they expected something more from me.

They didn't just want a singer. They didn't want to hear my story or my voice or see who I was. They wanted drama and entertainment. They wanted to know what I was really like as a person, how I was to other people, what a day in my life was like, on average. And it was kind of an artificial thing, since it was a weekend and I wasn't at school or any of that. They'd caught me at a bad, confusing time, and I didn't know exactly how I was going to salvage this. Honestly, with Tommy, _I_ didn't even know what to expect lately, but the thought frightened me a little. "Great, thanks," I muttered thanklessly, knowing I was by no means ready to rock. But, you know, I'm a musician. And I know that no matter what, the show must go on... and sometimes you just have to face the music. And, as corny as speaking in clichés is, today I had to do all that and more.

I invited them in with a sweeping hand gesture and started to go back inside. "Come in, take a load off... I bet that camera is heavy... make yourself at home. I'll just be a minute. I was, um, just gonna head to the studio anyways." I kept smiling, stifled a yawn, and smoothed my hair while heading upstairs. Fortunately, the cameras did not follow me to my bedroom. Small wonders.

At that point, I scrambled to the shower for five frantic minutes, threw my hair up, and hunted around the room for clothing. I found this pinstriped black button-up shirt-dress on the floor, threw it on, wrapped a matching belt around my waist to give me some kind of figure, pulled on some black leggings and brown boots. I glanced in the mirror and noticed that the shirt was pretty huge on me still, so I rolled the sleeves up to my elbows, popped the collar, unbuttoned another button, and adjusted the belt a bit more. The shirt had been buried somewhere on my floor, but it was remarkably uncrumpled. I hunted for some jewelry to accessorize and found some feather earrings, that ring Travis had given me that had somehow NOT gone into the box with all the Tommy-things, even though I'd chucked it in there, and my Joe Strummer guitar pick necklace. Then I dragged a brush through my hair and headed downstairs, jumping down from stair to stair until my feet hit the landing.

I turned straight to the camera and offered it an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, guys, but I think you'll find out that my life _isn't_ that glamorous. At least eighty percent of the time, if not ninety percent. I'm a teenage girl. I go to school, home, food, the bathroom, and the studio. That's about it. I'm actually dressing up for you a little here, because I generally don't give a crap how I look when I go to the studio on Saturdays, but this time, I put in a little effort," I said matter-of-factly, gesturing to my rather unimpressive outfit. But, really, what did they expect? I got ready in eleven minutes, give or take. My hair was still wet!

Something occurred to me then, and I threw the cameramen another apologetic look. "Hey, sorry 'bout that. I'm Jude Harrison, and this is A Day in the Life. Welcome to my world!" I exclaimed brightly, flashing (ostensibly) the viewers a smile before heading to the kitchen to fetch myself some breakfast. The cameras followed, which meant I was obliged to give a house tour.

"But anyway, welcome to La Maison de Harrison! Since we're here, we might as well take a spin around the floor. So this is my living room. Pretty standard," I said, gesturing to the living room. The camera did a panoramic, and one of the cameramen asked about seeing my bedroom. I swallowed, thinking of both how messy my room was and the fact that my mother would be ashamed for me to show it to them in its present state (and would then proceed to bitch me out later when there weren't cameras around)... and the fact that a bunch of strange men traipsing around my bedroom is just _so_ not something I'm cool with. "Um, you won't be seeing the upstairs, since my bedroom is a total mess, so I guess you'll just have to see that in your dreams... but, um, yeah, the kitchen!" I continued awkwardly before properly heading off into the kitchen.

My parents were sitting at the counter. Dad was reading the paper and having some coffee, and Mom was pulling Eggo waffles out of the microwave. She was all dressed up for work because she had some big stupid weekend meeting thing today. When she turned around, putting one of the waffles on another plate for Dad, he in turn poured her a cup of coffee. She threw him a grateful smile, and then I cleared my throat so they would notice my existence and stop being disgustingly domestic. "Okay, so these are my parents. I love them very much," I began simply and truthfully. I know this story might make it seem like I don't, or like my parents don't care and whatnot, but that's not true. I mean, they're my parents, and they've got their own lives and their own problems, same as I do. And who can really blame them? My life is out of my control; **I** can't even keep up with it all sometimes! And it's in my nature as a kid to try to um, hide the rather... unpleasant things from them, things they would disapprove of. Such as my romantic entanglements with unavailable older men, math grade, paparazzi, and so forth.

I mean, you think my parents would let me be a rockstar, would let me work with Tommy and all that if they knew that we hooked up at his house, then he dumped me after ALMOST sleeping with me God only knows how many times, causing me to have a minor nervous breakdown that almost killed me? Or that I'm fooling around with my engaged high school music teacher partially because he happens to look like my ex-boyfriend? Or that said music teacher attempted to rape me and has a thing for one of my friends and had sex with another one, both at school? Or that Ruby's staying with us because Tommy kicked her out of his house after Chaz found out they were having sex? C'mon, if I told my parents everything, I wouldn't _have_ any story to tell you, because I'd be locked away in my room all the time, studying. I wouldn't have a life, period.

I walked around to my dad, smiling for real, and put my hands on his shoulders. "This is my dad and number one fan, Stuart." My dad, goof that he is, waved at the camera goodnaturedly. I kissed him on the cheek warmly, ruffling his hair. This made my dad frown. The hair ruffling. He had some sort of early emergency tax meeting today. "He's an accountant, and a pretty rockin' one in my opinion. He taught me everything I know... except math..." I continued, patting my dad on the back and offering the camera a shrug (obviously in regards to the math comment, which made my dad frown slightly, though he was smiling from the earlier comment. Not to play favorites, although we both know which of them is clearly my favorite, I turned to my mother. "And this lovely woman here is my mother, Victoria," I elaborated, wrapping my arms lovingly around her neck, turning to look at her properly. I faltered in explaining what she did for a living, which I sort of knew but wasn't very good at explaining. It was a complicated job. "She's uh... um, what do you do again, Mom?"

Mom frowned a little and said something that, as per usual, I didn't understand. So I just shrugged and pretended like I understood. It's gotten me through more scrapes than you know. Half of life, I think, is pretending to understand when you really have no idea what's going on. There's a certain art to convincing people you know things you don't, really. "Um, right," I pronounced shortly before changing the subject with a quick smile. "She also happens to make the best pancakes in the world... Anyways, we have to get to the studio," I told her, pulling away with a bit of a frown. My mother also frowned, though for different reasons. Someone is still a little mistrustful of my label (and Tommy in particular), which was reinforced by the way my mother was glaring at E.J. like she was Satan.

Naturally, I found myself rather wishing that my mom had made the aforementioned pancakes today, but, alas, there wasn't time. In order to distract the future viewers from my mom's glaring, I glanced between my parents and adopted a mostly false cheer. "Just wanted to be a dork and come in, grab a Poptart or two, and you know... tell you guys that I love you," I announced, turning to hug each of my parents in turn before forcing them into a group hug in front of the camera. "Because, as crazy as I am, these two made me, and they put up with me and love me for who I am. And you can't say that about many people..." I mumbled, grateful for the strength of my parents' embrace. I pulled away from them somewhat reluctantly and snatched up a Poptart from the toaster, which one of my parents had kindly heated for me, muttering how I lived off of these things. I snatched my coat and bag up from by the door, and the camera crew started to follow me out our back door. I turned to them smiling slightly, and said, almost under my breath, while leaving, "And, hey, I think I've turned out _way _less screwed up than a lot of people! Like Tommy, for instance."

E.J. raised a brow at this early and pointed reference to Tommy that had come to me automatically. He's my ex. What do you expect? At that point, I was at the door, so I was surprised to hear my parents shout after me. "We heard that!"

I giggled and popped back into the doorway, smiling at them goodnaturedly. They looked bemused and smiled back. I blew them kisses, hanging on the doorframe. "C'mon, you know I love you guys! Anyways, have a nice day, and I'll see you at dinner! Bye!" I shouted back, waving at them before closing the door. I was in good spirits after that brief interlude, Poptart in hand, ready to conquer the studio world and convinced that I would get the film crew to stop at Starbucks for some quality cappuccino to really get this morning started.

But, of course, all good fairytales have to end. And most fairytales have a happily-ever-after kind of ending, marked by the return of the gallant prince. But in my fairytale... there's no glass slipper, no godmother, no mice... just me, wishing I could turn into a pumpkin. And frequently I do turn into a pumpkin... only I wind up _squashed_ (flat). But I suppose you'll see what I mean later.

We arrived at the studio, and it fell to me to give the grand tour while E.J. observed with her eagle eyes for anything she could correct or take advantage of. I smiled nervously, standing in the lobby and looking around rather paranoidly for any sign of Tommy to ruin what seemed like a good if not slightly bumpy day. I saw nothing, which meant nothing, 'cause I didn't know if he was there or not, which meant that, once again, I had no clue what the hell I was in for. "Okay, um, this is G. Major, my label," I began hesitantly, walking backwards and, naturally, half bumping-into-half-falling-into an exceedingly cute brown-haired guy with coffee. He was, by the way, NOT Tommy. Just wanted to clear that up. He caught me with one arm and the coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug unpleasantly. He offered me an awkward, rather strained smile, righted me, and then set off briskly and carefully in the direction of the studios like a man on a mission.

"Oh, um," I shouted after him, "Sorry, cute guy whose name I don't know!" I think he might've turned back and smiled at that, but I'm not certain. The cameramen certainly chuckled, and I forced a bit of a smile. "He's a really wicked guy," I pronounced, remembering a few interactions and conversations I'd had with the guy around the studio, though, for the life of me, I couldn't remember his name or anything that important. "Wish I knew what he did here..." I added a bit regretfully, feeling suddenly guilty for this. I sometimes hated that there was a distinction between the artists and the actual business-people employees here.

Since I was pouting, E.J. threw me a rather scolding look and, without stopping to think, I continued a bit more energetically, a bit more like myself, really. "I also wish I knew what he did here because I did **not** know we had guys that cute here just stashed around. Hmm, maybe he's an intern," I mused a bit lasciviously, staring after him. He had a nice ass, too. Then, of course, I kind of gasped a little bit, remembering the camera, and I'm sure I flushed the color of my hair. "Oops. Forgot about you there," I muttered, not amused at the fact that the cameramen were trying to suppress laughter.

But, like, I'm a teenage girl, and I have needs... which include checking out hotties. Us teenage girls are sexual beings too, you know. I turned my back on the camera, feeling rather vexed, and promptly spotted Speed, also, coincidentally, heading in the direction of the studios. He was uncharacteristically subdued, wearing dark colors and making a deliberate attempt to blend in. Naturally, I walked up to him, deciding to get some of the heat off of myself and introduce them to my guitarist and good friend in one fell swoop. I grabbed Speed's shoulder and whirled him around, and he jumped in the air, looking kind of freaked out. Frankly, I was kind of surprised to see him, since he wasn't scheduled to be here until the afternoon.

"All right... Now I know what _this_ guy does. He rocks. Hard. Harder than anybody I know," I proclaimed, waggling my eyebrows at Speed, who didn't laugh as he normally would. Normally he would've risen to the double entendre as well, but not today. He was actually kind of trying to get away from me and hide from the camera, which was completely not like him, so I had to wrap my arm around his shoulder to get him to stay there. I smiled at Speed, who did not have a ready smile waiting for me, and wound up frowning. "This is my guitarist and dear friend, Speed."

Speed pulled away from me a little and eyed the camera nervously. I wondered what he suddenly had to hide. Much less from me! I mean, this is the guy who streaked Homecoming last year. He has no secrets! He's like a big, transparent puppy, so what's up with the cloak-and-dagger-routine here? "Uh, yeah, Jude, I'm really not supposed to be here right now," he muttered, attempting to block the camera with his hand. When the deft movements of the intrigued cameraman prevented that, Speed pulled his jacket up over his head, trying and failing to both cover up and sneak off. He then unsuccessfully but amusingly pretended not to speak English, since the cameraman tried to get him to talk about me.

However, I pulled him back to me, fixing him with a look that he refused to answer. Huffing out a bit of a sigh, I made a face at him and planted a big, wet kiss on his cheek. "Okay then, off with you on your secret mission! Remember, though, you and the guys are in the studio with me and Frowny after this," I reminded him, officially releasing him with an ass-grab that made him jump and squirm a little. I wondered idly where the other guys were. Didn't they have some sort of meat-eating ritual before Saturday Studio Time anyway? As soon as he got over the ass-grab, which was a second or two of hilarity, Speed shot off like a rocket or that little fake rabbit at the dogtrack.

I gazed after him, rather bemused, shaking my head at his antics. "He's certifiable. Great riffs, though," I pronounced fondly. I started to move on, but the cameraman suddenly decided to ask me a question.

"You and your _friend_ over there... Is he just a friend or is he something more?" he drawled, saying the word "friend" as if it was dubious and untrustworthy. There was something a bit condescending about the question, to be honest, about the fishing. I mean, I'm not going to say I hadn't given him reasons to ask, but still. He smiled at me widely but kind of looked like a shark, rather than a charming man. "Our viewers are very curious about that sort of thing... whether you're single or not." He gave me a mildly sleazy look that suggested it was really him who was interested, and I barely managed to not roll my eyes at him.

E.J. caught my eye-roll, which was rightly directed at her, and frowned, motioning for me to turn back and answer the question eagerly. I fought the urge to sigh and turned back to the camera, feeling mildly awkward about having to describe my relationship with Speed on national TV, which he would undoubtedly see. This could be bad. "Speed's a really good friend of mine, and I don't want to do anything to jeopardize that," I began calmly, probably too calmly, given that I am hardly known for my reserve. Then I allowed myself a smirk and decided I should pretend like I was letting them know some big secret. "But, you know, we did have one really wild date a while ago. He tackled me, then we wrestled in the mud, and at the end of it, he planted a big wet one on me," I told them nonchalantly.

I noticed, rather unfortunately, that even my dear publicist seemed excited and vaguely scandalized by this story. The cameramen took sudden interest in me of course, so naturally I had to shoot them down. "Ah, sixth grade! Such fun times!" I quipped brightly. I think I saw the cameramen droop, and I definitely heard one of them mutter about how lame I was turning out to be. Silly man. He hasn't even seen a proper hour in the life yet! Tom's not even in the picture! I turned my back on them, smirking, and decided to continue with my time-killing tour of G. Major.

Naturally, I wanted to postpone any Tommy-related disaster as much as I possibly could. "And this is the kitchen..." I said, gesturing to our lovely, open, and very empty little kitchen. I walked past the kitchen and gestured to an open and vaguely hidden side-door. I peered inside, finding it odd that the door was open when Tommy wasn't inside. Was that just carelessness? "And um, this is Tommy's office, rarely seen by artists and employees alike, I assure you." I stood there, poised on the threshold for a moment, and then it occurred to me that it would be all too easy to embarrass Tommy by giving a proper tour of his office, so I smiled at them invitingly and motioned for them to come inside.

I gestured to the bar that largely dominated the room. I think it was pretty obvious what it was. "Tom has a... shall we say healthy... supply of alcohol in his office. Only producer I know with a fully-stocked bar in his office." Tom's office was mostly how I remembered it, from the few times I'd been in it. It was neat and orderly, kind of impersonal, and all of it looked rather unused. I remembered fondly how the bottom drawers of Tom's desk had once housed all kinds of treasures and things for every contingency: band-aids, antiseptic, water, blankets, first-aid kits, condoms, dental floss, tweezers, extra cans of hair gel, spare clothes, shot glasses, and so on and so forth. Now these items had been stored in the wooden cabinets behind his desk. There was a fine layer of dust on most of the surfaces in the room, the old records displayed proudly on the wall in his office, some of them mine, even. "Feel free to help yourselves. 'S not like Tom will notice."

Then, of course, I walked over to the expansive desk and sat on the very edge of it, placing my hand on it warmly. "And this is Tommy's desk. It used to be mahogany, much more comfortable, really... but, well, let's just say Tommy was entertaining one too many female guests in here when he was supposed to be having meetings. So our boss figured a transparent desk would discourage the, uh... Tomfoolery," I quipped cheerily. E.J. looked patently horrified that I'd just said that, but the cameramen cackled at my pun and gaped. I heard one whisper that I was giving them good stuff after all. "Oh, E.J., I wasn't supposed to tell them that? But it's common knowledge here," I said faux-innocently. That same mouthy cameraman muttered how I knew exactly what I was doing, and, duh, of course I did.

Then, grinning smugly, I turned on my heel and headed triumphantly back into the kitchen area, gesturing down the hallway. "Those are the stu-" I began, gesturing towards the studios. However, I stopped speaking entirely when, half-glancing around the studio, I caught something strange in the corner of my vision. I turned my head abruptly and, apparently, my eyes were not deceiving me. I held up a finger, keeping my eyes locked on the out-of-place figure. "And, um, excuse me, but I think I'm seeing a ghost. Because she cannot possibly be here," I muttered to myself, heading towards the entrance, where a bored-looking Victoria LaFramboise-Ruelle stood, glancing at the studio.

I had kind of forgotten that me and the camera were a package deal today, so I walked up close to Victoria, frowning a little. What was she doing here? It had to be big, right, if the Queen Mother herself had bothered to show up. Much less in the flesh. Why couldn't she have called? I mean, the woman has her own law firm... doesn't she have lackeys for this sort of thing? Which means, gulp, this must be personal. Oy vey. "V, um, what the heck are you doing here? Am I in some kind of legal trouble?" I asked, feeling mildly alarmed and understandably so.

Damn camera-parasites perked up when they heard the words "legal trouble", clearly mistaking me for another redhead popstar-type. Victoria let a slow, rather self-satisfied smile spread across her face and pecked me on the cheek. It was businesslike, but still more affection than I was used to. She greeted me dryly, a bit sarcastically, as is her way, "Hello, Jude. Lovely to see you too." Artificial smile, of course, fading at the sight of the cameras. She actually gestured to the cameras a moment later, not quite frowning but expressing her displeasure in waves that radiated off of her. "The cameras, not so much. I rather do like to keep myself out of the news," She replied, throwing them a short glance.

She raised herself up to her full, supermodelesque height, as if the cameras were beneath her. She was certainly no stranger to them, though, being a pretty female entertainment lawyer. As she'd just served to remind me of them, I too glanced back at the cameras, rather worried. There were, after all, many things I wanted and needed to say to her but couldn't with the eyes of millions on me. So I attempted to pull her aside and sort of succeeded. "Vic, mind telling me what exactly warranted this personal visit?" I asked pointedly.

She opened her mouth to speak, but, all of a sudden, that cameraman popped up and interrupted rather loudly, "Hey Jude-" I whirled around to glower at him, but his speech didn't even falter. Nor did he apologize or try to make nice with me. He just didn't care enough. Apparently he was used to worse divas than annoyed and upset seventeen-year-olds. Go figure. He jerked his head towards Tory. "Mind introducing us?"

I was a bit peeved by that point and barely suppressed some sort of noise and/or senseless fit before I turned to face him, holding up my index finger. "Seriously, dude, one second," I pronounced shortly. But he didn't move back, so I kind of shoved him a bit and then turned expectantly back to a rather amused and surprised (and maybe even slightly worried?) Victoria. "So?"

She frowned a little, eyes glinting with something I knew meant no good. "What, Jude, a mother can't just stop in every now and again?" She asked rhetorically, rather wickedly, actually, so that she sounded like Maleficent. That's the witch from Snow White, right? The "fairest of them all?" Then she shook her head cautiously. "But don't worry, you're not in any legal trouble... that I know of." She gave me a look as if waiting for some calamity to fall upon her head. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

What a big, fat loaded question she asked so casually with her arms crossed over her chest! I huffed out a sigh. "No, Vic," I muttered like a small kid lying to a teacher, repeating whatever she said. I turned back to the camera, motioning to Tory with a sweeping gesture. "Everyone, this charming woman is Victoria LaFramboise-Ruelle..." I fake-dimpled and then whipped my head to face her, a bit uncertain. "I did say your name right, didn't I?" Surprisingly, Victoria nodded, and I felt myself really smile for once, returning my gaze to the relatively unintimidating and dead black stare of the glossy camera lens. "In addition to being a generous and intelligent woman, she _is_ actually this gorgeous in real life, looks like a million bucks every day, and I know a bunch of you out there hate her for that already, and she looks out and fights for her clients as if they were her own..."

I refrained from saying children here because she didn't always treat her children well. And comparing her to a Mama Lioness would probably be inappropriate. Plus she's kinda the type to eat her own young. Thinking all of this, I continued, "And she's my lawyer-"

Victoria's eyes flashed coolly, with relish, kind of like a bird of prey before swooping in for the kill. But I didn't have time to process this because she was interrupting in a syrupy sweet voice, "And Tommy's mother." I put two and two together pretty quickly: the predatory look, the mention of her son (I'd managed very admirably not to flinch at this first, highly unexpected mention). Because, really, what was the point in mentioning that little fact if she didn't have some kind of agenda? Some kind of agenda here that involved her wayward son.

My eyes widened with the revelation, as, unfortunately, did those of the unprepared cameramen, who were not expecting such a coup from my mysterious, darkly attractive visitor. They looked at each other, surprised and unable to conceal their glee. "As in Tommy Quincy's mother?" they chorused hopefully.

Victoria's ruby-red lips turned up faintly at the corners in that condescending, faintly amused smile I'd seen on Travis' lips many a time. "Why, yes, that very one," she replied coyly, in a ponderously sweet tone. I threw her a wary look out of the corner of my eye, wondering just what the hell her angle was.

I swear, they were about to high-five each other. Instead, however, they stopped just short of this and chose to address me, awed, "Wow, you really do pull out all the stops." As if I'd had this _planned_ or something! I smiled grimly because I had no other choice and gritted out that I knew. My mood was quickly deteriorating before I'd seen either hide or hair of T-Jaq.

Silly me, though. Of course Victoria wasn't done. She held a hand out to the cameramen rather like a queen or empress expecting them to kiss it. Queen Victoria, what can I say, the name suits her! The smile on her lips became more poised as she perked up a bit. "I see you've heard of my son," she pronounced almost proudly, pausing for an almost infinitesimal second before continuing casually, "Of course Tommy's only one of my sons... Maybe you've heard of the other one-"

If we weren't on TV, I might've shoved her out of the way or tackled her to the ground. A flood of irrational rage at the allusion (which was, undoubtedly, from the look she'd just shot me, to _Travis_, meddlesome rogue that he is) washed over me. I almost covered her mouth, clapping my hand over it, because I was afraid she was going to say something incriminating about the two of us. Travis did not need to be brought up. Not now, not here. Instead, however, I interrupted swiftly and stiffly, in a warning tone, "_Victoria..._"

She frowned and fixed me with a rather stern look. It was, I realized, the second time I'd ever said her first name to her face. I usually tended to avoid calling her things, since I still had no idea exactly how to refer to her. Then she continued speaking calmly, as if nothing had happened, "...Taylor. He's an actor, you know... and Jude's boyfriend, of course." She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes for confirmation. I had only a second to force a smile as the camera zoomed in and swiveled over to me.

Naturally, I was wholly unprepared for her to say that, frozen, and with nothing to say about it, about Taylor... as per usual. "Yeah, um, Taylor's great," I muttered awkwardly, tightly, nodding slightly, hating Victoria more by the moment. I said it without any enthusiasm, hardly even passing for a decent sentence, let alone actual interest. I didn't like feeling trapped in a corner.

The other guy, the one who wasn't actually holding a camera, glanced around the room, searching for my almost famous boyfriend. "Why isn't he here? Can we see him? I mean, it'd be great if we could get some shots of the two brothers interacting..." the pushy, rather annoying director-type of the cameramen nearly demanded, getting more excited by the moment. I, on the other hand, wanted to sink into the floor. Yeah, that would go real well. Taylor and Tommy are both hardly civil to me now. I can't imagine what they'd be like to each other.

"Actually, um, Taylor's working on a musical right now, and because of the singing and dancing, they have lots of rehearsals and really long days... So he doesn't have a lot of free time," I told them very, very quickly so they wouldn't realize how nervous that prospect made me. I turned back to Victoria, more than a little pissed off and determined, putting a hand on her arm, and moving between her and the camera. She's not the only one who can be resourceful here. "Seriously, what are you doing here, Vic?"

She shrugged disinterestedly. "I just wanted to see my son's work, since it's so important to him." I did not buy that for a second and gave her an accordingly disbelieving, wide-eyed look. Seeing that I'd seen right through her, she made a face the camera didn't see and said, "I wanted to see the two of you in action and witness first-hand how well you two work together." I barely managed to avoid snorting because obviously, _obviously_ she knew something about us not working well together, or she wouldn't have said that. She's a lawyer, and I know when someone's attempting to manipulate me, thank you. Then, finally dropping the pretense and turning toward me instead of the camera, she dropped her voice an octave and said, in an serious yet diplomatic undertone, "I've heard some conflicting reports about your working relationship lately, and Georgia's expressed some concerns about it. So I had to come to see for myself. I am your lawyer, and it's my job to look out for your interest and... make sure there's no... _impropriety_ in the current situation." Then she put her hand on my shoulder, patting it familiarly (but somewhat uncomfortably for us both). "Jude, dear, I just had to make sure Thomas has been treating you right."

The words "impropriety" plus "treating you right" kind of clued me in. Now, maybe Georgia just went to Victoria as independent legal counsel, whatever, in case my parents wised up and started wondering (not that I'd ever tell them the real reason for this!), or maybe she went to Victoria because she's Tommy's mother and Georgia has the bizarre idea that he'll listen to her; I don't know. Point is he won't.

I turned suddenly to the cameramen, and asked, too sweetly, too politely, "Can you excuse us for a minute?" As I was already moving the two of us away quickly, he didn't really have a choice. I lowered my voice and covered the mike they'd outfitted me with with my hand and moved a little further away, just in case. "So you came here to straighten him out, then?"

Victoria crossed her arms over her chest, standing with her legs akimbo. She looked, frankly, a bit bored by the whole ordeal. "If need be, _yes_," she stated boldly, perfectly matching my bluntness. A moment later, kind of sniffing, she continued quietly, a bit disapprovingly, really, "Georgia told me how he's been going on with that Angie girl lately, and I think that it's disgraceful. I always thought that she was trash." The worst part of it was the sympathetic look she was giving me (while, simultaneously, having a repulsed look on her face while even talking about Angie).

I may have had a rather slight involuntary reaction of shout-grunt-screaming. "AHHHH!" I groaned-shouted in frustation, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Of course everyone looked at me, but I was seeing red, so I didn't notice. "Oh. My. **God**! This has _nothing_ to do with Angie! I am not twelve! It's not like I can't _work_ just because he's got a new girlfriend!" I exclaimed irritably, gesticulating madly. Victoria raised a brow, silently challenging that statement, and I forced myself to calm down a bit. I huffed out a breath, glowering at nothing, and managed, rather tersely, to get out, "That is not _my_ problem."

She continued to regard me calmly, silently disagreeing with my rather... passionate statement. "And I also heard that he's being unsociable in general and barely civil with you... and, frankly, I raised him better than that," she elaborated rather patiently. Her face took on a comical sort-of offended look, as if she was suddenly surprised by Tommy's manners after twenty-three years of knowing him.

Naturally, I gaped at her and very narrowly avoided snorting. Because Tom was raised to be a contrary little bastard, and she knows it better than I do. "Last I checked, Tory, that is _exactly_ how you raised him!"

Victoria, for her part, gave me an extremely sharp look that conveyed warning. The woman has eyes like a damn hawk, I swear. "Jude..." she said in a voice that belied the thinness of her patience.

I raised my hands up in a surrendering gesture, backing down a little, but kept talking. Because I'm me, of course. "Look, Victoria, it's not that I don't appreciate the thought, because I do, but it's _none_ of your business!" I interjected a bit sharper than I intended. I paused for just a second, marveling at the fact that she hadn't begun to peck out any of my squishy parts, and then continued. "If you talk to Tommy about it, he's not going to listen to you because, well, when has he _ever_ done what his mother tells him to do? Worse still, he'll think I _asked_ you to do it, and then he'll be pissed at **me**!" I found myself rambling, getting a bit flustered, caught up in it. I forced myself to slow down and catch my breath, reminding myself that cooler heads always prevail. Travis is rubbing off on me a bit, you see.

After a rather long pause, during which I was perhaps even more astonished that Tory hadn't started to claw at my internal organs, I started up again a bit wearily. "Tommy and me, that's something we have to work out ourselves, okay?" My thoughts at that period were outpacing my tongue and sticking together in my head, so I had to pause for a moment to untangle them and make myself a bit more diplomatic. The last thing I wanted to do was get on the wrong side of another Quincy. "And, while I appreciate your help, and, _believe_ me, I **know** you've got a lifetime of dealing with an uncooperative Tommy Q here, and I'll ask for your advice when and if I need it... but I really need to do this on my own, okay? I can't just win the argument with his mommy's help, you know. That'd be playing dirty," I told her assertively.

While his mom is a lawyer, winning an argument with her help just seems... kind of unfair, especially given Tom's conflicted feelings towards his mother. She frowned but sighed. "I suppose I can understand that," she proclaimed magnanimously. However, before I could think I'd won the argument, she spoke again, as suddenly as a viper. There was iron in her eyes and steel in her voice. "But make no mistakes, Jude, I didn't come here to _not_ sit in on one of your sessions. I fully intend to sit in on your session. It's been a while since I've been in the studio, and as hard as it is to believe, I **do** actually want to see my son in action, since this _is_ his life's work."

This surprised me, her sudden determination to see Tom in action, but I thought it would be wise not to comment on mother-son issues. So I merely sighed, running a hand over my eyes. "Well, I guess I can't really argue with that." I silently grimaced, thinking of the situation that would no doubt greet her, awkward to an additional power of ten because of her presence. A moment later, I peeked out from between her fingers, biting my lip, and tempered my acquiescence with a hesitant request. "But don't interrupt anything, okay?"

Victoria rolled her eyes as if this question was beneath her. "As if."

A silence fell over both of us then, and it gave me my first proper opportunity to look her over and take in the full picture. Victoria was, as per usual, completely put-together. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a rather severe French twist, revealing diamond stud earrings. Uncharacteristically, she happened to be wearing a little black velvet dress, form-fitting and tight but still demure and a bit conservatively cut, with black pantyhose, expensive spike heels, and a large black leather purse. However, looking at her, I realized that there was something different about her, some kind of anxiety now in the way she held herself. I couldn't put my finger on it, of course, but I knew that something wasn't quite right with her. "It's more than that, though, isn't it, Tory?"

The suspicion in my voice definitely had her on edge because she looked a bit jolted at the question. Which meant I was onto something. "_What_ are you talking about, Jude?" she retorted a bit harshly, shifting barely perceptively, as if she wasn't quite so certain in her high-heels.

This time I put my hands on my hips and walked towards her, continuing to pull on the thread I'd been given. "Well, no matter _what_ you heard, I find it extremely hard to believe that those rumors alone induced you to come all the way to Toronto. There's more to it than that, isn't there?" I continued prodding, growing more suspicious by the moment.

Her eyes flitted about somewhat nervously, looking rather like a girl's for a change. I hadn't realized her eyelashes were that long, actually. It was sort of beautiful. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you're getting at, Jude," she said coolly.

I could sense, however, that I was getting to her more and more, since she didn't look wholly at ease and hadn't exactly risen to the challenge like I'd expected. I rolled my eyes at her. "Don't play dumb, Victoria... There's something different about you," I proclaimed, continuing to look over her and realizing something further. Whatever it was, it was serious, and it had to be something big to have the unruffled, unshakable Victoria ice-in-her-veins LaFramboise-Ruelle-Quincy rattled. "Something's wrong. What is it?"

She confirmed my statement by paling just a little bit, giving her a vaguely nauseous look, but her hard, blank facial expression didn't change at all. This, I thought, was rather impressive, maintaining face so wholly when I clearly had her on the run. "I'm perfectly fine, Jude," she replied placidly, too placidly.

Fine never really means fine, and I should know. And Victoria LaFramboise-Ruelle being placid and unopinionated only made me more suspicious. "No! _Something_ is definitely up with you!" I insisted firmly, crossing my arms over my chest, moving closer to her, and going on the offensive. "Tell me what it is, or I'll go straight up to Tom and tell him something's wrong with his mother. And being the concerned son that he is, I'm sure he won't let you alone until he drags it out of you."

Threatening her, much less with such weak ammo that I wasn't sure I intended to fully follow through on, was a tactical mistake there, and Victoria knew it immediately. I forgot who I was dealing with. She didn't look perturbed in the least. Instead, she shrugged nonchalantly, allowing a little smirk to form on her lips. "For an attempt at blackmail, that was rather pitiful, and, yet, at the same time, impressive for a seventeen-year-old," she remarked admirably, sounding every bit like herself. I flinched at the mention of her age, having forgotten how quickly Victoria could turn things back on you. "While I don't doubt you'd dare, I doubt Tom would believe you, given the deterioration of your relationship." Then, a moment later, she added icily, "Besides, Tom isn't really the kind to care for his elderly mother."

Hearing her refer to herself as "elderly" was just a bit too much for me. Victoria has this bizarre self-deprecating streak, rather like her two eldest. "You're what, _forty_, Vic?" I blurted stupidly. Victoria just gave me a blank look, so I pressed on. "Well, if you don't care about what Tom thinks, then why did you come _here_, Victoria?" She had no answer for that, so I waved it off and then played my trump card. "And, also, I don't _need_ to tell Tommy." I smirked and whipped out my phone, waving it jauntily in the air. "I've got someone even better. After all, why bother telling him in person when I can just call Travis and let him know that his precious mommy's out of sorts? I'm sure he'd come running," I taunted, scrolling down to Travis' number in my phone and holding it up to Victoria's face so she could see I was serious.

Her eyes widened in surprise, evidently not aware that me and her eldest were on such good terms. That relieved me a little bit, because a part of me thought she'd showed up here so suddenly because she'd found out that Travis had feelings for me and that we were kind of a thing, and she obviously didn't approve and had come to confront me about that. And yeah, I know it really doesn't make sense when you put it like that, but that's what I was thinking. I'm a teenage girl, you know, not a computer. "Well, would you look at that? His number's on my speed-dial and everything. There's one son who wouldn't _rest_ until he found out what was wrong with you," I continued threateningly, selecting the number and playing around with it a bit. I jerked my phone away, fingers poised on the dial button, just as Victoria reached for it in a strange show of desperation. I didn't let her know I was mostly bluffing or that we weren't exactly speaking, but I suppose I'd have called him if I had to. His mother's health is more important than our issues, after all. Then I threw her an expectant (and vaguely triumphant) look.

She looked genuinely panicked and distinctly paler, but I was still surprised when she sighed and started to give in. Victoria had never struck me as the kind to give in on anything, although I suppose she must've, or she and Theo wouldn't be divorced and Tommy would be sitting in prison for assault or attempted murder right now. "Bien jouée, Harrison," she muttered with a grudging admiration, disappointed in herself for being out-maneuvered by a seventeen-year-old, no doubt. She began primly, holding her head high so she didn't feel as if she were a loser, "I feel I should say that it's not in my nature to give in, much less confide in teenagers, but apparently this is what my life has come to... and I can't help but feel that this is some sort of divine comedy or... terrible joke..." Surprisingly and disturbingly, Tory was getting more emotional, almost even a bit hysterical, shaking her head and laughing in a way that made it clear it was either that or tears. "Since you _must _know..." She grabbed my wrist lightly, probably to take me aside, and I found myself strangely excited.

Tory had, of course, confided in me before, but she'd never told me something that was especially secret, as whatever it was she was about to reveal to me. And then, of course, just as she was about to tell me, I heard this impatient voice in my ear. "Are you done? 'Cause we wanted to get some shots in the stu-" The nosy cameramen were back and looked rather annoyed, but, as I sensed this moment of honesty was close to being ruined, they were nothing compared to me.

And, frankly, why should they be? I am a master of studio intrigue and prying information from people and telling them off. I have one hard-won year of experience in this. And, I mean, I'm alive; my album's doing well; Darius doesn't own me, and I survived a break-up with Tom Quincy. If I can do all that, well, what can't I do? I am woman, hear me roar!

This sudden interruption startled my quarry, causing her to drop my wrist. She turned away immediately, not wanting them to see her look so discomposed. She even tried to flee, but, unlike her sons, she wasn't so good at it. I reached out for her hand abruptly. Lord knows I was hardly ready to go in the studio myself. They'd managed to catch me off-guard. "**No**!" I cried suddenly, trying to cover up the fact that I was flustered. "Can't you see we're having a heart-to-heart here?" I snapped a bit angrily.

Silly men. They looked amongst themselves, confused and not knowing what to say to this. They exchanged glances, as if shifting blame, trying to decide among them which of them ought to address me. Teenage-girls aren't exactly their typical territory. "Now, if you'll excuse us for a couple minutes, we have to go powder our noses!" I interjected equally suddenly, not giving them much room to protest.

Realizing that I was about to lose them for the third time this morning, the director started to go after us, protesting, "Ladies, you look fine, really!"

I stopped dead in my tracks and whirled around to face them, giving them a deathglare that hopefully translated well to film. "**No**, we most certainly do _not_! There is just _no_ way I am going into the studio looking like this!" I proclaimed indignantly, as if outraged, pulling/leading Victoria, who was stock-still, slow, and unwilling to move, towards the bathroom, shoving her inside, and then turning around at the last second to stop the cameramen, flinging my hands around dramatically. "**What** are you doing? You _can't_ come into the bathroom with us! We need our privacy!" I waved them off and muttered hurriedly, rather uncaringly, "Just... go... talk to Georgia or E.J. or Tommy or somebody, okay? Help him set up, get him to say crap about me, catch him screwing around with someone... whatever. I'll meet you in the studio." With that, I entered the bathroom and slammed the door in their faces none-too-ceremoniously.

My first act upon entering was locking the door. I then proceeded to open and check all of the stalls for spies or, who knows, even potential cameras. Finally, when this was done, I turned around to face Tory and resume our former discussion. "Obviously neither of us want any cameras poking around here... because you don't want anybody knowing your secret-"

V interrupted wryly, but a bit sourly, "And you don't want the whole world to know you're in love with Tommy." A moment later, she added, a bit nastily, "Well, it's a bit too late for that, isn't it?"

I might have stiffened a little at that statement, since it was a bit of a sore spot, but I've become practiced at not giving myself away too much in matters concerning that love. So I settled for glowering at her, joining her at the mirror, and then grabbing her purse. Victoria snatched her purse back, looking affronted, with all the viciousness of a crotchety old babushka twice her age. "What the _hell_ are you doing? Did you pull me in the bathroom so you could assault me and then steal my belongings, or is it the other way around?" she barked, sounding a bit unhinged, really.

I totally gaped at her like a monkey. She had a really tenacious grip, not that that particularly surprises me. "Well, I'm gonna assume now that you're _obviously_ hiding something in that big, fancy purse of yours now... and, wow, way to go completely nutso on me, V," I quipped, still sort of in a state of awe and disbelief. I wondered what exactly she had in her purse that was so special."Whatever this is, it _sure_ has you wound up." A moment later, I shook my head and continued on bluntly, if not a bit sarcastically, as is my way, "But no, unbelievably, I do not want the contents of your purse. I actually want your make-up, since I told those idiots I'd be freshening up, and so I kinda need to look different when I come out of here. And since I'm a multitasker, I figured I'd do make-up and grill you at the same time, so fork it over, Missus." I held out a hand expectantly, keeping my gaze on Tory all the time.

Victoria exhaled a long, drawn-out sigh and opened her purse slowly, looking through it carefully. "You just want to look prettier for Thomas," she muttered accusingly, not even bothering to meet my gaze.

It was a rather low barb, not at all up to her usual standards, but I turned my full body to face her, as the statement was so far off the mark that it had offended me. "Woman, what the _hell_ are you smoking? I am _clearly_ just stalling for time since I don't really want to see your son at **all**, much less with cameras recording it! So no, sorry to disappoint, I just want to find out about you and avoid Tom. I couldn't give a flying **fart** about that looking pretty for Quincy BS! If I wanted to look pretty for _anyone,_ it'd be those damn cameras and the thousands of TV viewers who will see this!" I shouted. I hadn't really given Tommy too much thought up to that point, but it occurred to me that that was maybe one of the reasons why I didn't want to go into the studio. But, really, I just didn't want to deal with him and all his drama. It's tiring, you know?

Tory, in the strange inconsistency of character that seemed to be possessing her today, took this all in stride. She handed me mascara, and, scanning and eying my outfit dismissively, handed me several choices of eye shadow. "Oh, please. You're afraid of what you're going to do when all the pressure's on because you don't exactly have a great track record when it comes to making impulsive decisions involving Tommy and a camera," She scoffed knowingly. I blushed shamefully because she realizes that, to my horror, Tory was completely right. She placed a hand on her hip and motioned to my outfit before starting in on me. "And _what_ are you wearing? You look like you slept in one of your father's dress-shirts and then put on some tights, your mother's belt, and your sister's boots to salvage the outfit!"

I pouted and flushed a little, crossing my arms over my chest uncomfortably, not appreciating the criticism. Especially because she was wrong about the outfit. All of it was mine, and what was so wrong with it? Her son, the one that I'm dating, met me in a shirt very much like this one! "Here," came Victoria's rather sharp voice. She practically shoved the gray eyeshadow at me and reached in the purse and dug out a compact, before thrusting it at me. "And, for the love of God, put some blush on! You're on camera, and you about as look as pale as a polar bear's ass!" She snarled with an out-of-place savagery.

As I could not believe that had just happened, or that such words had just escaped her mouth, I blinked at her incredulously, uncharacteristically silent for a moment. "Whoa." V, for her part, turns to look at me and practically bared her teeth. It was so animal of her, really, that I couldn't even believe it. So, for the longest time, I just stared before starting the eyeshadow, one eye at a time. "You've gone completely mental. I mean, Victoria LaFramboise-Ruelle, Ice Queen and Cold, Analytical Mind, who lets absolutely nothing ruffle her feathers and places a premium on etiquette... just said I look as pale as a polar bear's ass. It's like an alien has taken over your body, I swear!" I started in on the mascara but stopped quickly 'cause I had started laughing hysterically at the surrealism of what had just elapsed.

Victoria was not at all happy. She found nothing amusing in this uncharacteristic outburst of hers and shot me a mean look, which I was able to cheerfully ignore, since it was half the force of one of her ordinary stares. I very plainly had the upper-hand here. does not look happy. "And, Mrs. Q, you could use some blush yourself," I added brightly. Then I turned to her, schooling my face into a more serious expression. "So, Tory, want to just tell me what's going on? I guarantee you'll feel better after unburdening yourself to someone." I set the mascara down and placed a hand on her shoulder carefully before asking, "So, V, what's the deal?"

To the horror and confusion of us both, at this unexpected gesture that I'd barely given half a thought, Victoria just broke down and started crying. I was flummoxed because this was never the way I'd imagined this little conversation going, and I had no idea how to comfort this strange woman I barely knew who was the mother of so many important men in my life. Even in tears, though, Victoria could manage to be a great stoic, because she merely stared ahead and then admitted, quite miserably, "I think I'm pregnant."

This was a possibility I had never considered. Because, duh, she was like, forty and had three fairly grown sons, and there was no evident man in her life, at least that I knew of. My eyes widened immeasurably, and I barely managed to silence a gasp. I blinked, absorbing this statement in silence for a few moments, before starting to rub Tory's back and turning her to face me. It was kind of a reflex, you know, because what else could I do? I found myself pulling her into an unsure and impromptu hug without a second thought. It was at that point that I kind of realized that this was way too big for her, me, or the both of us, and that maybe she shouldn't have pushed. And that I was definitely not grown-up enough to deal with this. Feeling conflicted, I apologized, "Oh, Vee, I'm sorry for pushing so hard."

Victoria pulled back a little, allowing a watery smile. "Don't. I would've too." I blinked at her once more in confusion, but Victoria shrugged, wiping away her tears and regaining some of her traditional impassive expression. "Never apologize, Jude," She stated sagely, rather mercilessly for a woman who'd just been crying.

I frowned at her, unprepared for this sudden change of mood and trying to decide how best to broach the subject of her potentially being knocked-up. Awkward, but such is my life. "Er, okay..." There was a long especially _pregnant_ pause as I tried to think of a not-so-awkward way to ask. I failed, of course. "So, um, how do you feel about... it?" I mumbled, clearing my throat uncomfortably.

She pulled away from my embrace, running her hand through her hair anxiously. Then, bluntly, with a look of panic in her eyes, she began spelling it out for me, enunciating carefully the facts as they were. "I'm _forty_-_two_ years old, Jude. I'm two months late, and I just figured I was going into menopause, but then I wasn't sure and... I didn't **plan** on having any more children. I never thought I would _ever_ be in this position again... Almost all of my children are grown, and I wasn't even a good mother to _those_ children!" This time she was actually getting more or less hysterical, starting to hyperventilate and taking up crying again. An angry look passed over her face. "And I don't have a husband or... or anyone I can talk to or ask to help out, and I don't even know what I'm going to do or..." she trailed off, catching onto an idea, "if I'm even pregnant." This seemed to calm her some, so she repeated herself, a bit more relieved, straightening a little, "I might not even be pregnant."

I nodded encouragingly and reviewed the facts in my head. It certainly didn't mean she was pregnant, though the strange emotionality and mood swings alone were more than enough to make me wonder. I had a sudden need, though, to get someone who could actually help her. I mean, I'm only seventeen. Teens are not good with pregnancy things in general. The fact that I have not managed to get myself knocked up, is, I think, more of a testimony to the men I've been involved with than my own will.

I thought it over some more and wrapped my arm around her. I had to say just the right thing, wouldn't want to upset her further. "Victoria, you're not a bad mother. You obviously love your children very much, and maybe you don't always know how to... express that love, and maybe you make mistakes, but you've done the best you can. Those three would be a handful for _any_ mother and any parent... We both know you want what's best for them and that you would do anything for them. And they know that too, sweetie, and _that's_ what's important," I told her soothingly in a soft and warm voice that, to be quite honest, really freaked me out. I sounded disturbingly maternal, and I was being unusually delicate about her, um, situation.

Victoria shook her head, tears falling fast and furious. "_No_, Jude, you **don't** understand. _I_ screwed up Tommy. I'm the reason he's the screw-up he is, okay? I'm the reason why he can't love anyone..." Her voice was wavering something horrible. She sniffled, looking down, eyes glassy and filled with tears. Of course Victoria would look beautiful even crying her eyes out. The tears gave her a delicacy and fragility she never quite attained in reality. The look she gave me made me start because it was like she saw right through me, and there was such pity in her gaze, almost like she thought she was the reason for my misfortune. "Why he can't love _you._.. why he hates himself. Because I didn't love him enough. And I never made him feel like he was good enough," she continued haltingly a moment later, confirming my suspicions.

That time I flinched. I couldn't help it. Her voice was so soft and full of pity that it struck at a very fragile part of me, hard. Stuttering a little, she added, "And... and I'm the reason why they don't get along. And even Travis is messed up, and Taylor... I don't even know him anymore. He's not my little boy anymore." She was getting even more choked up as she went on. She didn't even bother wiping at her eyes. It was a struggle just to get the words out, I think. Victoria's not exactly a person who operates on truth. "The judge saw how I'd raised my eldest sons, and he didn't even give me custody. He said they clearly grew up in a toxic environment and that Theo was the better parent, and he didn't even want me to have unsupervised visits... The only reason I get to see Taylor at **all** is because of his father, because Theo understands..." After admitting this, she dissolved even more completely into sobs, shouting, "I'm a _terrible_ mother! I'm no better than my own father!"

As I wasn't expecting this sudden flow of emotion from Tory, it was a lot to wrap my head around. In some respects she was right. She was right about Travis, and she was right about Taylor. And Tommy had as much as said she was right about him, but, in a way, I didn't think so. Because blaming her takes Tommy's culpability out of it entirely. I'd thought it was strange that Taylor lived with Theo, but clearly Theo himself was hardly a perfect father. I mean, did Tommy and Travis really have significant relationships with him, after all? It was more of a benign neglect, especially now when he had the new family. Theo raised them too, you know. He just looks better because he's a nice guy and Tory's, well... not.

So she wasn't a terrible mother. Because a terrible mother wouldn't care. I found myself pulling her into a full-on embrace, letting her cry on my shoulder, and rubbing her back in circles the way my mom used to when I was sick. Sometimes you just have to let someone cry, you know? I do. When she was mostly spent, I pulled her back by the shoulders and made her look at me. "Look at me, Victoria. Your father screwed _you_ up, okay? He deprived you of music, of your language and culture, and never supported you, and he tried to raise you to hate your mother, but you couldn't, and you felt guilty for that. Everything had to be his way or the high way, and he had to control your life, make you do things you didn't want to do. And some part of him consciously hates you for being like your mother and looking like her and reminding him of her every time he saw you. He didn't talk to you, didn't pay attention to you... he shut you out and rejected you, and he punished you and your siblings for his own mistakes. Laurent is a bitter, cold, emotionally dead shell of a man, and you're **not** him, okay?"

I think my point was clear enough. As you can see, all this time spent around Travis and alone with my own thoughts has made me a master of the psychoanalytical diagnoses. Sensing she was about to protest, I pulled her back into the hug. "And you are _not_ a terrible mother," I continued pointedly.

Victoria shook her head stubbornly, still crying a little but not quite as heavily. "Yes, I **am**," she lamented miserably. She sniffled a little and attempted to push her hair out of her eyes. "For so many years, I said so many awful things about Tommy... and I ignored him... and I didn't think he needed me or wanted me and-"

She was starting to wring her hands. I interrupted quickly, smoothing her hair, and countered equally stubbornly and frankly, "Victoria LaFramboise, Tommy loves you. Period, end of story. You're his mother, and he's your baby, and _nothing_ will ever change that. That's... forever." I paused for a moment, seeing the disbelief in her eyes. "No matter what he says about you or to you, that boy still adores and idolizes you. And he'd hang on your every word if you just opened up to him a little," I told her with an astonishing certainty (particularly given I was speaking of Tommy Quincy's feelings). But I knew it was true because I did still know Tommy, or know enough of him to know that. "There are a lot of misunderstandings between you and Tommy, and I think you've both tried to sabotage that relationship... but the truth is, you two **need** each other," I said seriously.

Victoria sniffed loudly and looked up through her lashes at me skeptically, peering at me curiously. Then she shrugged out of my grip, moving away from me slowly. "And how do you know that?" she muttered through her sobs almost accusingly, sounding exactly like the lawyer she was. Her voice was wet like her face. I couldn't tell if she wanted to believe it or not.

I threw her a look, cocking a hand on my hip. "I'm not blind, Vick, and I like to think I still know a little about Tommy. He likes to talk a big game, but ultimately it means nothing... Because, you know as well as I do that Tom's unreliable and a liar!" It came out a lot bitterer than I meant it, really. She was being kind of evasive, not looking at me. I grabbed her hands then, pulling her towards me, forcing her to listen and look at me. "And, _hey_, listen to me here! Despite what he said, you're the _only_ woman Tommy has ever really loved, okay? He cares more than he can say. He takes after you in that way," I added, softening up towards the end a little, allowing myself a fond smile.

Sometimes, you know, I forget myself a little, and I'm still that same weak fool who was still utterly and blindly in love with him. Can't help it, I guess. Such was that moment. Hey, not all the memories I have connected with Tommy are bad ones... This little speech, though, was apparently enough for Victoria the Perpetually Unsatisfied. She calmed down a little, bit by bit, and slowly stopped crying. I broke the silence carefully, still looking at her askance. "Now that we can think a little clearer, the first thing you need to do is find out whether or not you're pregnant," I proposed logically.

She tensed but met my gaze unflinchingly for a moment before reaching into her purse for something. "You're right," came her somewhat muffled voice. Then she pulled a box out of her purse and looked back up at me. There was yet another awkward moment of silence between us, a very pregnant pause (punny of me), before she abruptly thrust the box into my hands, rather as if it were diseased or dirty. I stared down at it and was only mildly surprised to discover that it was a pregnancy test. First Response. I remembered seeing commercials for it during the summer when I was sitting around on my couch watching soap operas, talk shows, and other fine and classy forms of daytime television. Something about being "even a little bit pregnant," I think, that had confused me immensely. Because it's one of those things you either are or aren't, you know, like a virgin or a magician. There really isn't a halfway, you know?

I stared at the test in my hands somewhat disbelievingly for a moment, partially because this situation was just so entirely unbelievable in the first place and surreal enough that I kind of thought I was on something, and partially because I hadn't exactly expected to have a pregnancy test in my hand for a very, very long time. Then I tore my eyes away from it to meet Tory's rather nervous gaze. "I-I've been carrying this around with me for a week, too scared to take it on my own," she admitted, biting her lip. I had trouble imagining Victoria to be scared of anything, much less a test.

She wiped her eyes self-consciously with the back of her hand, but they still watered a little as she sucked in a breath. The breath became a chuckle, a frustrated, exasperated self-deprecating sort of laugh, because of _course_ she didn't expect herself to be in this position either. "And this is _ridiculous_ because I'm over forty, and there's a very, very slim chance I'm even pregnant at all... and I'm acting like some nervous teenager-" Her speech sped up like a runaway train until she looked back at me, no doubt realizing what she was about to say. She looked back down, a bit embarrassed, and said almost demurely, "No offense."

I shrugged. Nervous teenager... she could've said much worse, and she'd certainly said more insulting things to me anyway. "None taken." Tory leaned her head back and attempted to smile. She was so unused to smiling that it came off as a pained grimace. So I just smiled in return and patted her on the shoulder awkwardly. "And, hey, better you than me," I proclaimed probably insensitively but with enough gusto to make up for it.

Tory snorted and humored me with a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm way too young to be a grandmother!" she cackled. She wisely did not make a comment about which of her sons would've been said theoretical baby's daddy. What she did was take a deep breath and let it out through her teeth, bracing herself against the sink. "Like someone who's never done this before, and... I mean, I've had three kids. I'm a grown-ass woman. I've been on birth control before. I've done this," she gritted out. I couldn't decide whether it was a statement of her determination or if she actually needed this reassurance.

Nonetheless, I decided some additional reassurance couldn't hurt and rubbed her shoulder warmly, looking at the test. "It's okay, honey." I hesitated before holding it out towards her and suggesting kindly, "Tell you what, Tory, why don't you go in the stall and pee on the stick? Then you come back, and we'll time it, and then we'll look at it together." I was using my best "mommy" voice, but Tory still looked at me uncertainly, glancing at the test uncomfortably. So, a moment later, I offered, "And if you can't look at it, I'll tell you, all right?" Her silence was making me uneasy, and it occurred to me that maybe I'd read the situation entirely wrong and she didn't need anyone here, much less me, someone who was so out of her ken here.

I bit the inside of my cheek, racing to think of other people who could help better than I could. It was a long list, and I found myself rambling soon enough. "Unless, like, you don't want me here. 'Cause, I mean, I can go get Georgia if you want... or E.J., or, um... someone more experienced... or, wow, um, maybe even Tommy, if you want some family support... plus he's like totally the pro at reading pregnancy tests, I'm sure, and-" I was speaking as I was thinking it, so naturally I sounded completely idiotic. I totally did have a point about Tommy and pregnancy tests, though, judging by the look of distaste on his mother's face.

She stopped me by clamping her hands down on my shoulders, stilling my perpetual motion. "Jude, I want you here. _**Please**_," she breathed. There was a kind of naked desperation in her eyes, as if she had no other options, and I couldn't have refused her even if I'd wanted to. The sight of Victoria LaFramboise-Ruelle begging... much less me... was highly unnerving. Besides, she, like her sons, had that persuasive, suggestive ability to charm you into doing something you didn't necessarily want to do.

Victoria paused a mere moment before sucking in a hitching breath like a drowning woman. The tension and emotional expression became unbearable for her, so she broke eye contact and looked down. "It's just... no one else knows, and you're not really my friend, so I want someone who'll be... impartial about all of this." She looked weaker, a little drained, maybe even a bit ill as she mumbled, "And I, uh, don't really want to tell anyone else just yet. Until I know for sure."

I was a bit startled but kind of moved, honored that she'd chosen me over so many better qualified candidates. I nodded slowly. "Um, okay. I'll be here for you and you know, hold your hand and all that."I attempted a weak smile just then, practically wiggling the test towards her. God only knew how this was all gonna turn out. I could only imagine how scared she was to find out. Hell, _I_ was scared to know!

She did something then and squeezed my hand wordlessly, expressing her immense gratitude through that solitary gesture. She was silent for a long time, staring at me, and I stored the moment away because that was respect in her eyes. "Thanks, Jude. I, uh..." She struggled for words, meeting my gaze in a way that reminded me so much of her son that I wanted to scream. The look she gave me just then, of pure, unadulterated gratitude, was all the thanks I needed. "This means a lot to me. Thanks for doing this for me." I smiled back at her slowly to let her know I meant it. Then she took the test slowly and just looked at it for a minute before letting out a strangled sigh.

"I haven't taken a pregnancy test in... God... five-six years?" she mused, reading the box, tracing the words on it. She looked a little wistful as she turned the box around absently in her fingers, staring into space with a far-off gaze. "Theo and I were trying again, but it wasn't going so well, and that put a strain on our marriage and then the fight happened and then... we stopped trying," she said quietly, blinking furiously at the undoubtedly painful reminder. She shook it off a moment later, like a wet cat, and looked even sadder. But she squared her shoulders and set her jaw, steeling herself, before walking grimly to the stall.

The wide-eyed, almost fearful look on her face haunted me as I waited. I was trying to absorb all that she'd told me and piece together what it meant while simultaneously finishing my blush in the mirror, (uncomfortably) listening to V pee, and feeling like I'd invaded her precious privacy. A few minutes later, I heard the toilet flush and the stall door creak open. I turned and watched as Victoria came out, faintly flushed and holding the test stick between two fingers with a look of distaste on her face. The sight was mildly comical but I managed to suppress laughter, as the moment was far too serious for such frivolity. She set the stick down on the counter daintily and washed her hands before turning away from it, unable to look.

I set my watch's timer accordingly for five minutes as Victoria dried her hands. We attempted to pass the time idly by exchanging small talk, but it was stilted at best. I can't recall what we talked about; nothing was really a safe topic with Victoria. Everything was a landmine. As the timer started to beep, Tory suddenly grabbed my hand, clutching it in a death-grip, and she slowly turned us around to look at the test. The word "yes" was staring right back at us, so there could be no doubt. I was very surprised, eyes wide, jaw dropped, but I was nothing compared to Victoria.

To say that Tory completely lost her composure would, perhaps, be an inaccurate statement, but it was pretty damn close. She paled like a pillar of salt and gasped slightly, as if wounded, leaning heavily against the sink, as if her legs had given out or something. Tory ripped her hand from mine violently, roughly raking a shaking hand through her hair. And then she started to pace anxiously. "I can't **do** this!" she shouted, clearly at her wits' end. Breathlessly, she continued, "I'm too old to be a mother... and I didn't even _want_ another child and..." She was starting to hyperventilate and wring her hands, weak gestures that seemed entirely unlike the Tory I knew. "It was a mistake and an accident, and I'm really _not_ **prepared** for this, Jude!" she burst out suddenly. There was pure, naked panic in her eyes, and she bit her lip then, as if there was something she wanted to say but couldn't.

By this point, I was slightly alarmed but trying to keep it to myself, lest I alarm her further. "Do you know what you're gonna do about it?" I asked calmly. Victoria had stopped pacing, but there was a very long pause before she shook her head no. Since she obviously wasn't going to say anything, it fell to me to be the voice of reason. Yeah, I know, scares me too! "I mean, I know it's your choice, but I really think you should take some time and think it over..." Tory's not impulsive like I am sometimes, so I probably didn't need to stress that, but whatever. Victoria looked at me and seemed to think this over, and I reached out for her in an attempt to calm her further. "I mean, honey, I know you're upset... and that you weren't really expecting this at all... but, I mean, this could be a good thing too, right? It could be like, a miracle of sorts. Another chance." I smiled a little, and then my mouth ran away from me. "And I'm sure Taylor always wanted a little brother or sister, right? And you know Tommy and Travis would both spoil the kid rotten, right, and teach him or her all sorts of things... and if they had a sister, they'd both be so overprotective that boys would be afraid to even _look_ at her!"

I said that all very quickly and kind of exuberantly, and naturally that led to thoughts of all three of them as fathers. And yeah, I know I'm a little young to think about stuff like that, but a girl has to know. And everybody has a dealbreaker, and mine is someone who doesn't want kids. One of my dealbreakers, at least. A little sibling really might help tie them all together again, you know? Tory still looked overwhelmed, of course. "I only have boys, but that sounds kind of... nice," she murmured, smiling a little like she was kind of getting used to the idea, unconsciously placing an appreciative hand on her stomach.

And I saw that she was really starting to think this over, like, beginning to get kind of attached to the idea maybe. But there was one big factor that influenced her decision that we hadn't mentioned at all. I cleared my throat, biting my lip, debating for a long while whether or not I ought to ask the next question, but I couldn't help myself and gave into my impulses. "If you don't mind me asking, what about the father?" I blurted. "Is he, um... in the picture?"

Now, _I _was shifting my feet like I was the pregnant one. Or a kid who really needed to pee. Victoria frowned and looked suddenly forlorn, leading me to suspect that the subject was as touchy as I'd suspected. She had said she'd had no husband or anyone to help, which I kinda figured meant the guy wasn't in the picture. She absently stroked her now-flat stomach and pronounced quietly, after a while, "Oh, he's _always_ been in the picture... but now things are different and there are certain... circumstances that make this... difficult."

I blinked at her, confused, unsure how to proceed, and V sighed, finally noticing the hand on her stomach and removing it. She looked resigned and turned back to face the mirror, placing the test back in the box and throwing it into the trash. She started pulling out her make-up and reapplying it, putting herself back together again. "It's Theo's," she said emotionlessly.

"OMFG!" I shouted, excited and surprised and kind of blindsighted, really. Victoria gave me a scathing look and went back to her make-up. "Are you sure?"

She gave me a predictably dirty look, offended by this insinuation. Apparently she isn't as promiscuous as the rest of her family. Go figure. "I don't quite have what you call a particularly active sex life, and the last time I had sex was Christmas," she said matter-of-factly, reapplying eyeliner.

"How?" I wondered. I know it was dumb of me to ask, but... I guess I forgot who I was talking to. "I mean, Theo's _married_..."

Turns out the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree after all. She threw me a look and rolled her eyes. "Obviously, I didn't care about that. Not that the rest of my family seems to, either, for that matter," she replied haughtily, laughing a little. As if sensing a potential moral judgment (should've known better, though, since she IS a defense attorney after all), she continued justifying her position. "Well, he _was_ mine first, and I meant my marriage vows to last forever. You don't stop being someone's just because they find somebody else... You give a little piece of yourself to everyone you ever love, Jude. And you _never_ get that piece back..." she murmured distantly. Her haunting ice-blue stare pierced right through me like she saw everything. Tommy had looked at me like that before, but it hadn't stuck with me the way it did then. "You never do when you've given them your whole heart," she replied knowingly.

I knew the feeling, and I couldn't help but take this strangely emotional advice to heart. But, at the same time, it was kind of disheartening because, well, it meant that Tommy had a piece of me forever and that that love for him was forever, you know, and _forever_ doesn't just go away overnight. She shrugged and then added a bit more casually, "And, when the wife's away, the husband will play..." I think I've mentioned that I don't like Other Women, so this statement made me bristle a little. "We both got fairly intoxicated, Theo a little moreso than myself... and I took your advice about going after what I want, obviously. We wound up in bed together. Again," she explained a bit wryly, looking as good as new, almost as if she'd never been crying. "And it was the best sex I've had since the divorce," she murmured dreamily, eyes faintly glazed at the memory.

Yeah, I kinda wanted to vomit then, not gonna lie. "Um, okay, awkward. You are _still _my boyfriend's mother, and I kinda don't want to hear about your sex life," I found myself saying. She gave me kind of a weird look, I guess because of the way I phrased it, and then I got paranoid and thought she knew about that brief period where I was dating her middle son and kind of freaked out and jostled her out of the bathroom.

"Wow, Tommy really shorted out your circuits," a rather bemused Tory retorted, discreetly chucking the pregnancy test in the trash and hustling out after me. Later, of course, someone found that test and came to confront me with unpleasant questions. Or, shall I say, E.J. asked me if it was mine and if I was knocked up and said, that, if I was, it was totally cool because teenage pregnancy was "totally in and cool and socially-acceptable" nowadays. I responded with my characteristic bluntness that it'd be pretty damn hard unless Jesus himself knocked me up or the Holy Ghost paid me a little visit and Gabriel wasn't around to inform me of this holy insemination. And, as I pointed out last week, I still happen to very much be a virgin. Right now. Not defiled by any man and all that jazz. I was beginning to get sick of having to tell people about my nonexistent sex-life and how said nonexistent sex-life was suddenly _everyone's _business. I mean, that's pretty sad, right, given that I'm only seventeen and, I like to think, not THAT much of a total whore.

I mean, I cover all my lady bits. I wear underwear. My songs aren't about how much the men want me. I like to think I'm a bit of a class act sometimes. Anyway, as Tory says this, Tommy cuts a path through the lobby with Angie at his side, the both of them looking like mother-effing Greek Gods or something, Ares and Aphrodite, Zeus and Hera or Zeus and one of his many whores. And then the cameramen swoop back into the picture and that cocky head guy behind the camera comments slyly, "Oh, speak of the devil. Are we heading to his studio now?"

My only thought at that moment was HELLLL to the no. 'Cause I got all jumpy and panicked at the thought and all that not-ready nonsense came over me, so I looked for an excuse. "Yeah. Um. Soon," I stammered, following Tommy with my gaze. He didn't notice me or even glance at me once to acknowledge my presence, but it would've been hard for him not to notice given I'm surrounded by this mafia of men in black with camera equipment. I forced a smile. "But no tour of G. Major-" I paused for a moment, turning back to gaze at Tommy's retreating form. "-is complete without a visit to the, uh, the seat of power. So, shall we?"

I led them to Georgia's office, figuring she'd be in and I could ditch the crew to prepare for Tommy Time while they talked with her about me. I was not expecting to open the door and find her rather indisposed. And by indisposed, I mean that she was pretty intensely making out with a dark-haired man. She was sort of sitting on the edge of her desk, halfway bent over it with the guy kind of collapsing against her. Hands were everywhere, and it was kind of on the verge of getting graphic. They turned around when they realized our presence, separating to reveal that Georgia was macking on Paegan. I gaped at her openly but with a kind of knowing look.

Georgia straightened immediately in a failed attempt to look professional, and I noticed that not only were her clothes predictably rumpled, but also her shirt was unbuttoned (at least the first four buttons). She looked down, flushed with embarrassment and very likely _mortified_, and attempted to pull her clothing straight and smooth out the wrinkles. They both had lipstick smeared around their reddened mouths, like a guilty ring. Paegan ran a hand through his hair, waved at the camera, and flashing us all a charming but somewhat sheepish smile. He was a rockstar, of course, so having half of his shirt unbuttoned and being caught making out with a woman in the studio was really the normal state of things and par for the course.

The cameramen were whispering about Paegan Smith and who was that woman he was with and all that. So I kinda had to step in. "Hi, Georgia! I was just, um, telling the camera crew how we should see where all the decisions about my career were made... By the way, viewers, this uh, great lady is Georgia Bevans, the owner of this fabulous label and the woman who saw something in me and gave me a chance. She's one hell of a businesswoman, honestly," I exclaimed, babbling hopelessly while Georgia fixed her hair and forced a smile.

She wiped her lipstick off with the back of her hand, still very embarrassed. "Hello and welcome to G. Major Records," she proclaimed magnanimously, now in a proper standing position. Then she turned to Paegan, who was just sort of standing there awkwardly, offering him a slightly strained smile. "Paegan, why don't you go find Kwest and start working on that song you were just telling me about? I think it would make a good first single," she told him authoritatively. Paegan looked confused but slowly walked out of the room, and I gave Georgia a look. 'Cause, really, she expected _anyone_ to buy that excuse?

"This is great! We're getting so much more out of this than they ever thought we would!" the younger cameraman, the annoying one, not the hot one, exclaimed to his brethren.

I turned to glower at them, a hand on my hip. "Thanks for having that kind of faith in my availability to attract watchers?" I remarked, mildly offended. Like, what, my life isn't interesting enough already? I mean, aren't you here for me and not them?

That same cameraman shrugged, nonplussed. Obnoxious bastard. "Hey, we're only here because everyone swore up and down we'd get some hot action on tape," he quipped cheekily.

I scowled and gave him a nasty look. "Yeah, um, sorry, but unlike Tommy, _I_ don't have sex with people on camera. Especially not Tommy Quincy," I rejoined pointedly. Because obviously that was the kind of action they were talking about, that they expected still, even though our feud was kind of starting to be whispered about.

The hot cameraman, the smartass leader one with longish hair (not girlishly so but with bangs), countered a bit smugly, "There _is_ one famous music video that disproves that claim." And then he proceeded to give me a piercing look. His eyes, I noticed, were brown and very pretty. But that wasn't enough to distract me from the fact that he'd just accused me of having sex with Tommy on camera. I mean, I thought a cameraman, of all people, would know just how easy it was to fake something like that.

My eye was probably twitching at that point. "Okay, just for the record, you **do **know that wasn't real, right?" I asked, feeling a panic starting to rise up in me. He gave me a skeptical look. Some of the other cameramen, like that mouthy one, looked like they didn't believe it at all. "I'm serious." The looks stayed the same, and I kind of felt like I was about to explode. Because I realized that they actually thought there was some kind of tape out there with me and Tommy... indisposed. And, okay, I get that he has a sex tape, but that doesn't mean that I'd have one too! "Oh my God. You don't believe me? I know he's hot and everything, but you _honestly_ think I would allow myself to have sex on camera?" I interjected disbelievingly.

Silence was my answer to that question. Needless to say I was not pleased. I may have been moving forward to strangle him, and I think Georgia reached out to stop me. Either from hitting them or humiliating myself further. She grabbed my wrist and may have tried to say something, but I just ignored her and shook my hand free of her grip. I shook my head no and continued bluntly, "_No_, G. If that's what everyone thinks, despite my repeated attempts to clear this up, I want this on camera. I'm going to clear this up right now." The cameraman quirked an eyebrow, evidently amused, and motioned for me to go on. "No sex was had. Except like, dry humping. I've never had sex with the guy. Tom and I are not now nor have we ever been an item," I stated clearly, using numerous hand gestures to make myself even clearer.

Lies! Lies! Liar Liar Pants on Fire! That was what my head was screaming because it knew better. Especially about that item bit. I got in the cameraman's face for an extreme close-up, though, for all I know, he might've been focusing on my boobs, which are hardly that spectacular. "And I'm not a slut, just for the record, but I'm not gonna make any more statements regarding that because I really think I've covered it and said all I had to say about the subject." The fact that I had had to make another statement notwithstanding. "Of course, I'm sure you'll probably edit it out to sound like I did, and I'm gonna have to explain this later, but whatever. Point is, I didn't screw him. As much as I wish I had."

I could've smacked myself the minute after I said that because all of their faces went wide with astonishment. The cameraman smirked at me. But I had to maintain a calm facade like I'd meant to say that because of course it'd just be a bigger think if I freaked. "_What_? He'd be good," I snapped rather blandly at the cameraman. It had just hit me that of course that would wind up in the episode and that millions of people would prolly hear that little clip because we're all about soundbites nowadays... and I'd kind of admitted that at some point I'd had an opportunity to screw the guy. Whoopsies. I sighed, putting a hand on the cameraman's shoulder. "Look, can you just do me a favor and edit that last bit out?"

"No." He was still smirking. "Some things are just too good to pass up," he replied with a wink, tossing his stupid hot flippy hair.

I rolled my eyes at him, annoyed at my own stupidity and INABILITY to close my mouth. "Douche. Whatever," I muttered, throwing him a look. "I'm seventeen. I think they'll forgive me for having a crush."

Georgia gave me a wide-eyed look, practically pleading with me to stop. Cameraguy snorted. "Is that really all it is, Jude?" he questioned. I really didn't like the insinuating tone in his voice.

"Fishing much?" I rejoined sassily. I just barely bit back a more biting comment asking him whether he wanted to date me. "I don't really think asking me questions is part of your job description."

He backed down, holding his hands up in a surrendering position, but quirked a smile at my response, mumbling some comment about me being feisty. I thought to myself that he really had no idea. I'm capable of a lot. His eyes kind of glinted in a mischievous taunting way that said I was in for trouble... and that he was, no doubt, gonna suck something extremely personal from me.

The cameraman motioned to the door, looking downright excited because, as he proclaimed, we were finally going to head to the studio. Which was what they'd all been looking forward to because who the hell knows what's gonna happen when Tom and I get in there? I stepped outside and promptly started panicking internally because I was thinking about the fact that Tommy and I were gonna be alone with cameras and the pressure on. I smiled nervously and attempted NOT to bolt like a rabbit. "First, uh... I have to, I have to do something _really_ important. It's, like, it's really, _really_ important, so..." I jerked my thumb away in this vague general sort of direction and then, after an apologetic smile, more or less ran away.

I had already started thinking of crazy things to do to take the heat off, and how I would undoubtedly have to do something insane to misdirect their attention away from my lack of a relationship with Tommy. I kind of wandered without thinking because I really needed to get my head on straight before facing Tommy. I wound up standing right in front of Portia, who was going over some designs and outfits. She gave me a quizzical look, and that was enough to make me snap.

"I can't do this. I can't go in there and pretend like nothing's happened between me and Tommy." I plopped down next to her at the table, running a hand through my hair. I hadn't been this jittery and nervous since that god-awful first week back. My leg and fingers were shaking, made me feel like a drug addict. And as much as I reminded myself that I'd faced Tommy before and there was absolutely nothing to be afraid of (plus I could totally take him on any day and win), the cameras were really amping up the uncertainty I was already feeling. The problem was I had no idea where I stood with Tommy anymore... and it was hard enough just trying to hide my feelings from Tommy, who already knew, for my own sanity, let alone trying to conceal them from millions of TV viewers. And I had loads of _secrets_, juicy ones like that secret relationship we had and the fact that I told him I loved him and the affair I was kind of having with his brother-slash-my-music-teacher and so on and so forth. I was kinda almost starting to hyperventilate and totally felt a meltdown coming on.

I know that's what he wants. Me to pretend like nothing happened. And maybe that's what I should do and would do if I was some responsible adult-type who can easily get over stuff like that. I know that's the story, and he's sticking to it, but I can't pretend like things are normal. They are _so_ not normal. Besides, I tried that once, and look how that turned out. I was a hot mess. Do we need to do a flashback sequence? 'Cause, I mean, that'd be ugly, and I don't wanna repeat it or rehash my rock-bottom period, but it'd prove my point. "Not after what he did," I muttered bitterly, shaking my head.

I'm not gonna say I'm over what Tommy did. What he's done, all of it. It's a lot. But it's something I've gotten used to. And something I'm trying to move past. So that wasn't the real problem at all, and I knew that. But it was an easy, ready excuse to explain how I felt. Even if it wasn't the real reason.

Portia looked me over shrewdly and immediately read the problem for what it was. After all, she, of all people, knows the signs of a Tommy-meltdown-in-the-making. And thank God she knows better than to ask. Portia's a good friend and a good ally, and she gets it, you know? I get what Tommy meant about her being real. She gave me kind of a pitying look. "Huh. So Tom Quincy broke your heart. Welcome to the club, sister." It was a little less sympathetic than I expected, since I'd come to think of Portia as my big sister. "That-" She pointed down at the camera crew currently taking shots of the studio below us, turning me to face them. "-is _your_ camera crew down there. Waiting for _your_ music. You gonna let Tommy destroy that too?" she asked bluntly. She paused for a moment, leaning across the table to pat my hand. "Take it from me, when it comes to Tommy Q, sometimes... you gotta do what's right for you. And take **control**... 'kay?" Portia advised candidly.

Listening to what Portia said, I realized she was right. I hadn't thought of it that way. I actually think it was Tommy who said that people only have power over you if you let them, and they'll have as much control over you as you let them have. So don't let them, he said. Letting someone have power over you's the first defeat, and Tom always had such a power over me. And it was time for me to fully take control back and get what I needed from Tom. I was not gonna let this be one more experience that Tom ruined for me. No more. I shook my head. "No, you're right. Completely right. Quincy and I need to have a little chat. And, to be honest, we've needed to have an honest conversation about some things for quite some time now," I admitted, staring darkly into space, ordering my thoughts. "I've just been too... scared... to ask," I murmured, glancing at her. "But that's gonna change starting now. We're gonna get a few things straight, Pretty Boy and I," I proclaimed intently, grin spreading across my face as I pushed myself up from the table.

Portia smiled at me. "Good for you, Jude." The hint of sadness in her eyes said that it took her much longer to achieve the same control. I gave her a grateful smile in return and started to walk away, but then I heard her mutter to herself, "Uh oh. Better watch out, 'cause, knowing Tommy, this is gonna get messy." I wanted to look back but forced myself not to because now I was a woman with a mission. And that mission would inevitably bring me into direct conflict with Tommy Quincy.

Speaking of whom, I'd noticed that the camera crew had wandered into the studio where Tom and I were supposedly working, so I headed down to join the party. I walked in all stealthy-like and caught Tommy in the middle of a sentence. He shrugged. "What else can I say? She's come a long way, and I have nothing but respect for her. Jude is a real..." he replied passionlessly. It sounded kind of clinical and boring and NOT _PERSONAL_ AT ALL for a description, given all we'd been through together. Maybe there was fondness in his features that I didn't see; I didn't really look and I caught just the tail end, mostly words of that, not his face or expression. He looked mildly frustrated (or constipated) as well, probably by the fact that I wasn't there and he was still mad at me. He faltered for a word to finish his description. "...Professional," he finished, turning just in time to see me standing there. He looked relieved he didn't have to talk about me anymore.

I crossed my arms over my chest, in the mood for a confrontation, and damn it, it was that _same_ studio where I'd seen him screwing Angie! And there he was, leaning against the soundboard like it was nothing. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?" I asked a bit sharply, walking towards them, remembering what else I'd walked in on here. I paused and took a deep breath. "I seem to be doing that a lot lately... Can we just get to work?" I continued a bit grouchily, blowing my bangs out of my eyes and moving towards the booth impatiently. I just wanted to get it done before Tory showed up or some catastrophe happened.

Tom looked positively uneasy around me, like he was worried about saying the wrong thing in front of the cameras. I suppose it was the first good look the man had had of me all day, but I was pleased to notice the double-take he did upon seeing me, like he was afraid or something. His jaw was a little slack, eyes a little disbelieving, and I didn't get it. He gestured to my shirt discreetly, and I looked down, wondering if it had some schmutz on it. I didn't. "Hey, is that my...?" Tom murmured, eying the shirt beadily. I looked down again and ran my hands over the fabric. A cameraman whooed, with the foolish thought that our encounter would soon turn a little more soft-core and naked. Tommy's reputation is _that_ established.

I made a face at the cameraman. Looking down at the shirt, I really looked at it. It was too large and familiar, and, I realized with a sinking sensation, it was _Tommy's_ shirt. I'd had the thing for months, and I'd completely forgotten about it because it had gotten buried under my bed. Honestly, I was surprised Victoria hadn't recognized it as Tommy's shirt! While I was slightly horrified, I did also want to gloat a little, so I turned to stare back smugly at Quincy, leaning back, hands on my hips. I nodded slightly, smirking. "Um... okay. I guess you can keep it," he muttered awkwardly, biting his lip and avoiding eye contact. It was weird seeing him be not totally comfortable with this. He couldn't say much with the camera on him like that. I smoothed the shirt, pulling it down a little to show more cleavage. With a shrug, back to the camera, thumbs in my belt, pushing my hips out. I mouthed, "'Sides, Quincy, I wear it better."

The vaguely appreciative once-over he gave me showed he agreed, even if he wouldn't admit it. He gave me kind of dirty looks too because he didn't get why I was kind of annoyed. Nonetheless, he nodded and almost half-smiled, and he flashed the camera a mega-watt charm smile to win them over and convince them that everything was fine here, when really everything was wrong, _wrong_, **wrong**. "Uh, sure, I already have, uh, the board set-up," he practically stuttered. The worst thing was that he was _pretending_ to be completely comfortable around me for the cameras, but I knew better!

I may have thrown him a particularly nasty look at that comment. Yeah, you also set-up Angie against it three days ago, you asshat! UGH! My disgust was slowly building, so I distanced myself from him a little. I've had a lot of bad experiences with soundboards. Like walking in on those two and Kwest and Portia on it, making out with the wrong guy against one, being rejected by Tommy, falling over when he knocked my feet off of it, and then Travis assaulting me against one and so on and so forth. "Oh, really, it's clean and everything... when you don't even know what song we're doing?" I was starting to get a bit bitchy, picking a fight and all that.

Hey, greater forces than me were at work there. Tommy frowned at me, glancing back anxiously at the camera. He was a bit touchy. My words had thrown him off-guard. "Um, of course it's clean... I always keep the soundboard clean. You know that," he said, sounding very puzzled by the whole thing. He placed his hand on the soundboard in a sort of loving gesture that made me want to vomit. He opened his mouth and attempted to ask what song we were doing, trying to humor me, no doubt, in an attempt to smooth over my mood.

But a charm offensive wouldn't work today. I threw him a nonplussed look and leaned back against the soundboard. Tom made a face but was forced to allow me to plant my grimy hands all over it. The fact that I was touching it left me mildly nauseated and full of unpleasant memories, so I was raring to go.

But I interrupted him with a scoff, "Not lately, unless you polish it with your ass." Tommy's eyebrows shot up in the air, and I could feel the cameramen start to get jazzed. They sensed what was coming; Tommy didn't. He was starting to perhaps get a bit worried, though. To be fair, I didn't intend for the whole mess to happen, but seeing him and that soundboard was just dredging up loads of unpleasant memories and making me a bit... emotional. And irrational. And hell, I'm only seventeen, and he broke my heart and moved on that fast!

"What are you talking about, Jude?" His tone was slightly strained, a bit menacing, kind of a warning tone. And still very confused, but he was forcing a smile like the pro liar he was. But what was he gonna do to me in front of the cameras? Nothin'.

I shrugged nonchalantly, giving them a sweet, misleading smile. My hands found my hips on their own. "Nothin' much, Tom. Just the fact that you and your girlfriend were having sex in here on Wednesday when you were supposed to be oh, I dunno, _producing my album_? Instead of re-producing!" I retorted with a blistering sarcasm that made the cameramen gasp and cat-call. I hadn't disappointed them after all.

Fortunately Tom didn't have shame, right? That didn't change the fact that he looked like he wanted to murder me. He was unable to speak out of this urge for a moment, but he managed to control himself, as usual. He barely suppressed the rage. But his tone was pretty strained. "Uh, Jude, let's just be... _professional_, like we always are," he prompted, giving me a look to go along with it. There was that word again. Makes me wanna choke. Professional. When has either of us ever been that? Much less when I just said you were _screwing_ your girlfriend in the studio, for God's sake! I wasn't going to do that, to lie for him about this, to pretend our relationship was anything other than what it was now, this degenerated bastardized perverted **broken** severed connection.

He was nervously glancing back and forth from me to the camera, smiling strained and awkwardly, more conscious of the way this was going to make the both of us and the studio look on television and trying to salvage it. He had a hand out in my direction, entreating me to help him sweep it under the rug and follow his example and all that. But a gulf was separating us, and not just physically. See, he cared about what they thought of him. I didn't. I didn't even really care what them or the viewers thought about me, just as long as they didn't think I was a giant whore or heaven forbid, Tommy's girlfriend!

I gave him this wtf look, like _**who**_ was he _kidding_ here? Who did he think he was talking to? 'Cause even the cameras didn't buy that crap. And I couldn't take his goddamned hypocrisy anymore. Always are, my ass! He (we were) was so far from professional, it was laughable! I kind of did chuckle a little, stifled it.

It stopped being professional, Tom, in Montreal. If, indeed, you could ever call us that. I mean, for God's sake, you're a twenty-three-year-old former teen-heartthrob ex-boybander-turned-producer-and-solo-act, and I'm a seventeen-year-old punk rock chick who won a reality TV show contest. None of that screams "pro" to me, unless we're talking about Tommy's sexual prowess or fondness for hookers!

I didn't realize I was moving closer to him, but I was. Instinctive gesture in our fights. I was magically drawn to the bastard. Something in me needed to get close to him, close enough to leave marks and burn and see how my words affected him. "Since when were we professional, Quincy? At the height of our studio time, I remember you giving me piggy-back rides and tickling me and screaming and making me pancakes and helping me do a headstand. The only way that's professional is if you're a manny, kindergarten teacher, daycare provider, or father! None of which fit you, last I checked," I scoffed at him. The cameramen hooted and made approving noises that infuriated Tom, unfortunately who couldn't punch them. I very narrowly avoided making a comment about the possibility of him having a kid stashed somewhere he didn't know about.

Then I kind of realized what I was doing. And it just hit me like a gong, all at once. It really wasn't working, and it wasn't going to work. It wasn't like I had a switch I could just turn off... and I couldn't say what I really wanted to say to him in front of these cameras. Can't be here, can't talk it out, rock and hard place, Catch-22. "This was a bad idea," I whispered, tugging on the edges of my hair and letting out a deep breath. "I can't work like this." I turned away from Tom, turning my back on him, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. I needed to get out of the studio like I needed to breathe because I couldn't breathe with him in here, couldn't concentrate or do anything! He was sucking all the air out of the room. And I just wanted to breathe! So I was restless and kind of pacing aimlessly because there were so many people blocking my way.

Tom was silent for a moment, and he frowned a little. He touched his lips like the liar he is, head coming down as if in a silent, frustrated sigh. He didn't understand my sudden change of mood, but he knew that he had to try and fix it and get me to work. He moved towards me, came close to me voluntarily for the first time in ages, trying to deal with this without causing a scene. Eyes always on the camera, eh, Tommy? I hated how he cared more about what they thought than fixing this. He rolled his eyes like I was being a diva. Thought I didn't see, the dumbass. "Okay, um... Do you need to take a break?" he asked, tensing and edgy already, in his "generous and understanding" voice. "Even though we haven't started yet?" he added pointedly a moment later, beginning to get mildly irritated with all of this.

"No!" I burst out, shaking my head slightly. And it was like the birds were singing, and the hills were alive, my friend. A sudden blast of clarity came over me, and the enlightenment of this epiphany showed on my face. There it was: my answer, my way of getting out of this, of ending the cycle. "_You_ do. Permanently," I pronounced resolutely, just as I realized it myself. It felt good to say and get it out there, to know it wasn't an empty threat this time. There it was, my _Hallelujah_!

I can't quite describe the look on Tom's face. It was an odd mixture of many emotions I'm not even quite sure he possesses. He turned at least three shades paler than normal and kind of froze at first, like a statue or the Ice Man he is. His eyes were wide with surprise, but I was impressed that his jaw didn't drop and his mouth didn't gape open. His jaw was firm and tightly held shut; I watched the muscles clench as he swallowed, saw the veins and arteries jump in warning. A warning I ignored, by the way. Tom knew I was serious, all right.

Then it was a sort of look of horror I saw, a kind of darkness settling in his eyes, a deadness, a dread. But the look that stuck was the stricken one, the one where he looked disappointed and indignant and like a puppy someone had smacked with the newspaper, like I'd punched him in the face or something with substantial traces of caution, frustration, and immense confusion, like he couldn't possibly understand why I was doing this. "What are you saying?" he asked needlessly, sinking a little, practically into the soundboard, looking away.

Oh, Tommy, honey, you knew exactly what I was saying. Don't make me repeat it. I'm not gonna say anything different. I shrugged callously, head cocked slightly to the side. "I don't want you producing me anymore, okay?" My voice was sort of quiet because it was this intense, personal moment between the two of us and hundreds of thousands of TV viewers. There, I said it. I finally said it and meant it this time. I didn't pause to take a breath, looked him straight dead on, and continued on more assertively, "You're fired." _Fired, _that was the harsh word, the one that made him recoil.

His face was devoid of an expression, but I could tell he was angry. His lips were tight like a thin white line, making him look like a little boy who'd just been publicly scolded. It occurred to me that I might've embarrassed him in front of all these people, and I kind of relished it, enjoyed him having nothing to say and **so** not seeing that coming. He turned away from me, jaw tightening, and I figured he was just going to leave again because that's what he does, like me saying that was some kind of blow. But he wasn't done. He whipped back around to face me, pissed and not afraid to let it show. "That's not your job, now is it?" he hissed, moving closer.

I raised a brow, taking a step closer. "That's not what Georgia said," I countered smugly. "And I might not be able to really fire you, but I _can_ request that you don't work on my album, not that you want to anyways, when it's clear you'd rather be anywhere other than here," I continued bitterly, just managing not to poke him in the chest. I enjoyed the vindication for a minute, the pure satisfaction of making that comment to him. I turned and then saw the camera, which grounded the moment in the public eye. I think I looked like someone hit me, that I couldn't hide that pain, so I looked away from both Tom and the camera. "Besides, I can't even look at you, and you can't stand the sight of me. I can't work with someone who disgusts me."

Maybe it was a bit melodramatic, but it was how I felt. Tommy grabbed my arm, turning me around abruptly. I was unsteady on my feet from all the turning. "Come on, Jude, think about what you're saying here!" he demanded, sounding and looking a bit emotional. His eyes were glistening a bit more than usual, but that didn't necessarily mean he cared. His hand was still on my arm, and I was all too aware of it. But I wasn't about to give into it.

"Don't "come on" me, Tom." I grabbed his wrist firmly, hands touching bare skin for a sizzling moment that left the both of us a little breathless, and pried his hand away from my arm, casting it aside roughly. The cameramen interpreted that comment in a dirty way and got kind of excited. But I was so not in the mood for any of it. "I've tried, and I've _tried_... but there's just a point where you've gotta ask yourself if this is all worth it... and when you come to that point, and you **have** to ask yourself... then it isn't really worth it anymore, is it?" I said wearily.

Tom's eyes widened, realizing for the first time that maybe this was something bigger than the two of us. He looked ready to argue with this, but I wasn't finished. I looked him in the eyes, head cocked, seeing right through him. "You know we've been working together horribly lately, and you're obviously way too busy to produce me... We don't talk or hang out like we used to. We don't think alike anymore..." I took a breath, looking down. It was hard, saying all of that, admitting these things I hadn't even said to myself. "I don't even know what you _want_ from me, Tom!" I exclaimed, throwing a hand in the air, daring him to answer me.

He didn't know what to say, I suppose, so he didn't answer. He just stood there.

I was getting more and more upset, working myself up into a frenzy. I'd started pacing, and my thoughts were running at a million miles a minute. I didn't know where I was going with this, what I was working towards. But I wasn't really thinking so hot or deeply. "We're barely civil to each other, and we're both angry all the time. We don't even really work on songs together anymore... so why keep pretending, Tom? This isn't benefiting either of us." My eyes were starting to sting that way they do when you're really tired or about to cry, and it was draining. I pushed back my bangs, regaining a bit of my composure. "This isn't working out. You know it, and I know it, and it's about _damn_ time one of us admitted it," I forced out bluntly, gesturing between the two of us, then to him, then to me.

Tommy looked shell-shocked. He was mostly trying to wrap his mind around everything I'd just said because it had been quite a lot and all of it quite emotional. But he knew I was right, deep down. I stared him down unflinchingly, waiting for him to say something, anything to that. I'd confronted him with the truth, and I wanted to see how he'd take it. We engaged in this eerily intense stare-down, this silent stalemate, for a painful minute-and-a-half that seemed to drag on for eternity and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I blinked in surprise when Tom voluntarily moved closer to me and made like he was going to touch my arm.

I jerked away reflexively, as if he'd hit me. Tom let his hand fall but didn't move away. "Jude, what's wrong here? Have I done something?" he asked in that infuriatingly soft, concerned voice of his. The cameras could barely pick up on it, I'm sure. The look in his eyes, too, kind of wide, like he wasn't furious at me like I knew he still had to be. Because Tom holds grudges.

As much as I wanted to move back, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. My eyes hardened, and I let my entire face shut down on him. "Oh, believe me, you've done a _lot_ of things, Tom, but the problem is what you haven't done lately. Which is anything." And, really, what had Tom done for me lately? And was any of it good? Nothing and no. It annoyed me how he acted like he had no idea what he did. I mean, Tom, you **broke** up with me! Don't pretend like you don't _remember_ just 'cause it supposedly didn't happen! Don't stand there and ask me that question when we both know you know the answer!

He snorted, about to say something, maybe something good and bitter, but I cut him off. I gave him the fiercest look I could muster, hoping he didn't see through me or realize how close I was to tears (I was closer still to exploding violently in rage and murdering him, however). "What are you still doing here, Tom? You're _fired, _remember, and you have no more business being here in my studio. So leave. You're free!" I snapped, throwing my hands up in the air, shooing him out. Tom gave me a long, pensive look, a look that was more of a glower, really, and then he turned around and stalked out, clenching his jaw, as silent as death.

I think I caught a vaguely exasperated look in his eyes, but I can't be sure of that. Either way, I stared after him, long after he was gone, mostly because I couldn't believe he'd just left like that. Without a fight. Without even a single word. Tom and me, we don't go out with a whimper. We go out with a scream, and the way he left was just... not like him. Then I turned around and saw the camera. I'd forgotten it was there, and the sight of it startled me. There was no way I was able to keep the vulnerable look off my face, like I was Bambi or something. My heart was totally out there and out on my sleeve, and my eyes were, God, so wet it was a wonder I wasn't already crying.

Because I hadn't expected him to actually do what I asked. I didn't think he'd just leave like that, turn his back on me, and just... give up. And I didn't know what to do, and I didn't like that damned uncertain feeling. And I was disappointed, okay? Disappointed that Tom didn't care more. Disappointed that he didn't even really try to talk me out of it. I was used to meeting so much resistance from him, and the one time it might've been a good thing, Tom suddenly thought I was right and knew everything and what was best. And I didn't.

The camera and I had a silent standoff too. My nerves were shaky, just like my hands. That feeling hadn't gone away. But I was better at hiding it this time around. No one was gonna be around to see me shatter. "_What_? What are you looking at?" I growled, using my best pissed-off city-dweller voice on them. "There's nothing to see here," I muttered irritably, flying out of the studio before they could stop me. I needed a moment to myself to catch my breath, to hide and recoup, and they weren't going to catch me this time.

Somehow I wound up outside, right next to that alley, and I managed to run right into Jamie. Literally. He smiled at me, but his smile fell when he saw my face. His hands were on my shoulders, partially bracing me and also protecting himself, and allowing himself to get a decent look at me. I think he asked me what was wrong, but I was too shellshocked to hear it. It was just starting to sink in, what I'd just done. The fact that it was **irreversible**. I'd just broken the cycle all right. "I don't know what I just did, Jamie," I mumbled, dumbfounded, gazing up at him. I was so lost and trying-_needing_ to hold on to something solid. So my fingers found his upper arms and held on tight.

I don't know how Jamie found out. Maybe he saw. Maybe he heard. Tom's not good at keeping that sort of thing in. Either way, I gathered very quickly that he'd followed me out here and knew all right. He backed me up against the wall for some well-needed support, glancing down every now and then at my hands on his arms (which I didn't even notice), and looked me in the eyes. "Really? 'Cause I do." My eyes shot up at this, questioning. His bangs were kind of flopping down in his face, and I felt him smiling before I saw the grin. Something in me was sinking. "Can I say it out loud, Jude?" he asked gleefully, sounding like an antsy little boy, practically jumping up and down.

He'd released me, and I knew he was trying to suppress his joy at seeing Tom put in his place (apparently he had actually _witnessed_ this) for my sake, but I couldn't blame him for feeling that way. A part of me had, after all, and Jamie and Tom was never something I was ever gonna understand. I clutched my head, tempted to bang it against the wall as I became increasingly aware of how I'd just screwed things up. A part of me said it was necessary, and maybe that was true, but it didn't change the fact that I'd just botched something very important. And my album and reputation were on the line. Not Tom's. "Please don't," I pleaded, looking up at him miserably.

Jamie, God bless him, was too excited to stop himself. Like a damn puppy, all yippy and jumpy and enthusiastic about it in such a way that you can't even really be mad because _you_ feel bad for trying to crush that. He was even rocking forward on his heels, practically clapping his hands. "You just fired Little Tommy Q. On Camera. Which millions of people will now watch." I swear, I thought he was gonna wet himself. He glanced around self-consciously. "Am I the only one completely _psyched _to see this? Like, I wanna TiVo it already," he whispered, positively giddy with the images of Tom's humiliation spreading across the nation like a wildfire.

I grimaced. He'd served to remind me that it was an international broadcast, meaning that millions of people not just in Canada would be watching it. The mere thought alone, let alone the inevitable consequences of Georgia murdering me, was just about enough to make me hyperventilate. I tugged on the ends of my hair and ran my fingers through it, fluffing needlessly. "_So_ not helping, Jamers." I diverted my attention to my feet in shame because it had just occurred to me that there were probably paparazzi out here. And I have a _very_ distinctive hair color.

"I feel like it's my _birthday_!"

I didn't need to look at his face because I could vividly picture the expression in my head, especially given the tone of his voice. I'm also really glad I didn't punch him in the face like I wanted to. His glee was very much not helping. I pushed off from the wall and started pacing, translating my agitation into nonviolent action. "Huh, well, I didn't have a choice! Okay, not after what he did," I argued, not really intending for Jamie to hear that. I just needed to get a little of my frustration out before I had a nervous breakdown or shot someone or something.

"And what _did_ he do?" Jamie cut in, all of a sudden very interested. He put his hand on my arm to still me, but I took a swing at him, and he backed up a little. I gave him a half-hearted glare and refused to elaborate. Nice try, Jamers, but you can't keep a secret to save your life, and... If I told Jamie everything, not that I ever, ever would, it would just hurt him and cause him to start a campaign to get Tommy arrested. And, after the fiasco with Travis, that is most definitely not what I want to do. There are some things I'm just not comfortable sharing, and some things best friends just should not know about each other.

Like their sex lives, for instance. I do not want to hear about him and Kat from him. I don't really even wanna hear from Kat, to be honest. It's just... awkward.

Anyway, I continued as if he hadn't spoken, running a hand through my hair. Ignoring an issue sometimes did the job. Or it caused the issue to blow up spectacularly in your face. As often happens. "And I'm sick of pretending," I pronounced a bit more decidedly. Then I heard this familiar mechanical noise and turned in its direction... only to find myself staring into the black hole of a camera lens manned by an unfriendly cameraman. Guess this is what happens when you ditch them three times? I perked up a little and forced a smile."Oh, hey! You found me!" Unexpected. There was a long awkward pause where I could think of nothing to say and was forced to retain this equally uncomfortable smile. "Um, hey, this is... this is my best friend, Jamie," I said, gesturing to the man-boy standing next to me, straightening a little so I looked better.

I glanced over at Jamie, who merely looked amused. I suppose he had to since I was kind of a wreck with messy hair and uncomfortable clothes, eyes still filled with tears, and uncertain, shaky limbs I didn't know what to do with. "Hello," he responded, waving in a way that was both friendly and ironic, that familiar crooked smile on his mouth.

The corner of my mouth perked up a little bit as I looked at him. He'd made a funny face, and Jamie was always really good at cheering me up and putting me at ease. "Who's always there for me..." I continued with a smile, trailing off uncomfortably as I tried to think of a way to classify this moment in my life. "-In times of crisis. Like now. 911." I laughed nervously, waiting for Jamie to pick up the opening I'd given him and turn it into some sort of joke.

Jamie tended to think that stuff like this was a bit of a novelty, so he was simultaneously amused and uncomfortable being under the spotlight. That awkward charm made him doubly entertaining and useful for distracting industry types. "Ma'am, there's a vehicle on the way," Jamie deadpanned, adopting the radio-voice of a dispatcher or EMT. Without prompting, he then proceeded to mime driving an ambulance and made amusing siren noises that actually made him sound like a dolphin.

The laughter that followed was genuine on my part, but almost a bit hysterical because I was kind of overcompensating. "Mm hmm," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder warmly, gratefully. My lips twitched and I took a deep breath. The pervy cameramen got all excited when they saw my chest rise, making my breasts stick out more, and surely focused the camera to better capture that image. "Okay, so I'm gonna go back in the studio now and produce a single by myself. All by myself. For the first time ever. With cameras watching. No pressure. Ha ha," I muttered, motioning to the studio with my thumb. I wasn't exactly in a hurry to get back in there, though.

Jamie, reading me correctly, wrapped an arm around me. "And I know Jude Harrison. She will do stellar," he stated clearly, looking straight into the camera. He knew I needed the boost and the support, and believe me, I was glad to have it. I smiled at him gratefully, a bit timidly, maybe. His grip around my shoulders was tight like a boa constrictor, but I didn't shake it off. I needed it.

I patted him on the chest affectionately. "Aw, thank you, Jamie. Good thing it's not a math quiz, or else I wouldn't have a chance in hell. And fortunately I learned how to work the soundboard on various occasions, but in some depth over Christmas Break. Among _several _things I learned how to do in depth over Christmas Break..." I rambled, stopping dead when I realized where my mind was heading. I blushed because, to my dismay, I was once again thinking of Tommy. Only this time I was thinking about him naked. And what I'd done with him when I was naked. Jamie gave me a questioning look, and I looked away, ashamed. "Um, and we are officially _not_ thinking about that, so here's hoping I know what I'm doing!" I proclaimed, index finger in the air, charging towards the studio.

Jamie clapped, following me in, smiling fondly. I was still trying not to think about my ex. Naked. How good he looked. How good it had felt. How much I'd _learned_. About him, about me, about pl-Not thinking about it, Jude. **So** not thinking about it. No sexy times. Right before I reached the studio where I was gonna be working, I turned around abruptly in the doorway, looking straight into the camera. Then, in a lowered voice, as if I were confessing a secret, I began, "On the downlow, that whole firing Tommy thing? Completely wasn't planned. I kinda just got, you know, caught up in the moment and didn't think things through, and I mean, I guess you could say Tommy has that effect on me..." I laughed nervously, shrugging helplessly, trying my best to smile.

The rush of power had gone to my head a bit, and it was a heady feeling. Control. Ironically, by losing control of myself, I'd somehow managed to gain it. "But, yeah, so that's the first time I've ever actually followed through on that threat. And I'm not gonna lie... it feels kinda... _good_," I reflected after a brief pause. As much as I was freaking out, it did feel good. I ran a palm across my collarbone absently. My smile started falling. "But yeah, I am just a tiny bit screwed because I kinda do need him for this whole producing thing. So you get the good fortune of watching me, um, work on figuring that out. This is much more of an adventure than I think any of us bargained for, gentlemen!" I exclaimed, clapping my hands together and clenching them, white-knuckled, for a moment. Then I knocked the door open with my hip, and they followed me in like a flood.

I could've used a moment to catch my breath, maybe. To splash cold water on my face. To gather my wits about me. Because, despite that conversation with Jamie, I wasn't entirely reassured. A few moments later, I found myself in charge of a song, a studio, and a band. It was harder than I'd realized, of course. "Can I get some help here, guys, or are you just gonna watch while I'm swallowed whole?" I complained to Kyle, Wally, and the cameramen, holding up some of the seemingly endless cords I needed to hook up. I'd been a roadie before, but that didn't mean I knew how to hook up all the cords.

They were goofing off and of course didn't pay attention. I sighed. Sometimes working with them was like babysitting small children. Only, unfortunately, they understood sarcasm. I raised my voice. "Okay, boys, can we just focus? This is my _one_ chance to make a good first impression as a producer. All right? So let's just..." I happened to glance through the glass and over my shoulder, and there, through the open door, I saw a flash of Tom and Angie. I froze, forgetting what I was saying, and stared, watching as Tommy pulled something out of his pocket. "Let's just be professional," I said distractedly.

It was some form of jewelry, and I watched as Tom dropped the chain in Angie's palm, folding her hand and closing his hands over hers. Angie said something to him, and Tom looked sad and said something back. Then Angie said his name and threw her arms around him tightly. It looked like she was crying.

"Since when are you professional?" Kyle asked pointedly, skeptically, flitting in and out of my vision, momentarily blocking my view. I paid him no mind, already preoccupied. I was unable to take my eyes off the sight of them. Angie pressed her face against his neck, and then she pulled back. She turned slowly, handing Tom the necklace, and he fastened it around her neck carefully. I wanted to vomit after seeing him.

Speed's voice interrupted my watching, loud and vaguely obnoxious. "Uh, Ground Control to Major Jude? Ready to rock out," he exclaimed. I turned to look at him, and he'd adopted some sort of ridiculous pose, rocking back on his heels, hips thrust forwards. I rolled my eyes at him and resumed staring at the couple in the lobby. They were now making out. Naturally.

But I still couldn't look away. "Hold on," I told him, holding up a finger.

"Hey, Jude!" Speed shouted at the top of his voice. I knew what a cry like that meant. It meant he was about to tackle me. I whirled around to glare at him, but Speed stared me down, completely unperturbed. "What song did Squinty set up for before you gave him his walking papers?" he asked cheerily. Speed being so perky, especially after being so weird this morning, was getting on my damn nerves. I glowered at him, silently reminding him that I could just as easily fire him. "Um, Jude, what song are we doing?" he repeated a bit more meekly.

I thought it over for a moment. I hadn't exactly come in here with a plan. Not even when I thought I was just gonna be working with Tom. I wanted a song that perfectly expressed what I felt at that moment, a song I'd written about... whatever I was feeling. After the break-up. Lyrics filtered through my head, one after the other, as I analyzed my choices. _One day at a time, my world is shattering... Maybe the answer's to never ask why... As I watch my life unraveling! _And there, I had my answer.

The music ran through my head, and I turned to Speed, suddenly ready to go. What other choice did I have? It's like Portia said. I can either freak out about this, go into it kicking and screaming and bitching... and just let Tom win, admit I can't do this without him. Or I can just do it on my own, and figure things out as I go. "We're going to do a different song today, guys. Not the one Tommy wanted." Not that I knew what Tom wanted. When had I ever known? "We're gonna do this my way for a change. Because it's all on me now," I said unnecessarily. "I... I wrote this song a month or so ago, and it seems really fitting right now, so we're uh... we're gonna sing that one." That time I was addressing the camera.

My fingers found the song in my journal. "And what song would that be, Dude?" Speed asked a bit impatiently. He was looking at me kind of like he thought I was insane. And obviously I am a bit unhinged at this point. And didn't say the song name. But I was just so excited about it! Me, producing on my own! Me, **not** needing Tommy!

This is what I wanted. I smiled at Speed, who was still giving me that you-are-clearly-insane-look. He shook his head though and laughed. Crazy like a fox, maybe. "Unraveling... Don't worry, boys. I'll walk you through it," I told them, grabbing my guitar and sitting down on the couch. I started playing and humming the melody. "_I've been walking through the __**ruins**__... of my life and times. Seems like everything is __**sinking**__ right in front of my eyes..._" I began, nodding along for them to follow along. An impressively successful and on-task recording session followed. I was kind of in disbelief it had all worked out so well, really.

Which brings me to here, where I stand, glancing around the lobby like a hawk. There was still one thing I needed to do, and I'd put it off long enough. I needed to know. My eyes finally stopped their frantic search when they landed on Tom, who was, fortunately, Angie-free this time. Tom was in the kitchenette, making himself some tea, off in the corner all by himself, and Angie was nowhere in my immediate line of sight. That was my cue. I walked up to him and swiftly positioned myself between him and the counter. Tom turned around just in time to slosh tea on me. Yes, Tom, I'm just used to having hot liquids fall on my chest. "Hey!" Douchebucket. His face contorted into a glare, a naked expression of the way he felt about me, the first naked microexpression I'd seen on him all day. So I started to talk, motioning rapidly between us, "Look, Quincy, as much as I hate it... You and me, we need to talk."

Tom's face became a decidedly blank mask, but he allowed himself to scowl at me. "Funny, I thought you said all you had to say earlier. You know, when you _fired_ me," he countered bitterly. He chose that moment to use his index finger to wipe up the tea that had dripped down the side of his glass, quickly bringing his slightly burned tea-sodden finger to his lips and sucking it with a faint grimace. It was a vaguely ridiculous sight, of course, but alluring, I thought, remembering the suction power of those lips, how they felt on my throat. A delicious shiver ran through me at the pleasant memory.

It's really hard to get mad him when I'm still so hot for him. I just stared at him for a moment before looking down. Must stop looking. Must. "I... I'm not gonna say I didn't mean it, because I did, but... it doesn't mean what you think it means. _I_ don't even know what it means," I told him honestly, walking past him a little, lest he think that I was attempting to come on to him again. I gestured between the two of us. "What it does mean is that _this_, us not-talking... It's not working... Tommy... It's time for an honest conversation, for once. We've put this off long enough," I told him wearily.

Tom raised a brow, attempting to move past me. "You know how to have _honest_ conversations? I thought you just lied about anything serious and important..." he replied sarcastically. His eyes were hard and stern. He was obviously eager to get back to Angie. And whatever, he could do that. After I was done with him. "And it seems like every conversation we have lately, you just end up attacking me." He shrugged, as if asking what he was supposed to do about that.

"Well, it isn't like you don't deserve it," I retorted immediately, unable to stop myself. Tom stopped in his tracks and just stared at me, surprised. I sighed and let my weight sag against the counter. I hadn't meant to say that. "Look, I'm sorry, Tommy, but would it _kill_ you to be nice to me, just once? 'Cause we **need **to have this conversation, and I need you to be the Tommy you were before for me. I need you to remember that you were once a decent human being where I was involved and tell me what I need to know so I can get this out of the way and move on with my life. And hopefully forget about it as soon as possible," I pleaded, turning serious. "It'll just take a minute."

Tom just stared me down for a long moment, processing my request. It hurt my pride to have to beg my ex for this small thing. He probably thought it was some sort of trap or ambush, but I really meant it, though. "I shouldn't be doing this. Lord knows I don't want to be doing this... But I guess I owe it to you," Tommy admitted, letting a breath out through his teeth. His jaw was still tight, as if it had been set in stone. He took a sip of his tea, frowning slightly. He leaned in a little closer to me than he had in a while. I could practically feel his breath on my face, could smell the faint aroma of anise on his breath from the mouthful of tea. "But if you're leading me into a trap here, Jude, I _will_ make you pay for it, one way or another, you hear me?" he muttered menacingly, eyes dark when they locked with mine. Amazingly, the threat was conveyed more strongly without physical contact.

That comment seemed so out-of-place that it shook me. He really didn't trust me at all anymore. But I guess I'd given him plenty of reasons. I think maybe I jumped a little, but I put on a brave enough front, rolling my eyes at him like I was as annoyed as I wanted to be that he'd suggested that. I mean, at this point, what can I do to him, you know? Hold a press conference about our secret relationship, press charges against him, tell A Day in the Life everything about our past, or jump him in front of Angie and the cameras? Sure, I could do all that, if I was petty and desperate and had no self-respect or dignity, but I like to think I've moved past that sort of blind striking-out. Especially when it would hurt me just as much, if not **more**, than it would hurt him. "Relax, Quincy. What can happen in a minute?" I asked him pointedly, raising a brow.

A _lot_ can happen in a minute, and I know that better than most. Tommy threw me a pointed look, glancing around the lobby watchfully. Paranoid, he is. I made a face at him and reached out and pushed him a little, drawing his attention back to me. Sure enough, Tommy's eyes snapped up to mine, anger, annoyance, and a trace of some other unpleasant emotion swirling in their depths. I leaned in a little closer to him. "What? You don't trust the both of us to control ourselves alone for a few minutes?" I questioned, frowning a little. That was actually very sad if it was true. I rolled my eyes at him again. "All I'm asking you do to is talk and listen. Now, come on, Tom, let's make this one a quickie," I added impatiently, noticing that the cameras were rounding a corner and about to spot us.

Tom's face turned several shades at that last word, first white then red then green and then a sort of mottled ill-looking color. Grey maybe. Then he sighed, gritting his teeth and silently conceding, though he still looked a bit perturbed. "Is there someplace... private... we can go?" he asked in an undertone, taking another swig of his tea and already starting to move away.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and nodded discreetly, glancing around the lobby and scoping everyone out. I'd somehow managed to ditch the cameras for the time being. Some kind of meal break, but it wasn't bound to last, and I did not want to have this **very** important conversation with Tom in the middle of everything. I knew people would be suspicious if we left at the same time, so I jerked my head in the direction I wanted and mumbled, "You know exactly where. The fire escape."

Tom stifled a snort, rolling his eyes. "As always." He, however, planted himself firmly in place and attempted to shoo me off. I didn't move, and Tom's lips tilted even farther down. "You go first, Jude. I want to finish my tea," he muttered, almost gripping my arms to show me the direction. But Tom the Toddler didn't trust himself to touch me, so his hand lingered awkwardly in the air for a moment, touching nothing, before he drew it back to his side.

I let out an irritated sigh, rolling my eyes at him, but turned squarely on my heel nonetheless, briskly heading for the fire escape. Who knew if he'd even show? Tom's been running from _this_ a lot longer than I have. And there I was AGAIN, waiting for him! Like it's my damn job! Well, I comforted myself, he had said he owed me this much, at least. And he did. More than that, maybe. Besides, if he doesn't show, I know where he lives and works and all of his hang-outs. I can always **make** him talk to me. It's less honest, but I _**need**_ this bad enough for it not to matter.

It was cold in the alleyway. It had snowed recently, and no one ever thought to clear the fire escape, so there was maybe a foot or so of snow there. My footprints were the only ones that besmirched the snow's purity. Apparently even Tommy hadn't been out here for a while. I guess it had too many memories. Or maybe Ange didn't like him smoking. I should've had the presence of mind to grab a jacket, but I didn't think it'd be a long conversation. There was only one question I had for him. I shivered, leaning my elbows on the railing and closed my eyes to gather warmth about me. It didn't work, but it did help me gain some of the courage I needed for this.

My eyes flew open when I heard the heavy door groan. I straightened automatically, pushing myself up, and turned to face the opening door. Sure enough, there was Tommy slipping through the door, leather jacket on and a vaguely apprehensive look on his face. "Good. You actually showed," I commented, crossing my arms over my chest. With the body language and cold, it came out shorter and more combative than I'd intended.

Tom's eyes narrowed as he let go of the door. He put his hands in his pockets for warmth, and I envied him. The door slammed shut behind him, and we both flinched at the sound. Tom came towards me slowly, ignoring the mild barb of my statement. "Jude... What's this about?" he asked intently.

I rolled my eyes at him irritably. The cold was getting to me. Unlike Tommy, all I was wearing was a thin shirt and tights. He should know what this is about by now. What's it always about? "What do you _think_ it's about, Tom?" I retorted sharply.

Tom's frown deepened into a scowl, jaw tightening. He flexed his fingers. "Look, I don't have to take this. If _this_ is the way you're going to be, I'll just leave..." At first I thought he was bluffing, but after a tense moment of staring, he turned on his heel, moving towards the exit. And I was not about to just let him walk away this time.

I dashed after him and grabbed his wrist. My fingers slipped off the cold leather and found purchase on skin. He was warm. I think one of us gasped at the contact, but I couldn't tell you who. "No, _don't_!" Tom turned around just enough to meet my gaze. I looked down at my feet. My ankles were shaking. "I... I'm sorry, Tom," I muttered, feeling a little of that strength leave me. I glanced back up at him, and Tom's eyes dropped from mine. He pointedly directed his gaze to my hand, which remained on his wrist. I didn't drop it, however. Our eyes locked, blue on blue. "I just... I _need_ this, Tommy."

I felt him stiffen, saw in his eyes that he'd taken it the wrong way, like I was trying to force myself on him or something. He started to pull his wrist back, but I hung on. I let out a breath and saw it hang in the air, white and heavy. I could feel my lips tremble, my teeth try to chatter, but I tightened my jaw too, unwilling to show even a sign of weakness. "Tommy, look, I just need to know _one_ thing. One thing and then I swear I won't take up any more of your time, won't _ever_ bother you again..." I began bravely, taking a breath, forcing myself to look at him. I released his wrist. We were practically up against the wall.

Deep breath. Here goes nothing.

"I'm gonna ask you, Tommy, and I'm just gonna ask you flat out. Do or do you not love me?"

Tom hadn't been expecting this, and he turned to stare at me so abruptly, shock etched into the features of his white classical face. Like some kind of Greco-Roman sculpture. He was predictably silent and... frozen. I was as plain and loud as I could be about the question, so there was no way he could misunderstand me. I didn't expect the deafening silence that followed. I didn't hear any animals or cars or even the wind. Tom turned away just as fast, walked past me to the catwalk. I turned and watched as he grabbed the railing, leaning against it, allowing his eyes to close. He leaned over it and a grimace passed over his face.

Some might've taken this for a no. It might've been. Some ingenious little cop-out way for him to get off without hurting my feelings too much. But I didn't take it as such because it wasn't an answer. What it was was a _failure_ to answer.

And it made me incredibly furious. 'Cause I more than deserved to hear it, the truth. It was all I wanted. I knew the answer to my question, but I needed to hear him say it. I pounded down the steel to him, heard my footsteps echoing on the grooved metal, the only sound in the whole alleyway. "God, Tommy, why can't you just **say** it?" I asked desperately, grabbing him by his lapels. Then I pushed him and knocked him back a few steps. Only Tommy, it figured, would have trouble saying he _didn't _love me. Ha, and most guys have trouble saying it when they do. Why had it been so easy for him to say it in front of Chaz a little over a month ago, but he's having so much trouble saying it to my face now when I'm asking him directly?

Tom just stood there, hands out, like we were playing freeze tag. His face was completely blank; I couldn't read a damn thing from those familiar lines. He moved backwards slowly, away from me, hands still in the air, like he was surrendering to the police or something.

I decided to try a different approach. I started to walk towards him slowly, step by step. I didn't stop until I was a little less than a foot from him. We were halfway out on the catwalk. My feet sent snow over the edges. I hooked my thumbs under my belt for a bit of warmth, jutting my arms and elbows out in a tight, uncomfortable way. I blinked at him, tilting my head and regarding him levelly. "I love you, you know that, right?" I said suddenly. My words hung in the air like a curse.

I shuddered at my own words; I hadn't intended to say that, to start with that. I'd been unsure of how to start, and my stupid mouth had gotten the best of me yet again. Tom winced at my opening. His whole face tightened up like he didn't like the memory, and he turned away from me and my direct gaze, reaching out for the railing, as if bracing himself. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He took one cigarette out of the pack and lit it. I noticed his fingers were shaking.

He takes a long drag of his cigarette and takes his time savoring every bit of it, eyes closed, before he says anything. "Yes... I know. Believe me, I know," He replies wearily. His voice is low and raspy. It sounds like some sort of chant, the way he says it. He looks tired and so much older than he really is. "And I'd prefer if you didn't mention it," He mutters tightly.

Ouch. I feel the sting of his words like I feel the wind on my face or the cold creeping into my heart. I come to stand to him and lean on the banister as I'd done before. The metal is frosty under my sleeves. I look down on the alleyway, on the trash, and suddenly, I want to cry. "A part of me is always going to love you, Tommy, but I _can't_ do this anymore. It's killing me."

I'd completely ignored his little command there, and I felt a surge of pleasure at that. Tom turns, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth like it's a lollipop or something. His eyes are blazing. His face is closer to mine than I realized. "How the hell do you think I feel? I don't like the position you put me in either, Jude. It's not like I enjoy being the reason for your unhappiness," He spits bitterly. The cigarette's still in his fingers, and I want to take it, to feel just a little bit of warmth.

Instead, I look away from his too-intense stare, and I turn my gaze back down to the alleyway below us. "You know, you never really answered my question... when I asked you flat-out how you felt about me. You never give any kind of answer," I remark dimly. Then I turn to look at him. "And, I don't know if you've noticed, but everyone around you seems to think you're in love with me... your mother, your brothers, your best friends, Ruby, my sister... So I can't help but wonder sometimes." All the time. None of the time because it's too painful to think about. Then I turn back to looking at the alleyway, which is black and wet, a little steamy from the heat of the nearby buildings, not frozen like it is up here.

Truthfully, I'm not sure if I expect him to answer. I don't, but I want him to. If Tom reacts to my statement, he doesn't show it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him puff on his cigarette, squinting out into the alleyway like me, a far-off look on his face. "Maybe I was trying to make a point by not answering it directly," he replies obliquely, through the smoke.

I turn robotically, abruptly. "Like what, Quincy? It's not like you to be diplomatic about feelings," I interject a bit nastily, unable to help myself. He just sets himself up for stuff like this. All the time. Lyrics filtered through my head. _I've been asking all the questions, b__ut nothing's coming back... Now I'm trying to keep myself... f__rom slipping through the cracks._

Tom turns to look at me properly then shrugs. "I can't say I don't deserve that." He says it so apathetically, though, that I don't know if he means it or not. Then he takes another drag, and his breath kind of rattles when he breathes in. "I was confused, Jude," He begins quietly. "I don't know how I feel about you... I can't properly sort it out like you can. It's not black and white for me, and I've tried to repress it, but I can't. It doesn't make sense," He says tightly, sucking in a breath. I see the smoke go out his nostrils.

Then he gets real quiet. "All I know is you meant every-a lot to me." He was going to say "everything," wasn't he? It's all I can do to keep looking at him. He smiles a little and looks down, tries to hide it. But I know. "You made me so happy, and God knows I probably shouldn't be telling you any of this... not that it matters now," He mutters almost under his breath, shaking his head. He knows this isn't making it easier, but I appreciate him being honest all the same. He sucks on that cigarette and meets my eyes for a minute before looking away again. He's uncomfortable and tripping all over himself in a way. "But what I told you was what I _felt_, what I could put into words. I'm not very good with words. It was the only way I knew how to describe it. Because you're bad for me." He breathes it, the next sentence. "Like _I'm_ bad for you."

It's the closest to an apology I'm probably ever going to get. Poison. I close my eyes, asking, "Just tell me, Quincy. I already know you don't love me... You've said as much. You don't call the woman you love _poison._" I sigh to myself, tired, and then look at him, elbow on the railing, head on my palm. "I'm not sure you could ever love anybody. A guy like you can never belong to any woman..." I muse sadly. Of course I'm not thinking of Angie as I say it. Then I turn to face him with a determined look on my face. I'm going to get this from him, even if it's like pulling teeth, even if I have to drag it out of him. "But I need to hear it straight from your mouth before I can really believe it. I need it to sink in, Tommy. I'm sick of this stupid hope. I want it to die. I want you to **kill** it for good," I plead desperately. Maybe I was asking too much of him.

This demand apparently takes him by surprise, because his eyes widen and he blinks several times, cigarette in his fingers. I didn't notice it before, but his eyes glisten, lighter than before. Like he isn't mad at me anymore. His hand's shaking. I can't feel mine. "I... I don't want to hurt you, Jude. I'm not gonna make this worse than it already is," He barely manages. His eyes plead with me a little, as if it pained him to see me in pain or to know that he'd be inflicting it on me. But I knew better.

I cock my head at him, but not before I look down briefly and see how close our hands are. I need to be hard now because soft isn't working. It gets easier because I'm getting more desperate. If I have to push him, so help me, I **will**. "Really, Quincy? 'Cause it's more than a little late for that consideration. What, you wanted to soften the blow? Well, all you're doing is making it worse for the both of us by dragging it out like this. There is no ambiguity here, Quincy. Either you love me or you don't. Yes or no. I'd say the answer's pretty damn simple. Just **say** it already and stop toying with me and my feelings," I snap. I don't fizzle.

I force a bitter little smile then, steeling myself, bracing myself for the blow I knew was going to come. Call me a masochist (I know I am), but I _wanted_, **needed **to feel that pain, and I was ready and willing to welcome it with open arms because it represented relief and catharsis and an end to my endless miserable _wondering_. There is nothing worse in this life than uncertainty. "...Don't worry, Q. I'm a big girl. I can take it." I'm confident, egging him on, pretending I'm something I'm not. I wasn't quite sure if I was telling the truth or not, only that it would feel _so_ good to finally know.

Tom lets out one shuddering breath and then sags against the railing, collapses almost. The cigarette burns his fingers, and he drops it over the edge. I see the little flash of red-hot ashes for flash moment, then nothing. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth. I see his jaw flex, and he exhales again, one more time. Then, in a flash, Tom straightens, pushes himself off the railing, and turns to face me directly. "Fine... if you really think it'll make things better... I don't love you, Jude!" He half-shouts. If a tree falls in a forest, and no one's around to hear it... does it make a sound? Did it really fall? And does it matter? If no one's around to hear the creaking and groaning and breaking and splintering and falling, then who cares?

That's a small slice of what it felt like. _Where is my __**faith**__? __How did I get this far? Who do I blame w__hen it all falls apart?_

Paradoxical statement, n'est-ce pas? It felt like a slap to the face, a sharp stinging one, like pulling out hair. He said it with more passion and ardor than I'd expected, as if he really felt it with that violence of emotion, as if he was _that _sure. He wasn't, though, and we both knew it. There was a force behind his words. His voice weakened and softened as if he could sense the hurt he'd put me through, and his eyes bathed me in empathy that didn't soothe.

"And I _can't_, you know that. And you know why. I couldn't, even if I was able to... I don't know what love is, but I know I can't give it to you. And even if I could, Jude, you deserve _so_ much better!" He continues needlessly, bitterly, turning away from me, unable to face me or look at me. I sigh, closing my eyes. We'd been over all of that before. There was a quietly restrained passion in his voice, and a bare bones honesty that felt new and naked, like there was nothing between me and Tommy anymore, no more secrets because everything was now out on the table. It was finished.

I let out a shaky, trembling breath, the kind that rattles out of you when you're cold and shivering and coughing in a Canadian winter. I hadn't realized I'd been holding it in, quite honestly. "Well, it's about time you gave me an answer," I said frankly. I turned towards him and added quietly, "Thanks for the honesty. I know that must not have been easy." I opened my eyes, seeing the question written in his, poised on his lips. He looked nervous and was sort of swaying like he wanted to reach out for me in some pitiful attempt to comfort me but was afraid he'd make things worse if he did. I appreciated the gesture, the feelings I could see on his face. Because it meant he _did_ still care, and that this whole thing hadn't been in my head. And it was better to know now how he really felt as far as he knew.

That was really all I wanted.

I made sure to look him in the eyes, to lock my gaze with his. I was grateful to finally know, and the pain wasn't so bad. Not after the first of it. It was just another drop in the pail. He wanted to know how I felt, if I was okay. "Relief... I feel... relief. Now I don't have to wonder any longer or guess or hope because I've heard it, straight from the horse's mouth, and I know you're not lying..." I said quickly, shakily. I was so cold. It was hard to control the spasms. My skin was so pale, almost translucent. Just a little longer, Jude.

I felt peace, too, finally, but it was at Tommy's expense, because there was a haunted, guilty look in his eyes. I felt bad for putting that look there, so I gave him a small, weak smile. To show I was gonna be okay. At least I knew now. Closure comes at a high price. "And, Tommy, you might not be what I deserve, but you..." I was going to say "are" but decided against it. "-Were... what I wanted. Love doesn't operate on the basis of merit, and it doesn't see reason." I guess maybe I thought that would explain things or make it better. I don't think it did. But I did still love him, despite everything.

There was something, on the tip of my tongue, that I kind of wanted to say, but I didn't know whether or not I ought to tell him. What did any of it matter now? I wondered for a few moments before it occurred to me that I had a captive audience, and that I was _never_ going to get a chance like this again. Everything about this moment felt final. I decided that I had nothing left to lose, and I liked being being able to tell him anything, so why bother keeping it from him? I might as well say all I can now before this moment ends and we go our separate ways. I licked my lips, moving closer to him. Tom looked at me askance. "And, before we forget about this forever and... stop talking... you should know that you made me really happy, Tommy," I whispered, smiling faintly. I could feel tears burning in the corners of my eyes.

I don't remember the look on his face, but he looked surprised and maybe tried to back away a little. My hand hovered in the air for a moment. I wanted to touch his hand, but I couldn't quite muster the nerve yet. "I'm not saying it to make you feel guilty or anything. I just thought you **deserved **to know... that someone was happy just _being_ with you, knowing who you are, and not wanting anything more than that. You're a better man than you or I give you credit for, Tommy," I said sincerely, finally able to put my hand on top of his. It felt just the tiniest bit better, to _feel_ something, you know?

Tommy's eyes were watery, and they gleamed like the sea, like calm waves. My nose had been running for a while, so I sniffled a little, more from cold than the tears in my eyes. It really wasn't about making him feel bad for what he'd done for me. Not anymore. So I tried to perk it up a little for him, forced myself to smile a little brighter. "And... if I was that happy with you, then I can be happy with someone else too. Someone who loves me. And I guess that maybe I wanted to... _thank _you for that opportunity 'cause it meant a lot to me. To have someone like you," I told him quietly, brightly, suppressing my tears, squeezing his hand with my numb, frozen fingers. His hands were almost as cold as mine.

For one long moment, Tommy just looked at me, stunned. I watched the gratitude suffuse his features slowly, grandly, like a sunrise. That was enough for me. To know that I could still make him feel good, could still do nice things for him. But then Tommy turned to face me, took his hand off mine. I thought he was going to leave. He didn't, though. He lurched forward, like it was kind of uncomfortable and awkward for him, and I was astonished when he wrapped his arms around me in a hesitant hug. He looked so grateful and moved by what I said that I couldn't fend him off. At first I was just so stunned that I was stock-still. Then he wrapped his arms around me more tightly, embracing me for real. He rested his head against mine, buried his nose in my hair, and he squeezed me tight, inhaling deeply.

I smelled him too: cigarette smoke, a whiff of perfume, leather, licorice, tea, those many smells I associated with Tommy. It was comforting and warm to be pressed up against him. It felt good in a purely heat-sharing kind of way. Then Tommy slowly pulled away, still holding onto me lightly. "Thank _you," _he breathed. The way he was looking at me, the old way, it was like I was the only girl in the world. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and it took my breath away. Then we were back to staring at each other in one of the most potent silences of my life.

And I knew what that look meant, all right. That heated, liquid, furtive look in his eyes, the hints of a smile in the crinkles of his eyes. His fingers were in my hair. My hands were around him, on his back, underneath his jacket, which I'd somehow managed to unzip. He was _so_ warm. My fingers tingled, and not just from the return of circulation in my fingers. Tommy hinged forward ever so slightly. His eyes were clouded, darker, and still sort of glistening. They dropped from my eyes to my lips. I moved forward too, intent on taking it. I knew what he wanted, what we both wanted.

But I turned away, pulled myself out of his arms, and grabbed on to the railing, and I shook it with all my force. I was angry at myself, at being so weak again. It was just the worst possible timing, you know? The catwalk rattled beneath us slightly, and snow fell off either side. Tom raised a brow at me and came up to me, putting his arm around me, unsolicited. He nodded slightly, looking out over the deserted alleyway. "But, you know," He said with a bit of a sly smile, turning to face me, "If it was anyone, it would be you."

It was no exaggeration to say, that, at that very moment, I wanted to punch that sly smile right off of his mother-effing face (I would have attempted it, but Tommy's jaw is like steel).

My jaw just about dropped to the floor in outrage. He can't just go around and say one thing and then bust out with that! Not while I'm still trying to catch my breath here and regain my bearings! He can't do these things to me, wage emotional warfare when I've ended it, when I've said the game is done and stopped playing. Asshole! "What about _Angie_, Tommy? What the hell about her?" I interjected, throwing his arm off my shoulder and shoving him away from me.

He gave me a patronizing look, carefully taking another cigarette out of his pocket, rolling it between his fingers. "Don't talk to me about Angie, okay? She's none of your business, and you don't know the first thing about any of it," he countered a bit sharply, rolling his eyes and then pulling out his lighter. He put the cigarette to his lips and lit it cautiously, hand in front of the tip, protecting the tiny flame. His eyes rose from his cigarette to mine, a flicker of interest glinting in them. "I thought you didn't care anymore what I did, Jude."

I stared at him for a second in sheer disbelief, ignoring his second statement pointedly. "Cool your jets, Timberfake. I don't. What I care about is the fact that I have to see the two of you _everywhere_, and it's unprofessional and disgusting, Producer Man..." I replied immediately. Some of that was a bit defensive, but I really wasn't playing the jealousy card this time. I was so pissed about the first comment that I couldn't stop myself from firing off, "But, seriously, you **hooking** up with my back-up singer, and it's _none_ of my business? She's a part of your life, same as I am, and I think that makes her my business. And, you know what, if I was ever a real friend to you, you would've told me about Angie yourself."

Honestly, I kinda wanted to slap him. Tom shrugged, inhaling a drag easily. "Angie was my past at the time. You were the present, the future. I didn't see why I needed to tell you. I thought it was all behind me," He said coolly. I gaped at him yet again, surprised by his admission of feelings, of thinking about the future, but Tom didn't notice. Obviously it wasn't all behind him, though. But, you know, just a typical man, thinking I didn't need to know about his past. That I didn't deserve that kind of knowledge about him, that I didn't want to hear it from his lips. Sometimes he's just so unbelievable.

For a moment, I debated asking him whether we'd still be together if he hadn't found out that I'd lied. I wondered what would've happened if Tom and I were together when Angie had showed up. It would've been hard for him to refuse her, and he would've had to explain the whole thing to me himself. And then make a choice, and Tom's never been great at that. I almost asked, but I decided quickly that I was better off not knowing or wondering the answer to that question. I need to come out of this with some sanity intact.

I held my hand out, palm up. He didn't understand, so I reached out and swiftly snatched the cigarette from his mouth. Tom stared at me, dumbfounded, lips puckered, for a moment. He watched silently as I brought his cigarette to my lips and took a deep drag so hard my whole body rattled. I felt a measure better, though. I'd calmed my fraying nerves some and inhaled heat. Maybe my heart wasn't freezing after all. The taste was familiar, comforting, even, and I tried very hard not to think about the fact that though I'd managed to avoid kissing Tommy, I'd still wound up swapping spit with him anyway. And I would've got a lot more enjoyment out of kissing him.

Before Tom could say anything, I thought up one last thing to say to him. I blew out the smoke I'd just inhaled, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear haphazardly. "One last request, Tommy," I rasped. God, it sounded as final as it was. Tom snapped to attention immediately, and I met his sideways glance archly. Then I relented. I was cold to the bone and so tired of all this stuff with us. I was tired of fighting. All I wanted was peace. He gave me an expectant look. "Forgive me," I sighed.

Tom's eyes widened. I don't suppose that was what he was expecting, but I'm not exactly sure he realized how final it all was. Either way, he didn't look prepared for such an inquiry, let alone prepared enough to follow through and do what I said. God knows the man _owed_ me, though. He blinked like a startled animal, mouth opening and closing nonsensically. He looked foolish, but I couldn't even enjoy it. I figured I wasn't going to get that forgiveness anytime soon. Why'd I even bother asking?

I mean, when was the last time Tom gave me what I wanted? Excepting that sentence he just forced out of his mouth. I sucked on the cigarette instead, trying to absorb its warmth, which, unfortunately, did _not_ spread to my freezing legs. I felt something settle over my shoulders, and I felt the phantom warmth of Tommy's body all too near mine, felt his hands linger over my shoulders. I glanced back to see him scurrying back to my side, sans jacket. I looked down, and, sure enough, he'd wrapped his prized possession around me. I appreciated the warmth, of course, but I threw him a questioning look nonetheless.

Tommy merely shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets and offering me a casual smile. He was wearing a sweater and a shirt underneath, so he was evidently better-equipped for the weather than I was. "You're obviously freezing," he said, giving me a look back. "You think I didn't notice?" Something flashed in his eyes, something gritty and a little annoyed. "Even I'm not that selfish, Jude... You need it more than I do," He pressed gruffly, casting glances at me occasionally. He obviously didn't approve of me smoking, but he couldn't say anything about it because he knew he didn't have the right.

I appreciated the jacket and intended to give it back to him soon, but I was annoyed that he'd completely ignored my request. Like the fool I am, I decided to push. I slipped my arms into the sleeves of his jacket, zipping it up with fumbling features. Tommy's fingers itched to help me, but I made sure they would've gotten stuck in the zipper if he did. I took a last puff on the cigarette and squashed it under my heel. "Why can't you forgive me?" I asked plaintively. I meant to shout it, to be pissed, but I couldn't muster up any emotion that intense that wasn't despondence. The day had been draining and emotional enough without constantly having to put on a show for the cameras.

Tommy, who apparently had some set quota of times he could surprise me today, grabbed the railing and pivoted, swinging right into my line of sight. His face was less than four inches from mine. "You really wanna know?" He said through his teeth in a way that all but said he didn't want to answer the question. I gave a slow nod, wary of accidentally knocking heads or bumping into his nose with the motion. I felt Tom's shallow breath on my face, and then he was gripping my shoulders tightly, very nearly pressing his forehead against mine. He murmured something, and, just, he was _so_ close that I was tempted.

Then I heard the door creak (_when_ had it opened?) and stepped back from Tommy just in time. I felt panic flood my senses, perking me up, even as half-frozen as I was. "Jude, how 'bout a couple more candid shots?" called the sexy cameraman. I turned to face him abruptly, not sparing Tom a look. It was all I could do to nod. They came closer. And I knew what they wanted. They wanted me to say something about Tommy, to reconcile all the things they'd heard about him with the way I'd acted earlier with them finding us here and now, however much they'd seen. They wanted to hear what I really thought about him.

I had all kinds of things I could've said about Tommy. I know the man, well, as well as anybody can know the man, just about. As much as I can. I know his flaws like I know my own. I could've said, "Tom's in his terrible twenties" all flip like I wanted to. I could've called him Toto, said he was like a dog. I could've said all kinds of things, and they would've been true. No one would've blamed me for saying any of it. But that wasn't the impression of me and Tom I wanted out there. I guess I wanted to show that it wasn't _all_ bad, that it wasn't always like this. That we weren't always at each other's throats. And, sue me, maybe I was tapped fresh out of any more nasty.

_We were so strong when we started... Something went wrong, and all the things that mattered... __somehow got away, away, _floated through my head_._ I just didn't have it in me to make things hard for him anymore. I needed to move on. And being honest about Tom's role in my life, about the fact that _he_ mattered (I can just hear my voice saying that to Kat last year, during the Telethon, "but it _mattered_. It _**so**_ mattered."), was the first step to me really doing that. And, maybe someday it'd actually get better.

Hey, I can only hope, right?

I could feel Tommy's nervous glance on me, wondering what I was going to say. Then I opened my mouth, and the words started pouring out. "Okay, uh, here's something candid for ya. Despite what you saw back there, um, Tommy Quincy changed my life." I looked down, shuffling my feet, very aware of the fact that his jacket was now keeping my upper half and my fingers warm. "Uh... When I met him, I was just a kid who won a talent contest, and he helped open my soul..." I continued nervously. I could feel Tom's eyes on me. He'd been attempting to slink away, looking down darkly, but then he slowly started to look over at me. "...And let the real music come out." I turned to look at him too, and for a long (too long) moment, we just stared at each other in dead silence before I turned back to the camera, remembering my audience. It wouldn't do to be caught staring into Tommy's eyes. Much less giving him goo-goo eyes at work.

I smiled faintly and pushed on, anxiously toeing the ground like a horse with one of my boots. "And even though we might not be working together anymore, no one will _ever_ replace him," I said finally, honestly, turning to look at him once again. Something passed between us in that intense stare, something powerful, and I found myself blinking back tears when I tore myself away from those watery eyes. Like he was as broken-up about this as I was. God, that was too intense... My heart was going crazy with the beating and skipping, and I couldn't breathe properly. Much less for a guy who just told me he didn't love me.

Well, duh, 'cause he's my first love. 'Chello? You can't replace that unless you're some kind of sorcerer witch doctor. Honestly, I don't think I'd want anyone to replace him. Both for my sanity and because, well, that'd spoil it all, wouldn't it? Trying to distract myself with those sorts of thoughts was clearly not working and at the very least not positive, so I shook my head and tried not to shed tears on camera. I didn't need them getting the right idea about this moment.

"That's great," the cameraman pronounced enthusiastically, causing me to suddenly look at them. He was smiling lazily, so I smiled back. "A couple more insert shots inside, and we're done," he told me authoritatively, motioning for the other guys to open the door and go back in. They were obviously pretty cold. I thought it was sweet that they were going to actually give me a moment of privacy, that I didn't have to trick them or steal this final goodbye moment away from them.

"All right," I said with a nod, waving at them as they turned to leave. But then I thought up something, how I needed to distract them and myself, and the little idea I'd come up with for how to do it. "Hey, wait a sec... There's, uh, one more thing..." I called after them. The head cameraman, my favorite, turned around, bangs falling in his eyes. I saw his lips form the question, and then I was walking up to him rather briskly. He looked adorably confused for about one second before I got to him. I think he tried to say something else, but I'd wisely shut my brain off in preparation for what I was about to do. I put both hands on either side of his face and pulled him to me, crashing my lips into his, more or less attacking him.

He rocked forward, leaning down to me. I let one of my hands fall to his neck, tangling in the short hairs at the base of it. I dug my nails in a little, and he opened his mouth wider in a faint cry. I'd closed my eyes and was sort of counting in my head to see how long I could drag it out. Don't get me wrong, he was a good kisser and everything... a hell of a lot better than my boyfriend, actually, not that that's saying much. My other hand slipped down and found a belt loop, slipping through it and pulling him even more flush up against me. I was satisfied to hear him groan and bit his bottom lip lightly to hear him make that sound again. Men are so easy.

After I was just beginning to get breathless, I pulled away, removing my hands and stepping back as if I hadn't just been making out with him. He would've responded a bit more, I think, if he hadn't had that camera in hand, which had actually been what I was counting on. I didn't mind. It had been satisfactory, pleasant too, I thought, as I licked my lips afterwards. Wicked of me, eh? And, hell, a much better way of warming up, since I was on the verge of hypothermia out here. I smiled at him shyly, running a hand through my hair. "Just, uh, had to get that out of my system," I replied with a tiny smirk and an amused smile.

I took in his appearance: the mussed hair, red lips, slack arm, and even slacker jaw. He still looked dazed and breathless, the poor thing, so I waved at him cheerfully. His friends, who had, of course, been hooting and hollering while I made out with him for approximately two and a half minutes, now grinned at me lecherously and started to drag him to the door. He was unmoving. And he thought he was so smooth! I really didn't care if that made it into the episode; the amusement of the moment right now was enough for me. I laughed and turned around to face Tommy as the door shut, knowing, of course, that he would manage to ruin everything with a single sentence.

He was frowning at me, predictably. I would've left then, but I'd undoubtedly have run into the guy I just made out with and his losery, annoying friends in the hallway. I decided to wait a minute or two until it was clear. I owed Tom a proper goodbye. "What was that?" he hissed disbelievingly. For a moment, I actually thought he was jealous, but then I realized he was probably just mad that his brother's girlfriend had made out with another guy. That was probably kind of bad form. Oh well. It had to be done.

"What'd it look like, Quincy? That was me distracting him," I said a bit abruptly, rolling my eyes at him. It was quite obvious, after all. He gave me a confused look but stopped, probably upon remembering how much these lips had distracted him.

I bit my lip, realizing it was just the two of us. All alone. I felt uncomfortable already. Had it been two minutes yet? "Um... see ya 'round," I offered lamely, heading towards the door and trying not to look at him.

I was halfway to the door when the sound of his voice stopped me dead in my tracks. "What, we're not gonna talk about what you said?" He asked, sounding like a small, needy child. For a moment I wracked my brain, trying to think of which thing I'd said he was referring to, but I figured he was probably talking about what I'd said to the film crew. Which I entirely did not want to talk about.

At that point, quite honestly, all I really wanted to do was sleep. For potentially a thousand years. I pivoted on my heel to face him, hands on my hips in a challenging position. My very cold hips. "Um, no... why would we? We've had more than our allotted speaking time for the week today. Besides, we don't _do_ the talking thing, Quincy, and when we do... it kinda never goes well," I pointed out bluntly. I offered him a sardonic smile; it was the best I could do. _I'm running out of reasons...for putting up a __**fight**__._ Then I shrugged half-heartedly, weariness showing. "I've told you everything I've _ever_ had to say to you, and I... can have nothing more to say to you. Ever. And anything you say just manages to confuse me more... so what's the point? What do we have to talk about anymore?" I continued in the same vein, exhausted and drained and using the last of my legendary strength on him.

_So, please, just __**leave**__, and let me get out of your way... There's nothing left now we need to say... Stay __**away**__!_ I frowned; those lyrics that had randomly intruded weren't from "Unraveling." I paused for a moment before answering my own question with a sad smile, "Nothing." Remembering I was still wearing his jacket, I unzipped it quickly, nearly tore it off, and threw it back at him with a bit more force than necessary. The cold flooded in and overwhelmed me immediately, but I didn't care. I'd be inside and warm and away from him and this toxic chain soon enough. "See ya in the funny papers, Quince," I said casually, offering him a half-hearted wave that turned into a mock-salute as I turned on my heel, turning my back on him.

It was a lame attempt at saying goodbye, and I know that... but I'm just not good at final goodbyes, and I don't really think I should be. "_Jude_... Don't say that," Tommy cried urgently, saying my name in that particular way that made my insides turn to wet mulch. I froze against my will. _Trying to __**drag**__ another lost soul back into the light._ It repeated in my head like a broken record, like a warning, over and over with every second of anxiety-ridden contact. Then he ran after me and pulled my back by my upper arm, forcibly turning me towards him with a simple twist. I felt like a doll, like some wind-up toy, a ballerina. My arm burned where he touched it, clear through the fabric, electric and hot.

My eyes were steely as they regarded his. I was not about to get sucked in for a third time and actually wind up doing something I'd regret. I'd made so much progress today, and I wasn't about to jeopardize it now! "_Don't_," I said firmly, pulling my arm back. Don't do this _now_ when I've come so far and so close to the end of this madness! He held on equally firmly. "Don't do this, Tommy... It's really _over_, and I can finally admit that. And it's time for you to finally face up to that too, Tom. _This_ is no more. This sick cycle is finished. For good. For ever," I murmured intently. Then I shook my head at him sadly, jerked my arm away painfully, and slowly walked away, leaving Tommy behind. I didn't look back, and I moved fast this time, lest he try to stop me again.

I realized I was shaking a little as I left. The door slammed behind me, emphasizing the finality of the moment. 'Cause, on the one hand, it had hurt. It was a blunt, dull sort of ache, the familiar kind I'd felt for weeks now. Nothing had changed, no big deal there. But, I also realized, as I inhaled a deep breath of heated studio air, that I felt lighter, _relieved_. Relieved to finally know, to finally hear it from him. And that felt good, having aired everything. I felt clean, as close to peace as I'd get. I'd conquered Tommy and some measure of my affection for him.

And I was stronger, oh, yeah, so much stronger.

I walked further and further into the studio, arms wrapped around myself, and headed for the bathroom. The heat and bright lights hit me at the same time, and I was wholly unprepared for either of them. My hands were tinged a purplish sort of color, as, I'm sure, was the skin under my tights. I reached the faucet and turned the water on warm, putting my hands under it. I gazed at myself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the ghastly pale creature with hollow eyes, a red, runny nose, and chapped, reddened lips who stared back at me. I closed my eyes and splashed the warm water on my face. It stung and tingled at the same time. A few stray, hot drops slipped out and ran down my cheeks, and I knew they weren't from the sink. I allowed myself to enjoy the feeling of warm water for some time before I dried off and decided to head for the Crapper, which was specially equipped with supplies for this very occasion.

Well, I suppose I could've gone to Tom's office, but I suspected he was in there brooding (a fifty percent chance, at least). What I needed now was a moment of privacy. To warm up and cry my eyes out. And I did, for maybe fifteen minutes under a blanket, and then I just... couldn't... anymore. I wiped my eyes and more or less figured I'd gotten it all out. I got up, deciding to maybe work on the song a bit now that I had collected myself, but my legs were shaky, and I crashed back to the ground painfully. The song taunted me: _How can I __**heal**__ s__o many broken hearts? And who's there for _me_... __When it all falls apart?_

And then it clicked, what I had to do. My fumbling fingers (so unwieldy they felt like sausages) pulled my phone out of my clothes and with a few awkward motions, dialed the number I was looking for. I closed my eyes, pressing the phone to my ear, hoping he'd pick up. I counted the rings, one, two, three, and then, finally, a pick-up? A tired voice murmured a hello, and my breath kind of caught in my throat a little. "Look, Travis, it's me. Can you talk?" I blurted nervously. If there was a cord, I'd be twirling it.

I heard a bitter laugh. "Well, I'm in the middle of grading papers, Miss Harrison, but I've been meaning to talk to you about your truancy and general disregard for my class this past week. I suppose I can make time for you," he said coldly. I blinked, confused, wondering why he went all teachery on me. It wasn't even his "teacher" voice, it was his uptight-scolding-librarian voice. "Well, you've called me this time, so that must mean..." He paused a moment before asking sharply, "What'd Tommy do this time, Jude?" He sighed afterwards, and I imagined him pinching the bridge of his nose.

He was clearly annoyed with me, but I'd sort of expected that. Travis is, after all, a bit like a snake when he's mad; poisonous and vindictive and venomous. And he'd said, cringe, that he was falling for me, and I basically ran away. "Why do you _always_ ask me that?" I retorted irritably. I mean, really, he had to go straight to Tommy? I couldn't just want to talk to _him_?

Travis sighed and then explained faux-patiently, "Because, Jude, nowadays whenever you call me... assuming you're not blowing me off or screening your calls like you have been for the past week... It's. Always. About. _**Him**_." He said this last part tightly and with poorly-concealed venom. I felt a pang of guilt because he was right about me blowing him off and ignoring his calls and throwing human shields between us so we couldn't ever be alone or talk properly. And, yeah, now I wanted to talk. I get he's mad, really. "And he's my brother, and I know him, so he's obviously done something to make you call." He paused a moment before continuing shortly, "So, what is it this time?"

His abrupt questions and harsh voice chafed at me. But I owed him an explanation. He'd been there for me when I fell apart, after all. And I'm not gonna intentionally play around with someone's feelings. "I'm sorry, Travis... I forgot... Did I ever call you _before_ He dumped me? I don't think I need to remind you why I never called you before he dumped me," I said pointedly, trying to suppress my annoyance with him and failing rather spectacularly. "And this has actually nothing to do with him," I added a bit more calmly a moment later.

He snorted. "Yeah, right," he said sarcastically, "You're so predictable, Jude." He paused for a moment, paused a little too long. I kind of bristled at that because, well, I am anything _but_ predictable! "You might as well tell me. You've managed to pique my interest here," he insisted. I heard that edge in his voice that indicated taunting was about to commence, and I didn't appreciate it. "What could Tom _possibly_ do to top what he's already done?" Travis mused, making that one word pop on his tongue. There was a mocking bitterness in his tone now, and it conjured up unpleasant memories.

Tom could probably do a few things, actually, maybe. If he really tried, though he's not that creative. I cut in then, annoyed and not about to let him get another word in. It bothered me that he'd gotten me all wrong and was making this all about Tom just when I was trying and getting some success at not thinking about him. "I'm _not_ calling you to talk about your brother, Travis," I said bluntly, "I'm calling you to talk about you and me."

If that surprised Travis, he didn't show it in his voice. In fact, he continued speaking in that same semi-bitter tone, as if he hadn't even heard what I'd said. "No, _seriously_, what'd Tommy do?" he continued mockingly, forcing a laugh, as if it was really that incredulous that I could be calling for any other reason.

Just one more thing that felt like a slap in the face. "Nothing!" I snapped, frustrated. I'd more than reached my breaking point today and had little patience for dealing with his crap. "I may have fired him," I said quickly, since he wasn't going to shut up until I said something about Tommy. I damn near spat out the next phrases because I heard Travis trying to speak and make some stupid comment about the firing in the brief interval where I'd paused to lick my lips. "But that is not the point. The point is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ran away. I'm sorry I've been dodging your calls and avoiding you at school. It was immature of me, and you didn't deserve it..."

I paused a moment, chewing on my lip. Travis was quiet for once, waiting for me to finish. "But I was just a little... _freaked_, you know? I mean, there are a lot of guys in my life, circling, and this is all just really, really _weird_ for me. And a little overwhelming. And I just couldn't handle it. And I... I..." I stuttered, trying so hard to find the right words. Ultimately, though, I was just blurting it out, vomiting my guts up, "I don't **know** how I feel about you, okay?" It came out a lot louder than I intended and sort of echoed in the dark, empty room. I clutched the blanket around my shoulders, feeling cold and hot at the same time.

Travis was silent for some time, a long time, presumably absorbing all of this. "I'm sorry..." he said finally. He sounded like he was underwater. "I'm still trying to wrap my mind around all that. You just went from "I fired Tommy" to "I don't know how I feel about you, Travis." It's a bit of a one-eighty," he managed, still sounding strained and distant. He paused and awkwardly cleared his throat. I found myself wishing I'd done this in person, since I wanted to see his reactions, but I didn't think I'd have the energy or wherewithal to put up with Very Emotional Conversations with both of them today. "You don't think you could maybe figure out how you feel about me?" he suggested a bit tightly, clearly wanting some kind of answer.

And of course he hadn't heard anything else I'd said, the assbagel, or if he had, he didn't see fit to comment!

What he'd just said was quite possibly the last or second-to-last thing I wanted to think about at that moment. "Even if I could, I don't _want_ to know how I feel about you!" I burst out suddenly, surprising the both of us with the force of my declaration.

"And why is that, Harrison?" a confused Travis asked, voice thick and heavy with suspicion.

I sighed, tugging on the edges of my hair. If I thought I could walk properly, I would've started to pace. "Because I don't want to think about it! Because it'll _ruin_ everything," I whispered, closing my eyes and trying not to think about it. I've had enough feelings for a lifetime. I don't need more.

"What are you afraid of, Jude?" he asked quietly. His voice was smooth and deceptively calm, rather like velvet. It made me hate him just a little, of course. It isn't obvious?

_You, _I thought. I wanted to scream, I really did. There were so many things wrong with the idea of him and me that I didn't even know where to start. I just _knew_ things with me and Travis couldn't really end well if we waded into the deep end. Like, I mean, even if... the guy has a fiancée. He's in love with one of my friends. I've actually dated both of his brothers. Please, I dare you to try and tell me that there's _any_ chance this could work out. 'Cause I'm just **not** seeing it. And, coming from the girl who's been chasing after Tom Quincy for the better part of our entire acquaintance, me not being able to have any hope or faith in a potential relationship, that's saying something! We're too damn different, and I know that. That's why I haven't pushed for this, like it's something I want.

Because it's **not** something I want. It's something to be avoided at _all_ costs.

Travis could drive me completely freaking _nuts. _On purpose and out of spite, unlike Tommy. I mean, he could really seriously screw up my head. Like mental asylum screw-me-up. I mean, hell, just think about how much the man screwed me up and over before I even liked him... I don't want to think about the potential consequences of me letting him worm his way into my heart. And I need to safeguard what little sanity I've actually managed to have left over from this whole affair. The Tommy one, I mean.

I sighed, curling my hair absently, coiling it around my finger tightly. "I just got out of a relationship that was waay beyond my depth, Travis. I don't even need to begin to contemplate what I'm feeling right now."

It was an honest answer, which I thought he deserved. "I know what you're afraid of," he pronounced smugly, a bit knowingly. I knew what he was going to say because obviously I know my own mind, but it didn't mean I wanted to hear it from him. He paused and continued taunting, "You're afraid you'll figure out you have feelings for me." He was so sure of himself that I wanted to smack something.

Because of course he was right. And I didn't want to have feelings for anyone anymore! I faltered a bit too long before I burst out, "Well... maybe I am! It's not like I **want** to have feelings for another one of you! Not after what the last one did!" I was a bit breathless, kinda hysterical almost, and I forced myself to slow down and breathe out. I'd been way too defensive there, showing too many cards. Keep it together, girl. "And I know you're not Him or whatever, but Travis... I am **not** going to do this again. I can't. I learned my damn lesson this time, Teach. There's only _so_ much a girl can take, and I don't need you pushing me over my limit," I said sternly, firmly. The determination in my voice was so strong and thick my throat almost closed up because of it.

But I meant it, I really did, and I needed it to be true because I needed time to recover and rebuild slowly without... complications. This is hard when my life is composed of numerous complications, Travis chief among them. But, you know, maybe somewhere deep down, despite everything. I'm still just this girl who wants to believe that love can last and that good things happen, and in rainbows and fairytales and leprechauns and unicorns and soulmates and happy endings and all that. "Why are you calling, Jude? To tell me you can't?" Travis asked quietly, intruding on my thoughts. I froze.

There they were, those damn mocking words taunting me yet again. Only this time I was the one saying them. I really forgot how much can'ting sucks. And I never thought it sucked as much for the person doing the can'ting, but it really does. It's worse because I know how he feels too, because I've been on the receiving end. I shook my head, running my fingers through my hair. I think they were trembling a little. "No, Trav. Just to tell you that I..." I fumbled to find the words, lost in what I had wanted to say. It had somehow slipped away from me. I took a deep breath. "I wasn't ready... and you deserved better than the way I reacted. You've been there for me a lot over the past month, and I don't want you to think I don't appreciate that, that I don't appreciate _you._ Because I do."

Honestly, I don't know if I'm ever gonna be ready. If I'll be ready again, because God knows it was hard enough the first time around. But I have to try, don't I? Travis was dead quiet, and I wondered if he expected me to say more for the longest time. But what could I say? I sighed and found something to say, as much as I didn't want to dredge Tom up. "But you have to understand something, Travis... I was never gonna get over Tommy in a month. **Never**. I mean, you've broken up with people, and you know it's a process. Kate broke your heart five _years_ ago, Travis, and you still haven't gotten over that! You're the one who chose to be here, so you can't... you can't rush me like this. It's not fair. I..."

I paused, feeling uncomfortable, like maybe I'd just made things worse by mentioning Tommy and those hard-to-die feelings. "I... don't know what else I can really say, Travis. You know how I feel. You know everything," I said finally, wearily. Everyone knows everything, I thought. It felt cathartic but empty at the same time, having so few secrets.

Didn't think he could still surprise me. "For the record, Jude, I think you might have feelings for me," he interjected a bit smugly. And then, you know, I'd heard everything. It was like he wasn't even listening to what I'd just said! It then became aware to me that I only _thought _we were having a conversation. What was really happening was that I was telling Travis stuff and it was just like a... vacuum, you know? Stuff went in, but nothing came out.

"You thought that even before I _liked_ you, Travis," I countered vaguely exasperatedly, remembering the **nerve** of him to suggest that I had feelings for him when I barely knew him. And any feelings I might've had then were purely lust. And, I mean, I'm not gonna say it isn't a little more than that now, but it's just a little... 'cause, like, we're friends and stuff. Don't look at me like that! "And even if I did, I told you I don't wanna know!" I continued bluntly, a bit shrilly. He's so full of himself sometimes, and so wrong!

Travis snorted, sounding amused by it. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much." I stared at the phone in disbelief. Are we seriously arguing lightheartedly over this now? "Couldn't help but notice you avoided the question there, Mrs. Quincy," he drawled pointedly, probably wiggling his eyebrows or doing something smug I couldn't see on the other side of the line.

The nickname brought the anger to the surface. "You know I don't like that name. I never did. Makes me feel like your mom." Or like you're rubbing salt in a wound. Travis scoffed, about to say something mean and mocking, but I cut him off with a question. "And, seriously, Travis, when you call me that, whose wife am I supposed to be exactly? Taylor's? Tommy's? _Yours_?" I continued irritably. "Your dad's?" I added a bit spitefully a moment later.

"Still not answering the question, Miss Harrison," Travis scolded, in a voice a bit more playful than his "teacher" voice. Naturally, he completely bypassed my question, the hypocrite. And, I mean, he was technically right. Technically.

"I don't know if you remember, Travis, but the first time you said I had feelings for you, I gave you a black eye. And probably said you were out of your mind. And... now it's not even that. It's just... ridiculous. You have, like, the worst timing in the whole world," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. Travis sighed. _Believe me, I know_, he said wearily, suddenly serious. But I still don't think he gets where I'm coming from. That right now "feelings" is a dirty word to me. "I'm not messing with your head here, Travis, or trying to be coy or anything. I just... I really can't," I sighed, letting my hair flop down in front of my eyes. Not when I don't have anything to give anyone.

All I've got is the truth, and who really wants to hear that? I glanced down at my watch by chance and noticed that I only had a few hours to get home, get ready, and then meet Tim for a coffee. I didn't especially want to go, but I'd promised, and being with Tim was therapeutic and comfortable in a way that being with Travis wasn't. Being with Travis was always a little uncomfortable because he was a bristly sort of guy and just, well, kind of insensitive... but still so like his brother that it kind of hurt to be around him. Tim only knew what I told him; he could see my baggage as it was from more of a distance. And I liked that.

"Look, Travis, this conversation is important to me, really, and someday I think we should really sit down and hash it all out properly... but I kinda don't have time for this right now. So, um, I'm gonna have to call you back," I continued, trying my best to say calm and avoid saying something wrong. "And I know I'm the one who called you and everything... you can be mad at me if you want." I don't care. "I'm not trying to blow you off here or only talk to you when it's convenient, I swear." Why am I apologizing? It's not like we're a couple or anything. He's just a friend who I make out with sometimes, and I don't have to justify myself to him at all. Especially when he has a fiancée!

"But, uh, I'll see you later, okay?" I groped for a date. Tomorrow felt too soon, and I just really need some time to get my head together and wrap my mind around everything, you know? This whole Thomas conundrum. "Monday, okay? I'll call you," I told him.

I swear I could feel him roll his eyes on the other side of the phone. "Sure you will," he muttered sarcastically, practically scoffing at me and my promise. I fully intended to see him, though. And not just in class. This jealous crap is really annoying me. Like, I was this close to...

"Look, Travis, you knew what you signed on for here, and it wasn't the girlfriend package, so don't give me that attitude, Mr. Engaged. I _get_ that it isn't fair for you. I get that. But I've told you where I am and where I stand, and you can either accept that... or walk away." It's all you're good for anyways. "I wouldn't blame you if you did... And I think you're great and all, really, but I need to get my life together a bit more before I can start to think about what you want from me. And you can be here for that if you want, but you don't _have_ to be," I told him honestly. I release you, I just about said.

Admittedly, I expected more of a reaction than the one I got. Travis was dead silent, and I thought he'd dropped the phone or left or hung up or something, so I went to hang up and leave, but then he scared the hell out of me. "Can't get rid of me that easily, Harrison," he said in this infuriatingly smug tone, and you know, maybe he was a little right about me trying to get rid of him... but better now, right? I'm in a really weird place right now. "See you Monday, babe. And try not to have too much fun with the loser you're going out with tonight," he said with a bit of an edge. There was this thing in his voice like he wanted me to be thinking about him the whole time on the date, and like, imagining all the things he could do to me.

So I just hung up on him. I don't have time for any more of his mind games. As I collected my things and ducked out of the studio, via the fire escape, of course, I glanced up at the half-full moon in the sky pensively for a moment. _Maybe the moon's just a __**hole**__ in the sky..._ A hole that'll suck me in, that's already sucking me in slowly. Then I shook my head, freeing it of the depressing thoughts I didn't need, and headed for the bus stop. _Maybe the answer's to never ask why, as I watch my life unraveling..._

Unraveling can be a good thing, you know. You get to start over, weave something new. And... I'm only sixteen. So what if he doesn't love me? I've got my whole life ahead of me. My whole future ahead of me. And he will only be a very small part of that future life. I mean, did I ever really think I was gonna marry him or anything? No. And it might sting now, and burn just a little, but I already knew he didn't love me. So I can either cry about it or move on. And I know now, so I can _finally_ move on and re-ravel my life.

And it's real good to know I can do that.

Loren ;*

Your thoughts, my lovelies?


End file.
